The Forgotten One (The Heirs #2)

Chapter Seventeen

“You can say ‘I told you so’ later,” Max offered Chase as he sat on his bike at the bottom of the hill before driving the final mile to the mansion.

“I saw the coverage of you bolting.”

“Damn vultures.”

Chase laughed. “Where are you?”

“Just down the street. How bad is it up there?”

“It’s madness. We have a security guard walking around, making sure no one hops the fence.”

“I’m on my way. When you see me, open the gate.”

“You got it.”

Max secured his phone in a zippered pocket of his leather jacket and made his way up the winding street.

The vans were everywhere.

On the side of the road, in ditches, pushed up next to shrubs. And they started a football field away from the main entrance of the house.

Max weaved around those darting across the street and slowed his speed as he approached the gate.

Cameras started to flash as he crept closer.

Max glanced at the home security camera.

When the gate didn’t open right away, he revved the engine of his bike.

His helmet covered his face, but that didn’t mean the reporters standing next to him didn’t know who he was.

“Mr. Smith?”

“Max?”

“Just a few—”

The gate slowly started to open when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

Sarah stood in the mix of reporters, not making any move to get closer.

She might not be able to see his eyes, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know he was staring right at her.

She lifted up two fingers as if to say Peace and offered a smile and a shrug.

He chuckled and started to look away when a man with a huge camera shouldered Sarah out of his way and swung the camera in Sarah’s direction, misjudged his distance, and hit her in the face with the lens, knocking her to the ground.

Even in the chaos, Max heard her cry out when the crowd swallowed her.

The kickstand was down and Max was off his bike in seconds.

He tossed up the visor on his helmet and pushed past the reporters to reach Sarah’s side.

She was on her knees, holding her face.

Max went to his knee. “You okay?”

She lifted her gaze to his, and Max saw a red mark on her cheek where she’d been hit.

His jaw tightened, and he reached for Sarah’s hand.

She placed it in his, and he helped her up.

Reporters continued shouting and snapping pictures.

Once Sarah was on her feet, Max swung his eyes to the man who hit her and reached for the camera he held. “Get that thing out of my face!”

The cameraman juggled to keep from dropping his equipment.

It took all Max had to not lay into the guy.

“It’s okay, Max,” Sarah told him.

Not from where he was standing.

Her glasses were crooked, and her face was rapidly starting to swell.

By now, the security guard stood by the open gate, waiting.

“C’mon,” he told Sarah, grasping her hand in his.

She didn’t argue.

He swung a leg over his bike. “Get on.”

She looked left, then right ... then straddled the bike behind him.

Up went the kickstand.

When he realized Sarah hadn’t grabbed ahold of him, Max reached around with his free hand, grasped her arm, and pulled it around his waist.

Once the bike was in motion, both her arms wrapped around, and she held on with a death grip for the short ride up to the steps of the estate.

With the bike turned off and the reporters far enough away, Max tapped Sarah’s hand and encouraged her to swing off the bike.

He took off his helmet and stood beside her.

She’d taken off her glasses and held a palm to her cheek.

He touched her fingers. “Let me see.”

“I’m okay.”

Instead of asking her again, he gently pulled her hand away. A quarter-size bump threatened to be a half dollar.

“Fucking asshole, I should have punched him.”

“Max . . .”

“You need ice.”

“What happened out there?” Chase asked from the open front door, Alex at his side.

“Some son of a bitch hit Sarah with his camera.”

“Are you okay?” Alex asked as she and Chase moved closer.

Sarah took a couple of steps, winced, and said, “I’m fine.”

Max looked down, saw mud on her knees where she’d fallen. “Can you walk?”

“Yes, I can walk,” she snapped, then took a step and limped her way toward the stairs leading into the house.

Max held on to her elbow, which she didn’t shake off.

Alex moved to her other side. “Ouch, that’s gonna hurt in the morning.”

Max’s forearms tensed.

“I think he broke my glasses. Second pair this month.” She tried to smile at Max.

He didn’t find it amusing.

Inside the house, they led her into the living room.

“Wait, my shoes are muddy.”

“Who cares,” Alex said. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

Max let go and watched as Alex helped Sarah.

Alex looked between him and Chase. “Can one of you go get some ice?”

Max blinked and pivoted toward the kitchen and started counting to five ... then ten ... as he felt his anger starting to boil.

Chase followed.

Once there, Max started opening and closing drawers in search of a plastic bag while Chase pulled a bucket of ice from the freezer.

He found silverware, spices, dish towels, knives, cooking utensils, and potholders. “Where are the fucking Ziploc bags?” He slammed the soft-close drawer so hard it bounced back.

“Hey, hey . . . it’s okay.”

“Oh yeah? Those fuckers out there knocked her down and then crawled all over her like a goddamn Black Friday sale at Walmart.” And he really needed to punch something.

“So you’re Sarah.”

Damn, her face hurt. Already she could see the swelling of her cheek puffing up and impeding what vision she had with her messed-up glasses.

“I am,” she said.

“Max speaks highly of you.”

“Thanks ... I guess. You’re Alexandrea Stone, right?”

“Alex, and yes.”

Alex was pushing up the leg of Sarah’s pants.

Her left knee was scraped up and slowly trickling blood down her leg.

The palms of her hands stung where she’d tried to break her fall ... and her face throbbed.

“What were you doing out there?”

“My boss insisted. He seemed to think I could get Max to talk on camera.”

Alex rolled up the other pant leg.

“I went to your brother’s house ... Chase’s house since Max told me he wasn’t going to be there. Then Patrick, my boss, insisted we drive to Palmdale once Max showed up there. Ten miles down the road, Patrick told us to camp out here.”

“Sounds like a runaround.”

“Stupid.”

Alex brushed her scrape on the other knee.

Sarah jumped back.

“Sorry.”

Sarah took a deep breath. “It’s okay.”

“Who is we ?”

“What? Oh. My camera guy.”

“Is that who did this to you?”

“God, no. If it was Kiev, I would have hit back.”

Sarah saw admiration in Alex’s eyes.

The sound of something slamming in another room caused both of them to turn toward the noise.

“Is he okay?” Sarah asked.

“Max?”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty worked up.”

Alex shrugged. “From what I can tell, he’s rather protective of women. Max pretty much threatened to flatten a board member today when he raised his voice to me.” Alex sucked in a breath. “Oh shit. You didn’t hear that. That’s off the record.”

Sarah shook her head and was quick to do what she could to put Alex at ease. “The second I got on Max’s bike, everything became off the record. Please don’t worry.”

Alex looked Sarah in the eye. “I want to believe you.”

What a shitty position to be in, Sarah mused. Having to guard everything you say for fear it will be used publicly against you.

“I wrote only what Max approved of the first time. I’ll do the same in the future.”

“Your boss saw you ride in here. He’s going to expect something.”

Sarah nodded. “Yup, he’s a snake. But he hates litigation, which is why he put me on this story. I don’t write lies even if he wants me to. But I don’t tell all I know either.”

Sarah could tell by Alex’s expression she didn’t believe her.

Heavy footfalls moved closer.

Sarah turned to see, through her crooked glasses, Max walking her way.

“Here’s the ice.” He handed her the bag and looked at her knees.

His nose flared. “That fucking ass—”

Oh shit.

Max stormed toward the front door.

“Whoa, Captain America.” Sarah pushed to her feet and limped toward him. “Where are you going?”

“C’mon, Max,” Alex pleaded.

“Hey!” Chase called out.

Max opened the front door. “Men don’t hit women,” he grunted.

It hurt to hustle, but Sarah did it anyway. “You’re right. They don’t. But it was an accident.”

Max turned around.

She stood a few paces away from him.

“You go out there and play superhero ... that’s not an accident. Then all the clothes and haircuts in the world aren’t going to stop the bad press. Next thing you know, they’ll be digging all over your past, looking for the time you beat up Jimmy in third grade. And I bet there’s a Jimmy somewhere.”

Max met her gaze; his chest rose and fell as he sucked in a deep breath.

Her words seem to defuse him.

A loud hush went over the room as Max decided what he was going to do.

The sound of a four-legged animal running down the stairs broke the silence.

A rottweiler skidded to a stop in front of Max as if to say, “Let’s go bite someone.”

“So much for taking a nap.” A very pregnant woman waddled down the stairs.

Max ran a hand through his hair and shut the door. “Sorry, Piper,” Max relented.

The dog let out one bark and sat.

“You came,” Piper said, smiling.

She then looked around, saw everyone standing and staring. “What’s going on?” Piper hesitated when her gaze landed on Sarah. “Who are you ... and what happened to your face?”

Alex took Sarah’s arm. “Let’s talk about that after we get her cleaned up. Chase, keep him from doing anything stupid. C’mon, Sarah, there’s a bathroom down the hall.”

Sarah followed Alex and really hoped Max was in the living room when they returned.