She quoted him saying, “it was nothing I didn’t deserve,” and that’s all he would Say. “Gigi had noted several times in entries that she kept asking anyways, concerned for his wellbeing. The last thing he told her was that he had a very strict boss, and he couldn’t know about her.” Daya nods her head, a spark of excitement in her sage eyes. “I’ll look into crime families in the 40s. See if I can find anyone that might match his description.” I smile, feeling the same spark of hope. The high lasts for a total of five seconds before Daya's eyes widen, her gaze locked behind me. My heart drops and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. My shadow wouldn’t show up here now, would he? In front of Daya? “Hello, ladies.” My eyes widen along with Daya's. Her gaze clashes with mine and a million things are said in the span of two seconds. Like that we need to be very fucking careful. He sits down next to me, his body relaxing back into the chair as he stares at me with a wide smile that stops miles from his eyes. I clear my throat and force a smile. “Hello, Max. Arch's friend, right?” “The one and only,” he responds, his stony blue gaze glued to my face. I can feel a blush creeping up my neck from the intensity of his glare. “What can I do for you?” I ask casually, sipping on my quickly depleting margarita. I’m going to have to flag down the waitress soon because I’m going to need another to get me through the conversation, and one more to get me through the aftermath. I’m going to need to call an Uber tonight, I already feel it. He leans forward on the table, crossing his fingers and looking at me like he’s really curious about something. His entire demeanor is hostile. “Td like for you to tell me exactly what happened when Arch went missing.” His lips curl into a cruel smile as he tacks on, “From your doorstep.” I frown. “Didn’t you already hear about it from the police reports?” He narrows his eyes, that smile frozen on his ice-cold face. “I want to hear it from you, Ms. Reilly.” I do my best to keep my face blank, but I’m not sure how well I’m doing. Can’t say I’m practiced in the art of handling a criminal. Matter of fact, three nights ago pretty much proved that I suck at handling criminals. He said my last name to show me he looked into me. But that would be the one thing I’m used to by now. Being stalked. “We went back to my place and had some fun,” I start. A glimmer shines in Max’s eye when I say that. “We were actually in the middle of having fun when