The Professional

by Addison Fox

  And how soulless he really was.

  It had been only after long hours of painful pacing that she realized the injuries might work in her favor. She’d run that idea through several lenses, wondering how she might make the appropriate plea with bank personnel.

  Or convince them she needed help without putting any additional people in danger.

  A casual shrug of her sleeve before revealing the wound Alex had inflicted? A rush of the counter, begging the employees to call the police? There were many ways to create a diversion, but when she imagined the bank lobby of the branch she’d used, she continued to discard each and every one.

  Although the bank maintained a shielded teller line, the outer offices were all unprotected. Add on any civilians in the bank and she was putting a lot of people in danger for a gem she had no interest in keeping. Even if the thought of giving Reed’s stepfather what he wanted violated every ounce of decency and goodness she possessed.

  Tripp Lange had killed for stones. Repeatedly. They were nothing more than rocks, mined from the earth and given some ridiculous layer of significance by small-minded individuals.

  Lilah had discovered the legend of the Renaissance Stones as she came to understand the gems better, and Violet had filled in the gaps with some quick online research.

  The stones were originally one stone, mined by the Dutch East India Company in the late seventeenth century and reputed for both its size and exquisite, flawless beauty. It was subsequently cut into the current trio, three rubies of near-perfect quality, all designed to rest in the crown of a king or queen. After its discovery, the stone was brought to a jeweler in Antwerp for cutting. The man was then murdered barely a week after the stones left his possession.

  She’d read the history from there, the quiet battle between the Dutch and the English for rightful ownership of the pieces. The wave of misery the stones left in the wake of all who came in contact with them. It hadn’t taken long for whispers of a curse to accompany the legend of the stones, and although she’d originally shrugged off the silliness of that line of thinking, a glance down at her arm had Violet reconsidering.

  They’d had nothing but trouble since the stones were recovered. Three men—that she knew of—had been murdered at Lange’s hand, and his other assistant was killed during the showdown with Reed.

  While she was more likely to believe human greed and avarice were at the heart of the stones’ mythic power, she couldn’t fully disregard the depth of what had already happened.

  Or the fact that Tripp’s behavior had escalated as he continued to get closer and closer to the jewels.

  Pain was a steady accompaniment as she struggled to a sitting position once more. The man already had one stone. He likely had it on him, somewhere in the house. If she could convince him to bring it along to the bank, she could use that to her benefit.

  The idea tumbled around in her thoughts and she twisted it, turning each facet as she tried to determine what to do. The stones were large for jewels but relatively small as individual items. Lilah had hidden hers inside her shoe, so the relative size was modest.

  Everything she’d understood so far about Lange indicated he was enamored of the pieces, so much so that he’d be likely not to leave the stone behind. Would he carry it in his pocket? Or inside his suit jacket?

  With the first real glimmer of hope since she’d awoken in the dim room, Violet realized she could use that knowledge. He had to get her out in the open if he wanted her stone. And when he did, she’d observe his movements and get a read on any area of his body that he focused on with surreptitious pats or subtle favoring.

  And then she’d strike.

  All she needed was enough motion to get the gem off his person, and she could put it through the window of the bank’s teller line. The bulletproof glass had small openings across the line so people could slide their transactions to the teller.

  She needed to be sure of her motions and she had to move quickly but she could use that small window. And once she got that stone behind glass, she had a bargaining chip. The others in the bank would be safe because he wasn’t leaving the stone behind, and she would refuse to get the second stone if he hurt anyone.

  Violet resettled herself against the pillows, the pain fading slightly in the rush of adrenaline and satisfaction. The idea wasn’t perfect, and she’d have to deal with the Alex factor as well, but it had merit. And for the first time since she’d woken up, her limbs unmoving, she felt some small sense of control.

  She closed her eyes, regulating her breathing as she visualized the layout of the bank. The area where she could make her move. The best spot to overpower Lange. The holes built into the teller line where she could push through the pilfered ruby.

  Her small smile of satisfaction was short-lived as a large boom with all the force of a jet engine echoed around her. The bed began to shake and she scrambled to sit up, shocked as the opposite wall vanished before her eyes, crumbling to dust.

  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, whizz
ing 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 man was carrying her, for heaven’s sake. She could toughen up and add as little distraction as possible. The SUV’s engine faded as they got deeper into the trees, and after another hundred yards, Max stopped.

  He set her down, his breathing thick with adrenaline and the additional weight she’d added to the walk. “Bastard can’t reach us here in that vanity monstrosity he’s driving. Now he’s got to follow on foot.”

  His even white teeth glinted in the moonlight on a hard smile. “And I’d love nothing more than to get him out in the open.”

  A small thought—albeit brief—flitted through her mind that she should be concerned about Max’s obvious relish for violence. Yet the pain that still lingered in her body as well as the memory of waking earlier with absolute lack of movement in her limbs dulled any sense of concern.

  She wanted violence, too. And with that realization came another. The firm, steady hunger for vengeance.

  The feeling was foreign—she’d felt it only once before—but this time it settled much more easily about her frame.

  He fumbled through a large pocket on the side of his pants. “I’d give you my shoes, but their size will only slow you down. Put these on.”

  She glanced down at a thin set of gloves. The material was flexible but oddly solid. “I’ve never seen anything like these.”

  “They’re a high-tech fiber designed to give maximum flexibility to the wearer but protect the skin. Sort of like neoprene but better. They weren’t designed for feet, but we’ll improvise.”

  The fingers hung off the tips of her toes, but the palms of the gloves were large enough to cover her feet. They weren’t ideal, but they were better than what she had—nothing—and Violet nodded after confirming they were snug. “I’m good.”

  He kept his voice low. “There’s a small creek that flows through here. I looked at it during my recon earlier. The creek bed is dry from the summer heat, and we can follow it.”

  “Where will it take us?”

  “I saw a small barn about two properties down. It’s a bit of a hike, but we need a place to regroup.”

  “Where are Tucker and Reed?”

  “Dallas. They stayed with Cassidy and Lilah.”

  Violet nearly stopped, but they’d already wasted enough time, and she had no doubt Tripp wasn’t far off.

  “Why’d they leave you on your own?”

  “I left them.”

  Moonlight filtered through the trees, and Max only increased the pace as they tromped over brush and fallen logs.

  Violet sensed something beneath his words—a hesitation to speak that was very unlike the Max Baldwin she knew.

  “Why’d you leave them?”

  “I know how to run an op.”

  “Quite well. Obviously. But I know Tucker has the same training you do, and Reed’s a cop. So why the Lone Ranger act?”

  Violet knew this was the last moment she should be pushing for answers, but it was suddenly deeply important she understand why he’d come for her. Without backup. At absolute risk to himself.

  “Tucker and Reed needed to stay with Cassidy and Lilah. There was no way I wanted them left unprotected.”

  “They’re tougher than they look.”

  “Tell me about it. Both of them were chomping at the bit to come along.”

  “So answer my question. Why’d you put yourself at risk?”

  “Because—” He broke off, anguish stamped as clearly in that word as if he’d been struck.

  “Why, Max?”

  He never broke stride—never slowed down—but his gaze never left hers as they pressed on. “I had to get to you. And if you were dead, I needed to deal with it in my own time. In my own way.”

  Air whooshed out of her lungs in one hard exh
ale.

  She’d expected either an edgy retort or some smart-ass remark, since that was all she and Max seemed capable of when they were together.

  Which made his revelation that much more of a surprise.

  The damnable tears that had thickened her throat off and on for the last twenty-four hours welled once more. She’d struggled with self-pity at the wedding and fear for Cassidy and Lilah while in Lange’s clutches. These tears were for something else.

  Max had come for her.

  Despite their constant war of words and her usual ice-cold demeanor, he’d come.

  The large shoulders that seemed capable of carrying the world hunched in front of her, his unyielding pace moving them ever onward. He looked invincible and acted as if nothing affected him.

  Yet she’d misjudged him. Terribly so.

  “Thank you. I—”

  The hard crack of a bullet broke the night air, piercing the bark of a nearby tree. A second followed in rapid succession, and Max pressed hard on her back.

  “Down! Now!”

  With movements born from years of training and practice, he had his gun in hand and fired through the trees.

  * * *

  “Where is he?” Lilah asked. “Shouldn’t he have her by now?”

  Reed fought the twin demons of anger and fear that had kept him steady company since the previous week’s showdown with his stepfather, and he pulled Lilah close. A sense of awe crept in—as it always did when he was with her—helping to assuage the anger even as the fear grew with each passing hour.

  He had to protect her. Had to keep her safe. “These things take time.”

  “Max has been gone since noon. And that’s after packing an arsenal in the trunk. He should have gotten to her and called us to let us know she’s okay.”

  “Max knows what he’s doing.” Or Reed hoped like hell the man knew. He’d sensed all the things that had been left unspoken as Max had driven away, including the man’s own anger and fear.

  The vigilante approach never sat well with Reed—he’d had too many years of police training for the idea to ever sit well—but he also knew his contacts were unreliable at best and flat-out dangerous at worse.