Page 42 of Savage Seduction

After a moment of contemplation, Dr. Moore stands and walks to his computer. “This is against my better judgment, but I’ll help you this one time. Lord knows I’d never hear the end of it from my wife if I didn’t do this for you.” A smile tugs at both sides of his mouth. “I can’t have that, now can I?”

“Absolutely, not,” I say. “Maybe a thank you is in order to Mrs. Moore?”

“I’ll pass along your regards. Be ready for an invite for dinner… for both you and this Max guy if things work out,” he says with a fatherly expression washing over him.

He logs into the archival system, his fingers hesitating over the keyboard. “This is confidential, Ben. Just this once.”

I nod, my heart racing as he types in the search parameters along with his secure passcode. The screen flickers and then rows of data fill the display. He scans the entries, then stops, his face pale.

“Here it is,” he says quietly, turning the screen toward me.

My eyes scan the document, and then I see it—Max’s name, alongside the detailed description of his injuries from that night. The room spins as the reality sets in. Max was the officer I saved that night, the one who almost didn’t make it. The intricate and unique scar was indeed the result of my work. In fact, Max’s scar had healed even more beautifully than I could have expected. A testament to Max’s good health and attention.

“Ben,” his voice breaks through my shock. “You need to decide what to do with this information. But be cautious. This isn’t just about professional ethics now; it’s about a man’s life and his traumatic past.”

I stand, my legs unsteady. “Thank you, Elijah. I... I need some time to think about how to handle this.”

Dr. Moore clasps my shoulder, his grip firm. “Take all the time you need. But remember, Ben, this is his story to tell. Be sure he’s ready to revisit it.”

Leaving his office, the weight of the truth bears down on me. How do I approach Max with this? How do I tell him that our paths crossed long before we met, under such horrific circumstances?

As I walk back through the hospital, mymind races with possibilities. This revelation could either bring us closer or tear us apart. I need to tread carefully, respecting his past and our potential future. But first, I need to gather my courage to face the man I’m falling in love with, armed with a truth that could change everything.

CHAPTER 18

Max

The morning after my date with Ben, I arrange to meet with London to fill her in on what had happened over the last few days. And, if I'm honest, I'm worried about her. I'm hoping she's been able to trace the finger we found and also get to the bottom of The Butcher’s whereabouts. London's ability to access information that usually stays hidden from view in the deep, dank, recesses of the internet is her specialty.

As I walk into the Espresso Emporium in West Hollywood, I keep my sunglasses on to hide my bruise and take a deep breath. The aromas in the air bring all of my senses back to life. It’s still early. Considering the way my date ended last night, my headache will not easily be vanquished—not even with a hit of caffeine. However, by the way my mouth begins to water at the scent of the freshly brewed coffee and hot-out-of-the-oven pastries; I'm going to give it a shot.

“Maximo!” London hollers at me from across the room. She sits in the back where the only two comfy chairs are located. I admire her ability to pull together a bright pink jumpsuit, oversized glasses, and white sneakers. No matterwhat she wears, she makes it seem couture. She waves me over, urging me to leave the line and order later. I look back at the line in front of me, just two more people to go before it's my turn.

“Max!”

My shoulders slump as I resign myself to have to wait a bit longer for the sweet nectar of the gods.

“Hey, London,” I say as I walk up to her table. “Did you put in your coffee order already?”

“Sure did.” She snaps her bubble gum. “Oh, here it comes now.”

“But I haven’t ordered yet. I’ll be right back.”

“Hold your horses,” she says.

“Double mocha iced coffee with whip, blended, and two shots of espresso,” the barista says, placing the drink in front of her.

“That sounds wonderful,” I say. “I’m going to get one of those too.”

“You’re in luck; she ordered two. I’m assuming this one’s for you.” He places it on the table. “Do either of you need anything else?”

“Thank you, we’re good.” London hands the waiter a cash tip and smiles. “Bestie, I wouldn’t make you wait in line. Sit, let’s chat. I feel like we haven’t hung out in so long other than at school. Boring.” She takes a sip of her coffee.

I sit next to her in the other plush, thick-cushioned, leather seat. She's acting like we hadn't already talked about the serial killer stalking me. What was going on? Were we being watched? Best to play along, I think. “Thanks for ordering. This looks fantastic.” I take a sip. “Damn, and tastes even better than I expected. Wow, so good.”

“Good, I’m glad you like it. Tell me what’s up?” She turns her seat to look me head-on. “You sounded kind of upset on the phone.”

“I texted you. ‘Let’s meet for coffee, we need to chat’.”

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