Page 37 of Fallen Prince
I glanced out the huge bay window, my eyes drawn as though by a magnet. My dark protector was gone. Max had melted into the shadows, disappearing into the night.
CHAPTER 14
Max
The woolen material of the ski mask stretched weirdly over my scar, teasing the live nerves at the edges of the damaged flesh. The constant contact with my sensory-deadened skin was a distracting, maddening reminder of how I hadn’t been able to feel Allie’s softness when she’d pressed her forehead to mine.
I’d been utterly consumed by the heat of our kiss, but that gut-wrenching reminder of my scar had poisoned the chemistry we shared. The mark of my shame reminded me of my duty.
Allie thought she could convince me to drop my vendetta against her father, but that would never happen.
I wanted her so fucking badly it set my teeth onedge, and I was a bastard for kissing her when I knew that I’d never allow her dad to escape my retribution.
I’ve seen you, Max. You’re not a monster.A shudder rolled through my body at the memory of her heated declaration, and for an insane moment, I wanted to believe it.
I’d protected Allie. I’d saved her life and watched over her. Tonight, I’d been stalking Fitzgerald’s fundraising event because three of my targets had been in attendance: Kelvin McCrae, Mikhail Ivanov, and Ron Fitzgerald himself.
But I’d witnessed that bastard, Nikolai, touching Allie, and I’d seen red. I couldn’t quite recall what’d happened in the minute it’d taken me to get to them, to shove the Russian scum away from her. All I’d known was that I had to keep his filthy hands off her.
If she hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve beaten his pretty face to a bloody pulp for daring to touch her.
I could still feel the warmth of her small hand at the center of my chest, that delicate touch halting me from advancing on my hated rival.
I flexed my fingers, struggling to let go of the tension that still lingered in my muscles. I’d craved to end him, but her quiet strength had restrained my worst impulses.
She was right: I would’ve been fucked if I’dsnapped in public and attacked Nikolai Ivanov. In a way, Allie had saved me tonight, just as much as I’d saved her.
I shook my head to clear it, and the damn ski mask rubbed over my scar again. I barely managed to bite back a growl. If I made a sound now, I’d blow my whole plan to hell. I’d end up in jail or dead.
Kelvin McCrae’s beachfront mansion in the Hamptons was obscenely large, dark and cavernous at this time of night—well, morning. My encounter with Allie had thrown off my schedule by several hours. I’d almost missed my carefully planned shot at McCrae just to steal a kiss from her.
I rubbed the back of my neck, frustrated. I had to stop thinking about her, about that sizzling kiss. The hottest kiss of my life.
McCrae was mere steps away from me, and I had to focus. I’d managed to sneak past his security, and in a few more minutes, I’d get the evidence Kirill had told me about. McCrae had some kind of records about the night Allie’s mom had died, and Fitzgerald had asked him to cover them up. I’d already started to put together what might’ve really happened to Marie Fitzgerald, but I needed the documents McCrae had saved as personal insurance against hisfriend,the mayor. I needed proof.
I stalked into McCrae’s darkened bedroom. It took me a second to realize that the rumbling snores were coming from his wife, not him. She’d been visibly inebriated by the end of the gala, and clearly, she’d passed out once she got home.
One less thing for me to worry about. If I could avoid disturbing her, I wouldn’t have to deal with mitigating her screams. I had no intention of hurting Mrs. McCrae—she was innocent—but I’d been prepared to intimidate her into remaining silent while I dealt with her husband.
It seemed that she could be spared from the ordeal altogether.
Good.
I loomed over McCrae, moving as silently as a shadow. My gloved hand clamped over his mouth at the same time as the cold barrel of my gun kissed the spot directly between his eyes.
He jerked awake, and I applied pressure to force him to stillness.
“Don’t make a sound.” My low tone ghosted around us, but his adrenaline-sharpened senses ensured that he heard every word.
The whites of his eyes glowed in the darkness, and his head moved the tiniest fraction as he nodded his agreement.
I removed my hand from his mouth and eased to the side, giving him room to stand without withdrawing the threat of my gun.
“You have evidence of what really happened on the night Ron Fitzgerald’s wife died. You’re going to give it to me.”
His mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water, gasping for life.
“The files are on my private server,” he managed to wheeze. “In my office. Down the hall.”
