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Chapter 5

Max ripped off the night-vision goggles as soft light filtered through the space in front of him. The heat signature his equipment had observed through the wall was spot-on, and his heart nearly burst as he caught sight of Violet.

Mentally tallying the time, he waved her forward, the lingering dust clogging the air between them.

“Max!”

The dust was the only reason he could name when his breath caught in his throat, the heavy beat of his heart thudding in his chest.

She was alive.

He’d spent the entire drive convincing himself she was still alive, but it was only at the moment he’d secured the heat signature on his equipment that he finally believed.

Dragging her against his chest, he took one moment to satisfy himself that she was whole before he nodded toward the still-smoldering rubble. “We need to go.”

“But the ruby.”

“Now!” He glanced down, momentarily puzzled. “Where are your shoes?”

“I haven’t had them since I got here. Apparently high heels are weapons.”

He nodded, the countdown clock of how quickly Lange would come running still ticking in his head. “The ones you wear certainly are.”

The heavy shouts and pounding of feet outside the door registered through the still-settling dust, and he reached for her waist, pulling her up into his arms. Her scream of protest was a surprise, but he ignored it as he maneuvered through the rubble in his thick boots. “I’ll set you down outside.”

Max moved over the detritus in the room—pieces of bricks, sheetrock and the broken ceramic of a large lamp—before the warm Texas summer night wrapped around them. He set Violet on her feet and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

Her long legs kept pace with him as they wove over the vast stretch of property that bordered the house. He’d spent the early evening doing full recon of the property and knew this was the most dangerous part of the rescue. The piece of land Lange owned was several acres of wide-open field, rimmed by a thick copse of trees at the property’s western perimeter. The trees might provide a measure of safety, but until they reached them, he and Violet were easy targets.

Lange’s age worked against him when it came to speed and an ability to keep up, but Max knew they wouldn’t be so lucky with Lange’s assistant, Alex. Reed had already given Max details on the assistant. He wasn’t a U.S. citizen, and digging into international records took time, but what they’d gleaned so far was that he was ex-military.

From his own dealings, Max took the knowledge a step further.

The man was young enough and determined enough to be a massive threat, and the only thing working in their favor right now was the dark.

“He’s behind us!” Violet screamed but kept pace beside him, despite her lack of shoes over the hard, dry ground.

A loud shot went wide, whizzing past Max. Although the shot was a bad one, its trajectory gave Max all the intel he needed.

He was the target.

Alex obviously wanted to take him down to gain quicker access to Violet.

“Car’s stowed just down the road at the edge of the field. It’s my grandfather’s car instead of my truck because it was easier to hide. I’ve cut a hole in the fence for you to wiggle through. Keep on going. It’s unlocked and the keys are under the driver’s seat.”

“What!”

Her words evaporated behind him like smoke as Max flipped his night-vision goggles over his eyes, then stopped and dropped to his knee, gun in his hand. Without hesitation, he found the moving target in his sights and fired. Dirt spewed up at the man’s feet, a missed body shot but enough to piss him off. The man slowed briefly to lift his gun, and that gave Max the opportunity he needed.

Hands steady, he lined up his own shot and aimed for the knee. And heard a surprisingly satisfying howl of pain as he hit his target.

The gun was still hot from its recent firing. Max could see where it was flung to the ground, its heat signature imprinted on his goggles. He debated taking one more shot at the doubled-over figure but knew Violet’s safety was more important than vengeance.

There’d be time for that later.

Regaining his feet, he followed the imprint of Violet’s body, now about a hundred yards away, closing in on the fence that rimmed the property. Max kept his gaze on her bobbing figure and dropped his goggles so she was visible in the moonlight.

She was safe.

That thought kept him company as he raced over the remaining ground. He reached her as she was climbing through the fence, and he couldn’t help his quick appreciation for the delectable backside that winked up at him like a beautiful upside-down heart.

“Stop looking at my ass.”

Max crawled through, then grinned at her as he cleared the fence. “Ah. There’s my girl.”

“I’m not—” Her words vanished into the Texas countryside as the unmistakable squeal of tires lit up the night air. Burning rubber assailed his nose as a black SUV came barreling toward them.

* * *

“Violet!”

Max had her in hand, dragging her back under the fence and toward a small copse of trees she’d seen at the far end of the property. The sheer menace of the SUV bore down on the car Max had parked down the way. The horrific shriek of metal on metal lit up the air around them, followed by a wash of sparks where the two vehicles struck each other.

Violet found herself briefly mesmerized by the display before the driver shifted, backed up and headed determinedly toward them on the other side of the barbed-wire fence.

Was this it?

Had she really been rescued by Max only to die like this? On the side of the road in the middle of who knew where?

“Come on!” Max’s large hand was firm around hers as he dragged her farther into the trees.

As escape routes went, it wasn’t ideal, but the trees were enough of a deterrent that the driver would either lose them or have to get out on foot. Max maintained a determined pace, his steps sure and steady as he navigated through the increasingly wooded area.

The SUV crashed through the fence, and the gunning of the engine bore down on them with all the menace of a hellhound. Again, Violet couldn’t quite shake the idea that she’d made it this far only to risk death at the hands of a maniac bent on destruction.

The vision of both of them lying flattened in the Texas countryside vanished as she stepped on something sharp, an involuntary cry escaping her lips before she hopped toward Max on one foot.

“What is it?”

“My foot.”

Max barely broke his stride. He simply reached for her, slinging her over his shoulder. She wanted to protest but knew the move was meant to protect instead of conquer, so she kept quiet as he headed farther into the trees. Her stomach still stung from Alex’s earlier beating, but she held back the cry of pain as her body bounced on Max’s broad shoulder.

The Professional

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