Page 60 of Max's Mission

The marshal’s lips flattened, and the hard glare he aimed at Max said he wasn’t pleased. “We’ll discuss it when we get there.”

Max bit back a snort. No, they wouldn’t.

He let his arms fall back to his sides. “Do you have any other bombshells to drop, or can we go call our friends to fill them in?”

Marchand’s face relaxed. “I’m all done. Except to say I’ve booked the three of us on a flight out of Dallas this afternoon. Once you call your friends, pack up and meet me back down here. We need to get on the road.”

With a nod, Max motioned for Margot to stand. “Text me the info on your colleagues. I’ll forward it to my friends, so they know who to look for. Dye has my number.”

He held out a hand to Margot. “Shall we?”

Blue eyes flinty, she aimed an icy glare at the marshal. “Yes. Get me out of here before I poke his eyes out.”

Without another word—mostly because he wanted to do the same thing and was holding on to his temper by a thread—he ushered her away.

Twenty-Five

Anumbness had settled over Margot’s mind on the ride up from the lobby, replacing the anger.

She sank onto the bed in Max’s room and stared at the wall. It was like she was above everything, watching the drama unfold around her; not really part of it.

But she knew she was. This really was her life.

Tad was alive.

A killer wanted to change that.

He might want to kill her and her daughters too.

Max’s face filled her field of vision, and his warm hands covered her icy ones.

“Hey. Are you all right?”

She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. Glancing away, she blinked several times, ridding herself of the sudden moisture that gathered in her eyes. Was she?

“I don’t know,” she finally whispered.

The bed dipped as Max sat beside her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “I’m sorry, Margot.”

The simple, heartfelt kindness in his voice was enough to make the tears return to her eyes.

That was enough to make her angry again, but for a different reason. She’d cried all she wanted to over Tad. And she was done letting him have a say in her life.

Swiping at her face, she shrugged out of Max’s hold and stood. “Call Dean. Make sure my babies are safe.”

He stared up at her for a long moment, his blue eyes studying hers, concern shining from their depths. She willed him to drop it. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about her feelings.

Thankfully, he seemed to sense that, because a moment later, he stood and nodded. Taking his phone from his pocket, he dialed Dean’s number, putting the call on speaker.

The line rang several times, echoing through the hotel room. Margot thought it would roll to voicemail, but a sleepy-sounding Dean finally answered.

“’Lo?” His gravely voice told her he’d been asleep.

“Hey. So, there have been some developments,” Max began.

Dean’s yawn ended on a disbelieving huff. “More than what you and Asher told us about last night?”

“Yeah. Tad’s alive.”

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