Free Utterly Charming by Kristine Grayson Page A

contradicted Blackstone just to maintain his own credibility. No one got a tour of the police station, and no one but no one, not even the reporters who did ride-alongs, got a tour of the interview rooms. But the sarge smiled and said, “No problem,” as if Max gave tours of the station every day.
    Max’s mouth was really fluttering then. Blackstone led him to the elevator. They got on, and as the door closed, Max found his voice.
    “What just happened here?” he asked.
    Blackstone’s smile was gone. He looked tired, drained, as if he had been up for three days straight. All the glitter seemed to have faded from him. He almost looked like a normal person. “Let’s get out of here before I answer that,” he said.
    So Max leaned against the elevator wall and waited for the slow car to bump its way to the parking garage. Finally the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Max stepped out only to see Bill and Lane, the ambulance attendants, leaning against the side of their vehicle.
    “You didn’t call for an ambulance, did you?” Bill asked.
    Max frowned at him. Bill knew better. Lane knew better. They’d just gone through a traumatic experience together, the three of them. What was this? Some sort of elaborate butt-saving?
    “No,” Max said, sounding as affronted as he could while Blackstone spoke over him, saying, “Have you checked upstairs?”
    “Yeah, at least, I think so,” Lane said. He looked at Bill and shrugged. “I just don’t get it. How did we end up here?”
    Bill looked even more confused.
    Blackstone still had a grip on Max’s arm. That, and the fact that Blackstone was taller, made Max feel like a child with an upset parent who was leading him somewhere he didn’t want to go. Blackstone tugged and Max moved, even though he wanted to continue the conversation with the attendants.
    Blackstone led Max to his car—and it was only later that Max wondered how Blackstone knew which car that was—and handed Max a check for his “time and services.”
    “Please,” Blackstone said. “Split the money with Nora.”
    He spoke Nora’s name with a softness he hadn’t used at any other point, and Max looked sharply at him. What was between the two of them? Nora always picked losers. And while this guy was certainly dramatic, he didn’t seem like a loser.
    He actually seemed like a threat. Maybe Max should be paying more attention to Nora instead of letting this guy close to her. After all, Max didn’t want to lose his chance with her. He’d been waiting until she got out of her loser phase.
    Then Blackstone said, “I’m sorry you had to see this. You can’t forget because you were of service to me at the time. And Nora needs to know, because if she doesn’t, I’ll be, as your generation so aptly puts it, screwed. But do tell her for me that we did as she asked and put everything back the way it was.”
    That speech was the topper. Max didn’t get a word of it. He felt as if Blackstone were suddenly speaking Greek. Only warmly. And as if Nora had a part in all of it. Which, for some inexplicable reason, irked Max more than anything else had.
    “What is going on here?” he asked.
    “You don’t want to know,” Blackstone said.
    Hmm. Hidden information. Max crossed his arms. “But I do,” he said.
    Blackstone sighed.
    “All right,” he said. “I’ll tell you what I can. But it’s not my fault if you fail to believe me.”
    ***
    Max paused long enough to make Nora wonder if he’d lost his ability to hold his liquor since law school. She’d lost count of the number of beers he’d had—she still had barely touched her first—but he was beginning to look bleary-eyed. He flagged down the waitress and asked for another beer. The waitress looked at Nora as if Nora were the one who had to approve the order, and when Nora nodded, left.
    “Max,” Nora said. “What did Blackstone tell you?”
    Max rolled the empty beer stein between his hands. He didn’t look at Nora. “You know,