Page 87 of The Last Morgan
Lucy blinked.
"The night of the murders," Max said bitterly. "They had devices. Bugs planted around the house. Jimmy wasn’t there in person. He was on a fucking speaker."
Byron shifted slightly, muscles coiling tighter.
"I heard him, clear as day," Max spat.
"Take them out. All of them. Don’t leave anyone alive."
Lucy’s stomach churned.
"I begged Rebecca," Max whispered. "Begged her to walk away. But she said it was too late. The money was too good. The orders were clear."
"And you still stayed?" Byron growled.
Max flinched but nodded.
"I was seventeen!" he snapped. "I was stupid, and I loved her. I thought we were unstoppable."
Silence fell.
Max looked up at Lucy, his eyes hollow.
"I’ve been running ever since. Jimmy tied up every loose end but me."
Lucy stepped closer, her boots thudding softly on the concrete floor.
"And now you want to help me?" she asked coldly.
Max nodded desperately.
"I can help you find the real reason why this all happened," he said. "I can help you find Jimmy. I just..." His voice cracked.
"I just want to bury my Rebecca when it’s done."
Lucy stared at him for a long, long moment.
Then she nodded once.
"You have a deal," she said quietly.
Relief flooded Max’s face. "But listen carefully," Lucy continued, her tone sharpening.
"You betray me, I will kill you."
Max, nodded.
"You’ll stay in the guest house," Lucy said. "With the Doves. You’ll be under twenty-four-hour surveillance."
"It’s not a prison," Corey added dryly, "but it isn't summer camp either."
"Treat it as protection," Lucy said firmly. Max swallowed and nodded quickly.
Lucy turned to Barnaby, who was already typing furiously.
"We’ll need a full trace on every known associate of Jimmy," Lucy said.
"And I want surveillance around the guest house — tight but not obvious."
