Chapter 8 - The Mafia Boss Stood UpMaxwell watched Julian’s video three times.
Not because he needed to understand it.
Because rage needed somewhere to go.
“You’re not going,” he said.
“I didn’t volunteer.”
“He asked for you specifically.”
“Which means he expects you to refuse.”
Maxwell looked at me.
“I am refusing.”
“Then think past the first move.”
“I have people for that.”
“Nico?”
“Yes.”
“Warren?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
That mattered.
Weeks earlier, Maxwell might have handled the warehouse himself.
Now he was coordinating with law enforcement.
Maybe nearly losing his body had changed him.
Maybe I had.
I didn’t flatter myself enough to believe I was the whole reason.
But I liked knowing I might be one.
Detective Warren traced the warehouse background through shipping markings.
Pier 19.
An abandoned Rourke property scheduled for demolition.
“Naturally,” Eleanor said.
“Criminals apparently hate unfamiliar real estate.”
Nobody laughed except me.
Stress did strange things.
The plan was simple.
Maxwell would appear to comply.
I would not actually enter the warehouse.
State police tactical officers would surround the property.
Thomas would be extracted.
Julian would be arrested.
Simple plans are comforting right up until somebody ruins them.
At nine thirty that night, Maxwell’s armored SUV approached Pier 19.
I was inside despite everybody telling me not to be.
Maxwell sat beside me.
“You should still be home.”
“You should still be in bed.”
“I own the bed.”
“Excellent argument.”
His mouth twitched.
Under the dark coat draped across his knees, lightweight braces supported both legs.
Dr. Chen had objected to him leaving.
She had objected more loudly when she learned he intended to stand if necessary.
“You’re not ready,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“Then don’t try.”
“I heard you the first twelve times.”
Nico’s voice came through the radio.
“Perimeter ready.”
Warren replied.
“Wait for visual confirmation on Vale.”
The SUV stopped.
Maxwell looked at me.
“If anything goes wrong—”
“I stay with Nico.”
“You leave.”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“Martha.”
“Maxwell.”
He stared at me.
Then unexpectedly smiled.
“I should fire you.”
“I’ve been fired from better medical facilities.”
His smile disappeared.
“That won’t be funny after we clear your name.”
The words hit me.
Not if.
After.
We entered the warehouse.
Nico pushed Maxwell.
I walked beside him.
Julian stood beneath a hanging industrial lamp.
Thomas Vale sat nearby.
Alive.
Two armed men flanked him.
“Max.”
Julian spread his hands.
“Glad you came.”
“You asked.”
Julian’s eyes moved to me.
“And the miracle maid.”
I felt Maxwell’s whole body tighten.
“Let Vale go.”
“Your father?”
“Let him go.”
Thomas spoke.
“I’m not his father.”
Everyone looked at him.
He stared at Maxwell.
“Not in any way that matters.”
Maxwell said nothing.
Thomas continued.
“Patrick raised you. Patrick loved you.”
Julian laughed.
“This is touching.”
Thomas turned toward him.
“You don’t understand this family.”
“I understand it perfectly.”
Julian walked closer.
“Maxwell got everything.”
His voice cracked.
“There were always two Rourke boys growing up. Maxwell and me. But only one mattered.”
“You were my cousin,” Maxwell said.
“I was your shadow.”
“That wasn’t my choice.”
“No. It was Patrick’s.”
The grievance was old.
That made it dangerous.
Julian continued.
“When you crashed, I finally had a chance to prove I could run everything.”
“So you kept me drugged.”
“Pierce did.”
“You paid him.”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Confession.
Warren was recording remotely.
“Did you cut my brakes?”
Maxwell asked.
Julian smiled.
“Pierce arranged it.”
“And Thomas?”
“Insurance.”
Thomas looked disgusted.
Julian turned toward me.
“But Martha ruined everything.”
“By checking bathwater?”
“By making him suspicious.”
His eyes hardened.
“You were supposed to stay downstairs.”
I remembered.
The false order using Eleanor’s credentials.
“You sent me upstairs.”
Julian nodded.
“I needed someone innocent to witness Maxwell getting worse.”
My stomach dropped.
“The bath was supposed to hurt him.”
“No.”
Julian smiled.
“It was supposed to test him.”
Maxwell’s face turned murderous.
“When you reacted to temperature, Pierce would know recovery had progressed.”
“And then increase the drugs,” I said.
“Exactly.”
Julian stepped closer.
“I just didn’t expect the maid to notice first.”
A faint click sounded behind us.
Julian’s armed men lifted their weapons.
Nico shifted.
Too late.
A steel door slammed behind us.
Radio static.
Jammer.
Julian smiled.
“You thought I wouldn’t expect Warren?”
Maxwell’s face remained calm.
“You talk too much.”
Julian’s smile vanished.
“What?”
“You always have.”
Then the warehouse lights went out.
Nico moved.
Chaos erupted.
Shouting.
Footsteps.
A gun fired into the ceiling.
I dropped beside Maxwell.
“Stay down!”
A man grabbed my arm.
I screamed.
He pulled me backward.
Maxwell caught my wrist.
For one second, it became a tug-of-war.
Then the wheelchair tipped sideways.
Maxwell hit the concrete.
“Maxwell!”
The armed man dragged me toward the rear exit.
Nico was fighting someone in the darkness.
Thomas had fallen with his chair.
Julian shouted.
“Take her!”
My shoes slid across the floor.
I grabbed a steel post.
The man struck my hand away.
Then I heard Maxwell.
“Martha!”
I looked back.
He was on the ground.
Trying to get up.
“No!”
His arms pushed against an overturned crate.
One knee planted beneath him.
His face twisted with pain and effort.
“Maxwell, don’t!”
He ignored me.
The second knee came under him.
Julian froze.
Everybody seemed to.
Maxwell grabbed the crate.
Pushed.
His legs trembled violently.
For fourteen months, people had told him they were dead.
For eleven months, drugs had made sure he believed them.
Now, in the middle of a dark warehouse, Maxwell Rourke stood.
Not straight.
Not steadily.
But he stood.
Julian stared at him in horror.
“That’s impossible.”
Maxwell’s entire body shook.
He looked directly at his cousin.
“No.”
His voice was rough.
“You just needed me to believe it was.”
The man holding me loosened his grip in shock.
I drove my elbow backward and ran.
Nico tackled him.
Outside, tactical officers crashed through the side entrance.
“State police! Down!”
Julian turned toward the rear exit.
Maxwell took one step.
Then another.
His right leg nearly collapsed.
I reached him before it did.
He fell against me.
I wrapped both arms around his waist.
“I’ve got you.”
His breathing was ragged.
He looked down at his feet.
“I walked.”
“You did.”
“Martha.”
His eyes filled.
“I walked.”
I started crying before I could stop myself.
“Yes.”
Behind us, officers handcuffed Julian.
Thomas was freed.
Nico was bruised but alive.
Warren shouted orders.
None of it mattered for one second.
Maxwell’s forehead rested against mine.
His hands held my shoulders.
And there, surrounded by flashing police lights and the wreckage of a conspiracy that had stolen more than a year from him, the most feared man in Providence whispered the smallest, most vulnerable words I had ever heard.
“Don’t let me fall.”
May you like
I tightened my arms around him.
“I won’t.”
