Page 116 of What Doesn't Kill You…

"We'll discuss it later," she promised him.

Harvey held up a tube of antibacterial cream. "Shower, put this on, and if you come across anything more serious than a scrape, give me a shout."

"Will do." She took the cream from him.

"Bed's ready," her mother called from the other room.

She motioned to Max. "Would you do the honors and help him into bed?" she asked Harvey. "We desperately need sleep, but I have to get cleaned up first."

"No problem." He reached for Max. "Come on, brother. Let's get you sorted."

Max slid his hand into Violet's as he passed her and held it until he was forced to release it at the door. She closed it quietly behind him and set about getting herself cleaned up.

When she came out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel, she saw that Harris had delivered their suitcases and the bedroom door was firmly shut. She didn't bother with pajamas, she just turned out the lamp beside the bed, dropped the towel, and climbed in beside Max. He was fast asleep, on his back, an icepack on his swollen eye. She removed it and placed it on the bedside table.

For a few minutes, she watched him in the faint light coming through the partially closed curtains. Anger welled up inside her at the sight of the damage Damien had wrought. She should have been there to protect him. It was her job.

No.

It was so much more than her job.

She trailed her fingers along the edge of his poor swollen eye, then across the cut on his cheekbone, to his burst lip. If she could kill Arlo all over again, she would. Slowly, she trailed a path over his shoulder, down his arm and across his left hand. With great care, she slipped her grandfather's ring onto his finger, grateful it'd remained safe, tucked away in her pocket through everything that'd happened.

It glinted in the moonlight, looking perfectly at place on Max's hand.

Where it belonged.

Tucking in tight against him, still holding his hand, Violet went to sleep. All the while wondering how normal people spent their wedding night.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The suite was packed the following morning, as everyone crammed in, eager for the debrief. Max gingerly made his way to the two trolleys laden with food and made up a plate for Violet. If she didn't eat, she would likely murder a member of her family before the meeting was over. It was clear they were brimming with questions, seeing as they hadn't stopped talking since he'd followed Violet out of their bedroom, it was only a matter of time before she snapped.

He gave her a plate, laden with eggs and toast, before returning for her mug of coffee. She took it all without a word, but her fingers lingered against his when he handed the food over. He got the message. She was grateful. With a small smile, so as not to feel pain, he went back to the trolley and helped himself. Then he took his seat on the sofa, close beside his wife.

"Everybody ready to start?" Rodrigo said.

He was standing in front of the windows, hands on hips, looking far too refreshed for a man who'd been up most of the night. Behind him, the sky was filled with light gray clouds. The storm had passed but the blue skies hadn't returned just yet.

"Girls," Lian said to the teens. She sat in an armchair as though it was a throne. "Max and Violet are up now. Go to the bedroom and watch TV."

They groaned in complaint at missing out on all the gory details but did as they were told.

"Thanks," Rodrigo said as soon as the door closed behind them. "First up, the cops and the DEA want to talk with you two as soon as you've finished eating." He gestured to Max and Violet.

"We can do that," Max said.

Rochelle, who'd come to the island early that morning, along with Evan, leaned forward in her seat. "How’re you holding up? she asked. "Are you okay?"

Max didn't want to get into the psychological impact of the previous evening's events, so he answered for the physical. "I had excellent medical care and I'm feeling much better." He nodded his thanks to Harvey.

"Dr. Harv to the rescue." The big man beamed.

"Okay," Rodrigo said, thankfully saving Max from more questions he didn't want to answer. "To summarize, Damien is dead. The DEA have arrested everyone who worked for him. Well, the ones who are still alive anyway. Because of the storm, and Abasi disabling every boat he stumbled across, nobody managed to escape the island."

"All in a day's work," Abasi said as he lounged back in his chair, sipping coffee. The resort uniform was gone and he was dressed in jeans and a tee. "But next time, somebody else gets to play the help."

The team smiled at him.