Max suddenly rose.
He nodded pointedly at the pancakes. “Maybe it was a mistake to make those,” he muttered to himself.
I frowned, scandalized as I reached forward, locked a hand on the pancakes, and clutched at them protectively. “Why? What’s wrong with them? You can’t have them,” I added.
This elicited one of Max’s perfect snorts. There was no other way to refer to them. Max managed to make disdain look weirdly attractive. Now was no different. Though his nostrils literally rattled, my cheeks still reddened at his direct attention.
“I’m not going to take your pancakes off you, and there’s nothing wrong with them. I just realized you’re probably going to throw them all up, though.”
Again, I looked scandalized. “What did you put in them?”
“Sugar, eggs, flour, cinnamon. Point is, I don’t see you getting through today without chucking your guts up.”
It was a particularly unsavory image, and I screwed up my face in disgust.
Then I focused on what he was actually saying.
I frowned, the move cutting hard across my cheeks. “What do you mean? Just where are we going, and what are we doing?”
He smiled. It was one of those uniquely Max-like smiles. Half of it was charming, half of it reassured your mind that the dashing Scotsman had your best interests at heart. The rest? The rest told you to get the hell out while you still could.
Without another word, Max slowly reached a hand out towards me.
My stupid stomach kicked with blissful, tingling nerves. It didn’t matter that there was a particular triumphant glint flickering through his gaze. All that counted was the hand, the fact he was reaching towards me….
But when I didn’t act quickly enough and grab the hand? He simply let out a heavy sigh, pushed forward, grabbed the back of my chair, pulled it out, and shoved me.
I stumbled onto the clean kitchen tiles. “Hey,” I protested.
He turned hard on his camel-leather boots and headed towards the door. “No time to waste,” he said.
Though I didn’t agree with a lot of the crap he said, I had to appreciate how true that statement was. Because, like it or not, the sudden tight twist of nerves pulling through my gut and wrapping tightly around my middle told me just the same.
No time to waste.
No time to waste.
Chapter 2
Max was true to his word. He must have honestly thought we were running out of time, because he gave me none as he dragged me out of the front door to his waiting car.
I caught sight of his expression several times.
Though sometimes Max was an enigma, now even a baby would be able to read his consternation, confusion, and fear.
That’s right, fear. The longer I hung around with Max, the more I appreciated he wasn’t as simple as I’d first imagined.
There was more to the fairy than his scowling expression and dark moods.
Though now was probably when I should have been concentrating on the fact someone was out there stealing people’s hearts, my mind ticked back to that question.
The big question. Just exactly who Max had been and what his terrifying secret was.
I had to hope I was right – and despite the fact he was busily hiding something, it wouldn’t turn out to be the kind of secret that would bop you on the head and kill you.
Because if I was wrong…
Max growled at me to get in the car when I hesitated.
I piled into the passenger seat, watched him shove the keys in the ignition, then quickly became distracted as he pulled out from the curb.
Though the drive into the city was a short one, I somehow packed as much time into it as I could, letting my mind wander endlessly through the various possibilities of Max’s secret life.
It was a relatively thankless task, because I still had zero idea what a fairy actually was. Okay, so it was clear he had magic, but how was his magic different to a pixie’s, or a wizard’s, or a witch’s?
Though I’d googled these things in the faint hope that there was a legitimate Wikipedia entry on them, of course there wasn’t.
So they just left me back at square one, and unfortunately square one meant I had to find out all of this stuff on my own. Probably violently as it smacked me on the noggin.
All too quickly, Max pulled up on the side of the road and grumbled, “We’re here.”
I ticked my head around so fast, I could have given myself whiplash. “We’re where?” I swallowed hard, throat pushing against my tight collar.
I was in jeans, a turtleneck, and sensible shoes. I knew this adventure could turn ugly, and I didn’t want to be in heels and a skirt.
Max didn’t answer my question. He piled out of the car and paused, almost as if he were questioning whether he should be a gentleman and whether he should open my door for me.
The gentleman didn’t win.
He stalked up onto the pavement, shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans, and waited with his trademark scowl crumpling his brow.
When I got out of the car and shut the door, he inclined his head to the side with a quick jerking tick of a move. It revealed the tension running through his jaw, seizing the muscles of his neck and chest.
I frowned. I frowned, because it struck me. No more being distracted by thoughts of Max’s secret. Because, hello, it was time to investigate a murderer who was cutting people’s hearts out.
I paled, and this, this made Max snort. “Finally taking this seriously, ha?”
Though I’d been content to ignore his baiting insults
