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.
“I’d 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 someone banged really hard on my front door—”
“Has that happened before?”
My nerves flare because this is a question I don’t know how to answer.
“No,” I say finally, refraining from gulping like I really want to. I also really want to pick up my margarita again, but my hands are shaking, and I don’t think I’ll be able to hide that.
So, I act like an imbecile and lean over to suck down more of the margarita with it on the table.
“Hmm,” he hums.
Max has to know I have a stalker now. It was something Sheriff Walters told me that would bite me in the ass with them, but I couldn’t not report someone stalking me. Max must’ve seen those reports. But one thing is for sure, I didn’t report his hands appearing on my doorstep.
“You see, Addie, I just can’t quite figure out the motive, ya’ know? Like, say, why would an enemy of Arch show up at your doorstep in the middle of Arch getting his dick wet?”
I flinch from his crass words, feeling almost ashamed that I let Arch touch me at all.
“Max,” Daya snaps. His cold eyes turn to her, but she doesn’t cower. “I’ve told ya’ll a million fucking times. Addie had nothing to do with it.”
His gaze thins again, and he leans further into the table, pinning Daya with a steely glare.
“That’s the problem, Daya. I don’t fucking believe you.”
She snarls, her hands clenching into fists.
“If you want answers, Max, you’re looking in the wrong place,” I cut in before this conversation blows up and Max murders us right here and now.
“I don’t think I am,” he responds, facing me again. “Because Arch’s hands ended up on your doorstep the next morning. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that’s personal. So why would Arch’s hands be personal to you?”
He smiles in victory when my eyes round with surprise. “How did you know that?”
“Something didn’t sit right with Arch going missing at your house of all places. The morning after, we sent a man to scope out your property. Just in time to see Daya here picking up a bloody box and driving off with it. They tailed her and after she buried it, they simply unburied it. Imagine our surprise when I saw my best friend’s hands in that box. And imagine my surprise when my men told me it was gifted to you.”
I don’t look to Daya. I don’t want Max to see just how alarmed I truly am.
My eyes thin. “Maybe it was put on my doorstep because whoever it was assumed I was connected to Arch’s dealings.”