Page 85 of Dark Reunion

CHAPTER 32

MAEVE

The wind outside the hacienda carried sand and smoke, both scents sharp in her lungs as Maeve slipped through the shadows of the compound. She discovered the wardrobe holding her clothes was just big enough to hide in if she pressed herself right to the very back and let the clothes hang down. Luckily, it was Ricco who had opened the wardrobe’s doors when Carlos started trashing the room because of her disappearance. Ricco spotted her, gave her a wink, and closed one door, leaving the other open like there was nothing to hide.

“She’s not in there,” Ricco said. “Which one of you idiots managed to let her slip out unseen. Were you asleep?” he barked, and even though Maeve couldn’t see anything, she knew he was yelling at the guards manning her room. They spent a few more minutes searching around, and then all went quiet. That was when she made her move.

Maeve crouched low behind a pile of skids and waited for the pair of guards she didn’t know to pass. As the guard in the guard-tower turned to look out over the wall, she dashed across the open space toward the building that housed the Hummers. She didn’t have the same access as Dean, but there were enough weapons in there to not only kill Carlos but get Dean out of solitary. She’d heard the commotion and saw what Carlos did after storming out of her room, as pissed off as a honey badger.

She figured that she’d have to jimmy open the door, but the handle was unlocked. It was her lucky night. The place smelled of rubber tires, and she had to admit she loved that scent. Maeve pulled out the lighter she’d stolen and flicked it on, holding it up to look around. There were so many shelves and everything was neatly packed, and she didn’t even know where to start.

Her boots made no sound on the concrete floor, the faint hum of generators outside masking any noise she might make. The hood of her black sweatshirt stayed up as she moved. Somewhere beyond the compound walls, men were hunting her. She’d heard Carlos barking orders to find her. That she couldn’t have gotten far on foot. True, which was why she wasn’t stupid enough to try.

Besides, Dean was still inside, and no matter their quarrel about the past, she wasn’t leaving him here. The thought of him chained up and bleeding made her hands tremble.

Maeve turned down the fourth row, which looked promising. Racks of rifles loomed in the dim light, and crates marked with half-faded serial numbers were stacked to the ceiling along the aisle. She moved fast, eyes scanning labels, searching for silencers, grenades, anything that could give them a fighting chance.

The plan was simple and suicidal. Load up, find Ricco, and get him to help rescue Dean, kill Carlos, and this Keene asshole, then get out.

Something creaked behind her—barely a sound, a whisper of motion. She froze. Right now, she really wished she’d never watched the Alien movies. She stepped deeper into the shadows between two shelves. She only heard the thud of her own pulse, but the hair stood on the back of her neck.

She tried to reach for the gun, tucked in her waistband, when an arm wrapped around her waist, hard as iron, and a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, lifting her off the ground.

Maeve’s scream died against the palm, and instinct took over. She slammed her elbow back, catching muscle, twisting to break free. The grip only tightened. A voice, low and urgent, hissed near her ear.

“Quiet,” he growled.

The word was rough, but familiar and warmed her from the inside. She stopped struggling. For a breathless second, the air shifted, and the hand loosened.

“Wolf,” she mumbled, and the man holding her set her on her feet. She twisted, not believing what her ears were telling her. The hood fell back, and the world seemed to crack open as she looked up into his caramel eyes.

“Waya,” she breathed, reaching up to touch his face.

Wolf stared down at her like he’d seen a ghost. The scar along his jaw caught the light. It was new, but other than that, he looked exactly the same. He was dressed like the men who had taken her from him, his face streaked with dirt, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Maeve?” He blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

Her knees almost gave out. Anger flared through the shock. She hit his chest once, then threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him with a desperation and relief that shook her to her core. Wolf held her tight, kissing her back like she were his oxygen.

“You came for me,” she choked out, trying to hold back the tears.

“Nothing could keep me away.”

“I thought you died on me, you son of a bitch,” she mumbled against his lips and then kissed him again, his hand snaking up into her hair.

“You’re not going to get rid of me that easy,” he teased, and she smiled, sighing. The world was right again. It didn’t matter where they were, or how much shit was chasing them, as long as they were together.

Her breath hitched. All the nights she’d spent lying awake, thinking about his body stuck in the wreckage, and him bleeding out. She pressed her forehead against his chest.

“You have no idea what you put me through. I was so fucking scared for you. I had to threaten to shoot myself to get them to leave you alone.” Maeve held him like he was going to disappear. She never planned on letting him go again.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his hand coming up to the back of her head. “I do. I’ve been just as scared about what was happening to you.”

His heartbeat was steady under her ear. She stayed there a moment, breathing him in, trying to believe it was real. He brushed a thumb under her chin, tilting her face up.

“You look incredible,” he murmured, and she smiled. For the first time in weeks, something like laughter slipped loose.

Then the memory hit her. “Where’s Duke?” Her voice cracked. “Please tell me he⁠—”