"It's a bad idea," Uncle Eddie says. "You know where this will lead."

Max's voice is strained. "Why don't you just let me worry about that?"

I'm outside the door now, listening. But I can't figure out what they're talking about.

"Look," Uncle Eddie says, "let's just go eat dinner. We can discuss this later."

I hear movement, and realize they are heading toward the door. My only option is to scramble back up the stairs about halfway, the turn and act like I'm just coming down now. I make it just in time, and start walking down as the door opens and the two men emerge.

"Hadley," Uncle Eddie says, "you do look lovely. I think Rina has us set up in the dining room. Shall we?" He extends his arm to me as I come down the last few steps, like a gentleman in an old movie escorting a woman to dinner. I have no choice but to take his arm and go along, with a sidelong glance at Max.

I can't read Max's face, and I didn't overhear enough to figure out what they were talking about. But I'm pretty sure now that it's not about me. You know where this will lead, Uncle Eddie said. Well, it's painfully clear that being with me won't lead anywhere. But maybe what they were discussing is a new deal with Gino, something more than just the money laundering scheme involving the art gallery.

Is Gino trying to work his way into the drug trade in Miami? Maybe not just cocaine this time, but the more deadly fentanyl and other synthetic opioids. And methamphetamines. Club drugs, like Molly. Possibly also some of the new synthetic drugs that change faster than the FDA can keep up with them.

All I can think about is Max getting arrested for being involved in drug trafficking, and the long sentences the federal judges impose. I remember him telling me that Uncle Eddie handles that side of the business, that Max has no interest in illegal drugs.

But Rina told me that it was Uncle Eddie and Gino's brother-in-law who were originally putting together an arrangement for Gino's drug operation to move into Miami. Before the tragedy that prompted my grandfather to put a stop to it.

Are Uncle Eddie and Gino trying to repeat history, and this time drag Max into it instead of his father? The thought of it terrifies me. How can Max take a risk like this, when he already knows Special Agent Assante Williams - the man who put Max's father away - has made it his personal mission to see that Max winds up in the same place. A federal penitentiary.

I look over at Max who is seated across the table from me in the formal dining room, while Rina bustles about putting platters of food on the table and refusing help from anyone.

"Where's Gabe?" I ask him, suddenly curious.

"Gabe?" Max looks at me.

"Yes. Didn't Gabe go to New York with you?"

"We dropped him off at the club to check on a few things, on our way back from the airport." It's Uncle Eddie who answers my question instead of Max.

"Oh," I say. "I didn't realize you were also in New York."

"Why would you?" Max asks me.

"Right." I try to fill the suddenly uncomfortable silence. What's going on here. "It's not like you share your itinerary with me," I say, giving a small laugh.

Inside I feel sick. If Uncle Eddie was also on the trip to New York to meet with Gino, it can't be anything but drugs. I have to find a chance to talk to Max alone. I have to tell him what I found out from Rina, even if he gets furious with me for questioning her. I hope he won't be angry with her for telling me, but there are bigger things at stake here.

And if my grandfather finds out it's all happening again? This insane plan of Uncle Eddie's could destroy pretty much everyone I care about.

I manage to eat a plate of manicotti and salad, with a thick slice of homemade garlic bread, and make all the appropriate compliments to Rina, who refuses the join us, insisting that she'll eat later with Enzo in their apartment. I'm sure the food is amazing, but I barely taste it. I also no longer feel drunk from the cranberry Margaritas, which may be in part due to the heavy pasta and bread I ate, but more likely is because my fear for Max has jolted me sober.

Angelina makes small talk with Max and Uncle Eddie, and no one seems to notice I'm mostly silent.

After dinner Rina brings out a tray of cannoli and strong coffee with Bailey's while we all linger at the table. Angelica leans back in her chair and lets out a long breath.

"Hadley, after that meal I don't think I'm up for going to the club tonight. Rain check?"

"Sure." I'm relieved because I'm not in the mood for it either, for altogether different reasons I didn't want to have to explain.

"You look tired," Max says, and I don't tell him it's fear for him, not exhaustion, that he sees on my face.

"Probably spent too much time out in the heat and sun," I say.

"And all those cranberry Margarita's didn't hurt," Angelica says with a giggle. Obviously she hasn't been shocked sober like me.

"I'm going to bed," she announces, after lavishing more praise on Rina for the meal. Max shoes Rina off to go have her meal with Enzo, telling her to just leave the kitchen and dishes to be dealt with later, and she reluctantly agrees.

Max turns to me. "I'll give you a ride home."

Uncle Eddie raises an eyebrow again - I'm starting to think maybe that's a characteristic gesture - but says nothing.

"You're welcome to stay here tonight," Max says, and for a hot moment I think he's talking to me, inviting me to share his bed with him, then I realize the offer was directed at Uncle Eddie.

"Thanks," Uncle Eddie says, "but I have a few things to take care of now that we're back in town." He gets up from the table and pauses when he's passing by me.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Hadley. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon."

"It was nice to meet you, too," I manage, at a loss as to what else to say. Somehow Max has told me so much about you seems like it would be a mistake, under the circumstances. Because there's really nothing good Max has told me about him, and frankly I'm not anxious to see him again. Especially not if he's trying to convince Max to bring Gino in and expand the distribution of drugs he's already operating as one of the illicit parts of the family businesses.

"Let me just go get my things," I tell Max.

When I come back downstairs I walk softly, hoping to catch part of another conversation, but the house is quiet. When I enter the main floor, I see Max standing alone in the dining room, studying the portrait of his parents. He turns when I walk through the doorway.

"Ready?" he asks, and I nod.

We're alone now. Uncle Eddie must have left right away, Angelica's gone up to bed, and Rina is in her apartment dining with Enzo. I glance toward the kitchen. "I feel like we should clean up and not leave all that mess for Rina to deal with I the morning. It's kind of a lot. Not that I'm in the mood to load the dishwasher and wipe down the counters, but we could at least put the leftover food away."

"Don't worry about it," Max says. "I already left word for a couple people on the cleaning crew at the club to come over and deal with it. They have the alarm code. And I'm sure Rina put the leftovers away already."

He surprises me again when he says that. Ruthless businessman. Crime boss. And a man who makes life easier in ways like this for the woman who has worked for his family since long before he was born and probably, I realize suddenly, had a large role in raising him after his mother died.

Rina will walk into the kitchen in the morning expecting to have a clean-up ahead of her. And instead she will find it sparkling and clean.

"That was a really nice thing for you to do," I say, and he just shrugs it off.

We go outside and he opens the door for me. He brought the sports car again, and my mind goes immediately to what happened the last time Max had me alone in this car. I flush thinking about the way his hand moved slowly up the inside of my thigh, teasing and tormenting me, then bringing me to a shattering orgasm while we sped down the dark coastal highway.

Then immediately I pale as I remember what happened after. The car chase, the shoot-out, the abandoned vehicle the police later found with blood on the front seat and bullet holes through the windshield, but no bodies.

"Did you ever find out who was behind that ambush?" I ask him as he slides into the driver's seat.

"No," Max says. "I still have people looking into it, but they've come up cold so far. Got a few leads on who the shooters might have been, but even if that's correct they were just out of town talent, and no one has seen them since that night. No way so far to know who hired them."

"Do you think they're . . . dead?" I ask.

He glances over me. "Could be. But if they are, it's just as likely whoever hired them killed them. If it was my shots that took them out, there would have been at least one body."

"Makes sense," I say, and give an involuntary shudder.

"Hey," Max says, reaching over and patting my knee, then putting this hand back on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry I got you into something like that."

"It wasn't your fault."

He laughs. "Of course it was my fault."

"Yeah. I guess so. I mean, it wasn't random. And they weren't after me."

We ride in silence for a few minutes while I think what to say. It's hard to think, when I'm sitting here in the car, so close to him, watching those strong hands with their easy touch on the wheel, knowing exactly how they would feel tonight on my body if I just told him to turn the car around and take me back to the house, back to his bed. Or to stop at the club and take me up to his apartment and do whatever he wants. Do everything we both want.

It's not easy, especially after he got me so aroused out by the pool describing fantasies that would be so easy to make come true.

"Why were you in New York?" I ask him, forcing my brain to shift gears abruptly.

His answer is brief, his tone clipped.

"I had business with Gino."

"What kind of business? Why was Uncle Eddie with you?"

He glances over again, this time with a slightly annoyed look on his face.

"Hadley, I'm not going to discuss business with you. I'm trying to keep you out of my business from now on. It's too risky for you."

I'm not giving up that easy. "You have to know that FBI agent is after you, Max. Why would you even think about doing more business with Gino?"

"I'm keeping it all above board. Don't worry."

"Above board? With Uncle Eddie involved? Don't forget, you told me about him already. How he handles the type of business you don't want to touch. Drugs, for example."

"I have no intention of dealing in drugs."

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"How many times do I have to remind you that I gave you my word I'll never lie to you, Hadley." He sounds exasperated, and I guess rightly so. But I'm not going to let him off the hook that easily.

"So if it wasn't drugs, what were you doing in New York with Gino?" I am nothing if not persistent.

"I told you before, I'm not going to talk to you about my business dealings. Why all the questions?"

"Because I found out something today. And I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to be mad at Rina."

"Dammit," Max says, "I know you were there trying to get more information out of Rina. I told you last time never to do that again."

"I don't remember that," I say. And I really don't.

There's tension in the car, now, and it's not the sexual tension that's always present when I'm with Max. Whether we're alone or I spot him across a crowded room. No, this is anger. The fact that he's keeping it carefully in check doesn't mean it isn't there.

"Tell me," he says.

"I don't know if this is new information to you or not," I begin. Then I repeat everything Rina shared with me. And I explain how I got her to tell me, because I really don't want him to be angry with her. If he's going to be upset with anyone over this, it should be me.

Max pulls the car off the road and into a beach parking area, a little distance before we will get to the ferry.

"I had no idea," he says. "I had no idea about any of it. I told you everything I remembered from the argument that day, when your grandfather stormed out of my father's home office, and left the house." He gives a short humorless laugh. "So Andrew has been protecting my father all these years, and I never knew."

"Not just your father," I tell him. "He's also been protecting you. But that's not the point. The reason I'm upset is because it looks like it's happening all over again. It was Uncle Eddie who set up the deal in the first place for Gino to move his drug operation into Miami. And now here's Uncle Eddie going off to New York with you to meet with Gino? What was I supposed to think?"

"It's not drugs, Hadley. I can tell you that much."

"Then what it is?"

"I'm not going to tell you that. It's enough for you to know it's not drugs."

"Be careful, Max," I say, and I realize suddenly that I'm silently crying, tears spilling over and running down my cheeks.

Max wipes the tears with his thumb, then pulls me close to him and kisses me. When his lips move over mine I melt into him. The kiss seems to meld us together, and I put all of myself into it, a warm glow spreading through me that's nothing like the wild excitement that I usually experience when his mouth comes in contact with any part of my body. This is somehow deeper, filled with emotion, and I want to hold onto him and never let go.

But all too soon he eases back, then puts the car in gear and drives me the rest of the way home without another word, not even during the short trip by ferry back to the island community.

When he pulls into the driveway and stops I just look at him for a long moment, then get out of the car and go into the house. As the door closes behind me, I hear his car pull away.

I got so many answers today, but I'm left with even more questions.

I may not know yet what Max is up to with Gino, and how Uncle Eddie plays into the picture, but I'll find out eventually.

And the first thing I'm going to do tomorrow morning is solve another question that has gone too long unanswered.

Tomorrow I'm going to call my father and demand that he tell me what caused the estrangement with my grandfather in the first place. And I'm going to finally tell him the truth about my grandparents' refusal to pay for my mother's cancer treatments. I've thought about it a lot, and if I were him, I'd want to know the truth, even if it hurt.

I'm done with secrets.