Page 103 of What Doesn't Kill You…

"Hey, Latin Lover," Max said. "You staying safe?"

"I'm out checking on a couple I know," he said. "Been a bit worried about them."

Violet had been right, her team were out looking for them.

"How long has your friend been out in the storm?" Rodrigo said.

"A couple of minutes." Max tried to think about how to get across Violet's location and situation, without giving away too much. "She's a bit of a storm chaser. She's gone to take photos before it passes. She wants to record the whole thing because she isn't sure when she'll see a storm like this again. I was going to help her, but I got injured. Now I'm worried she might have bitten off more than she can chew. This storm is too big for one person to handle. There's debris flying everywhere, it's like being in the middle of a war zone where everyone is armed."

He hoped like hell Rodrigo got the message that Violet had gone to take photos of the partner, and the estate was filled with armed men.

"Yep, this is a bad one," Rodrigo said. "Maybe I should swing by and check on her, seeing as you're laid up and we're all such good friends of Lake. Do you know where she's headed?"

Damn. How was he going to explain that she was inside Damien's house.

"She's gone straight for the heart of it," he said at last. "The center where it's most dangerous. That's where she is."

"I understand," Rodrigo said. "Hold on tight. You and your friend aren't alone."

The radio went silent, and Max prayed it was enough to get Violet the help she needed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Violet tiptoed around the bodies she'd left in Damien's office and wondered why no one had come to check on them. Probably hadn't heard the gunshot over the noise the storm was making. Which was good news for her.

She signaled for her stalker to head to the door at the far side of the room, where she'd seen Damien leave earlier. He took up position beside it, as she slowly reached out and cracked it open an inch. There was no one in the hallway outside the room.

She swung the door wide, and they silently entered the corridor. Using a series of hand gestures, Violet communicated they were going left, and that she'd take point, seeing as she was the one with the gun. Alan nodded and followed her. The big man was quiet as a mouse. She barely knew he was behind her.

Automatic weapon at the ready, Violet hugged the wall as she made her way down the short hallway. They hit a T-junction with corridors to the left and right. The left corridor was shorter of the two and ended in a small open area with a couple of doors. The layout of the house didn't make any sense and she suspected the old colonial mansion had been through several remodels over the years.

There were no cameras in the corridor, so they silently moved toward the doors, listening at each to see if anyone was on the other side. The murmur of a radio sounded from the second door. Someone was inside. Damn, she hated this part, hated not knowing what she was about to walk into.

Alan quietly grasped the handle as Violet lifted a hand and silently counted them down using her fingers. On her mark, Alan threw the door wide and Violet launched herself inside.

They'd found the security room. A guard sat in front of a bank of monitors, eating a sandwich. He jumped to his feet when they appeared and reached for his gun, but Alan was there first. He punched the guy hard on the jaw, disarmed him and had him tied to the chair with a length of cable before Violet could tell him otherwise.

She quietly closed the door behind them, turned off the radio, and aimed her gun at the guard.

"Don't even think about shouting for help," she warned. "I'll put a bullet in you if you so much as squeak without my permission."

The guard shook his head, obviously still dazed from Alan's blow.

"Take his weapon," she ordered Alan.

"I prefer my fists," he said, looming over his prey.

"We're in enemy territory and everyone is armed. Take the gun."

“No,” was all he said.

It was clear this wasn’t an order he was willing to follow. Violet gave up and studied the monitors. Several were filled with gray static, a few showed palm trees blowing wildly in the wind, and others held views of the exterior of the mansion house. There were no interior shots of the house and no sign of Damien. Obviously, he liked privacy inside his home.

"Where's Poole?" she asked the guard.

He smirked. "The boss pays us to protect him, not to sell him out to little girls who're playing at soldier."

Alan punched him again. This time in the stomach. The man grunted and gasped for air. While he recovered, Violet searched the room for anything that would help them locate Damien.