Page 56 of Max's Mission

The security chain rattled, then he came face-to-face with a sleepy Margot. His stomach clenched. She looked so soft and alluring straight from bed. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and take her right back from where she’d come.

Instead, he cleared his throat and passed on Dye’s message. “Agent Dye just called. He’s downstairs and wants to meet with us.”

She brushed her hair back from her face. “Now?”

“I know, but it must be important.”

“Yeah. All right. Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

He stepped back. “Meet out here in five?”

She nodded and closed the door.

Reversing direction, Max went back to his room and threw on some clothes, then brushed his teeth. He skipped shaving, and soon had his feet stuffed into his shoes. Key card in hand, he was out the door.

Carpet muffled his footsteps in the empty hallway as he moved to wait outside Margot’s room. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms. A yawn overtook him, and he raised a hand to cover it.

Normally, he was an early riser, preferring to be up before the sun and get a workout in. But it had been nearly impossible to fall asleep last night. Despite his exhaustion, his mind had simply refused to shut off. All the facts about the case kept swirling through his mind. Nothing made any more sense now than it did when he went to bed.

Margot’s door opened, and she stepped out. He missed the sleepy Margot, but this fresh-faced, rushed one was just as beautiful.

“Ready?” He pushed off the wall.

“Yep. Let’s go find out what’s so damn important it couldn’t wait until a normal hour.”

Heading down the hall, they took the elevator to the ground floor. When the doors opened, he spotted Dye in the lobby. He stood with another man Max didn’t recognize.

Dye glanced up at the sound of the elevator. Nudging the man next to him, they started forward.

“Thanks for coming down. Sorry it’s so early, but things took a twist.” Dye glanced at his companion. “This is U.S. Marshal Kyle Marchand.”

“U.S. Marshals?” Max’s eyebrows dipped into a low vee. Why were they involved now? The FBI handled bank robberies.

A businessman, holding a steaming cup of coffee, slipped around them, pulling a rolling suitcase.

“Let’s go find a seat out of the way, shall we?” Marchand gestured to a grouping of chairs on the far side of the lobby. “Then I’ll explain why I’m here.”

Max sent a quick glance at Margot. She looked as perplexed as he was.

The four of them crossed the lobby and sat down on the deep purple, faux-leather seats.

“As Agent Dye said, I’m sorry to haul you out of bed, but this is potentially time-sensitive.”

“What is?” Margot leaned forward. “I don’t understand.”

“Your husband confided in one of my counterparts at the FBI—an undercover agent—about eighteen months ago. He had evidence of a betting ring that had turned violent.”

The blood drained from Margot’s face. Max could only imagine what was going through her mind. How she felt.

He didn’t have to wonder about how he felt, though. Anger boiled his blood. Why hadn’t they known about this from the beginning? “Why are we just learning of this?” He aimed a glare at Dye, then shifted it to Marchand. “Did you not know about this? Why didn’t Gallagher? They’ve had his name for weeks.”

Marchand leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, pinning Max with a hard stare. “They didn’t know because Tad Gaultier’s identity was protected. Dr. Gaultier, your ex-husband entered WitSec.”

Twenty-Three

Margot knew she looked like a fish, mouth gaping, closing, then gaping again, but she couldn’t force any words past the air frozen in her throat.

Luckily, Max didn’t seem to have that problem.

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