Janet Evanovich - Full Tilt

"Alexa told you all that?"

"She wanted to tell me more, but I think she's scared. I also think she'd like to leave her job, but she's afraid there are people who would make it hard on her if she did."

"Sounds paranoid if you ask me."

"You don't like Alexa very much, do you?" Max asked, his expression amused. "Or maybe you just don't like that I took her to lunch. You're not jealous, are you?"

"Give me a break."

Muffin came on. "Okay, Max, I just ran a check on Alexa Sanders. She's so clean she squeaks. She has a son—"

"She mentioned him."

"He's sick," Muffin went on. "Childhood-onset diabetes."

Max frowned. "I didn't know."

"Her ex-husband left as soon as he found out she was pregnant," Jamie said.

"Nice guy," Max said. "What else are you working on, Muffin?"

"I'm digging into Benson Grimby's past. Do you believe the man is in his nineties, for Pete's sake? How can he still be auditing the city's books?"

"Alexa said he was old. By the way, I want you to run a check on a man named Tim Duncan."

"Frankie's top security man?" Jamie asked.

"I'm not taking chances."

"I have a question," she said. "I already know you guys are breaking into a lot of secure locations.

Surely they have a system that keeps track of visitors. Maybe that's why everybody is after us."

"They can't keep track of us," Max said. "Our firewall is impenetrable."

"You sound awfully confident."

"We change passwords several times a day. It's a little more complicated than that, but that's just one way we keep people confused."

"How do you keep up with your passwords? Took me forever to remember mine."

"Muffin and I use a very complex system," Max said.

"Yeah, stud, tell her how it works," Muffin said.

"Jamie isn't interested."

"Yes I am. In fact, I'm intrigued."

Max didn't respond.

"Tell her, Max," Muffin cajoled. "What's wrong, afraid she'll think badly of you?" When Max didn't answer, Muffin went on. "He uses the names of women he's, uh, dated."

Jamie frowned. "I don't get it."

"The names are alphabetized," Muffin said. "Each month, we return to the letter A. If Max goes out with another woman in the meantime, which he often does, we slip her name right into the alphabet and keep going. True, it's more complicated than that, it would take too long to explain, but that's the basic setup. For example, we're still working with the letter B today so this morning's password is 'Bunny.' "

Jamie laughed out loud. "You actually dated a woman named Bunny?"

"He not only dated her, he married her," Muffin replied.

Jamie shook her head sadly. "I'm really impressed with your system, Holt. It is so politically incorrect and sexist, but more than that, it's stupid."

"Wasn't my idea," Muffin said, "but then I would never have given voice recognition a name like Muffin with a Marilyn Monroe voice."

Max's grin was almost boyish. "It was all done in fun," he said.

"And marrying a woman named Bunny, of all things," Jamie went on.

"Her real name is Bethany Elizabeth Phister. A real mouthful," he added. "So her friends called her Bunny."

"That's what the ladies say about Max," Muffin said. "They tell him he's a mouthful."

Max shifted uneasily in his seat. "Okay, that's enough, Muffin."

"My God, the man is blushing," Jamie said. "How do you know all this, Muffin?"

"You should hear some of the things that go on in this car. Good thing Max has me to remind him not to run off the road."

"Let's go, Jamie," Max said.

Suddenly, the safety bar closed over Max, locking him in. "I'm trying to be a good sport, Muffin, but this is getting old fast. Raise the bar."

"Jamie wants to hear the rest of my story."

"I'm giving you three seconds."

"I'll talk fast," Muffin said. "Anyway, Jamie—"

"Frankenstein," Max said.

"Oh, shit." They were the last words out of Muffin's mouth.

"Disable AI," Max said.

"What are you doing?" Jamie asked.

"Putting the car on manual overdrive so I don't have to listen to Muffin's mouth."

Jamie tried to look serious. "So how does one go about doing all the things you do in a car this size?"

He relaxed and his mouth turned up in a lazy smile that made Jamie think of rainy afternoons and lovemaking, cold mornings and warm bodies embracing.

"Very carefully," he said, still smiling. They stared at one another for a moment.

Jamie pressed her lips into a grim line. For some reason she didn't like the idea of Max swapping kisses and God only knew what in his car with another woman. It was silly, of course, but there it was. She climbed out, then realized she'd left her cell phone in her car. She started for it. She did not see the man behind the bushes take aim, only the startled look on Max's face before the first shot was fired.

Jamie barely had time to process what was going on before Max shoved her hard, knocking her completely off her feet. Another shot rang out, this one pinging off something metal. She peered over the hood of her car. Where the hell were the shots coming from?

The side window of her Mustang shattered. "My car!" she cried.

"Stay put," Max yelled.

Security men raced from all directions, drawing weapons as they headed in the direction of a fountain surrounded by flowering shrubs. Max followed. He stopped short at the sight of Swamp Dog standing over the body of a heavy set man. His throat had been cut.

"What the hell happened?" Max demanded.

Frankie and Duncan joined them.

"Oh, man," Frankie said. "This is bad."

Swamp Dog looked at Max, his eyes expressionless. "Those bullets were meant for you. I was on him like white on rice the minute the bastard fired the second shot. Slit his throat." He swiped the knife across his jeans, and tucked it into his boot. "That's what you're paying me for, right?"

Swamp Dog swaggered off as though he hadn't a care in the world.

"Jesus Christ," Duncan said.

Max sighed heavily. "Frankie, please take Jamie inside."

The big man looked toward the cars. "Yeah, sure." He started off.

"Who is he?" Max asked Duncan.

"Vito Puccini." He rolled the dead man on his side and pulled a wallet from his back pocket. He flipped it open and handed it to Max. "One of the guys I just hired."

Max glanced through the man's identification. "You say he checked out?"

"Clean as a whistle. Came with a letter of recommendation from his last employer, some hotshot preacher who travels with bodyguards."

Max looked up sharply. "Harlan Rawlins?"

"Sounds familiar," Duncan said, "but I'd have to check my files. I've got a lot of men on this job."

"I want to see everything you have on Puccini."

"No problem. Oh, there was another guy traveling with him. Lenny Black. They both worked for this minister."

"Where is Lenny Black now?"

"I posted him at the front gate. Naturally I plan to question him."

"Please find him immediately. And round up the other new men, as well. I'll meet you at the back of the house in five minutes. And call nine-one-one."

Max hurried into the house where he found Snakeman guarding the front door. "The boys and I have been watching the doors all day," he whispered. "We're armed."

"Does Deedee know?"

He shook his head. "Frankie wants us to keep it under wraps as far as she's concerned. Probably not a bad idea considering she's, uh, hormonally challenged."

Max nodded and headed for the living room where everyone had gathered, including the staff and two of the security guards. "Everything's okay," he said. "Duncan is calling the police."

"Is he really dead?" Deedee asked, shuddering. Frankie stood next to her.

"Yeah."