Page 33 of Spades

“Of course.” Maddox starts the car and the heater comes on. “It’ll take a second for the heater to warm up. But I also had the seats outfitted with warmers when I refurbished the car. I’ll turn yours on.” He flicks another switch.

“Oh, thank God.” I sit back. “It should be illegal for a carnotto have these.”

He chuckles. “I’ll call my contacts at the mayor’s office.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Your contacts where?”

He blinks for a minute. “Just a joke.” He puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking spot. He then drives us out of the garage, fiddling with the stereo buttons.

“Is there a classical station you like?” he asks.

I widen my eyes. “No man has ever changed the station in his car for me.”

He laughs. “Then you haven’t dated any good men.”

Good grief. If that isn’t the truth…

“Ninety-eight point seven. WFMT. A very good station. Though they sometimes play some weird shit this late in the evening.”

“I like weird.” Maddox tunes the radio, and some atonal chamber music starts playing. He winces. “Okay, maybe that’stooweird.”

I chuckle. “The classical composers went a little off the rails in the early twentieth century, especially the twenties and thirties. I think this is a string quartet by Schoenberg.”

“Well, I suppose cats being butchered alive need musical representation as well.”

I can’t help it. I let out a guffaw at that.

He chuckles. “Glad you found that amusing.”

“I did.” I reach over, place my hand on his elbow. “I findyouwholly amusing, Maddox.”

“Likewise, Alissa.”

We drive the rest of the way in silence, listening to Schoenberg’s scraping strings.

The drive isn’t long—after all, it’s pretty late—and within fifteen minutes, Maddox is pulling up in front of my apartment building.

He stops the car, looks over at me. “I had a wonderful evening, Alissa.”

“Me too. That’s a remarkable place you belong to.”

He cracks a small smile.

I reach for my car handle, but he holds up a hand. “Absolutely not. One sec.”

He unbuckles his seatbelt, opens the driver-side door, and walks to the other side of the car to open the door for me.

I look up at him. “Do you make a habit out of opening doors for ladies?”

He smiles. “Alissa, if you stick with me, you’ll never open another door again.”

A chill runs down my spine, and it’s not from the icy wind rushing through the air.

He walks me into my building, up the stairs to my door on the third floor.

Moment of truth.

And I…

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