Remembered by Moonlight Read Online Free Page A

man he couldn’t trust, and he’d bet that instinctual caution was built on someone’s bones. “Congratulations on your election to the state legislature. That must cushion the loss of your run for the mayor’s seat.”
    Pale eyes iced over, but the smile never faltered. “There’s always next term. In the meantime, I’m keeping myself immersed in the needs of the city.”
    “And your face in front of the public eye.”
    Simon Cummings had no response. He looked to his wife impatiently. “Imogene Wayland has been trying to get your attention. You should talk to her. She carries a lot of community respect along with her family’s old money.”
    Things Max Savoie could never offer.
    Max smiled at Noreen. “I’ve monopolized enough of your time.” He took out his check book and scrawled a lengthy number. “Put this to good use.”
    She blinked at the sum then shocked her husband, and Max, by impulsively hugging the former mobster right in front of all that respectable old money. “Thank you. And I will. You can count on it.” Her tone softened. “Thank you, Max.”
    Cummings interrupted the embrace with a brusque tug on her arm, hurrying her off into the murmuring crowd, leaving Max alone in the center of those disapproving whispers. Anxiousness began to build within his chest, making his heart rate race and his head grow light. And suddenly, he saw all through a hot wash of flames. He took a stumbling step back where Giles’ fortifying grip and quiet voice steadied him.
    “I think you’ve overtaxed yourself, Mr. Savoie. I suggest you say your good-byes.”
    Furness’s huge hand settled on his shoulder. “That’s probably a good idea, Max.”
    He looked to the priest, and his vision focused. “But there’s so much I need to ask you.”
    “Another time, in more appropriate surroundings.”
    Before he could object that enough time had been wasted, Giles steered him toward the exit. He’d already given the gossips enough for one morning. Or maybe not.
    His path was blocked by a dramatically made-up woman in clothes too young for the harsh lines on her face. Her assertive manner had Max drawing up in defensive alarm.
    “Karen Crawford,” Giles whispered. “Reporter. Avoid her.”
    “Mr. Savoie,” the woman cooed as she motioned her cameraman closer. “This is your first public appearance since your accident some months ago. You’re looking well.” A hungry, detailing gaze swept over him. “Not at all like a man who sustained a near-fatal head injury.”
    “Appearances can be deceiving, Ms. Crawford. As a supporter of the Cummings Foundation, I felt the cause worth the effort.”
    “I see you’re solo for the event. Is Detective Caissie on some important case, or has your rumored affair with a Bourbon Street stripper created some estrangement between you?” Her microphone lunged at him like a knife.
    In a tone as sharp as a deflecting blade, Max told her, “I’m here for a humanitarian purpose, not to discuss my personal life. If you’ll excuse me.”
    But Crawford held her ground. “Did she excuse you, Mr. Savoie, or is there trouble in mobster paradise?”
    Max cupped her microphone in his palm. “No comment.” He gave it a push away from him and quickly maneuvered around her and her scandal-mongering crew, letting Giles clear his way to the exit. Once outside, he sucked in a huge draught of air and expelled it noisily. Then he gave Giles a pointed look.
    “Am I having an affair with a stripper that I should know about?”
    Giles laughed, finding his question quite hilarious, and herded him to the car. “You’d best ask Charlotte.”
    Max balked when Giles opened the rear door for him. “I’ll ride up front. Sitting in the back makes me uncomfortable.”
    A spasm of grief and regret twisted his friend’s pleasant features, but only for a moment. Another mystery to pursue, perhaps on the way back to his penthouse prison.
    “All right then. But driver picks tunes.”
    Max bent,