Page 98 of What Doesn't Kill You…

"Awards are useless," Damien said. "You should have chased money instead."

"Spoken like a true megalomaniac," Max muttered.

What a disaster. And he only had himself to blame. He should have listened to Violet and let the team do their job. But no, he'd panicked at the thought of his story getting away from him—at Damien getting away. And now look where it'd landed him. The movies had a phrase for people like him—TSTL, too stupid to live.

Damien flashed his crocodile smile before he spoke to the guard. "One more thing. Send a couple of men over to Max's accommodation to retrieve his wife. I think it would be fun if she was here for this."

"She already is," came a familiar voice.

Max jerked and spun toward the patio, afraid he was hallucinating. He almost wept when he saw Violet standing in the open doors, wind whipping her hair. It was as though she'd been conjured out of the storm by the force of his need.

An avenging angel, dressed entirely in black, and soaked to the skin, Violet dared anyone to challenge her. Behind her, the storm raged. Thunder boomed ominously and lightning flashed, illuminating the scene in a spectral glow. Leaves and debris blew inside to whirl around her. If she'd been carrying Thor's hammer, Max wouldn't have been surprised. She was glorious.

The guard grabbed his gun and pointed it at her.

Violet never even blinked.

Her eyes were steady on Damien. "You have my husband," she said. "I want him back."

"Hi, honey," Max said through swollen lips. "I screwed up but it's good to see you."

"Stop talking," she gritted out, making him want to kiss her.

Damien, it seemed, had gotten over the shock of Violet's entrance and now stared at her in fascination. "Come in, Mrs. Durant," he said, sounding as though he was greeting her for afternoon tea.

"The name is Lee. Violet Lee." She didn't even glance at the guy with the gun aimed at her head. Instead, she glared at Damien. "Take a good look at my husband. Note every mark that bastard left on him. Because I intend to replicate them on you."

"As threatening as that sounds, coming from someone of your intimidating stature—" Damien foolishly mocked the woman who'd ridden in on the wind "—it will have to wait. I have a meeting to get to. Arlo, do the honors and secure Mrs. Durant."

The goon touched the comm in his right ear and another armed man rushed into the room. The new guy quickly assessed the situation, wisely deduced Violet to be the main threat, and aimed his gun at her.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Damien said with a polite nod. "I have business to attend to."

Then he swept out of the room.

Violet was pure fury.

Blood dripped from Max's cheek, his eye was swollen shut and his lip was torn. It would not do. Nobody was allowed to hurt Max.

He belonged to her.

The guard called Arlo, the one she'd already marked for death, motioned with his gun. "Over to the desk. Kurt, empty her pockets."

Violet walked slowly past him, keeping her eyes on his, hoping he'd read the promise in them.

"You die first," she told him.

She was gratified when he took a small step back, before rallying with bravado. "You're the one that's gonna die, bitch." He sneered. "After the boss has some fun with you first, in front of your husband. Don't worry. He'll like it. All the husbands do."

"Oh, she is gonna hurt you for that," Max said.

He sounded dopey and amused, and she feared he'd suffered one too many hits to the head.

"I'm still angry with you," she told him as Kurt used the strap on his automatic weapon to hang it over his shoulder.

One less moron with speedy access to his gun.

"That's fair," Max drawled. "There's no denying I totally screwed up."