Page 30 of Max's Mission

“That was quick.”

“It helped that Max had the VIN and the license plate. It came back registered to a Liam Hughes.”

She gasped. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Hughes is my maiden name.” She sent a bewildered glance at Max.

“Asher, did you find a driver’s license to go with that name?” Max asked.

“Yes. It’s a Texas ID, and the picture is definitely Tad. Unless he has an identical twin.”

“No. He’s an only child. How did he get a driver’s license with that name? You need a birth certificate and a social security number.”

“There are some great forgers out there,” Asher said. “He could have bought a new identity. No need to go through government channels.”

“Did you get an address to go with the name?”

“Yeah. It’s for an apartment complex in Boise. I did a quick look-up on it. It’s one of those short-stay places. He was there for about a month, eight months ago, and there have been two other people registered at the same address since then. It’s a dead end.”

“Eight months?” Max frowned.

Margot knew her expression looked the same. What happened to the other six?

“I know. That threw me too. Wherever he was for those six months before that, he was completely off the grid. I can’t find him. Under his name or this alias. Same goes for after that. There’s nothing.”

“Okay.” Max rubbed his fingers on his forehead. “Did you find anything on the safe deposit key?”

“Not yet. I’ll keep looking, but don’t hold your breath. There are millions of those things in the U.S. I need more to go on than just the key.”

Margot wrinkled her nose. That’s what she’d been afraid of.

“All right,” Max said. “Keep us posted.”

“Yep. You do the same. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” Max ended the call and pocketed the phone.

Any desire that had hummed through Margot’s veins had disappeared with their conversation. Lusting after Max while discussing her ex-husband’s murder felt wrong. She stared at him for several moments, then looked away. Her gaze landed on her shoved-aside dinner, and she picked it up. Toying with her food, she tried to ignore the awkward silence.

Dammit!

Why did she let her hormones take control? Jesus, he probably thought she was a sad sack. A man pays a little bit of attention to her, and she tries to jump his bones. She wouldn’t blame him at all if he picked up his dinner and went back to his room.

He moved around the end of the bed and sat on the desk chair.

Margot glanced up in surprise.

“Eat.” He motioned to the to-go box in her hands, his gaze soft.

“Max—”

“Eat, Margot. Before your food gets even colder.” He speared a chunk of salmon and ate it.

Okay, then. They were pretending nothing happened.

She hoped that didn’t go on too long.

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