“What are you going to do, Max? Send us letters from Bora Bora?”
“Aruba.”
“Whatever.”
“No, I’m going to find a way to be part of this child’s life. A way to be a part of your life, Tess. I’ll talk with Marcum, and we’ll call in some favors. We’ll figure this out.”
His words bring me hope. And I almost allow them to soothe me, until I realize, it’s just a pipe dream. Max was in the pen for murder. That, in itself, is hard to get out of, but if you add on taking part in a jailbreak and prison riot, escaping, and taking a hostage, he may never see the light of day. I maybe could testify and get that last part taken off, but doing so may end up with me in prison and what will happen to my baby then? No, Max was right to begin with. There’s more than just me to consider now.
“Give me a chance, Tess. Don’t give up on me yet.”
“Does Marcum have that much power?”
“If anyone does, Tess, it would be him.”
“When will we know?”
“He’s working on it now. He seemed to think he’d have an answer sometime tomorrow.”
“What do we do in the meantime?”
“We savor every moment, Kitten.”
“I’m still scared, Max.”
“I know.”
“It will all work out, Tess.”
He says again and I know he’s trying to assure me, but I think that ship has sailed.
“You have more confidence in life, than I have Maxwell,” I tell him my hand, tightening in his.
“We have our happy ever after to find. My woman believes in fairy tales. I want to be the fucker who gets to give them to her.”
“I like that,” I tell him.
“That I want to give you a happy ever after?”
“That you called me your woman.”
“You are, Tess. Regardless of what happens next, you are my woman.”
“I have your mark on me,” I whisper trying to find something to hold on to.
“And you have one on me,” he answers. I turn to look at him, not sure of what he is talking about. “Your surprise was kind of ruined,” he says, and I nod my head in agreement. I kind of forgot completely about it. It feels like a lifetime ago.
He takes his shirt off, reaches for my hand and places it just under his heart. Just under the spot that is glossy from the cream on it and shiny from the new tattoo. It’s a key, the kind that reminds you of old antique locks and the key had my name inside of it. Mine. A key over his heart, with my name. Tessa.
“A key above your heart, Max?” I question, and his smile is almost sheepish. Where is the cold man who kidnapped me?
“What about it?”
“Not a thing,” I whisper leaning up to try and kiss him. He more than meets me half way. For this moment, I concentrate on his kiss and stop worrying about what happens next.
39
Max
Marcum might not have been around when I needed him growing up, but he sure as hell has been working like a madman, to help me now. He’s called in marker after marker and put feelers out, near and far, to try and save my sorry ass. I didn’t have a lot of hope, but I underestimated the old man. Completely. I hug him and slap him hard on the shoulder.
“I owe you.”
“Fuck that. I want time with my grandkid.”
“When do we set all this in motion?”
“Tomorrow is soon enough; spend the day and night with your woman. Even with the governor’s assurance, this shit will be tricky and drawn out. It will be at least a month before you see the outside again, boy.”
“Yeah I know. I can deal,” I tell him and I can. I’m not looking forward to it. Before, it didn’t matter so much. I didn’t have a thing waiting for me on the outside. I didn’t even care if I kept breathing. Still, knowing Tess is waiting for me, I have everything.
“Then go; get your woman and give her something to keep her warm for the next month,” he orders and I flip him off. I don’t waste any time getting to my woman though. He may be an asshole, but he sure as hell isn’t wrong.
Fuck, I’m so damned eager; I’m practically running to our room. Tess is lying on the bed, reading. Gorgeous; with dark hair soft against her skin. Those long lashes of hers, highlighting her deep emerald eyes and that body. Hell, the woman’s body tears me up just looking at it. If I live to be a hundred, I don’t think I will ever get enough of her.
“Hey, you,” she smiles sleepily. She’s still sad. I’ve explained to her what Marcum is trying to work out. We both agree it’s the wisest move we have, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Any word?” she asks.