Page 87 of The Woman with the Wallet

It felt like it took a fucking lifetime, my mind racing with images of horrible things happening to Max. Hands on her. New bruises and cuts to heal.

Or…

No.

Nope, I refused to imagine losing her. Not when I was just starting to have her to myself.

My lungs were burning when I finally saw Lil’s building.

I flew at it, ramming my fists into the wood when the knob wouldn’t budge.

“Max!” I yelled loud enough to make a trio of pigeons startle and fly off.

“Max,” I called again, ready to reach for my gun, to shoot off the fucking knob if I had to, consequences be damned.

But then the locks slid.

The door opened.

And there she was.

With Lil’s cannon in her hand.

“Sugar,” I said, the relief nearly enough to bring me to my knees as my hand went around her, hauling her to my chest. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” she said, voice a little tight until I realized I was crushing her. I loosened my hold, and she moved back. “But Lil…” she added, moving to the side to wave toward the apartment.

The place was wrecked. Furniture overturned, gems scattered all around, drops and streaks of blood on the floors and walls.

In the center of all of it was Lil, seated on her rolling chair, beat to fucking hell.

“Oh, fuck,” I said, taking a step inward when I heard footsteps behind me.

Max heard it at the same time, body stiffening, gun raising.

I reached out, pushing her wrist down, as Zeno came in the door. Still in his ugly sleep pants and oversized tee. But now with taco slippers on his feet.

And, I noticed, the glint of a gun poked out from his too-long sleeve.

“It’s okay. It’s just Zeno,” I told Max as I carefully pulled the gun from her hand.

She was trembling.

I didn’t know if it was fear, anger, or just the adrenaline that had no place to go.

I pulled her to my side as Zeno came in, closing and locking the door.

“Zeno, can you call Salvatore?” I asked as I approached Lil, more worried about the blood I saw on her than I was willing to tell Max. “Heya, Lil. How’re you feeling?” I asked.

“Pissed,” she admitted, chin jutting.

“I bet. Can I?” I asked, gesturing toward her face.

She gave me a small nod, and I carefully prodded around her nose and eye sockets, where the swelling and bruising looked worse.

Zeno moved in, finished with his call, and used the flashlight on his phone to give me more light to inspect the wound on Lil’s head.

“Oh, God,” Max whimpered, turning away.

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