All Maxed Out

by Brandi Evans

  "Oh, that's beautiful, ma chère, don't you think?"

  I didn't dignify him with an answer. I kept tugging on my restraints. The overhead pipe was as old and damaged as the rest of this place, but it was holding. I lifted my feet to see if the added full-body weight helped.

  Nada.

  Fucking hurt like a bitch, though, to put all my weight on my already wounded wrists.

  "Oh, they'll figure out all too soon that isn't you in the field," he continued, "but fuck! It sure is gratifying to see Max dropped to his knees. Just look at him, he's vomiting!"

  This time, I did speak. They were the first words I'd uttered since I'd awoken. "Who was she?"

  "Oh, nobody of importance, ma chère." He waved my question away, talking about a person he'd killed as if she were some insect. "Just some whore I found with your build and then dyed her hair to match. I did have to beat her pretty severely so that making a positive ID will take time. Oh, the delay will draw out Max's turmoil, and seeing that bastard suffer is worth every penny I paid those mercenaries."

  Oh, that poor woman. If I ever got out of these shackles, I'd beat him to death with them.

  "Mercenaries," I asked?

  He chuckled. "I underestimated you once, Ms. Jennings. I wasn't about to make that same mistake again. I planned this moment, every detail. I hired the best strike team money could buy, and now, I have you in chains and Maxwell Penn on his goddamn knees where he belongs."

  "But they froze your accounts."

  "Only the ones they knew about." Another wicked grin. "And soon enough, he'll be dead—but not before he suffers a lot more."

  I shook my head, a brand-new fear reaching into my chest and wrapping barbed fingers around my heart. "His team will close ranks now that I'm missing. You'll never get to him now."

  "Oh, ma chère, I won't need to get near him to kill him. Your death will do that for me. In spirit or in reality, Maxwell Penn will die once I kill you."

  Garrett's words slammed me like a punch to the jaw. He was utterly lost in his guilt. I honestly think we would have lost him, too, if he'd have lost you.

  I hadn't wanted to believe it, but if Max lost me, if Théo murdered me, especially so soon after possibly losing Karen, his guilt would eat him alive. I knew that now as clearly as I knew Théo was a maniac.

  "He'd survive," I lied.

  "He might, but he'll be dead or trapped in his own personal hell. Either is fine with me." He turned back to the monitor. "All in all, I'd say my plan's pretty clever, a beautiful and elaborate game of chess. It's so lovely to see it playing out just as I'd envisioned."

  "Your game's as fucked up as you are, Théo."

  Grinning, he skulked toward me, the smile on his face the boldest thing I'd ever seen. "Watching Max panic after you got my little note was fun. Seeing the pure terror on his face after I had his friend's bitch shot? Exquisite. Pretty sure he thought you'd been shot, but then, he finds you safe. But now, to see him break down while he weeps over the body he thinks is yours? Utterly breathtaking. Imagine how much relief will flood him to learn it's not you in that field. And then, imagine how far and how deep he'll fall when I kill you in front of him, so very, very slowly."

  I stared at him. I should be afraid for my own life, and I was. But Max, my poor, beautiful broken Max, with his tortured past and battered soul. Théo was toying with him like a cat playing with a mouse, letting the mouse escape over and over again just to recapture it.

  Théo returned to the computer, hit a button, and the screen froze. Max was on all fours on the display, vomit frozen in a stream from his mouth to the ground, and I had to look away. It was too much.

  Théo returned to me, a predatory gleam in his eyes and that rusty pipe in his hands. I'd seen that look before, in the moments before he'd tried to kill me in the poolroom; only this time, I wasn't free to defend myself. He'd seen to that. Still, if he got close enough, I might be able to do some damage. A kick to the balls might not take him out, but it'd feel fucking fantastic.

  "I'd planned to go after you back in Texas, but Max had you on lockdown. Try as I might, I couldn't get near you. I needed to draw him out."

  "So you killed his mother to get his attention?"

  "Oh, I did far more than kill his mother. I stalked her. Well, not her so much but the around-the-clock staff, but we'll get to that soon enough."

  With his wavy brown hair and easy smile, he had a face I'd once thought had been swoon-worthy, but now, all I saw was insanity and ugliness. How had I ever seen anything different?

  "My plan had a lot of moving parts, but like I said, I'd hired good people. But yeah, I knew once I killed his mother, he'd come running straight into my trap. I also knew where he'd run to lick his wounds."

  "Karen and Garrett's," I said on a long breath.

  Oh, god.

  "It didn't take much to arrange a little malfunction in their heating and air system several weeks back, nor did it take much to arrange for someone in my employ to come repair it and leave a little something extra behind." He removed one hand from the pipe and put the word 'repair' in air quotes.

  Leave something behind?

  The gas that had knocked us out.

  "I'd anticipated all the security goons Max would bring along. I'd expected them in the house. I'd even expected some on the perimeter, which was why I knew I'd need to draw them off, divide the forces. A well-placed bullet from an expert sniper did that beautifully."

  Oh, god, Karen.

  I blinked back the sudden sting of tears as her blood-covered shirt and vacant expression filled my mind. I couldn't allow myself to believe she'd died. They'd stabilized her. They'd taken her to the hospital. I had, had, had to believe she'd be okay—which was impossibly hard to believe when my clothes were still covered in her blood.

  "You're a fucking monster." I spit the words at him.

  "So you keep saying." He swung the pipe.

  I kicked to the left just enough to keep from taking the full impact on my right knee. Even the glancing blow sent pain shooting down my leg. God, it felt as if there was fire in my veins.

  I was spinning, literally and figuratively. The blow had knocked me off my feet, and I was dangling by my bleeding wrists. I didn't want to scream, didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

  I didn't get what I wanted.

  Tears streamed hot down my cheeks, and the whispered cry that went with it verified the pain he'd caused. And his predatory grin confirmed just how much he liked seeing my pain.

  When I finally stilled, I returned the foot of my uninjured leg to the ground. I tried to straighten my other leg, but I couldn't. All my weight now rested on my left side. I compensated a little by pulling up with my arms, doing even more damage to my wrists, and dear god, one of my wrists hurt so badly. The combined pain made my head swim and the world go fuzzy.

  I should have killed this asshole the last time he'd attacked me. When I'd gotten him in that choke, I should have held it until his heart stopped—assuming he had a heart.

  With a clatter, he dropped the pipe. "As much as I'd love to keep doing that, it would ruin my grand finale. Can't have you dead or unconscious when I contact Max. I want you alive and kicking when I kill you in front of him."

  I forced myself to blink away the tears and focus on Théo through watery eyes. "If you do that, Max will kill you. There won't be a place you can hide where he won't find you."

  "I very seriously doubt that. Oh, and speaking of Max and murder…"

  He took a few steps closer to me, not close enough for me to strike out, but close enough to have me taking a squirming step back. The look in his eyes was no longer maniacal; it was about four degrees past that. It was reminiscent of every supervillain I'd ever seen in movies.

  "While I was watching you two at his mother's little cabin, I learned the juiciest little tidbit. Maxwell Penn murdered his father."

  Our lives into your hands.

  Théo knew.

  Théo knew.

&nbs
p; If he went public, Max's life would never be the same. Garrett's, either. Even if they didn't go to prison because of the situation, their ages, or whatever, Max's life would fall apart, especially if I wasn't there to pull him back from the edge. I knew that as certainly as I'd need to take my next breath. Théo was right. Max's life would be irrevocably shattered.

  "I only wish I hadn't already had my tech guy dismantle the bulk of the surveillance equipment. This would be much easier if I had a recording of his confession, but don't worry. I'm sure there's evidence out there. And if I need it, I'll be able to find it. I found out about your past, didn't I?"

  He didn't have proof.

  He didn't have proof.

  I held on to those words as I watched Théo head for the single door on the far end of the room.

  When he got there, he stopped but didn't turn back. "Enjoy your last few remaining hours of life, ma chère. The next time you see me, I'll be coming to kill you."

  And with that, he hit the light switch and slammed the door. Complete darkness bathed the room. Fear spidered through me on a million spindly legs. This was in my nightmare from the other night. Bound in a void of black, but this time, I knew my assailant. It wasn't faceless, and I knew what I had to do. Like in the nightmare, I had to fight, to kick, to use my legs. I wasn't sure if I was strong enough to break free, but I had to try. I needed to get out of here.

  Fuck saving myself; I needed to save Max.

  I lost track of how long Théo had been gone about the time I broke my wrist.

  I'd also lost track of how many times I'd had to stop and cry away the pain. My arms were hamburger with fractured bone running down the center. I doubted they'd ever be the same again. I doubted I'd ever be the same, either, but I couldn't stop. Stopping would admit defeat, and admitting defeat would be signing my own death warrant.

  On the flip side, I was getting closer to freedom. The pipe was starting to squeak and shimmy. I wasn't free yet, but with a strong enough will and with enough time, I'd be able to break this fucker. I just knew it. The will I had in spades, but I was certain I was running low on time.

  Bracing myself yet again for another bone-fracturing jolt, I rocketed off the ground with my good leg while simultaneously pulling up with my arms. When I reached the zenith of my jump, I locked my elbows and tucked my legs, so the pipe took my full weight.

  I screamed as the shackles sliced yet again into flesh. God. I forced breath in and out, in and out, in and out, willing myself not to cry again. Crying took time, and I didn't have time to waste on tears. Or on losing consciousness.

  "Don't pass out." I shook my head, fighting off the blackness that crept in. My body wanted to shut down, and my mind was starting to cave to the demand. "Don't pass out."

  When I was sure I'd won the battle to remain awake, I braced, jumped, screamed, and cried all over again. I'd about calmed enough to jump again when the door banged open, and the lights blinded me.

  I squinted against the sudden brightness and was just able to make out Théo's outline. He was carrying something toward me. Adrenaline surged and cleared my blurry vision. He was holding a… tripod?

  "Well, ma chère, it's time. Dear old Max has learned it wasn't you in that field. I'm sure he's joy vomiting all over himself as we speak. You know what that means."

  It meant it was time for me to die.

  Cold dread embedded in my spine. No, no, no. I wasn't ready. I needed more time. I had to get free, to save Max.

  Théo set my phone on the tripod and positioned it in my direction. Oh fuck. He said he would kill me in front of Max. This was how he would do it.

  "No!" I jumped again, yelling as loud as I could to cover up any hint the pipe was starting to give. If Théo knew what I was doing, he'd stop me. Better he thought I was panicking, which I'd use to my advantage.

  My screaming grew in intensity when I heard the crack. Felt the crack? The pipe? My arm? I didn't know. The adrenaline, the fight or flight had kicked in. I was too high to feel pain anymore.

  I was about to kick off again when I realized my foot was flat on the ground. Flat. I was no longer on the ball of my foot.

  I looked at the pipe as Théo said, "You might as well stop struggling, ma chère. I'm going to kill you no matter what. All this is doing is wearing you out."

  "Fuck you!" I jumped again, felt another crack—and then another as something hard connected with my side. The blinding pain knocked the wind out of me, and I crumpled, limp and gasping as I fought for air. I'd never had a rib broken, but I imagined it felt like this.

  "Keep it up, and I'll hit you again! Stupid bitch, I knew I should have secured your feet."

  Yes, you should have.

  I closed my eyes against the sudden blurriness. Breathe, I chastised myself. Ignore the pain and breathe. Max needs you.

  Footfalls forced me to open my eyes before I was ready. Théo's blurry shape hovered near the desk, but I was having trouble bringing him into focus. His form moved back to me, something in his hand.

  I shook my head, closed my eyes for the briefest of seconds, and then opened them again. My vision wasn't perfect yet, but it was clear enough to make out the blood-covered mallet clenched in his fist.

  Blood…

  My mind shifted to the woman he'd left in the field. Had he used that to take her life? Would he use it to take mine?

  But Théo stopped before he reached me and turned to face my phone. That was when I realized he'd started a video call with Max.

  Oh, god.

  Max.

  The horror-stricken expression on his face hurt far more than any of my injuries. He was the definition of tortured. I wanted to kiss those straightened lips until they were capable of smiling again. I wanted to run my thumbs over his furrowed brow until the harsh creases softened. I wanted to hold him until all our pain melted away.

  "I love you," I said at the same time Théo said, "Hello, Maxwell."

  Théo looked at me over his shoulder and held up the mallet in warning. "Hush, you."

  I stared daggers at him. "Fuck you!" I looked back at Max. "I love you," I said again. If this would be the last thing I ever said to him, then I wanted him to know, even now, I didn't blame him.

  "I love you, too," Max said, his voice reflecting my own soul-deep pain.

  "He didn't take me far, Max. I'm close to Karen and Garrett's. I'm close—"

  "What did I say?"

  Théo swung the mallet at my left leg—my good one—but I managed to twist and kick and take the blow with my already injured leg. A fresh wave of pain assaulted me, and my stomach rolled and knotted. Through the anguished cries and the tears that I could no longer control, I didn't turn, didn't give him access to the one good leg I had left. I needed that leg.

  "You motherfucker!" Max bellowed, making Théo turn from me. "Leave her alone. Please, god, just leave her alone. Please, Théo. Let her go. Take me in her place. I'll give you anything you want, just don't hurt her anymore."

  "No can do, Maxwell. I am going to hurt her. I'm going to hurt her a lot." He wiggled the hammer. "But don't worry; I'll let you watch. I know how much you enjoy watching."

  I hated this asshole. With every ounce of my being, I hated Théo Roux. I absolutely hated—oh.

  Oh.

  Hope surged through me like a supercharged pre-workout drink laced with speed. When Théo had turned to Max, he hadn't stepped away from me. He was right there. Right there. Close enough to touch.

  Or to kick.

  I wouldn't get a better shot, so I had to make it count.

  I eased back as far as I could, grateful I'd managed to weaken the pipe enough for the bit of movement. Jumping back to get a swinging start, I took my full weight on my battered arms, bit back the scream tearing at my throat, and swung forward on broken arms.

  I caught Théo in the lower back with a blow I felt from my foot to my head—and then my ass as I slammed onto the floor.

  I could hear Max shouting, a frantic, desperate noise I had tr
ouble making out, but I heard my name. His cries spurred me into immediate action.

  I screamed, too, the sound mangled and laced in agony. With all the will I had left, I got to my feet. I had to keep my right leg bent, only my toes on the floor for balance. I raised shaky arms back over my head, the chain that had been used to bind me now my greatest weapon.

  Théo had smashed into the folding table, the flimsy structure giving and sending him to the ground. He was surrounded by the monitor, now cracked, and the tripod. My phone was nowhere to be seen, and I couldn't hear Max anymore.

  "You fucking bitch!" Théo held his side as he got back to his feet, murder in his eyes, eyes now obscured with blood from the gash at his temple. "I had planned to kill you slowly, to make Max watch and suffer, but you're not worth all this fucking pain. This game is over. It's time for you to die."

  I should have been terrified. Actually, I was terrified. I'd broken free, but I was still injured. Badly so. I wouldn't win hand-to-hand this time around, but he wasn't moving with any urgency. Whether it was because his vision was obscured or he was blinded by his hatred, he hadn't noticed.

  I steeled my voice and prayed it didn't waver. "You called this a game of chess, and you're absolutely right. It is, only Max isn't the one in checkmate; you are. You keep underestimating the most powerful piece on the board."

  "And what piece, ma chère, is that?"

  "Max's queen."

  Théo saw me move a second too late. His eyes widened as I wielded my chains like a weapon. I screamed in pain, in anger, in a furious, blinding rage. Everything coalesced to amplify my strength.

  The chains struck the side of Théo's face with a sickening thud, and he went back down. I swung again and again and again. I didn't stop until he stopped.

  I stared at his unmoving body, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood flowed from his nose, and his eyes and face were swollen, almost unrecognizably so. His nose bent at an odd angle, probably broken, but I doubted his nose was the only bone in his face broken.