Two to Go: Bayou Heat

  She laughed, feeling a strange, new sensation. Happiness? Satisfaction? Possibility? Whatever it was, she could figure it out later. Right now, they were so out of here, and yippee! she would get her sweaty plane time sooner than expected.

  Nice people, btw. Scared shitless.

  Not surprised. Been through hell.

  Ok. On our way to the meeting point. C U.

  “What’s going on?” Max moved to stand behind her, his massive arms loosely wrapping around her waist as he nuzzled her neck.

  Elyon went soft and warm in seconds. She pressed back against his chest, marveling at how easy it was to accept his strength, his possession. Only hours ago she would have kicked the ass of anyone stupid enough to try and hold her so intimately.

  “Your parents are safe.”

  She felt a tremor race through his body and turned to face him. He was a fearsome thing. A true warrior. Dark, dangerous, broad, and bad, his black hair loose around his shoulders. She knew just how he would be in the ring. Merciless. Tireless. But right then, gazing down at her he looked…young. Vulnerable.

  “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice threaded with disbelief.

  “See for yourself.” She held up her phone, pressing on the video that had just hit her inbox. Thank you, Leo, even though you’re a douchebag most of the time.

  Instantly the image of an older couple became visible. It looked like they were seated in the back of a moving car, their lined faces wreathed with smiles even as their eyes remained dark with concern.

  “Max, we’re on our way to something called the Wildlands,” his mother said, leaning toward the camera as if physically willing her son to listen to her plea. “Please get out of that awful place. We’re safe, and we love you.”

  A rough sound wrenched from Max’s throat, and he did the strangest, most amazing thing. He let his head drop to her shoulder. The gesture did something to her. Unraveled her. Like she’d been a ball of twine—always been a ball of twine—since she was just five and was stolen away from all that she knew.

  Tightly bound.

  But this male was slowly tickling the frayed edges of that twine, encouraging her, making her believe she was both needed and wanted. Making her crave a connection that was far deeper than friendship or even what she had always believed mating to be.

  With Cerviel, with all of the Pantera, she’d thought taking a mate was a normal progression of time, and the body’s understanding that it had found its sexual equal.

  Well, it was true she’d definitely found that. In fact, she was going to have to eat a lot of protein to keep up with this one. But as Max lifted his head and found her gaze, she knew why Cerviel had acted the way he had outside the safe house, why he didn’t seem to give a shit if Raphael kicked him out of The Six. Why he wouldn’t leave Hallie for anything. Real and true mating fused hearts for life.

  Even damaged ones.

  Perhaps most especially damaged ones.

  She ran comforting hands up and down the curve of his broad back. He’d showered too and he smelled good, soap and his unique Pantera musk. In turn, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the side of her neck.

  “You ready, baby?” he said against her skin.

  She shivered. No one called her those names, those endearments. She hadn’t allowed it. But with him, all she said was, “Always.” For you. Always.

  Raking his teeth over the thin band of muscle at her neck, he groaned. “You’re going to be my addiction. Wanting more. Never enough.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  He eased back and gave her a hungry grin. “My Ely.”

  Yes.

  Then he planted a quick kiss on her mouth before he released her.

  She watched as he pulled on a pair of gray sweats over his boxers, and a matching hoodie over the most beautiful chest ever created.

  “Why did you get the angel wings?” she asked him.

  He paused. “Pretty simple actually. I wanted to cover the scars of my imprisonment with a symbol of my freedom.”

  Not twenty-four hours ago, Elyon would’ve nodded at that answer. Made sense. Moving on. That sort of thing. But tonight, her eyes fixed on her mate, her heart his for the taking and the holding, she felt a pull…from her insides to his. Her cat to his. Her soul to his. She knew what true freedom felt like after not having it for so long. And she was so thankful he had it now.

  Max slid his feet into a pair of sneakers and looked at her expectantly. “We’re out of here.”

  She glanced around the loft. “You don’t want to pack a bag?”

  He sent her an intimate smile. “The only thing in this room that means anything to me is you.”

  There it was. Again. That connection, running through her at hyper-speed. A beautiful ache that she never wanted to have healed. It was the heart inside her chest that she’d honestly believed dead—but now knew was only dormant—blooming.

  She knew the true reason she’d traveled to New York. To deliver the asset. But things had changed. Drastically. She wanted to protect him as much as bring him home. One question hovered on her tongue.

  “Has Victor ever mentioned why you’re special, Max?”

  He flicked a brow upward. “I thought I just proved why I’m special.”

  Heat fizzed through her like champagne that had been shaken.

  Damn him. But, boy was he was right. He had been special.

  Epically special.

  Focus, Ely. With great effort, she continued. “Have they ever mentioned using your blood in any experiments? Or suggested training you for a secret project?”

  He shrugged, his gaze curious now. “No. Where are you going with this?”

  “Not sure. Just think. Please.”

  He sighed. “They just want me to fight and bring in lots of money, baby.” He hesitated then, as if struck by a sudden thought. “Victor did mention something about sending me to Vegas to fight within the next couple of days. I assumed it was for a televised match.”

  Oh, Victor, you’re so tricky. More likely it was a ruse so Max wouldn’t be suspicious when they loaded his hot ass into a van so they could take him some place quiet to kill him and dispose of his body. A task that wouldn’t be so easy in the middle of the city.

  The mere thought of Max being murdered, being taken from her, was enough to splinter her blood-deep sense of duty to the PSL. She was never leaving his side, no matter what Raphael said.

  “Let’s go,” she said. Any further questions could wait until she had this male hidden in a safe house. Far away from Benson and his nefarious plans. Under her eagle-eyed watch.

  With a small nod toward Max, she waited for him to head toward the door. She followed as he walked out of the loft and headed down the narrow flight of stairs.

  Her muscles tensed, her cat pressing beneath her skin. Who knew what they were going to encounter? She could already hear the sounds of voices in the gym, no doubt competitors preparing for the nightly cage matches. Which she was supposed to have been headlining.

  Whoops.

  They reached the main floor no problem, but even as they prepared to try and slip unnoticed through the back area where the cage was set up, Max reached out to grasp her arm.

  “In here,” he commanded under his breath, tugging her into a small storage closet beneath the stairs.

  Ugh. This was no airplane bathroom. They were crammed into a tiny space that reeked of old mats and moldering boxing gloves. Thankfully Max kept the door open a few inches to allow in some fresh air, as well as giving them a glimpse of the two large men who jogged across the floor and headed directly up the stairs.

  “What’s going on?” Elyon whispered.

  Max shook his head, his eyes narrowed as he watched the half dozen men who spilled through the door across the gym.

  “I don’t know, but something’s up,” he said, his tone threaded with unease. “There’s never this many guards on duty at the same time.”

  Elyon grimaced. It didn’t take a genius to figure
out why there would be a sudden overflow of beefy security in the gym. Raphael was going to string her up for not getting Max out of there right away, against his will or not. She was so not looking forward to that conversation, and the questions about what exactly she was doing during that time.

  “They must know your parents have escaped,” she whispered.

  Max nodded, his expression grim. Before he could speak however, the heavy sound of footsteps pounding back down the stairs echoed through the storage room. Then Victor’s voice floated through the air.

  “Did you find him?” the older man demanded.

  “He’s not there,” a harsh voice responded.

  Was that the same idiot Elyon had met downstairs? Probably, although she couldn’t see more than his shoes and one leg through the small crack.

  She inhaled deeply, seeing if she could capture his scent over the mold and rank. Not possible. Though gagging was.

  “What the hell do you mean?” Victor snapped.

  “I mean he’s not there,” the man insisted.

  There was a long string of curses before Victor managed to regain his composure. “What about the woman?”

  “Gone,” the guard admitted.

  Another spat of swearing as Victor paced back and forth, allowing Elyon fleeting glimpses of his florid face. He was clearly pissed off.

  “Benson is going to slit my throat when he finds out I let Max escape. He might have let me have an extra week to make some money on the bastard, but when he realizes I didn’t complete the elimination process exactly as he demanded…” his words trailed off with a violent shiver before he was giving a loud clap of his hands. On cue the muscle-bound guards hurried to stand in front of him. Like a pack of well-trained dogs. Pant, pant, pant. “They can’t have gone far,” Victor said in a loud voice. “Check the security tapes and then spread out and look for them.”

  So maybe Victor was an enemy of the Pantera after all.

  Elyon could already taste his ancient blood.

  One of the nearest guards had pulled out a handgun. “Lethal force?” he demanded, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

  Max grunted. Clearly the two men weren’t BFFs.

  “You can kill the woman,” Victor said. “I need Max alive. At least until we can take him to the meeting place.”

  Well! How rude. But even as she thought the quip, Elyon tucked away the information. The message Xavier had intercepted back in the Wildlands had ordered the test subjects to be destroyed, but it seemed that Victor had received another message with specific details on exactly how Max was to be killed.

  So why was Max different?

  Was it because a dead body in the building owned by Benson might cause unwanted questions? That made sense. It wasn’t like anyone here had the brains to come up with a suitable reason there was a dead man in their gym.

  Or maybe they just worried about the fights being shut down by the authorities.

  Whatever the reason, she had to get them out of there.

  Now.

  Elyon watched as the men exchanged glances, clearly not super excited about the thought of trying to capture Max “The Hammer” without being able to put a bullet through his brains.

  Maybe they weren’t as stupid as they looked.

  “But—” One of them started to protest only to snap his lips shut as Victor pointed a stubby finger in his direction.

  “Did I ask for your opinion?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then go. And don’t come back to me without him.”

  ***

  Max waited until the guards had scurried away, and Victor had stormed back to his office before he eased open the door to the storage room.

  Most of the security guys would head downstairs, assuming that they’d already left the gym and were trying to get out of the building.

  Which meant that the only way would be to go up.

  He bent his head, speaking directly in Elyon’s ear. “We’ll go out the fire escape.”

  She nodded, stepping back and waving for him to go out of the closet first. He smiled, knowing just how much trust it took for her to allow him to take the lead. But she was also smart enough to know he knew every inch of this place.

  In silence, they hugged the shadows of the back edge of the gym. It was eerily silent. Usually by this hour the fighters were crowding into the locker room while a steady stream of paying customers were filing up the stairs. Obviously Victor had shut the place down for the night.

  They managed to reach the doors leading to the cage room, and were headed toward a heavily barred window at the far end when their luck ran out.

  There was the squeak of the old floorboards before a bald-headed guard stepped out of a side door. The man looked momentarily startled, as if he was shocked that he’d actually managed to locate Max and Elyon. Had he chosen to remain up here because he didn’t want to risk a fight? Maybe. But the moment he caught sight of them, his sense of duty overcame any reluctance and he pointed a finger in their direction.

  “Hey. Stop right there,” he commanded.

  Max glanced toward Elyon who was already spreading her legs as she prepared to fight.

  “I’ll take care of him,” he told her. “You need to get that window open without tripping the alarms.”

  She hesitated, glancing toward the guard before giving a sharp nod of her head. She obviously determined that he could handle one human guard.

  Pivoting, she swiftly moved toward the window. The guard muttered an oath, reaching to his side to awkwardly pull his handgun.

  Max rolled his eyes. The dumbass was going to shoot himself by accident. Not that Max minded. One less idiot in the world. But the shot would attract unwanted notice.

  With one long leap, he was standing directly in front of the guard, knocking the weapon from his hands before the man even realized he’d moved. With a yelp of shock, the man stumbled back, putting up his hands.

  Max studied the guard’s movements, not about to underestimate him as a threat. The only fight he’d ever lost was to a man who was six inches shorter and a hundred pounds lighter. The fighter had pretended to be terrified in the cage and Max had stupidly led with his chin, barely seeing the punch coming before he was knocked flat on his ass.

  Now he gave a quick right jab, watching as the man ducked to the left, his weight on his heels instead of the balls of his feet.

  Max gave another right jab quickly followed by a kick toward the man’s knee. The guard skipped backward, avoiding the kick and throwing a left hook at Max.

  Max easily ducked, using the motion to move in closer. The man wasn’t much taller than Max, but he had an inch or two longer arm. A decided advantage in a boxing match.

  The guard realized his mistake a beat too late. His head jerked back even as Max’s massive fist smashed into his jaw. The man choked out a cry of pain, but he didn’t go down as Max had expected. Instead he lowered his head and abruptly lunged forward.

  Max was forced to dance backward, nearly stumbling over a folding chair that had been left near the cage. It was only a momentary distraction, but it gave the guard the advantage.

  The man smiled, wrapping his arms around Max’s neck and squeezing with his considerable power. On a normal man the press of the guard’s forearm might have crushed his throat. Or at least cut off his air supply.

  But Max wasn’t normal. He returned the man’s smile just before he jerked his head forward, slamming the crown of his skull directly to the center of the guard’s face.

  There were all kinds of snaps and pops as bones broke and cartilage was shattered. The guard gave a pig-like squeal before he was stumbling backward and covering his busted face with his hands.

  Max was still smiling when he picked the man up and bench-pressed his two-hundred-pound body over his head. Then, with one mighty heave, he was tossing the guard through the air to smash against the wall.

  There was a satisfying crack as the man’s head connected with the wall of cement, then he wa
s sliding down to land on the floor with a heavy thud.

  There was the sound of a clicking tongue and Max turned his head to discover Elyon regarding him with raised brows.

  “Showing off?”

  His lips twitched as he moved to kick the man onto his back, ensuring he was unconscious.

  Yep. Out cold.

  “Maybe a little,” he agreed, jogging across the room to join her at the window that was already opened. “Turn you on?”

  Her eyes flashed with heat. “You have no idea.”

  He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, baby.”

  “Agreed,” she murmured, turning to climb onto the rickety fire escape.

  Within seconds they were on top of the building, heading for the edge. The wind was fierce, but the lights of the city sparkled like gems. Like beacons of promise.

  As soon as she had Max stashed in the hotel room she’d booked earlier, she would return and exterminate the pests.

  Quietly and efficiently.

  They weren’t smart enough to flee. Like rats returning to their nest.

  Truly, that would be far less messy than blowing up the entire place, even though she really did love to pull that plug when vermin were involved. But it would offer her the opportunity to search through their computers for any information that would tell them why Benson was so eager to get rid of the test subjects.

  The plan had barely formed in her mind when there was a sound of a heavy ‘thud’ quickly followed by the shake of the building beneath their feet.

  Holy shit, no. Come on! Someone had found her explosives. Or maybe they’d brought some of their own.

  Whichever it was, the entire place was about to blow.

  “Jump,” she rasped.

  Max didn’t need her urging. He was already swiftly behind her, leaping to the neighboring building. And then the next.

  Bet you’re loving that Pantera blood now, baby!

  Behind them, the ear-piercing sound of a massive explosion sent shockwaves through the air. Neither turned to look as the Benson building was destroyed in a blast of shattered brick, melted iron, and jagged glass.