Page 13 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
He turns away first. Then I search for what made his eyes narrow to slits.
“What the… ” There’s no mistaking the build of the person who steps out of the back of a black SUV. He’s long, lean, and in control of even his slightest movements. “It’s Max. My brother.” I’m surprised, elated, and slightly disappointed, especially when Hercules stops in his tracks. I can feel the anxiety rising from his body.
He thumbs over his shoulder and takes steps in the opposite direction. “I have to get going, but just think about what you’re able to do here.”
“Well…”
He doesn’t give me a chance to figure out how to respond. Feeling forlorn, I watch him leave me, and my heart knows we’ll never be this close again.
“Paisley, is that you?” my brother calls.
I sigh with despair, hating that I have to look away from Hercules. Then I remember that I’ll see him tomorrow at the ceremony, and that’s enough to make me rip my eyes off him.
I wave lazily at Max. “It’s me.”
His stance wide and waiting, Max shoves his hands in the pockets of his black cashmere duster, a coat that makes him look like the hero in a spy movie. I approach him, still grappling with what to do next.
“Who’s that?” Max asks, directing his scowl over my head.
As he watches Hercules retreat, I’m reminded of how extraordinarily handsome my brother is. It’s almost unfair that he got all the looks. Max is the last person in the world to care about the striking reflection that stares back at him in the mirror, though. His commodity is being a mastermind, which makes him an awfully serious and intense kind of guy.
“It’s nobody.” I know better than to say I was being escorted home by a Valentine.
He fixes his penetrating gaze on me. “Where are your guards?”
It’s now or never. Staring at my brother’s waiting expression, I consider those other girls who were violated by O’Brien and his crew. I don’t know Blossom Cantor, but Hercules rescued me, and maybe I owe it to him to get retribution for her, the others, and heck, myself too.
“Max, I have something to tell you,” I say.
After I recapwhat happened to me tonight, Max insists I get into the back of the SUV. Like Hercules, he believes there’s no other option than for me to get checked out. He’s on the phone with Dr. Hammerstone. The longer I sit in the back seat, swaying with the movement of the vehicle, the heavier my eyelids become.
“Thanks, Geneva,” Max says, ending his call. “Tommy, take us to East Sacred Heart Medical Center on Ninetieth.” The hospital is only four blocks east.
After giving the order to his driver, Max studies me, chin lowered. It’s as if he’s searching for the truth that I’m withholding.
“What?” I ask, wanting to shrink under his scrutiny.
“That was Hercules Valentine, and you know it.”
I try to keep my breaths even. “He was just walking me home.”
“Is he the one who saved you?”
I nod briskly.
“Did he invite you to the party?”
“No.”
“Who invited you?”
I frown. I don’t understand the reason for his rapid-fire questions. With Max, just about everything he says has an angle, and I’m trying to figure out what his questions mean.
“A girl invited me.” I shake my head. “Actually, a boy named Donovan Milner.”
“Donovan Milner,” he repeats.
“Yes. Donovan Milner.”
