stones left his possession.
She’d read the history from there, the quiet battle between the Dutch and the English for rightful ownership of the pieces. The wave of misery the stones left in the wake of all who came in contact with them. It hadn’t taken long for whispers of a curse to accompany the legend of the stones, and although she’d originally shrugged off the silliness of that line of thinking, a glance down at her arm had Violet reconsidering.
They’d had nothing but trouble since the stones were recovered. Three men—that she knew of—had been murdered at Lange’s hand, and his other assistant was killed during the showdown with Reed.
While she was more likely to believe human greed and avarice were at the heart of the stones’ mythic power, she couldn’t fully disregard the depth of what had already happened.
Or the fact that Tripp’s behavior had escalated as he continued to get closer and closer to the jewels.
Pain was a steady accompaniment as she struggled to a sitting position once more. The man already had one stone. He likely had it on him, somewhere in the house. If she could convince him to bring it along to the bank, she could use that to her benefit.
The idea tumbled around in her thoughts and she twisted it, turning each facet as she tried to determine what to do. The stones were large for jewels but relatively small as individual items. Lilah had hidden hers inside her shoe, so the relative size was modest.
Everything she’d understood so far about Lange indicated he was enamored of the pieces, so much so that he’d be likely not to leave the stone behind. Would he carry it in his pocket? Or inside his suit jacket?
With the first real glimmer of hope since she’d awoken in the dim room, Violet realized she could use that knowledge. He had to get her out in the open if he wanted her stone. And when he did, she’d observe his movements and get a read on any area of his body that he focused on with surreptitious pats or subtle favoring.
And then she’d strike.
All she needed was enough motion to get the gem off his person, and she could put it through the window of the bank’s teller line. The bulletproof glass had small openings across the line so people could slide their transactions to the teller.
She needed to be sure of her motions and she had to move quickly but she could use that small window. And once she got that stone behind glass, she had a bargaining chip. The others in the bank would be safe because he wasn’t leaving the stone behind, and she would refuse to get the second stone if he hurt anyone.
Violet resettled herself against the pillows, the pain fading slightly in the rush of adrenaline and satisfaction. The idea wasn’t perfect, and she’d have to deal with the Alex factor as well, but it had merit. And for the first time since she’d woken up, her limbs unmoving, she felt some small sense of control.
She closed her eyes, regulating her breathing as she visualized the layout of the bank. The area where she could make her move. The best spot to overpower Lange. The holes built into the teller line where she could push through the pilfered ruby.
Her small smile of satisfaction was short-lived as a large boom with all the force of a jet engine echoed around her. The bed began to shake and she scrambled to sit up, shocked as the opposite wall vanished before her eyes, crumbling to dust.
Max ripped off the night-vision goggles as soft light filtered through the space in front of him. The heat signature his equipment had observed through the wall was spot-on, and his heart nearly burst as he caught sight of Violet.
Mentally tallying the time, he waved her forward, the lingering dust clogging the air between them.
“Max!”
The dust was the only reason he could name when his breath caught in his throat, the heavy beat of his heart thudding in his chest.
She was alive.
He’d spent the entire drive convincing himself she was still alive, but it was only at the moment he’d secured the heat signature on his equipment that he finally believed.
Dragging her against his chest, he took one moment to satisfy himself that she was whole before he nodded toward the still-smoldering rubble. “We need to go.”
“But the ruby.”
“Now!” He glanced down, momentarily puzzled. “Where are your shoes?”
“I haven’t had them since I got here. Apparently high heels are weapons.”
He nodded, the countdown clock of how quickly Lange would come running still ticking in his head. “The ones you wear certainly are.”
The heavy shouts and pounding of feet outside the door registered through the still-settling dust, and he reached for her waist, pulling her up into his arms. Her scream of protest was a surprise, but he ignored it as he maneuvered through the rubble in his thick boots. “I’ll set you down outside.”
Max moved over the detritus in the room—pieces of bricks, sheetrock and the broken ceramic of a large lamp—before the warm Texas summer night wrapped around them. He set Violet on her feet and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
Her long legs kept pace with him as they wove over the vast stretch of property that bordered the house. He’d spent the early evening doing full recon of the property and knew this was the most dangerous part of the rescue. The piece of land Lange owned was several acres of wide-open field, rimmed by a thick copse of trees at the property’s western perimeter. The trees might provide a measure of safety, but until they reached them, he and Violet were easy targets.
Lange’s age worked against him when it came to speed and an ability to keep up, but Max knew they wouldn’t be so lucky with Lange’s assistant, Alex. Reed had already given Max details on the assistant. He wasn’t a U.S. citizen, and digging into international records took time, but what they’d gleaned so far was that he was ex-military.
From his own dealings, Max took the knowledge a step further.
The man was young enough and determined enough to be a massive threat, and the only thing working in their favor right now was the dark.
“He’s behind us!” Violet screamed but kept pace beside him, despite her lack of shoes over the hard, dry ground.
A loud shot went wide, whizzing past Max. Although the shot was a bad one, its trajectory gave Max all the intel he needed.
He was the target.
Alex obviously wanted to take him down to gain quicker access to Violet.
“Car’s stowed just down the road at the edge of the field. It’s my grandfather’s car instead of my truck because it was easier to hide. I’ve cut a hole in the fence for you to wiggle through. Keep on going. It’s unlocked and the keys are under the driver’s seat.”
“What!”
Her words evaporated behind him like smoke as Max flipped his night-vision goggles over his eyes, then stopped and dropped to his knee, gun in his hand. Without hesitation, he found the moving target in his sights and fired. Dirt spewed up at the man’s feet, a missed body shot but enough to piss him off. The man slowed briefly to lift his gun, and that gave Max the opportunity he needed.
Hands steady, he lined up his own shot and aimed for the knee. And heard a surprisingly satisfying howl of pain as he hit his target.
The gun was still hot from its recent firing. Max could see where it was flung to the ground, its heat signature imprinted on his goggles. He debated taking one more shot at the doubled-over figure but knew Violet’s safety was more important than vengeance.
There’d be time for that later.
Regaining his feet, he followed the imprint of Violet’s body, now about a hundred yards away, closing in on the