by Addison Fox
“Then we walk. Let’s go.”
He risked his back, and it was only when he turned that he saw St. Germain in the distance, his casual form spread out on a park bench barely visible from their position.
“Don’t toy with me, boy. You’re not leaving without getting what you came for. Neither am I.”
At St. Germain’s subtle nod, Max turned around. “Fine. So how are we going to play this? You already have one ruby, and we could care less about the other two. So hand over the people who matter to us, and you can have what you came for.”
The disheveled image that had greeted them seemed to shrink even further as he worked through the decision in his mind. Max shot a look at Reed, confusion stamping his friend’s gaze. Whatever man had been part of Reed’s life—even if he’d had a dual nature—was gone.
In his place was a worn old man trying desperately to hold on to a power he no longer possessed.
His hands trembling, he lifted his fingers and made a gesture to someone off in the distance. In moments, his grandfather, Reed’s mother and Mrs. Beauregard appeared on the path, Alex following in their wake.
Max kept his gaze trained on Alex, the man’s stance stiff as a soldier as he directed his charges. He knew he’d managed to nick the guy’s knee in their shootout on the farm, but the stiff, even gait and focus on his task made him appear impervious to any lingering pain.
Was it possible?
Who could compartmentalize like that? The psychopath they’d feared in Lange had a clear counterpart in the soulless eyes of Alex Ebner.
“As you requested, Mr. Lange.” Reed rushed toward his mother, but Alex shifted his stance to show off a handgun pointed squarely at Diana’s back. “Let’s wait, shall we?”
Reed stilled, his gaze locked on his mother’s. Max left Violet to communicate silently with their landlady, and he focused on Pops.
A strange sense of unreality settled over Max as he stared at his grandfather across the small expanse of grass. Had it really come to this?
Was he at risk of losing the only father figure he’d ever known to a madman and his sidekick?
“They’re fine.” Lange moved forward, placing himself between Pops and Max. “Now I want what’s mine.”
Pops never moved, but he telegraphed his intentions with his eyes. And in that moment, Max sensed what they needed to do. Moving forward, Max faced Lange and placed his sole focus on the man.
“You’ve waited a long time for this.” Max let his gaze drift toward Alex. “You, too. You both have a common heritage. A common background.”
“I hire only the best.” Lange practically preened with the answer, and Max left the hook baited while he slowly worked on Alex.
“Hiring those loyal to a cause. Any cause will do, when you come right down to it. But someone who believes in the old ways. Believes in their restoration. It’s a powerful tool, isn’t it, Alex?”
“I don’t need tools. I know what I’m about.”
“Restoration of a lost society and the power that comes from domination and fear?”
“I come from a society focused on being the best. The brightest. The strongest. It’s in my blood. It’s my heritage.”
“Yet you chose to hook up with Lange.” Max shook his head even as he dropped one hand behind his back, signaling Tucker into position on the opposite side of their little party.
“He was the best!”
Alex’s shout—and the use of the past tense—gave Max all the answer he needed.
Was.
And then it all came together. The events of the past weeks had all centered on one core truth. Everything that had happened to Violet and her friends had come from connections. The setup for the initial break-in. The murder of Cassidy’s former fiancé and Lilah’s ex-husband. Even the placement of Reed on their case to help grease the information channels for Lange.
Everything had centered on the connections between the players.
There were no coincidences. And there sure as hell weren’t any accidents.
But it was time to end it all.
With his attention back on Lange, Max moved up into the man’s personal space. “You show us your gem and we’ll show you ours.”
“Give them to me.”
“Don’t you want to see the three of them together? Feel the power of finally possessing all of them?”
“Yes.”
That lone word was a whisper, and Max was careful to keep his gaze neutral as he looked over Lange’s shoulder and into Pops’s eyes.
They knew what needed to be done.
Lange reached into his pocket, and Cassidy and Violet did the same. All three extended their hands, the bloodred rubies like fire in each of their palms.
And then they made their move.
Pops pushed forward, his motions in step with Mrs. B., their combined force knocking Lange forward and making him unsteady on his feet as he stumbled. The ruby flew from his hand to land somewhere in the grass behind the line Max and his comrades had formed, and Lange let out a howl of pain as he rushed to find the gem.
Tucker surged forward in front of Cassidy and Violet, putting himself between them and Alex while Reed rushed for Alex’s gun.
Max turned, ready to snatch Lange from behind when the man’s body shook with an unnatural force. Lange screamed, his body trembling from the force of two bullets in rapid succession. It took only seconds, but they stretched on forever as he processed the scene before him.
“Gunfire! Everybody down!” Max shouted the order, scrambling to protect whoever was in easy reach. He had the Kevlar and placed himself over Pops and Mrs. B. as Tucker, Cassidy and Violet did the same for Reed’s mother.
Reed added orders of his own, but it was all for naught as a silent shot went whizzing through the air, centered square on Alex’s forehead.
The strangest look of surprise painted the man’s visage before his body went slack and he toppled to the ground.
“Who the hell!” Reed screamed the question as St. Germain ran toward them. “Knox! Down!”
“Stay down!” The officer screamed the order as he stared in the direction of the gunfire. “I don’t have eyes on the shooter.”
Max repositioned himself in protection over Pops but prepared to help the officer. The fact the shot was silent only added to the confusion rapidly descending over all of them.
Who fired the shot that took down Alex?
But it was when Knox stood that the real mystery became clear. Three rubies—each retrieved from where they’d fallen to the ground—were clutched in his hand.
“Thanks, mates. I couldn’t have planned it any better myself. Do me a favor now, and don’t come after me. You’re free of this. See that you stay that way.”
The officer ran off, weaving through the light of various park lamps, his form growing dimmer and dimmer as he headed for an exit.
Max wanted to race after him, but one look at Violet and he was rooted to the spot. She was okay. They were all okay. And Lange was dead, along with his henchman.
A glance toward Tripp and Alex’s still forms only verified what he already knew.
Even as every fiber of his being hollered to stay put and not move, Max got to his feet. “We need to go after him.”
“No, son. You need to stay right here. Where you’re needed.” Max turned to see Pops smiling up at him. “You’ve done right by your duties. We all have. But it’s time to let those stones go.”
Max pulled out one of the various tools he had on his person and cut the zip ties on Pops and Mrs. B. before handing the tool to Reed. He gently freed his mother, then helped her to her feet. Diana had remained strangely quiet, her gaze locked on her dead husband until the removal of the zip tie seemed to free her.
She threw herself into her son’s arms,
hugging him tight. “You’re okay.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“My baby. You’re all right.”
Violet crossed the small patch of grass that had seen so many revelations and such quick and deadly violence. If he’d expected her to shrink at that fact, she did the exact opposite.
She stood tall as she stepped into his arms.
Max reveled in the feel of her beneath his hands, relief a palpable force as his blood pumped through his veins. “You know what I was thinking before, when I had to stand there and watch you face off with Alex?”
“That no ruby is worth this?”
“That. But it was something more.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You are a warrior and a goddess. A woman without comparison. And if you’re willing, I want to make a life with you. A home. Maybe even a few really cute babies.”
Violet lifted her head, an odd gleam in those green eyes. “That’s what you were thinking as a bunch of goons had guns on us, held our loved ones hostage and threatened our lives. Oh, and if that weren’t enough, our new British friend double-crossed us.”
“Yeah. Sort of.” He fumbled before catching the wink of humor behind the smile she tried to hide. “Call me selfish, but yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Would you think less of me if I said, ‘Me, too’?”
Max pulled her close for a kiss, the chaos of the past weeks fading away against their new reality.
“I’d say we’re a matched pair.”
“I’m stubborn and selfish and I like order. Are you sure you can live with that?”
Although he wanted to keep it light, Max knew the fears that lay beneath her words. So he answered her the only way he knew how.
With the truth.
“I’m grumpy and sullen and I still have days when my past seems more present than my future. But I love you. And I’d like to wake up every morning and see your face across the table.”
“Coffee every morning? Together?”
“Together.”
She wrapped herself around him and laid her head against his heart. “I can’t wait to get started.”
As he tucked her beneath his chin, his pulse finally beginning to slow to a dull roar in his chest, Max knew he felt the same.
He’d found his forever.
More precious than any gem, and full of the promise made in each and every heartbeat.
Because each and every beat was for her.
Epilogue
Knox clutched at the wound that gaped against his fingers and kept as much pressure on his shoulder as he could manage. He’d tried to feel around the wound as he ran for the car, but between juggling the stones in one hand and slowing his blood with the other, he hadn’t managed a full assessment.
Richard?
Richard freaking Moray. The man hadn’t been in London at all, but had stood at the edge of the park, watching and waiting for the drop.
Bastard.
He thought he’d cleared the scene but hadn’t counted on what a damn good shot Moray was. His silent bullet had struck flesh as Knox was clearing the park. He managed a shot of his own, but the satisfaction was short-lived as fire ate a steady line from his shoulder toward his collarbone.
Knox dug the key from his pocket and unlocked the rental. The white edges of the car blurred in his vision, and he was forced to wonder once more if the bullet was still in his shoulder.
Be a flesh wound. Simple. Easy. And in my wheelhouse to fix.
A wash of pain blurred the edges of the car into even more indistinct lines of white and gray, and he pressed his shoulder once more. Ignoring the fuzzy edges of the sedan, he dragged the car door open and flung himself into the driver’s seat. Pain radiated in spirals from the center of his shoulder toward his chest and stomach, and he fought the urge to gag.
Focus.
He could collapse later.
Where, however, was the question.
The hotel was out. There was no hiding a gunshot wound in a gray T-shirt. So was a dining establishment. Even if he got through the door, he’d never make it to the loo without someone noticing.
The button to start the engine felt hard beneath his index finger as he fumbled to punch it. The car made a hard sputtering noise and he pressed his foot once more to the brake, willing the engine to turn over as he stabbed the button again.
One glance out the rearview mirror and he saw Moray closing in. The shot he’d managed to the man’s knee had slowed him, but he was still moving at a steady clip.
Riding a wave of adrenaline—likely his last for the evening, if past experience was any indication—Knox slammed the car into Drive and peeled out of the parking lot. The car shook beneath the hard turn onto the main road and the heavy push of his foot on the gas pedal, and he barely avoided missing a snazzy Jaguar.
Pushing onward, images of Moray right behind and closing the gap, Knox took a hard left at the light for the Design District. He’d mapped several getaways earlier, including the several quick shots out of the city via one of the many highways that converged minutes from the park.
He needed the highways, yet he’d mapped a route to the Design District on a whim.
A whim he associated with one person—Gabriella Sanchez.
Knox knew damn well he could never see her again, but as the next light took him in her direction, he decided to go for broke.
He’d ditch the car a few blocks away and walk to her place. He’d charm her into giving him the time to stitch up and eat something, and then he’d be on his way.
It would work.
Besides, if he didn’t stop soon, he’d pass out, and his efforts would be wasted.
The antiques shop he’d seen two blocks from Gabby’s store was the perfect spot to leave the car, and he parked close to the grass in an effort to minimize the visibility of any blood on the ground. He staggered from the car, the woman who’d spent an inordinate amount of time in his thoughts in the last day filling his mind’s eye.
Long curly hair. Warm brown eyes like the richest chocolate. And a body that was all long, lithe lines and soft curves.
Knox staggered past the antiques shop, a florist and a bakery before he saw the sign for Taste the Moment. Lights were visible through the window, and he hit the front door, counting off each step as if doing penance.
As he stumbled over the stoop, his body slammed into the front door’s glass with a hard thud.
Had he come all this way for the store to be closed, the lights nothing but a mirage?
Knox pressed against the door once more, toying with simply shooting the lock off, when he heard a series of muttered curses through the glass.
“What the hell are you—”
The woman who’d occupied his thoughts for an interminably long twenty-four hours leaped toward the door, dragging it open.
It took every ounce of training—and a considerable layer of self-respect—for Knox to keep his feet. “Good evening.”
“What is wrong with you?” Her eyes roamed over him, widening when she registered the blood pouring from his shoulder.
Just like the car, the edges of her delightful frame wavered as he tried to process her words around the increasing swoosh of his pulse in his ears.
And then his adrenaline simply gave out. He stumbled forward, pushing her backward with the force of his body. The last thing he remembered before the world went black was the hard press of her arms around his waist and the soft wash of hair that covered his cheek.
His last thought was that she smelled like home.
* * * * *
THE PROFESSIONAL by Addison Fox
And if you loved this novel, don’t miss other
suspenseful titles by Addison Fox:
TEMPTING TA
RGET
SECRET AGENT BOYFRIEND
SILKEN THREATS
THE MANHATTAN ENCOUNTER
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SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM
ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
When horse trainer Greta Colton is wrongfully imprisoned, oilman Tyler Stanton gives her an alibi—and provides protection. But Tyler aims to safeguard more than Greta’s body. He’ll also have to lasso her heart...
Read on for a sneak preview of
THE COLTON BODYGUARD,
the thrilling conclusion to the 2015
COLTONS OF OKLAHOMA continuity.
“If all this hadn’t happened, then you wouldn’t have known that you were about to marry the wrong man,” Tyler countered. “Not that I’m suggesting I’m the right man.”
She tilted her head slightly and looked at him curiously. “Why haven’t you married? You’re handsome and successful and I’m sure plenty of women would be happy to become Mrs. Tyler Stanton.”
“The women who want to be my wife aren’t the kind of woman I’d want for a wife. They want it for all the wrong reasons,” he replied. “I got close to marrying once, but it didn’t work out and since then I haven’t found the right woman. Besides, I work long hours and don’t have a lot of time to do the whole dating thing.”
