Page 33 of Savage Seduction

We share a quick laugh. “Oh, quick question?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you had anything weird happen to you at the museum lately?” I don’t know how much pressure I can put on him without being too obvious that I am fishing for information. Max had been a cop, after all.

Max’s eyes narrow for a split second. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“Weirdest thing ever,” I say. “I was walking out to my car the other night, and I swear to you someone was following me. Creepiest thing ever.” I shrug. “Honestly, the breeze was blowing the trees around and the limbs were creaking, but I felt someone watching me.”

There is an uncomfortably long pause between us until Max finally answers me. “I can’t say that I’ve hadanything strange like that happen to me here, but I do recognize the feeling you described. Did you let Bob or anyone else in security know?”

“I didn’t. Bob’s such a dickhead I figured he’d just make fun of me.”

Max chuckles. “He would do that, yes. Bob’s a jerk, but honestly, I would still tell him.”

“Noted,” I say as I back up a step. “I’d better go but let me know if you ever want to get coffee after work or something. You can teach me all about Ancient Egypt.” I smile.

Max’s face blushes red, and I find it to be very cute.Stop, dude. He’s a guy… not cute. I repeat, not cute.There wasn’t much more inappropriate than an agent falling for someone related to a case they were working. I’ve always played by the rules, and this will be no exception.

“You got it,” Max says, turning back to the mummy.

I walk back to my table, sit down, and turn on the magnifier light. I can’t help but look over at Max and watch him work. The way he skillfully handles the mummy; careful and yet steady. I begin to realize how much I want to protect the guy. All indications that The Butcher is preparing to strike again and seek revenge for his past failure frighted me.Can I capture him before it istoo late for Max?

CHAPTER 15

Max

It's a long evening in the laboratory, and I'm ready to go home. I decide it's best to call and apologize for being weird last night at Ben's place and ask if he'd like to go out to dinner with me.

I check the time on my phone. It's late, but not too late for a risky text or call. I start typing a text, then erase it.

"Grow a pair of balls," I mutter to myself.

I go outside and sit against the metallic railing along the outside walkway. It's dark, and the streetlights do little to illuminate the area, but the parking lot is a bit better lit. Too many rich people's cars are parked there at all hours, needing protection. I remember my days as a cop, knowing where the affluent gathered because of the security cameras, well-lit parking structures, lots, and often security guards patrolling the grounds. The museum has all of these.

I pull up Ben's number while multiple scenarios play through my mind about handling my faux pas.

I make the call.

"Hello," Ben answers after the first ring. "I was worried about you. Everythingokay?"

"I am truly sorry. I acted so odd at your place last night. My scars are tied to some deep emotions and memories I don’t like to revisit. I think I was worried you would ask about them and I wasn’t prepared to answer them. Maybe someday, but just not last night."

There's a long pause on the other end. No doubt, Ben has a lot running through his mind about how he wants to handle this. "While I’m an ER surgeon and have seen about every kind of scar you can imagine, I sometimes have to stop and think about the person who’s wearing the scar… what it means to them. How they got it. What they went through. When you’re ready to talk about it, I will be ready to listen. I can’t promise I won’t have a million questions though. Is that fair?"

"More than fair."

"Until then, we can talk about less interesting things. No less important, but maybe less emotionally charged."

I smile. "What do you have in mind?"

"For starters, how did your test turn out? Did you pass?"

I haven’t been online to check. "Hold on a second." I go to check the school website when I see I have a text from London. I open it and a smile spreads across my face so hard my cheeks hurt. "I passed. Got an A. My friend London passed too, so we will have to celebrate this little accomplishment."

"I hope I’ll be invited," Ben says. "Things sure have changed since I was in school. We would often have to wait for weeks for our grades."

"You are more than welcome to join us whenever we decide to celebrate," I say. I don’t bother to tell him how London confessed in the text to hacking into the teacher’s online gradebook to find out our scores, he doesn’t need that detail. "So, tell me, how was your evening?"

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