Page 108 of Close Your Eyes and Count to 10

Maverick felt himself retreating from the conversation, from reality. “Fuck you,” he said. “How could you accuse me of that?”

But Alex got really still, quiet the way he was when things were serious. Maverick always blustered and yelled. Alex went calm. One of the ways they’d always balanced each other out.

“Where’s the money, Maverick?” he asked. He sounded almost sad, patient, like he was talking to a child.

“Whatmoney?”

“Almost two million dollars,” said Alex. “Small withdrawals, payouts to invoices I can’t find, donations to causes that don’t exist. All over the last two years. Since you’ve been with Angeline.”

Maverick’s stomach bottomed out. Then a red tide of rage washed through him.

“You’re telling me there’s two million dollars missing?” he roared. “You’re the fucking CFO. Shouldn’tyouknow where it went?”

“Maverick,” said Alex, lifting his palms. “Talk to me. Before it’s too late. While I can still help you. Help us.”

The sky was growing dim, and at his friend’s words the rage left him. And above them, those birds Angeline was always talking about circled overhead,gliding effortlessly on the air. Huge wingspans, graceful dips, and deep arcs. What was it like to be so free?

“Someone’s been blackmailing me,” he surprised himself by saying. The relief of speaking it out loud was so total that he literally felt his shoulders drop. His breath came easier than it had in years.

Alex shook his head, brow furrowing. “Who? How?”

Maverick bowed his head, couldn’t answer.

“Maverick,” said Alex, moving closer, “what did you do?”

Maverick confessed everything to Alex. That’s what hurt now. Before his friend died, he knew the truth, thewhole truth, about Maverick. That he wasn’t a star, the ringleader of their wild circus of a life, the adventurer heading into the fray, the crusader for good. He was a flawed man, a coward, a liar…a thief. That was the last thing Alex would know about Maverick. Did it eclipse everything else they’d shared?

He’d expected Alex to lose it, but he didn’t.

“I can fix it, Mav,” he said instead. “I can fix the books, and we’ll make the BoxOfficePlus deal. Okay? And then we’re free.You’refree.”

“Free from what?” Maverick asked.

Alex looked at him like he was a poor student, someone to whom he had to explain a very basic idea. “Free from Extreme. From the camera. From all the demands on your time, your body. You can live your life with Angeline, maybe start a family.”

Maverick smiled then, nodded. Because he knew that’s what Alex wanted. Alex wanted to be free from Extreme. He just didn’t realize that MaverickwasExtreme, always had been, always would be. There was no Just Maverick. He didn’t exist.

“Just get us through the challenge,” said Alex. “And I’ll fix everything else, okay?”

Then Tavo was coming out with the gear, and they were moving toward the Range Rover.Alex stayed rooted, watching them load and go. And Maverick knew that everything had changed between them. The look on Alex’s face—was itpity? He was still standing there as they drove away, getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

I’ll fix everything else, okay?

He would have. Maverick knew that. He would have—if he could.

Now Maverick turned on the flashlight attached to his pack. Outside, he could still hear the storm raging. He was glad to have it in the background. Its raw power, the way the wind pushed things around, broke trees, the way the rain pelted, came down so heavy and fast that it turned the site into a swamp, unnerved him. Nature. What a bitch.

The standing water in the basement, which had been just over his ankle, was creeping up his calves. It was cold, gritty, the floor thick with viscous grime. The basement was a horror show of shadows and gaping doorways leading to nothing. Rusted, jagged pieces of rebar jutted out randomly like claws waiting to slice. He moved with deliberation, intention, pushing back panic, caging it where it rattled and screeched but was controlled.

Somewhere a sound, its echo. A yell? A scream? He stopped moving and listened.

In the video he’d recognized some of the graffiti on the wall from his recon down here, checking out all the places the hiders might choose. Where had it been? He listened to the darkness now, started moving in the direction of the ballroom.

When he turned the corner, he saw a light shining from down the hall. Was that a voice? Someone speaking low?

In his pocket, he rested his hand on the gun he usually kept on the plane. A flat black Glock he’d spent some time learning to use at a downtown gun range, just for the thrill of it. Not because he’d ever thought he’d need it. Not because he’d ever planned to hurt anyone.

But things had gone too far.

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