Page 20

C

Four days later.

E arly morning, the buzzing at the front door of Deckman Defense and Security swept through the room, drawing Max’s attention to the security monitor sitting on his desk.

It was the Friday before Thanksgiving and he wasn’t expecting anyone.

The screen displayed a man stepping inside out of the cold.

The guy was heavy set and wore a brown trench coat along with a classic Fedora hat. The man paused in the open archway in front of the training room. The area was filled with bodybuilding equipment and a few men and women were taking turns, two at a time, sparring with both Levi and William on the mat.

It wouldn’t matter how many took on those two men—William and Levi were that lethal.

After noticing the sign posted on the wall with a pointed arrow beneath the word… office , the man walked down the hallway and reached his open doorway.

“Maxwell Deckman?”

“Yes, I’m Deckman.” Maxwell sat his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“My name is Detective Smitty Ward from Las Vegas.”

Well, that was a new one, Maxwell thought and gestured to one of the two wide chairs that sat in front of his oak desk.

Detective Ward slid off his trench coat and hung it on the coat tree by the door along with his hat. After Ward sat down in one of the two black leather chairs, the man pulled out his wallet and offered Maxwell his badge.

Max took the ID and turned it over in his hands. It seemed legit, but anything could be forged in this day and age.

“What can I do for you, detective?” He handed the badge back to Ward.

“I’m here about Blake Stevenson.”

“What about him?”

“He’s a suspect in the disappearance of a man in Las Vegas a little over a year ago.”

Max leaned back and lifted a Styrofoam cup and pointed to the pot of freshly brewed coffee.

“Yes, please, two sugars,” the detective said and then added, “Las Vegas is where Stevenson grew up.”

Max already knew that Blake had lived in Nevada. When Max had been fresh out of the military and found out that Lily had married, he had spent months investigating Blake. Nothing about the guy had raised any red flags. Certainly not anything about being involved in a man disappearing.

Max poured the coffee, added sugar, and handed it to Ward before pouring a cup of black for himself.

“And?” Max said because he was sure Ward was not done.

“I also suspect that Stevenson might be involved in the death of a man in Montana,” Ward said.

Now Ward had his complete attention, but Max kept his face expressionless, eye hooded, almost like he was bored. His mind raced. Blake had been in Montana.

“Your evidence must be circumstantial or you would have arrested him,” Maxwell pointed out.

“True. Stevenson was in the vicinity of both men when the incidents happened. But he’s very careful. I got neither fibers nor prints on him.”

“What do you have, detective?”

“I have one scared eye witness that says she saw Stevenson leaving the Las Vegas apartment building of Franklin Hamilton, but there’s no physical evidence that he was ever there.”

“Did you recover a weapon or a body?”

“Not for Hamilton and there’s no signs of any fighting.”

“So maybe Stevenson was visiting someone in the building,” Maxwell offered.

“Maybe…but Stevenson also booked a round-trip ticket to Montana in September. A week before Theodore Benton died. That flight was how I tracked Stevenson here to Seattle.”

“How did the man in Montana die?” Maxwell asked.

“On a hiking trail,” Ward said.

“That could just be an accident. Plus, with the other incident, you’ve got no body, no fiber, no weapon, and no prints. You only have the airplane tickets and someone supposedly saw Blake at the apartment,” Maxwell murmured.

“That’s correct.”

“So, what makes you think he’s your guy?”

“I found a connection between the missing men and Blake Stevenson,” Ward said.

“What’s that?”

“Let me ask you something first,” the man said.

“Go ahead.”

“I heard that you’re guarding Stevenson’s wife.”

“I am.”

“What are you doing here then?” Ward frowned.

“Lily called me, she’s working on something personal.”

Lily had sounded like shit when she’d called him on Monday. Four long fucking days since then.

“Blake and I are talking things over so I’m taking some time off from work.” Her voice had come across nasally over the phone, and it sounded like she’d been crying. And as much as he wanted to knock the shit out of Blake, that wasn’t his call.

“Sounds good. So next week then?” he asked her gently.

“Sure,” she whispered.

“Are you lying to me?” He frowned.

“No,” she huffed with a warbled laugh. “I wouldn’t bother to lie.”

He had smiled and relaxed in his chair. “Call me the morning you go back to work, I’ll be there.”

“Okay, and Maxwell?”

“Yes?” He held his breath.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Before he could say another word, she had ended the call and he was left smiling.

She seemed to be thawing toward him. Sure, they’d shared that moment in the den by the firelight in William and Michelle’s place, but she was far from forgiving him. But now it seemed that she was willing to let her anger ease at his desertion all those years ago.

And in his book, that was a huge fucking win.

“Max?” Ward said, interrupting his thoughts.

Maxwell held Ward’s faded blue colored eyes across the desk.

“What’s the connection between the men?” Maxwell growled, his gut tightening.

Silence.

Ward rubbed a hand over his tired face.

“Franklin and Theodore are both former lovers of Lily Snow.”

“Fucking hell,” Maxwell said, squeezing his hands into fists.

“I’m hoping you can keep an eye out and let me know if you see anything suspicious.”

“Suspicious how? When the fucker takes a shot at me? I’m sure you already know that I’m her ex,” Maxwell snapped.

Ward gave him a dry smile. “I do. And if my theory is correct, you’ll be the next one he comes for.”

Maxwell snorted, his mind racing with the only thought of protecting Lily.

“All right,” he agreed slowly. “Leave your number and I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

Ward left his card with his cell phone number and pulled on his coat and hat. Pausing in the doorway, the detective gazed at him.

“Be careful,” Ward said and then walked out the door.

Maxwell wasn’t stupid. If Stevenson had had a hand in the disappearance of two of Lily’s former boyfriends, then the guy sure the fuck knew he was also Lily’s ex.

Maxwell would bet his left nut that Stevenson already had a plan to make him disappear.

Stevenson might be guilty, he reminded himself. Might.

It could just be a huge coincidence.

But in Maxwell’s book, Stevenson was number one on his stalker list and one guilty son of a bitch.

The asshole had put his hands on Lily. Oh, she’d told him that night by the crackling fire that the hit had been accidental when Blake had pulled away.

Max wasn’t buying it.

Blake was missing a few screws, and stalker or not, there wasn’t a chance in hell that the fucker was innocent.