Page 67 of Last Shot

Libby signalled for Alexandra. When the guard was beside her, and Max had wandered towards the door, the smell of apples and cinnamon far enough away that Grey could breathe properly again, Libby turned to him.

‘Don’t you forget, Mr Barbarani Man. The fucker who killed my son’s gonna get what’s coming to him tomorrow night. You remember I’m the one who told you that.’

That confirmed it: this was a colossal waste of time. Actually, no, he decided, as he followed Alexandra and Max back down the corridor. No, it hadn’t been a waste of time. Because if he hadn’t come here, he might have given in to that weak part of him that was clutching to the smell of shampoo like it was the last drop of water on a desert island. If he hadn’t come here, he wouldn’t have found out the truth, the truth that he’d always known. The truth that his father had beaten into him every goddamn day.Why was it so hard to remember that one lesson?

No, it wasn’t a waste. Because now he had his confirmation – Max Conrad was a liar. A beautiful, intoxicating, intelligent liar.

22

Max

‘Hey, Conrad?’

Max felt eternal gratitude towards Alexandra as she peeled her away from Grey. She knew it was just delaying the inevitable, but it gave her a second to breathe through the vice that Libby’s words had clamped around her lungs.

Alexandra shunted her into the warden’s office, where Max immediately began shivering under the silent air-conditioner.

‘Sorry.’ Alexandra turned it off. ‘Laura’s hot flushes don’t have great timing.’

Max managed a smile.

‘What’s the deal with you and Greyson Hawke?’

Right, she was jumping straight in there. Had Alexandra seen Max put her hand on Grey’s knee? Surely she hadn’t thought that was aromanticgesture? All she needed to do was take one look at how Grey glared at her to know the truth.

‘I’m helping him with security for the Barbarani wine gala.’

Alexandra surveyed her with that prison-guard bullshit radar Max assumed they must all be fitted with on their induction day. ‘And what’s Libby Johnston got to do with that?’

Max stayed silent. Like her shitty lawyer had told her to do. Turns out, that part of his advice had been right.

Alexandra sighed and reached for a half-eaten strawberry glazed donut, taking a bite. Max’s stomach churned as the sickly sweet tang of icing wafted up her nose.

‘You don’t want to get mixed up with Libby, Conrad.’

‘You made me sleep in the same room as her for six months.’

‘You know what I mean. I’m surprised she even spoke to Hawke, given his connection to ... that family.’

Max shrugged. ‘He has a way of getting what he wants.’ She didn’t add ‘from women’ but she’d bet Alexandra heard it. ‘How do you know him?’ she tried.

Alexandra finished the donut. Wiping her hands against her thighs, she frowned. ‘Not in the way you’re thinking.’

‘What am I thinking?’

‘You’ve got the wrong end of the stick. And I’m personally not partial to sticks.’

Oh.‘Right. Sorry, he just said—’

‘That we go way back? We do. Platonically. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’

‘Worry about ... What are you?No! God...’ Max spluttered. ‘We’re just working together.’

Alexandra raised her eyebrows. ‘He looks at you like he’s—’

‘Like what?’

Alexandra wiped the donut dust off her leg. ‘Like he’s trying to decide if he wants to rip you in half or rip your clothes off.’

---