by Addison Fox
He hung like that for a moment, one hand firmly wrapped around the bars of the ladder while the rest of him dangled against the moving train.
“Max!” Violet screamed his name, her body hanging half out of the train car.
He swung himself up, his other hand snagging the ladder. “Get inside before you fall off.”
The muttered curse that greeted his ears had him smiling in spite of himself and his precarious position before she added the obvious. “You’re stuck there.”
“Get inside, Violet! I know what I’m doing.”
“But you’re stuck!”
He ignored the exasperation, only slightly convinced falling out of the train would make the damn woman believe that she was in danger, and climbed the ladder to the top of the car. Once he got to the top, the trap door he hoped for greeted him, and he jimmied it open, then slid through into the car.
The face that greeted him was as welcome as it was irate.
“How’d you know how to do that?”
He shrugged. “I played a hunch.”
“What if you’d been stuck there?”
“I wasn’t.”
“But what if—”
Max dragged her forward, crushing his mouth to hers. He spread his legs against the swaying of the train and pulled her even closer, flush against his body.
It wasn’t the time or the situation for romance, but he’d be damned if he let another moment go without touching her. Over and over, images of her, pale and wheezing as they dodged bullets, flew through his mind. He couldn’t imagine what he’d have done if she’d been hurt.
Decimate Alex, his mind whispered, the dark vengeance at odds with the soft yearning the woman in his arms stirred inside him. With aching desperation, he plundered her mouth, greedy with the need to drink her in.
No, his mind corrected him. To inhale her.
Violet Richardson was a drug, and she’d intoxicated him from the first moment they met. Those long legs, the witchy green eyes and that agile mind that would keep a man on his toes for a lifetime.
He had the abstract satisfaction that she was as into the moment as he was, her hands at his nape, pulling him close. His fingers drifted lazily over her spine, and while he wanted her with an increasing sort of madness, for the moment he was content to hold her and connect in the most basic of ways.
A kiss.
As old as time, yet shockingly original and fresh with the right person.
Everything was original with Violet.
Her hands played over his skin, the heat of her touch branding him. From collarbone to shoulder to chest, paths of liquid fire lit under his skin, far hotter than the blaze they’d just escaped.
The memory of their near miss had him reluctantly lifting his head. “Are you all right?”
“Hmm?” Her eyes had a dreamy, unfocused quality, and Max stopped to enjoy it because he knew it would vanish momentarily.
“The fire and explosion. Did they hurt you at all?”
“No.” She shook her head, awareness returning. “The smoke bothered me the most. Trying to breathe through it.”
He risked another few moments of her goodwill and checked her over. The outfit she’d worn at Saturday night’s wedding had clearly seen better days, but other than the bruising he already knew about, she looked amazing.
“I’m surprised they left this door open.”
Max shifted his gaze to their train car. “So am I. The notion of the homeless riding the rails isn’t nearly as plausible in today’s world of cameras, security checks and vehicular management. This car’s open for a reason.”
“You think Tripp has influence over this? The train does run behind his property.”
Violet was right. The man might have significant influence, but even he wasn’t omniscient. “Fair point. He can’t possibly be into everything. But I wouldn’t underestimate his and Alex’s knowledge of the local schedules.”
“So we’ll take the open train door as a spot of good luck—our first in several days. And stay on our guard.”
She kept her legs wide as she moved in a small circle around the moving train car, inspecting the narrow space. “Do we know much more about Lange?”
“Reed’s uncovered far more than he expected the past few days, but I still think there’s a ton he doesn’t know.”
Violet settled herself on a small bench built into the train car wall. “His mother, too. She had no idea she was married to a monster.”
Reed’s mother, Diana, was currently holed up with Max’s grandfather and Violet’s landlady on a small property that Max had purchased while still in the military. He’d originally thought to send them to the ranch house that had been in the Baldwin family for decades, but he knew the risk of Tripp discovering the location was far too great.
His survival place was small and remote, and Max had paid cash. It would take Tripp Lange a bit longer to manage digging through the records to find it, especially since Max wasn’t Tripp’s primary target. That hadn’t stopped Max from arming his grandfather with an arsenal as well as asking the town sheriff—ex-military, too—to keep an eye out.
But Max had confidence they were in a safe place until the danger blew over. “From everything Reed’s said, Diana’s a strong woman. She’ll manage.”
“Maybe.”
Max sensed something beneath that single word but couldn’t quite place it. “She has no choice.”
Violet nodded, and Max was even more curious when she didn’t offer up anything else.
“You hungry?” He took a seat on the bench next to her and reached for the pack he’d tossed into the train. “I’ve still got some granola bars and a few waters from the barn.”
She took what he offered and remained silent throughout eating. It was only after she’d finished the water and stowed the empty plastic back in his backpack that he gave his curiosity free rein.
“You don’t seem all that convinced Reed’s mother will be okay.”
“She might survive, but she’ll never be okay.”
The certainty in her voice piqued his curiosity, and while Max knew the answers weren’t simple, he wasn’t sure he totally agreed with Violet’s assessment. “Tripp hasn’t harmed her.”
“But he has annihilated her trust. The bedrock of her life has been shattered. People don’t recover from that. They can never go back.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
“Having someone ruin your life is a good thing?”
Max finished off his own water, stowing the empty plastic behind Violet’s. “It is if it takes you to a better place. The woman’s married to a monster. She’s better off without him.”
“That’s callous.”
“How is it callous?”
“She’s suffering!” Violet stood on the last word, her pacing admirably steady despite the soft swaying of the train. “Her entire life has been ruined, and you think she’s better off?”
“I’d rather know the truth and live without a monster than live in the dark with one.”
Max knew Violet’s arguments had an indelible stamp of female concern and compassion in them—and he agreed with her. Diana Graystone Lange had married a man and shared her life with him, and the whole time he’d hidden a side of himself that wasn’t only secretive but downright evil.
But Max also knew how strong and competent women were.
Diana had raised Reed as a single mother, only meeting Tripp after Reed was nearing high school. She knew how to survive, and if the son she’d raised was any indication, the woman not only survived but also thrived.
She was better off without the bastard criminal she’d married.
Violet stopped her pacing and stood in front of him. “She’s paying a horrible price. Her trust has been shattered.”
“Yes, but Diana didn’t do anything. Tripp’s duped the entire business community of Dallas.”
“So that makes it okay he lied to his wife?”
“Nothing about this is okay.” Max ran a hand through the short military cut that made a cap over his head, rubbing on the ends that were too short to tug. “He played a part and lied to her. She did nothing wrong.”
“But she’s a victim.”
While he hated the word—hated every single thing it implied—Max had to agree with Violet’s statement. “Yes, she is.”
“Which goes back to my bigger point. You simply can’t account for it.”
“Account for what?”
“Human nature. The things that lurk within. Secrets.” Violet laid a hand over his shoulder, the gentle movement a discordant counterpoint to her words. “How is a person supposed to recover from that?”
* * *
Violet stood over Max, her legs bearing her weight as the train hummed over the wide Texas prairie, and wondered how she’d gotten here.
The immediate here was obvious. She’d fallen into the hands of a bad man and, through the help of a professional operative, had escaped.
But the bigger here—standing in the middle of a train car arguing with Max Baldwin—was something else entirely.
“Define ‘secrets,’ Violet. Because the last time I checked, most people weren’t walking around with a secret empire, killing off minions they felt were no longer effective allies. Lange’s far from the norm.”
Lange wasn’t the norm, and she knew it. Yet even with that knowledge, Violet was surprised by how much she wanted to spar with Max on this subject. Cassidy and Lilah were her best friends and they knew quite a bit about her, but even they didn’t know everything.
Nor were they fully aware of her skewed view of the world. People lied. They destroyed each other. And they left. It was simply the way things worked.
So why was she nearly bursting to spill all her anger and frustration and bleak worldview on a man who was practically a stranger?
Even if you don’t think of him as a stranger. The thought stole in on sly feet, sidling up close and whispering in her ear.
“While I agree most aren’t like Lange, people keep secrets.”
“Which is their right,” Max answered, his hand closing over hers in a warm squeeze. “Just because some people choose not to be open books, spewing forth every thought in their heads, doesn’t mean they’re hiding criminal tendencies.”
“But they do hide disappointment. Unhappiness. Disillusionment.” And sometimes a deep, desperate desire to start their lives over.
“None of which is criminal. Or even a bad thing.”
“It’s not love!” The words ripped from her throat with a force that surprised even her as she snatched her hand back from the comforting cradle of his.
She wasn’t a yeller. Heck, she hated even raising her voice. She was responsible to a fault and had been since about birth, and raising one’s voice was undignified and childish. So why now?
Why had the shadows of pain and loneliness reached up and grabbed her around the throat in a tight grip?
“What’s this really about?”
“Making you see reason.”
“Nope.” Max shook his head. “Not buying it. If you were simply trying to give me the ol’ Violet Richardson drubbing, you’d be having a lot more fun with it.”
His hand reached out, folding over hers as he tugged her forward to stand between his knees. “What is it?”
“People do horrible things to each other. They live double lives. They hide their true selves. They change their minds.”
It was that last one—that inevitable march toward change—that Violet struggled with. She loved what she did and was good at it, but way down deep inside, in that small niche she kept buried from everyone, she struggled with the fact that it was all for show.
Weddings. Ceremonies. Forever.
No one really got forever. They just got a series of promises that someone could choose to break at any time.
The strong, thick fingers wrapped around hers squeezed her back into the present. “People do change their minds. For reasons that make no sense, they wake up some days determined to be different from who they were the day before. People discard each other. They get hurt or selfish or just tired and bored and suddenly decide commitment’s not worth it.”
“Yet, we push for it. Seek it with a determination that borders on madness.”
“Because it’s out there. And because we spend our lives seeking out who we are and trying to build our lives with others who seek the same things.”
“So how do you explain Reed’s mother?”
Max cocked his head, his blue eyes the color of a stormy sea in the muted light of the train car. “Why does this matter to you so much?”
“Why do you want to dismiss it?”
“I asked you first.”
Violet waited, the clacking of the train car lending an almost hypnotic rhythm to their exchange, before she exhaled a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “It’s Reed’s mother. And the couple who got married on Saturday.” And my parents.
“What about that couple?”
“It’s all a jumbled mess in my mind. I know they’re distinct situations. Honest, I do. But I can’t seem to separate the bigger idea that not everyone gets forever.”
“Do you think the couple who got married on Saturday won’t last?”
“I have no idea. They don’t, either. But they took a leap of faith that they would.” An image of Kim as she smiled up at Jordan while taking vows filled Violet’s mind. “They believe they can make it.”
“I don’t think it’s about belief.”
“You don’t?” She stared down at him, surprised to realize she’d placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. The firm roundness of his shoulder was as reassuring as it was tempting. She snatched her hand back and focused on Max’s words.
And if a small smile filled his lips, she’d pretend not to notice.
“I think commitment has a heck of a lot more going for it than belief.”
“But you need to believe in what you’re doing.”
“Of course. But you need commitment to stick around when it’s not fun any longer. When there’s no wedding dress and no party and no fancy tunes that get you on your feet dancing.”
“Commitment for the bad times.”
“And for the boring times. Life’s not a party every day. It’s routine and a daily grind.”
“Cheerful.”
He shook his head, the smile fading. “I don’t mean it that way. But I’ve seen a lot of people wake up a few years married, well into their routine, who suddenly decide this wasn’t what they signed up for. They don’t appreciate the fact that having someone sit there every morning and share a cup of coffee is worth far more than exotic trips to Europe or an endless series of parties.”
“You want to share coffee with someone?”
“Hell, yeah. If I settle down, I want it to be with someone I want to share my life with and all that goes with it. And I can tell you—” He leaned forward, his gaze full of the same intensity that had sighted Alex down the length of his pistol. “You spend more days of your life doing the routine than doing the spectacular. I expect someone who wants in for the long haul. And a hell of a lot of coffee.”
The power and the sheer passion in that gaze sent something shooting through her system, more intoxicating than any champagne. And for the first time in her life, Violet realized there was no breezy response or lighthearted quip to push it away.
It still didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.
“You failed to mention the item at the top of most men’s lists.”
“Everyone want
s sex.” He winked before that cocky smile she couldn’t quite resist returned. “That’s the prize for putting up with all the routine.”
While they’d sparred many times over the past year, Violet had to admit to herself that she saw Max through a new lens.
Sharing a cup of coffee.
Days spent together.
Commitment.
The man had depths she hadn’t given him credit for. Worse, she acknowledged to herself, she hadn’t even tried.
“You’ve missed your calling.”
“Oh?”
“I should hire you to give marriage counseling to some of my clients. You’ve managed to make practicality sound sexy and fun.”
“I hope I made it sound worth it.”
Chapter 9
Reed paced the small office Lilah maintained off her kitchen at Elegance and Lace before returning to the desk and the large highway map he’d dug up from the back of his car. He had traced the route Ryan had outlined for them the day before, then analyzed the various points that spread off the homestead they’d earmarked as his stepfather’s.
“He’s got this, Reed.”
Tucker Buchanan stood at the door, two mugs in his hand. He offered one with a smile. “Full of cream and sugar, courtesy of Lilah.”
Reed relaxed in spite of himself, the mention of his fiancée doing something funny to his heart. He’d never felt anything like it before, but since meeting Lilah, his heart had garnered the oddest ability to flip over at the mere mention of her.
“We have no idea how the property’s outfitted. They could both be kidnapped by now.”
“We both spoke to Max on the drive. He’s prepared. And he knows what he’s doing.”
“So, apparently, does my stepfather.”
Reed dropped into the swivel chair Lilah used so infrequently it had a stack of three chef’s coats layered over the back. The warm scent of vanilla suggested they were earmarked for the cleaners.
“I should have known.”
“Last time I checked, clairvoyance isn’t in the job description.”
