Scarlett Limerence

by K. A Knight

  “Max?” she yells, and I turn to see her.

  “Yes, baby?” I question, holding the door.

  “Kill them all,” she mutters, her eyes hard and angry.

  “Anything for you, Scarlett Richards. Anything.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Scarlett

  The door seals with a slam, the air locking in here as well…who knew he had a whole military center down here? There are laptops, computers, and at least twenty screens spread across the walls, with two big gun cabinets to the right, a camping bed and toilet to the left, and a small fridge and sink behind it.

  He told me it was a safe room, but it’s a bit of an understatement. Milo whines, moving closer, and I stroke his head as my eyes focus back on the camera screens changing every couple of seconds before me, each one of a different room and angle. There are even at least four outside.

  I notice the men huddled around the front door and even some making their way around back, splitting each side, each looking for a way in. He’s right, they are going to get in. My eyes dart to the other screens to see Max sneaking around the house, setting traps in the dark, plunging all of the house into pitch-black darkness as he dons what looks like night-vision goggles. Fuck, he’s definitely more than a bloody man who helps, but can I really care when he’s protecting me?

  “He’ll be okay, he has to be,” I assure myself and Milo.

  The painkillers are finally taking effect, and I test my arm, realising I can move it. Shit, he really is handy to have around, and when I lick my lips, all I can taste is him now. All the shit between us is forgotten in the face of this. The only thought I had was getting here. No matter what, I always know Max will be there to protect me.

  I do feel useless though, sitting down here, locked away while he goes out there and faces these men—and what did he mean about clean-up? Who did he ring? The questions mount as my pain and shock recedes. Who…or what, is Max Hunt? I have a feeling I’m about to see the part of himself he’s kept hidden from me.

  Sipping the water Max gave me, I keep my leg propped up and nearly hold my breath as I watch the front door swing open—it’s Max obviously unlocking it from where he’s hiding in the kitchen. Two of the men step back, guns raised, while two others slip inside. The two outside keep Randy and Reggie back, looking around as they wait. They’re more hesitant and in control than Randy, who’s fighting and arguing, trying to get inside. These are professionals, and it only makes my worry for Max increase. I brought this to his door, what if I get him killed?

  I shouldn’t have worried though. He crouches behind the open doorway as one of the men breaks off to explore the living room, both of them bumbling around while one stumbles through the entrance, obviously pulling on a wire or something, because he screams and goes down. It cuts through his legs and Max dissolves out of shadows. He mutes the man’s screams with his hands, then a flash of silver catches my eye as he pulls a knife from his side and slits his throat.

  A gasp leaves my lips as I watch him. As if he can hear me, he looks right up at the cameras, a flash of concern crossing his face, but I know he needs to do this. These people have no intention of stopping until I’m dead and all witnesses are deceased so they can cover it up. We have no choice, but that doesn’t prepare me for watching the man I love kill someone for me.

  It was clean, it was efficient, he knew what to do.

  He’s done this before...many, many times.

  Logically, I knew he’d killed before when he was serving, but this seems different, this seems darker. He was ready, he was prepared. Why does he have all of these guns?

  Pushing back my emotions, I force myself to accept it. This is how he protects me…but can I condone it? I guess I have no choice and I won’t be one of those girls who argues over the sanctity of life. These men don’t deserve that, they have already killed and have come prepared to kill me now, and I know if it came down to it, I would kill to protect him too.

  The other man, drawn by the screams, heads into the kitchen where Max waits. Once he’s inside, Max circles behind him and covers his mouth again. The flash of his blade is all I see before he fades back into the shadows.

  Looking around, I try to find the sound button. I press a few before it finally flickers on. “Steve, Ted, you okay?” one of the other men hisses, and when he gets no reply, he and the other guy share a look before the one who spoke types something into his phone. I watch the men who were trying to get in around the back move to the front door, exchanging nods before they all enter the house as well.

  I look for Max, but he’s moved and I can’t seem to find him. Holding my breath, I watch them find the bodies in the kitchen and then they move closer, obviously realising it’s more than just me and some random guy here. They whisper to each other, but the mics don’t pick up what they’re saying. Two head upstairs while two head down to the basement.

  Looking around with wide eyes, I debate trying to turn off the lights. I wonder if they can see it through the crack? Panic claws at me. Lifting my foot to get up and find the switch, I gasp from the pain that surges through me, and when I hear talking outside, I freeze, my eyes going back to the screen.

  I find Max upstairs, hunting the two men. I watch in morbid fascination as he chokes one out with a towel in his bathroom, before stabbing the other in the chest at least ten times and helping him slide to the floor. Then he looks around and creeps downstairs again.

  Stopping in the dark living room, he cocks his head, listening, obviously hearing the men downstairs who seem to be drawing closer to the panic room door with each breath.

  No, no, no, I watch him glide down the stairs, heading straight for them. He stops on the bottom step, seeing them straight away, and seemingly fades back into the wall. The room is solid black down here so I can’t see anything. My eyes are straining to see into the dark, my heart smashing against my chest, trying to get free and reach him.

  Pure terror goes through me, he’s good, I’ve seen that, but even the very best can fall.

  Max tries to grab one of them, but they fight hard, grunting and frowning as the other aims wider, getting a few shots off just as the man Max is fighting knocks off his night-vision goggles. Now he’s blind—shit, shit, I need to help. Looking around, I spot the open gun locker and debate grabbing one just as more shots are fired.

  I watch in horror as the screen flashes with gunshots, only showing bits and pieces as Max fights them both off like a demon coming from the shadows. When the flashes stop, I search the screen for him. A grunt makes me go cold, and when I see him stumble to the door, clutching his leg, I cover my mouth.

  He’s been shot, he’s hurt.

  Randy, Reggie, and the two other men are coming into the house now. There’s no way he can fight them all off. Determination flares through me and I get to my feet, wincing at the pain, but I won’t let him die. It’s slow going to the gun rack, and once I’m there, I select the smallest one, not really sure how to use it, but it can’t be that hard...right?

  Looking back at the cameras, I see Randy and Reggie waiting in the living room and the two others heading upstairs. I take a deep breath and move to the silver lock-in door, and then glance at Milo. “Stay here,” I order, before scanning my hand, hoping it’s the same system as upstairs and I can get out. I can’t sit in here and watch the man I love die, I just can’t. I’ve already watched my mother and her boyfriend die tonight, and I didn’t help them, not again. Not now, not with him.

  It slowly blinks green and the door hisses as it releases. I slip out and shut and lock it behind me, not letting Milo out here to get hurt. Blinking into the dark, trying to remember where Max is, I feel along the wall as my foot catches on a body, and I almost go down but manage to catch myself.

  Lifting my foot up, I blindly step over him and carry on, something else hits my foot, smaller. Frowning, I reach down and grab it, the goggles.

  I fumble with them before getting them over my head, the room goes green as I lo
ok through them, but I can make out much more now, including Max who’s binding his leg with his shirt, his face a snarl of pain.

  Moving over to him, I almost slip on blood and a gasp escapes my lips, his head snaps up instantly as he palms a gun, listening for any other noises, so I whisper his name and he freezes. I carry on moving until I reach his side. “It’s me,” I murmur, as quietly as I can.

  “Goddamn it, I told you to wait in there, baby,” he hisses, but we both freeze as another voice cuts through the air.

  “Hot stuff, you still here?” comes from upstairs, and I swallow, watching the steps and keeping quiet. “You hiding with your boyfriend, huh? Did you know he threatened both me and Reggie? No?”

  I can feel Max staring at me, but I keep my eyes turned to the stairs in case anyone comes down.

  “Or how about the fact he stalks you?” Randy shouts, and my eyes go wide as he laughs. “Bet you didn’t know that, did you?”

  I don’t speak or react, I’m betting that’s what he wants so he can find me. “Did he tell you he watches you? Followed you to work every day…maybe that he used to follow you everywhere? And you thought I was the crazy one. Oh, babe, you got into bed with the craziest!” He laughs and I swallow hard, my gaze swinging to Max for a moment to see the guilt lining his features, and I know it’s true.

  Breathing deeply, I archive that for later—survive first.

  “Scarlett,” he whispers, but I reach out and cover his mouth.

  “Two upstairs, Randy and Reggie in the living room,” is all I tell him, and I feel him nod. “You take the upstairs, I’ll draw Randy and Reggie down here.”

  “No,” he snaps.

  “Yes, that’s the plan, do it.” I move away then as he tries to reach me, and I see him looking around, but when he can’t find me he gives in, debating his options.

  “Don’t make me look for you, hot stuff,” Randy yells, and Max closes his eyes before opening them again.

  “Good luck,” he whispers, before pulling himself to his feet. “Get them down here and distracted, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay alive,” he orders, before heading to the stairs, moving by touch alone, and then he’s gone.

  Backing into a corner, still with the night-vision goggles on, I wait three minutes, allowing him time to get upstairs.

  “Randy!” I shout, the sound overly loud after the silence, and then I suck in a breath when seconds later, I hear his feet on the stairs and him swearing as he trips.

  “Where are you, hot stuff?” he calls, as he reaches the bottom, squinting into the dark.

  “Here, come and get me,” I taunt, and he steps farther into the room. I move forward, making sure to stay out of his reach as I lead him around. Max said to buy him time, but I’m going to do better than that. I look around and come up with a quick plan.

  “What? Lost?” I goad, and he turns more towards me, speeding up.

  “That’s it, come and get me.” I laugh.

  I back towards one of the bodies and when I get there, I swerve around him. Randy, still reaching for me with a grin, stumbles over the body and goes down swearing. Jumping over to him, I smash the gun across his head again and again until he stops moving.

  I feel the air shifting a second too late and I’m knocked back with a grunt. Reggie’s holding what looks like a weight in his hand as he searches the room. The lights come on suddenly, and I yell at being blinded, ripping off the goggles, but it’s the opening he needs, he’s on me. His hands wrap around my throat and squeeze.

  Clawing at them, I gape up at Reggie, at the pure resolve on his face as he squeezes the life out of me, determined to kill me. Mouth opening and closing, trying to breathe, my legs kicking out, my nails digging into his hands, I buck and twist, trying to get him off me to no avail.

  My vision starts to dot and dim, my strength leaving my body quickly. “You fucking bitch,” he snarls, spittle hitting me. “Should have fucking listened, should have done as you were told,” he yells, slamming me into the concrete floor, my head exploding in pain with each hit.

  My legs stop kicking and my body goes limp, even as I scream at myself. My hands drop to the sides as my lungs cry for air, almost exploding now. Shaking my head, I beg him with my eyes, but he slams me back again and again, it’s too much.

  Too long without air.

  Too painful.

  I’m just passing out when his head explodes, raining brain matter and blood down on me as I slip into oblivion.

  Max.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Maximus

  Crouching low, I follow behind the man as he skirts around my bedroom. Just as I’m about to tackle him, I hear Scarlett shouting below. Fuck. The man turns and must see me through the moonlight, I leap forward, knocking his gun to the side and punch him twice before tackling him to the floor. He grabs for the knife at his side and lifts it towards me. Cracking his wrist, I flip the knife and point it down to his chest. He grunts, gripping the sharp edge to try and stop the descent, so I lean my body weight on it harder and it slides into his chest, his mouth opening and his eyes widening in shock as it sinks home.

  Once I’m sure he won’t get up, I slip away, heading for the other man. I see him just reaching the bottom of the stairs. Fuck, if he gets down below, it will be three on my girl and she was supposed to be fucking safe!

  Using that anger, I throw myself from the balcony and onto him from above. We crash into the ground hard, and before he even knows what hit him, I’ve snapped his neck. I get up, groaning at the agony from my leg I’m standing on when I hear Scarlett.

  Racing down the stairs as fast as I can, I notice the lights are on and I take in the scene in a moment. Reggie is on top of her with her body limp beneath his as he chokes her out. I palm a gun and shoot as I walk, kicking his corpse to the side when I get there then drop to my knees, searching for a pulse.

  “Come on, baby, don’t do this to me,” I beg, sliding through the blood on her neck, and freeze, listening. My own heart slams against my ribs. She can’t be. No fucking way.

  There!

  It’s slow, but it’s there. Tilting her head back, I start chest compressions and mouth to mouth, alternating. “Come on, Scarlett, you wake the fuck up,” I order.

  It’s two minutes of fucking hell before she wakes up, those eyes flying open and locking on me in panic as she gasps in air and scrambles on the floor.

  Letting out a relieved hum, I scoop her up and cradle her to my chest. “Thank fuck, God, thank fuck. I can’t lose you, I can’t, you scared me so much,” I whisper, moving her hair aside, and cringing at the blood and bones on her face. I wipe them away as she cries and curls into me. Getting to my feet, I struggle up the stairs before placing her on the sofa and wrapping a blanket around her. I race to the kitchen and wet a towel. I move back to her and wash her face and neck, all while she stares blankly into the distance.

  She’s in shock again. Dropping the towel, I press my head to hers. “I’ll be right back,” I promise, before heading downstairs. I let Milo out, who races straight upstairs for Scarlett, and I kneel over Randy. He’s alive, but not for long.

  I break his arm first and then he wakes up screaming, sobs already coming from his throat as I break his other arm, and then both legs. “I warned you,” I snarl, before plunging my blade into his femoral artery and watching him bleed out. It’s painful and agonising and one of the worst ways to die.

  When he’s dead, I turn back around and spot Scarlett watching me from the base of the stairs, when she looks from Randy to me, her face is expressionless. “When you didn’t come back, I got worried,” is all she says.

  Rushing towards her, I drape my arm around her shoulders, steering us both upstairs. I put her back on the sofa and make her a warm drink before dropping to the seat next to her, hissing at the damage to my leg. It was a clean shot, through and through, but it still hurts like a bitch.

  “Hold this, baby.” I pass her the drink and type into my phone, texting Keanu and c
lean-up before looking at her.

  “Shit, Scarlett,” I gasp, grabbing the mug, which was burning her hands without her even knowing, and place it on the coffee table. Examining the redness, I kiss them better before pulling her under my shoulder and into my side.

  “You’ll be okay, it’s over, you’ll be fine,” I tell her again and again. My house is filled with dead bodies and my leg is all shot up, but all I care about is the silent woman cuddled against me.

  It takes Keanu and clean-up twenty minutes to get here, twenty minutes in which she doesn’t speak. It’s not a good sign, but I tell myself I’ll deal with this all first and then I’ll help her.

  “She doesn’t speak to cops,” I snap to Keanu, as soon as he walks in and he grunts.

  “Pu-lease, do you think so little of me?” He sniffs, picking over a body with a tablet in his hand as he types. He scans all the bodies’ fingerprints before they are taken away by clean-up, and then takes any devices and keys. “I’ve called backup to come and get the cars,” he informs me, and I nod. He turns and notices my leg. “You need help?”

  “Max, please, let him help you,” Scarlett begs from behind me. Since she hasn’t spoken until now and I would do anything she asks, I narrow my gaze on Keanu and sit down, letting him look at it. He smirks, almost laughing at how easily she can order me around, but I ignore him and watch Scarlett who’s coming back to life again, glancing between me and him.

  “Sorry, Max didn’t introduce us?” she asks, her voice sweet.