He laughs then. “You think our rival assumed you were Arch’s bitch? And that you were involved with our work?” “Maybe,” I snap. “Would they know if I wasn’t?” He doesn’t answer. He just stares, sussing me out. And I stare back, letting him see the anger in my face. The frustration. “Why did you have Daya bury them, Addie? Why not tell the police?” I weigh my options and decide that telling the partial truth is my best bet. “Because there was a note in it threatening my life, along with any police officers involved if I called them. I was made aware of Arch’s... work by then and thought it best to listen and not get further involved. In something I have nothing to do with, by the way.” Again, he just stares. My heart is beating out of my chest, and by the look in Max’s eyes, I’m still not sure he believes me innocent. Part of me just wants to confess to him that I’m being stalked. What difference would it make at this point, anyway? Now that Max discovered Arch’s hands, there’s no reason to keep it a secret. But there is. If Max discovers I have a stalker—one who ts clearly violent and dangerous— he might use me as leverage to draw him out to get his revenge. I’d become collateral. And I’m not sure I’d make it out alive. At least this way, there’s a chance that Max will leave me alone if he thinks I’m just some random girl who got caught in the crosshairs of gang activity. Max hums again and stands, straightening his suit jacket and rebuttoning it. The suit drips class and money, and something tells me Max has taken over the Talaverra’s dealings. There’s a new crime lord in town, and he’s pissed. At me, no less. “Enjoy the rest of your dinner, ladies.” He walks away, taking all of his bad juju with him. The air instantly feels lighter now that he’s gone, but he managed to still leave an ashy taste in my mouth. “They’re going to be a problem,” Daya says quietly. I nod and flag down the waitress. “Add it to the fucking list.”