The day after Max went with Abby to scatter her father’s ashes, he stood in the kitchen, cracking open a beer with Carlos while they waited for Nico and Farrell. They’d been in touch to set up today’s meeting, but this would be the first time he’d seen either of them since the death of Abby’s father.

He was ready. Ready to finish what had been started all those years ago when Jason had targeted Cartwright Holdings for takeover. Ready to finish what Jason had started when he’d burned down Abby’s house.

“How’s she doing?” Carlos asked the question softly.

“Pretty much how you’d expect.” Max hesitated. He hadn’t had a friend in a long time, wasn’t sure he was ready to call Carlos something so personal. But next to Nico, Carlos was the closest thing. “Dealing with the ashes yesterday seemed to be cathartic. She’s been sleeping a lot since then.”

“Probably emotionally wrung-out,” Carlos said. “The accident alone would be enough to knock anybody back. Put it together with the fact that Draper was her friend, and I’m surprised she hasn’t gone to get him herself.”

“Give it time,” Max said drily.

Carlos was right: Abby was emotionally exhausted, recovering, regrouping. But she was a fighter. When she came out of it, she’d be out for blood.

“Is there anything I can do?” Carlos asked.

“You’ve been doing it — holding down the business, dealing with the men on the small stuff, being around when we need you.” Max met his eyes. “Thank you.”

Carlos tipped his head. “That’s my job.”

Max nodded, relieved that Carlos was equally hesitant to describe their partnership as a friendship. Maybe they were more alike than Max realized.

The doorbell rang through the house and Max set down his beer, hurrying for the hall before Nico — or more likely, Farrell — decided to ring it again and wake Abby.

He opened the door and blinked in surprise when he saw that Nico and Farrell weren’t alone.

“Max,” Nico said. “Hello.”

“Hey.” Max looked at the man standing between Nico and Farrell, a man who couldn’t have looked more out of place between the two men if he’d tried.

“This is a friend of ours,” Nico said. “We think he can help with the Tangier.”

The man was almost as tall as Nico, but the similarities stopped there. Where Nico wore his customary suit — and Farrell slacks and a tailored shirt — the man between them was dressed in jeans and a white shirt unbuttoned far enough that Max caught sight of a Buddha pendant hanging from a cord around his neck. His hair was blond and shaggy, his face tan. He looked like a surfer who’d stumbled out of the water an hour ago.

“Max Cartwright, this is Locke Montgomery,” Nico said when it became obvious Max wasn’t going to let them in without more information. “Locke, Max is running our Vegas territory.”

“Are you having a bloody stroke?” Farrell said to him. “I’m half blind from the sun. Let us in, will you?”

Max stepped back and opened the door. Nico and Farrell entered the foyer. The man named Locke followed, shaking Max’s hand on the way in.

“Nice to meet you.”

Max fought a flash of irritation. Who the fuck was this guy and why was he in Max’s house without warning?

“There’s beer in the kitchen,” he said, leading them down the hall.

“Nice place,” Locke said as they passed through the living room.

Max didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to play nice with this guy until Nico explained why he’d brought him into the situation.

He opened the fridge and pulled out three more beers while Carlos introduced himself to Locke.

“I’m going to need more in the way of an introduction before I can be entirely welcoming,” Max said, handing out the beers.

Farrell grinned and looked at Nico. “I might have some competition for head asshole after all.”

Max shrugged. “Not trying to be an asshole. This is my home. I want to know who you’ve brought into it.”

He was thinking of Abby upstairs asleep, of all the times she was alone in the house while he was working. Very few people knew the house belonged to him. Max liked it that way. He didn’t want to worry about some criminal coming back for a second look when he wasn’t around.

Nico nodded. “I apologize, Max. I should have called to tell you we’d be bringing someone else. We’ve worked with Locke on many occasions. I wouldn’t have brought him if I didn’t trust him implicitly.”

“He’s not Syndicate,” Max stated.

If Locke had been Syndicate, Nico would have had him in pressed slacks and a tailored shirt, his hair cut and combed.

“No,” Nico said. “He’s a freelancer of sorts. He has a… flair for the unconventional.”

“What does that mean?” Max asked.

“I like to get into trouble,” Locke said simply. “The more, the better.”

Max eyed him. “We’re not looking for trouble.”

“Sounds like trouble’s already found you,” Locke said.

“Listen, the Tangier’s going to prove challenging to breach,” Farrell said, a note of exasperation in his voice. “Especially the suite. Locke has a long and storied history of doing all kinds of fucked up things to get into places. If he can’t find a way in nobody can.”

“I’m flattered,” Locke said.

“Don’t be,” Farrell said. “Your hair’s a disgrace, and if I could get away with ripping that Buddha off your neck and strangling you with it, I would.”

Locke grinned. “Sounds like someone needs a little meditation.”

“I’m going to meditate you from here to Sunday if you’re not careful,” Farrell said cheerfully.

“Max, you’ll have the final call on the mission,” Nico said, bringing everybody back to the problem at hand. “But it can’t hurt to get some thoughts on getting into the hotel from someone who’s used to thinking out of the box.”

Max nodded. “All right.”

“Let’s look at the plans then,” Farrell said.

Max walked to the living room and grabbed the rolled-up building plans. He cleared off the kitchen island and reached into the silverware drawer for four knives to hold down the corners of the blueprints.

“We filled him in on some of the background,” Nico said as Max unrolled the massive sheets of paper.

“This is the top floor of the hotel.” Max pointed to a blocked-off area at one end of the blueprints, which were designed to be read by people who already knew what all the symbols and markings stood for. “And this is the suite.”

“Elevators, hall,” Locke marked each spot with his finger.

Max nodded. “Yep.”

He’d looked at the plans during more than one sleepless night over the past few days and had figured out the basic layout. He was still working on the roof above the suite and the floor below, both of which could become important in the equation of getting in and out of the suite.

He moved the plan aside and set another one on top. “There are plans for the roof, too. I thought that might be an option.”

“An option for what?”

The question took him by surprise, not because it had been asked but because of who had asked it.

He turned to see Abby standing in the living room. She was wearing leggings and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her hair was piled on top of her head, her eyes alert.

Max straightened. “We’re trying to figure out how to get into the Tangier.”

“I thought you were going to put surveillance equipment in place to help with that,” she said, coming toward them.

“We were,” Max said. “But we couldn’t find a way to pull it off in time.”

They’d talked about asking Abby to help them get surveillance equipment into the hotel, but that had been before her father’s death, before the knowledge that Jason was responsible for it.

Now, Max wanted her as insulated as possible from the whole mess.

“I know how to get it in,” she said.

“Tell us,” Farrell said.

Max shot him an angry glance. “You don’t have to tell us anything. You should be resting.”

“I’ve rested enough to last a lifetime,” she said, looking up at him. “This is my fight too.”

She was right. If anyone had a right to work towards Jason’s demise, it was her.

And this was how Abby fought — she took quiet action, making things happen behind the scenes.

He put a hand on her shoulder and bent to kiss her cheek.

“This is Abby,” he said to Locke. “She’s going to help us find a way in.”

He didn’t speak the words lingering in the back of his mind.

I love her with my whole heart.

She’s been hurt enough.

If anything happens to her because of this mission, I’ll kill you all.