The Becoming
Chapter Ten

It's a reflex action, rushing into Max's arms the moment he appears at the door. For a moment, there's nothing except the feel of his body against mine. The electric touch of his fingers on my neck as he kisses me. I curl into the curve of his body, flesh against flesh, man against woman.
He kicks the door shut with his foot and maneuvers me to the couch.
We fall upon it, breathless, eager.
Then I remember.
It's not exactly man against woman any more.
"Max," I push against his chest with my hands, forcing him to stop and look at me.
His eyes are the color of the ocean in the morning and I almost lose myself again. But I can't. Already I feel my body responding in such an intense way, if I hesitate now, we might both be lost. "Wait."
He sits back a little, a puzzled smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. He seems to notice what I have on for the first time.
"Is this a new look?" he asks, running a finger along the neckline of the scrubs. "Hospital chic the new rage this season?"
Then he looks at my face, really looks at me, for the first time. His smile freezes, melts away. His finger traces the cut at my hairline.
"Are you hurt? What happened to you?"
I know most of my injuries have faded, only the hint of a cut where Donaldson first hit me remains. And? My hand goes to the wound at my throat. But I feel nothing except a small bump of raised skin. I let Max help me into a sitting position beside him on the couch.
"I got into a little trouble a couple of nights ago."
"A little trouble? How little?"
I move away from him slightly so I can face him squarely. "A skip we were working jumped us."
"Jumped you and David?"
He's frowning now. I feel his body tense, and I put a gentle hand on his arm. "We're okay. Just banged up. The guy you saw leaving? That was the doctor who treated me."
But that bit of news doesn't bring about the response I'd hoped. Max's frown deepens. "Jesus, Anna. The doctor came here to check up on you? It must have been pretty serious."
"No, not really." I don't want to tell Max anymore than I have to. I start to babble. "I was released from the hospital today. He was in the neighborhood, that's all. And don't look so worried. David is fine. He's with Gloria in LA, so you know he wasn't hurt that bad either. I'm just still a little sore. Guess I bruised a rib or two. Anyway, I'm supposed to take it easy for a week or so."
It sounds lame, even to my ears, but I can't think of any other way to avoid the inevitable. I can't have sex with Max until I learn how to control this thing.
Until I learn how to control this thing?
I'm actually considering Avery's suggestion?
I pull away from Max and get to my feet. I can't trust myself to be this close. I know Max is watching me intently. I feel a familiar tingling in the pit of my stomach, an unwelcome surge of excitement even lower.
"Bruised ribs?" Max is on his feet, too. "Your ribs didn't seem to be hurting a minute ago."
Why did I say bruised ribs? I start to turn away, but Max turns me back. "There's more, isn't there?" His voice is soft and concerned. "What did he do to you, Anna?"
I hesitate and blow out a breath. We had sex, and he turned me into a vampire. "Nothing, Max. Really. I'm more embarrassed than hurt. But I'm just not feeling quite right yet." I press a hand to my forehead. "My head still hurts, and it's making me a little woozy."
He doesn't believe me, I see it on his face. But he remains silent, contemplative. Finally, he leads me back to the couch, and we sit down side by side. After another long moment, I steal a sideways glance at him. He's watching me.
"David is in LA?" he says.
I nod. "With Gloria." I know suddenly why he's asking. "You aren't going to bother him, Max," I say firmly. "I'm telling you it was nothing. We're both going to be just fine."
"And what did you say that doctor's name was?"
"I didn't."
Max stirs, picking up a pillow and laying it back down.
He's irritated.
I can't say that I blame him. I just can't do anything about it. The way I usually work him out of a bad mood isn't an option at this particular time.
"Max, come on." I put a hand on his shoulder. "Talk to me. How's the job going? I heard about a big bust in Southeast last week. I figured it was one of yours."
He doesn't answer right away. I start to think he's not going to answer at all and then he exhales noisily and places his hand over mine. "The job is going great," he says. "The bust was one of the biggest ever. Now there's only the money trail and we can wrap this thing up."
He shifts a little on the couch, raises my hand and brushes the palm against his lips. It's all I can do to keep from purring. Instead, though, I give him a little "go on" bob of my head.
He sighs and continues. "This afternoon I drove the boss over the border to visit his mama. When I dropped him off, he gave me five hundred bucks and told me to get laid." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wad of cash. "Hold this for me, will you?
If I go back with this, he'll know I didn't get laid. Of course, it looks like I'm not going to get laid anyway, so what difference does it make, huh?"
I give him the look. "So, that's the only reason you come to see me? Sex is the only attraction?"
He capitulates with a smile. "Not the only attraction," he says. "But when I haven't seen you in two months and I don't know when I'll see you again and we only have a few hours ... Well, it's hardly enough time to enter into a comprehensive discussion of world politics, is it?" He leans toward me, his lips dangerously close. "But it's certainly enough time to explore other interesting topics.
Things like breasts." His left hand cups my right breast. "Or thighs." His hand moves down.
Then his lips move past my cheek and blow gently into my ear. "I could be very, very gentle, Anna."
My defenses slip away. Sex with Max is one of the great pleasures of my life. The fact that we see each other only sporadically, and always unexpectedly, adds to the delight.
But I can't do this now. I don't trust myself. Regretfully, I pull away. "Please, Max. I just don't feel well."
"Oh. Headache, huh?"
I nod and do the palm to the forehead thing again.
He laughs. "It isn't working, Anna," he says. "You're the toughest woman I know. And you're wired for sex like nobody I've ever met. So, are you going to tell me what's really going on here? Or do I have to track down David and get the truth from him?"
It's an empty threat. Max's undercover work as a driver for one of Mexico's most notorious gangsters keeps him on a short leash.
In fact, his assignment is how we met. Not long after I got into the business, a skip I was working agreed to turn informant in exchange for a get-out-of-jail free card. The Feds became very interested when they learned the guy was a lieutenant in the gangster's mob. I arranged the deal and Max turned out to be the plant. So I know for sure he won't be making any unscheduled forays into LA.
And Max knows it, too, but I give him points for the effort.
When I don't respond, he sighs. "Okay. I give up. I don't know what's wrong, but I can't force you to tell me. I'm not buying this injured act, and I can't believe anybody could get the best of you and David. But I've trusted you with my life since the first moment I saw you. I guess I just have to trust that whatever is bothering you now has nothing to do with us."
It's a touching speech. I believe he believes what he's saying. I also know Max lies for a living, and his acting skills are what have kept him alive in some pretty tough situations. I wipe an imaginary tear from my eye.
We both start laughing at the same time.
"So," he says, coming up for air. "Got anything to eat? I'm starved."
I take his hand and pull him toward the kitchen.
"I don't suppose you have anything from Luigi's," he says, scanning the contents of my refrigerator. "I'd kill for a plate of his lasagna."