bargaining? Did he know about this morning's deal?
'What, Bella?' Slater looked alarmed and the last thing she needed was him getting his blood pressure up when he was still recovering.
'Nothing, nothing at all. Rafe's checked everyone out, so it's fine.' She arranged the covers around him and plumped his pillows. 'You take care of yourself, okay?'
He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his chest. 'Keep Rafe close to you,' he warned. 'He'll protect you.'
She laughed, kissing his cheek. 'How do you know?'
'Because I can see it in his eyes.'
'What do you see?'
'He's half in love with you, Bella. He'll keep you safe.'
She smiled, but wondered if it were true because she certainly thought she might be half in love with Rafe.
As Bella pulled out of the hospital parking lot, she thought with satisfaction of what they'd accomplished today. Everything was signed, sealed and delivered. Santos had refused any kind of protective custody with a sly smile that spoke volumes of his ruthlessness in saving his own neck.
Edgy and restless, she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.
Was Rafe still with Max? Why hadn't he contacted her? Dammit, if he planned to confront Jensen, she was going to be there, too.
Less than an hour later, Bella pulled into the circular, gravel driveway in front of the house where Rafe had given her directions. The house was in a marginal neighborhood where row upon row of cookie cutter houses, new forty or fifty years ago, now lined streets with broken out street lights and grass growing between the sidewalk cracks.
The house to which Rafe had directed her – 1300 Morene Way – was a little less dilapidated than the others. A white house with green trim, it sat further back from the street and boasted a large oak tree in the scanty lawn of the front yard. She didn't see Rafe's car.
Bella rang the doorbell, but not hearing a corresponding sound, rapped sharply on the door. Max answered, looking casual in jeans, a black tee shirt and sandals. He held a large spatula and wore a draped cloth around his waist.
His light blue eyes swept her from head to foot. 'Hi, Bella. It's good to see you again.'
'Hi, Max. I need to talk to Rafe.'
'Early lunch,' he said, holding the door wide. 'Barbecue. Are you hungry?'
She still wore the black suit and sheer white blouse she'd put on for the Santos interview and looked down self- consciously.
'Never mind that,' Max said, gesturing through the living area toward a patio door that looked out on a small, neglected back yard. A platter of produce sat alongside several bottles of condiments on a high, but narrow, serving table on the back patio.
Bella glanced around the living area, which opened up onto a tiny kitchen to the left. One lonely bar stool was pushed up against the counter.
The living room itself held only a small television teetering on a wooden box by a fireplace and a single recliner. A folding tray held several pieces of mail, an empty beer bottle, and a magazine.
She ducked her head back into the foyer which opened up to another nearly empty room on the right. Not only did the house have a general air of deterioration, but it was practically devoid of furnishings. 'Where's Rafe?'
Max shrugged. 'Said he had business in town. He'll be back tonight. The burgers are ready to flip.'
She nodded, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Something didn't sit right with her about Max and the house, but she put on a bright smile and tried to shake off the queasy feeling.
'My grandmother just got out of the hospital and went into long-term care at a nursing home in Sacramento,' Max explained. 'My uncle Brian is kind of a lazy dude, hasn't gotten around to getting the house ready to sell.'
He took a deep pull on his beer. 'He's sold most of the furniture, but actually, this works out well for me.'
'I'm glad you have a place to stay,' Bella murmured politely.
'Yeah, well, staying with my wife in L.A. wasn't an option.' He grimaced. 'And I thought I could keep busy doing repairs around here while I get my head straight.'
Bella heard the bitterness in his voice and mentally chastised her silent criticism of him. After all, the man's wife had left him. She flashed him a sympathetic look.
Max handed her a soda. 'So, how's the case going?' he asked as he scooped burgers off the grill.
'Good.' She wasn't going to elaborate about the deal she'd made with Santos. Not around a man she hardly knew.
'I was helping Rafe down in L.A., so I know all about Vargas and Santos.'
Bella remained silent. Maybe she did or didn't trust the police officer, but she'd learned her lessons well from Slater. Play your cards very close to the chest and only reveal what you absolutely had to, especially to someone who was an unknown factor.
'Rafe said you've got someone to turn on Vargas,' Max said casually.
Bella nodded briefly. 'Bathroom?' She held up her hands.
Max stared directly at her, ignoring the request. 'Really? That's great. Who?'
Amazed at the man's audacity, she mumbled, 'Still too early in the deal. I'd rather not say.' She smiled to soften the rejection. 'Don't want to jinx anything.'
Startlingly Max changed the subject. 'Did Rafe tell you how me and him came to know each other?'
'College, wasn't it?' Bella answered, wondering where he was headed.
'We were college roommates, freshman year,' he explained, a distant, puzzled look on his face as if he were trying to figure the answer to a math problem. 'But we knew each other since fifth grade. He was a skinny little dude all the kids razzed because of his dark skin and tight hair.'
Bella looked thoughtfully across the rim of her soda can, feeling puzzled by the strange turn of Max's conversation.
'He was ten years old, his mom had just dragged him from the deadly heat of the Middle East, and he spoke with his weird Arabic accent.'
'Yeah, the dude got his ass kicked nearly every day on the playground until I began standing up for him.' His voice hardened and his eyes sparked. 'I can't even count the number of times I rescued him.' Max chortled mirthlessly.
'Then he shot up like a giant during eighth grade.' He finished his beer and lined it up next to four other bottles on the ground. 'And he didn't need me to save him anymore.'
'Bathroom?' Bella said again.
Max was unfolding a volume of history, but she couldn't decipher the subtext of the words. Something was off, but what?
Max looked nonplussed for a moment. 'Sure. Down the hall to the right.'
'Thanks.'
He flashed an easy grin. 'Anything for Rafe's girlfriend.'
Chapter Thirty-eight
Santos drove away from the courthouse after signing his official statement in front of Isabella Torres, along with the incompetent district attorney, Charles Barrington. Unfinished business loomed ahead of him – business he
