Page 54

Fifty-three

“BIG MAX , ” Riley said, and the name suited him even better now. Still tall and looming, the man had added another sixty-plus pounds to his already robust form.

“Little Riley MacLeod.” He smiled, but there was zero warmth in it. He was the only man who could send shivers down her spine with a smile. “The sweetheart scammer.”

Her stomach flipped at the nickname.

“What are you doing back in Vegas?”

She took a stiffening breath.

“She’s looking into Ralph Masters, a.k.a. Lance Winslow,” Kimmy said.

“Is that right?” Max chuckled. “A scammer looking for a scammer. How apropos.”

She grit her teeth. “I’m a private investigator, and I’m looking to bust him.”

Max burst out laughing, his belly jiggling as she’d always pictured Santa’s doing when she was a kid, though Santa had never visited her.

She held firm.

“Oh, you’re serious.” He laughed even harder.

“Thanks,” she said, angling her head at Kimmy.

“Hey. You’re a MacLeod. You’re no better than Lance Winslow.”

Riley shifted her balance from one foot to both—she needed all the grounding she could get. “That was a lifetime ago.” And she was just a kid.

“Sure, honey. Keep telling yourself that.” Kimmy hopped down from the barstool. “I’m outta here.”

“Wait. Please tell me where the house is.”

“House. What house?” Max asked.

“The old cult house,” Kimmy said before walking away.

“What do you want with that place?” Max asked.

“It pertains to our investigation.”

“ Our ?” His brows furrowed.

“My partner Greyson and me,” she said, gesturing to Greyson, whose carriage was taut, his hands balled in fists at his sides.

“You really turned PI?” Max rubbed his chin. “Interesting.”

“I don’t suppose you’d help us by telling us where the old cult house is?”

“All right,” Max said after a moment’s reflection. “I’ll help you, if you help me.”

Of course he’d go there. A solid for a solid. What was she getting herself into? “What do you want?”

“You to tell me where your dad is.”

“My dad is dead. You killed him.”

“Oh, I planted the car bomb, but he wasn’t in the car.”

Her brow furrowed. Why lie about that? But he had to be lying, right?

“Now that you know what I want, I’ll tell you what you want.”

He rattled off the location. Had Big Max really just helped them?

“Oh, and the pair you’re looking for”—he jutted his chin at Kelly’s and Jared’s photos on the bar in front of Greyson—“try the underground.”

“The tunnels?” she said.

“The network,” he said. “Now, remember your part.” He pinned his gaze on Riley.

“Riiight,” she drew the word out. “I’m supposed to tell you where my dead dad is. He doesn’t even have a grave, thanks to you.”

“That part is true, sweetheart.” He studied her a moment. “I believe you don’t know now. But when you discover the truth, PI, say hi to your dad for me.”