Before Max could feel anymore of his tongue snaking around in her mouth, the vase connected with Carter's head.
When one AM came, Terry was getting off his bike, ready to drag himself in the house. The cell phone once again cut through his thoughts.
"Talk to me."
Ten seconds of dead air perked his attention. "Hello?"
Someone was breathing, the person sounded out of breath. "Hello?"
Someone swallowed. His raw nerves flared. "Look whoever this is better answer me right-!"
"He's there." A feminine voice answered, the nerves sounded rattled, "He's still there."
Concern washed his anger away.
"Max?" It couldn't be. He kept calling her name into the phone, tone demanding.
"Max! Max! What's wrong? Are you okay?"
She was unable to answer.
"Y-y-yeah."
"What's going on? Are you hurt? Did somebody rob you? Whose still where?"
"I had to run." She huffed out, breathless.
"Talk to me, Max, I can't help you if you can't explain-" Terry spoke slowly in a gentle tone.
The words managed to come out from her trembling voice:
"Apartment . . . . Terminal . . . after me . . ."
After peeling out on his bike to Max's, he placed a call into the cops. He managed to locate her hiding in an alley way across the street behind a dumpster. The cops showed up minutes later, Max thought it best to cooperate. Terry's watch flashed three am once a report was written, evidence was taken, and they released Max from questioning.
"He didn't do anything else once the cops walked in before I did. Just a little dazed from the blow you gave him. The cops picked him up. They let me lock up everything, straighten up a bit, feed Isis."
She stood there holding her in the chilly air, rehashing what happended before she called.
"I can't figure it out. He breaks in but doesn't try to kill me?" Max let her shiver escape. "It was like he was there to do something else . . . ."
How could she tell him that? That Carter Wilson came on to her in her apartment and could done anything to her!
But most of all, how could she explain that kiss?
"Yeah?" Suspicion danced in his blue orbs. She lowered her voice again with a twinge of guilt.
"Terry, he tried to-"
Now he fixed his gaze on her fulling. "He what?"
Whatever torture he was imagining to inflict on the once Joker, she heard herself think, she hoped it wouldn't come to pass. Not even to him.
His blue eyes seethed behind the lashes. She felt Terry take her by the arms, leading her away from the action.
"Did he hurt? Did he touch you? Come on Max, tell me."
The way his voice dropped low and murderous scared her just as much as Carter's actions.
"Max, do yo need to tell the cops-" (She could hear the "and me" in his tone) "-something?"
"No, no!" She cut him off in a hurried tone, she left the part about the tonue out but spoke about Carter's sudden "affection" toward her.
"He was coming on to you!?!" He forced himself to hiss at the shock of this statement.
"I hit him after that. I was scared. How was I suppose to act?"
"Max, if he would have gotten any father . . . ." Terry let the words trail off.
If Carter had gotten any farther . . . If she couldn't make that call . . . .
'No,' He shook his head. 'Don't think of that. Not now.'
"Terry, I swear, that's it! Nothing else happended."
His eyes went far off into the night, his darkest thoughts darkening him for a moment.
Worry. Concern. Fear. All those things swirled around his head, he couldn't picture her hurt. 'She's okay. Stop freaking out.' Terry had to keep repeating to himself. He still was in disbelief.
"You're lucky that it was the only thing he did." He finally spoke.
"I'm glad I didn't have to find that out." She stopped him from dwelling on it anymore.
Uncomfortable silence fell between them for a moment.
"I think we should talk to Wayne."
"What?" She fought the need to scream but forced it into a hushed whisper, "Why?"
"Because Carter Wilson doesn't try to kill you one day then try to kiss you the next without something else being seriously wrong."