The Professional

by Addison Fox

  With one last hard press of his lips, he lifted his head. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Go!”

  She stared at the ground, then pushed off and in mere seconds was flying through the air.

  Max wanted to wait—wanted to see how she landed—but knew the kiss had taken precious seconds they didn’t have. On a hard push, he went flying behind her.

  Chapter 10

  Violet landed with a heavy thud, already stumbling forward from the force of her fall. She tucked her shoulder as Max instructed, the ground rising fast against her body. Soft grass surrounded her along with a cloud of dirt from the hard-packed, summer-dried earth as she tumbled. The impact thudded through her shoulders and on down to her rib cage.

  With one last, graceless thump, she came to a halt, her back flat on the ground. Dust rose up around her face, and she coughed against the offending particles.

  Well. That was fun.

  Violet struggled to a sitting position, brushing at the dirt on her skirt until she was forced to acknowledge it was a useless effort. She shifted focus and took quick stock of her body, inordinately pleased to discover nothing worse than a few bumps.

  “Violet!” Max was already up and headed her way, his strides long and sure as he crossed the wide expanse of field between them. Violet had a brief vision—inspired by far too many romantic movies—of her conquering hero, striding across the moors.

  A dusty Texas field was a far cry from the Scottish Highlands, but the image stuck all the same.

  He’d come for her.

  Watched out for her.

  Even rescued her from the violence and pain Lange and his henchman were sure to mete out.

  He closed in on her, his hands at her waist. His head was already bent, his hands roaming down over her hips, then thighs, then knees. “Are you hurt? Any injuries?”

  The clinical nature of his perusal was at direct odds with the heat that flamed everywhere he touched. Violet held still, willingly submitting to his perusal.

  “I’m fine. Fine.”

  When he finally lifted his head, he pointed into the distance behind her. “Let’s get the pack and go find a phone. It’s time we got you home.”

  Violet followed him, pleased the aches that had seemed minimal on first standing were just that. She’d end up with a few bruises but could congratulate herself on a drop well done.

  She was okay and they’d be fine. The worst was over.

  What she couldn’t quite figure out was why the thought of returning to Dallas actually filled her with a small pang of sadness.

  Max had the pack in hand, his focus once again on her. She saw the concern stamped across his features, even with the layer of dust that covered his cheeks from their jump. “Are you sure you’re okay? That was a pretty hard fall.”

  Violet ignored the urge to either scream or cry—really, what was wrong with her?—and stiffened her shoulders. “I’m fine. And I can withstand a few bruises.”

  “You just looked—”

  “Tired?” That insult had been a favorite of her father’s to her mother, so it was a surprise when Max’s words suggested something different.

  “No, sad. Just very, very sad.”

  The comment derailed her internal negativity, and she reached up to brush the dust from his cheeks, surprised when his palm came up to cover her hand.

  Violet stilled for a moment, the feel of his hand a singular support in a world that seemed to have gone off its hinges.

  Maybe it was time to get back to Dallas. Back to their lives and back to finding a solution to the mess they were in. And maybe it would be just a tad bit easier, knowing she had the support not only of her friends but also of Max.

  “Come on. Let’s go find a phone.”

  The train horn echoed in the distance, yet near enough that she knew some sort of town center was close by. They walked in silence beside the tracks. Violet toyed briefly with a list of subjects that might irritate him but quickly discarded each and every one. She hadn’t quite gotten over his unwillingness to share on the train and simply didn’t have the energy to dive into another prickly conversation.

  With a side glance at Max, she opted for something safe, yet intriguing enough to assuage some lingering curiosity. “How have you adjusted to civilian life?”

  A wry grin filled his features, and Violet couldn’t quite deny the hard catch of breath in her throat. “You mean prior to getting involved with my crazy neighbors and going on a chase halfway across Texas to find one of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good days and bad days. I’m happy to have my own business, but I do miss active duty from time to time.”

  “Was it hard?”

  “Some days. It was also full of a shit-ton of monotonous, boring hours with nothing to do but wait. I can’t say I’m sorry to have given that up.”

  “You’ve got quite a reputation for your ability to blow things up.” Violet hesitated, the reality of the past few weeks coming back in a wash of memories. Max had rescued her from Lange’s home using explosives, and then they’d blown up Lange’s office back in Dallas while attempting to capture him the first time around. “I never expected to see the skill firsthand, and now you’ve used it twice.”

  “Definitely one of the job’s high points.”

  “How’d you end up in the Army Corps of Engineers?”

  That grin was back, along with a knowing sheen in those blue eyes that matched the Texas sky above them. “Checking up on me, Richardson?”

  “No, I’m not checking up on you.” Much.

  In fact, finding out about people was her business. She used the tools at her disposal—social media, friendly gossip and even the not-so-friendly—to do her job. So it was only natural that she’d know about Max. Her best friend was marrying his best friend, for heaven’s sake.

  And if she’d filed away details, meticulously hoarding any and all information about Max Baldwin, well, no one needed to know.

  Seeming to recognize she wasn’t going to elaborate on her no, he pressed on. “The corps was a natural fit. I’ve always had an aptitude for blowing things up.”

  “Men and their love of fire and things that go boom.”

  “Pretty much, and mine started earlier than most. I’d gotten into a few spots of trouble until my grandfather had the brilliant idea to channel my focus. He had an old buddy he grew up with who had been part of the corps. Old Al took me under his wing. Explained how you needed to understand structures and supports to know where to make an explosion really work. Turns out the structures and supports were even more fascinating than the things that go boom.”

  “So why leave? Certainly more of your brethren work in civilian jobs for the corps instead of on active duty.”

  One lone eyebrow shot up. “You’ve done your homework. So, you have been checking up on me.”

  “No.” On a hard breath, she gave in. “Okay. Fine. I have asked a few questions. It’s only natural since your best friend’s marrying my best friend that I’d like to know your and Tucker’s backgrounds.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She gave him a light punch. “Leave a woman to her illusions.”

  That small shot of honesty seemed to do the trick, and he nodded, then continued. “I was offered several civilian jobs and almost took a few that interested me. But in the end, I decided to come back to Dallas. Back to Pops.”

  “He’s happy you’re here. His pride practically beams off of him in waves.”

  “He’d be happier if I got him out of lockup and let him come back home.”

  “Soon.”

  The joviality that had momentarily filled his features faded as reality descended once more. “Not soon enough for him.”

  “Who knows? Maybe the forced
proximity will give him and Mrs. Beauregard a chance to mend some fences. They’re not technically locked up, but you’ve given them something to focus on by taking care of Reed’s mother.”

  “You’re on that kick, too?”

  “What kick?”

  “Cassidy’s been all over Tucker to find out if my grandfather is back to getting it on with your landlady.”

  “I hardly think octogenarians ‘get it on.’” Violet sniffed. “I was merely suggesting they could rekindle an old flame.”

  “And get it on.”

  “Max!”

  “Don’t pretend to be shocked.”

  “In this case I don’t think—”

  He leaned into her, halting their movements, the force of that gaze causing the words to dry up in her throat. “You can stand there all wide-eyed and innocent, but I have no doubt you’ve got urges beneath that prim exterior, Miss Richardson.” He traced the line of her jaw, the wide pad of his forefinger settling into the small dent at the base of her chin before he lifted a thumb to trace her lower lip. “I don’t plan on saying goodbye to that part of my life just because I’ve got a few more candles on my cake, and I think you’d be silly to do the same. Why should we expect anyone else to?”

  “I—” She swallowed hard. Max’s thumb never left the edge of her lips.

  For the briefest moment, images of them growing old together, snuggled tightly together under an old quilt, rose up in her mind’s eye. She wanted him now, and she couldn’t imagine fifty years would change the need all that much.

  Hell, she hoped it wouldn’t.

  But she needed to get control of this situation and quickly. Tilting her head, she cut the direct connection of their bodies and began walking again, focused on her point. “Mrs. B. is still recovering from a heart attack. I’d hardly think your grandfather would take advantage of her in a weakened state.”

  “She’s expected to make a full recovery.”

  “Fine. Then when she’s recovered, they can decide what they would like to do. About. That.”

  “That’s a sweet blush, Richardson. But I bet I can make an even prettier one.”

  When she only shot him a dark look and kept marching through the dusty field, he leaned toward her and whispered, “Come closer and I’ll show you.”

  “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

  “You’re the one who’s been researching my background.”

  Whether it was the sheer overwhelming drama of the past few weeks or the simple acknowledgment that running from Max was getting her nowhere, Violet didn’t know. But she stopped once more and turned to face him.

  She could do this. Could share how she felt. No hiding behind a well-placed sneer or staring down her nose to humble her opponent. She had given him everything she could throw his way, save one thing: honesty.

  “What if we take that leap and end up causing a mess?”

  The cocky smile and teasing words vanished, his features going as slack as if she’d hit him with a blunt hammer. “You want this, too?”

  “I don’t not want it.”

  Storms lit up the blue of his eyes as the corners narrowed. “Yes or no, Violet.”

  “It’s not that simple and you know it.”

  They’d danced around each other for a year, but their time in proximity had only exacerbated the sparks that were already there. Violet knew damn well, despite his pushing and pressing, that Max would have left her alone had she truly given him the brush-off.

  But she hadn’t brushed him off. At all.

  “The biggest decisions actually are the simple ones. Besides—” He pressed closer, the heat of his body a solid match for the Texas summer that wrapped around them both. “Last time I checked, making a mess is part of the fun. People who look the same as when they started sure as hell aren’t doing it right.”

  “Why do we keep circling around to sex? First your grandfather and Mrs. B. Now you and me.”

  “Because it’s out there, circling us.”

  “And you think we can’t resist it?”

  “I think we have been resisting it and the attraction won’t be put off.”

  All thoughts of resistance fled as shots lit up the air. Max had her in his arms and was diving for the ground before she could even register the abrupt change.

  “Damn it!” Another explosion of expletives met her ears as Max shielded her with his body before he shifted off her.

  “There!” He pointed toward a long row of buildings about seventy-five yards in the distance. “He’s over there.”

  Before Violet could say anything, Max was off the ground and running straight into danger.

  * * *

  Recriminations raced through his mind as Max hot-footed it over the expanse of dry, cracked ground. He was a damn distracted fool. He’d counted off what he felt was a fair distance on the train, but of course it wouldn’t have been that hard for Alex to follow their path in a car. And since he’d been near Lange’s property, he’d gone back to retrieve a new one.

  Damn it, but how had he missed the possible threat?

  Max could ask himself the question all day, but he knew exactly why he’d missed the threat.

  Violet.

  The woman had filled his head so there wasn’t room for anything else.

  It was his job to keep her safe. And a madman on their heels—one who obviously wouldn’t be deterred—wasn’t making that possible.

  Brushing off the litany of failures—there’d be time to count them later—he kept Alex in his sights, unwilling to let the man circle back around to grab Violet.

  Although he didn’t want to lose Alex, the distance worked to Max’s advantage. He’d already dragged his gun from his ankle holster and immediately went on the offensive, firing shots while running toward his opponent. The forward momentum put Alex in the position of dodging bullets or running.

  Curiously enough, the man ran.

  Which meant he had no backup.

  The thought struck swift and hard, and again, Max cursed himself for the slow realization. Lange might be a sometime partner, but Alex had no one else matching his agility and age.

  He was pursuing them alone.

  Alex slipped around the edge of one of the buildings, and Max used the temporary reprieve to look backward. Violet was visible, her movements swift as she crossed the expanse of field at his back.

  The urge to follow Alex was strong.

  But the urge to protect was stronger.

  With his gaze still on the line of buildings, he walked backward until they met. “You okay?”

  “In one piece for the moment.”

  “And you’re going to stay that way.” He dug into the pack, his hand closing on extra firepower in the form of a semi-automatic pistol. He handed it over, his gaze lingering on hers briefly before shifting to keep an eye on the row of buildings. “You know how to use this?”

  “Yes.”

  “You okay with using this?”

  “If you’d asked me three weeks ago, I’d have said no.”

  Max returned his gaze to hers, surprised at the admission. “You don’t like guns.”

  “Hell, no. That’s why I took the shooting class.”

  Max grinned in spite of himself. “You’re quite a woman. Fearless as all get-out.”

  “I’m not fearless. I just refuse to be dominated by my fears.”

  He dragged her beneath his arm, almost sorry to mar her with the day’s grime until he really looked at both of them. “We need to go after him.”

  “What if he has the town in his pocket?”

  “We have to try.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

  “Shoot-out at the O.K. Corral?”

  “I sure as hell hope not.”

 
* * *

  Violet kept her arm steady, the gun at her side. She hadn’t been lying to Max—she hated guns and all they stood for—but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to use one to keep both of them safe.

  They cleared the remaining distance across the field, the wall of buildings that made up what had to be the town’s main thoroughfare greeting them with their backs.

  Max gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Alex swung off about three buildings down. Which means he’s either headed out of town or is waiting on the other side. You ready?”

  “Yep.”

  Max took a small alley between three-story buildings. His hand was at her side, and he gently pressed her against the bricks. “Keep your back covered.”

  She nodded her confirmation and used the wall as her guide as they both slid down the alley. It was only when they came to the edge that Max stilled her once more, the sound of voices drifting toward them in the heat.

  “Officer Davis. It’s good to see you.”

  “Mr. Ebner. I wasn’t aware you were visiting. Welcome back.”

  “It’s a quick visit. I never get to stay as long in these parts as I’d like.”

  Violet wanted to roll her eyes at the forced congeniality but held still, unwilling to make any extraneous moves for fear of being overheard.

  “Officer. I was hoping I might get your help with something. Mr. Lange has had some interlopers on his property.” A light tsking sound wavered on the breeze. “Thieves, really. A man and a woman. Heavily armed.”

  “I haven’t received any alerts. Why haven’t you called it in?”

  “Mr. Lange. He’s—” Alex broke off. “He’s admittedly concerned about broadcasting some of his more valuable assets.”

  “I see.”

  “I am a licensed security professional. I work inside the law, and am hoping to handle this matter myself. But support is always welcome. Mr. Lange and I have the highest opinion of local law enforcement in these parts.”

  Whatever foreign tongue Alex had grown up speaking had vanished in the “aw shucks” demeanor. Violet wanted—with a desperation that bordered on madness—to run forward and call the man out.