Page 37 of Last Shot

Her furious eyes were slanted at him. He expected to see nothing but hatred, but there was something underneath – a shadow behind the green-brown fortress. Hurt?

‘Come on.’ Her lip curled. ‘You know where the cuore goes. Right over the heart. Go on.’

‘I believe you, okay? Christ. Put your top on.’

And put on seven more layers.Although he didn’t think any amount of clothing could make him forget what was under that singlet.

‘Last chance.’

They stared at each other like two cats in the night – neither willing to move first – both breathing heavily.

‘Put your top on,’ he said again, turning away to give her privacy even though it was sort of redundant now. He breathed out at what he hoped was a normal, steady pace.

‘I promised I’d get her out.’

‘What?’ He turned back, half expecting her to still be standing in her black bra and Nella’s ripped jeans. But the singlet was back on and Max wasn’t facing him, but his little kitchen window looking out onto the vineyard.

‘Libby.’

‘Oh.’ He didn’t know what to say. Had he rattled her so much with the accusation about being in league with the La Marcas that she was now revealing her hand?

‘I said I’d look into her case once I got out, if she told me what Skinner was planning.’

‘She believed you?’

‘I wasn’t lying!’ Max swivelled around and shot him that signature poisoned look. Guilt trickled through him. She breathed in, deep and ragged. ‘I know it’s a long shot that they’ll reinstate me. I know I might not be able to keep my promise as a cop. But as a civilian, I’ll do whatever I can to prove it was Skinner and the La Marcas who framed Libby. But maybe if ... if I solve this thing ...’ She looked at him like he knew the answer. ‘If I solve this thing ...’—she turned back to the window, obviously unable to look him in the eye—‘maybe I can make a case for my reinstatement.’

He understood. He never thought he’d be understanding any part of Maxella Conrad, so he was just as surprised as she was by what he said next. ‘You can have all the credit,’ he said gruffly, clearing his throat. ‘If we stop this murder. You tell them it was you. I’ll back you up.’

‘What?’ She searched his face, trying to find the trick. A sceptic looking in a magician’s hat for the secret compartment.

He shrugged. ‘My job is to stay invisible. If you want the credit, it’s yours.’

‘I ... I don’t know what ...’

‘Just say “Thank you Greyson, that’s very generous.”’

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly and turned back to the vineyards.

That was the conversation done. But Grey had a feeling stretching inside him like a runner poised at the start of a race, waiting for the gun.

Something scratched at the door.

Max whipped around and Grey instinctively moved in front of her, blocking her view.

‘Oi!’ she hissed. ‘You’re the civilian!’ She stepped in front of him.

‘Not here I’m not.’ He gripped her by the upper arms to lift her behind him, but she twisted out of his grasp, trying to retain her position.

Breathing heavily, they both faced the door side by side.

‘Is it Jett?’

‘He’s got a key.’

‘Frankie? Nella?’

‘Not enough noise.’

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