We arrive at another one of the courtyards, the largest one at The Retreat. Four guards round the corner. When they see us, their hands go to their weapons. They come right toward us.
The leather around my neck draws tight as Max yanks me into the courtyard. Knox follows half a step behind me.
The change in the two men is palpable. No longer do I see Max and his bodyguard. I see two men, highly skilled, working as a team.
Max draws me along a narrow path lined with chest-high bushes. He comes to a gap in the hedge, where a perpetually flowering tree drapes pink flowers over the walkway. The light floral fragrance, normally soothing, feels thick and cloying as Max ducks under the limbs and heads deeper into the vegetation.
Max pulls me after him. Knox walks behind me. His hand moves inside his suit jacket as he faces toward the rear. Max gathers in the slack on the leather belt until I practically step on his heels.
“What’s…” Max silences me with a finger to his lips and a stern shake of his head.
I want to put a hand on his shoulder. Something to steady me as I navigate over the raised roots of the tree, but I’m supposed to be an unwilling slave. That means no seeking comfort from Max.
My attention swivels to the opposite side of the courtyard. Benefield’s office isn’t that far, but we’re walking in the opposite direction.
“We’ve got company,” Knox calls out.
“Copy that. How many?”
“Four.”
“Damn,” Max curses. “Alpha?”
“Two minutes out.”
They speak in short, clipped phrases. It sounds like code. Most of it I follow. There were four armed guards who rounded the bend when Max yanked us into the courtyard, but what does Alpha mean?
He cuts through the meticulously manicured foliage, ducking under trees, stepping over small streams, and squeezing through gaps in the bushes.
Max makes a beeline for the opposite corner of the courtyard, still headed toward the main gates.
I high step it behind him, keeping my feet from tangling in the roots, which suddenly seem to be everywhere underfoot. I’m also loud, like an elephant stomping through the underbrush kind of loud. Max and Knox move silently, stealthily.
How? How the hell do they do that when they’re wearing combat boots and I’m in sneakers?
But we’re not silent enough.
Several sets of footsteps approach directly in front of us. The men call out to one another in Spanish. I’ve learned enough to know they’re looking for us. Not that it’s hard to miss the urgency in their voices.
“Shit.” Max stops between two bushes and drops to a crouch. I follow suit. First, because I’m copying everything he does. Secondly, because he yanks me down with a harsh tug on the damn leash.
“Plan B?” Max directs his attention to Knox.
Just then, a massive explosion sounds someplace in front of us. The ground rocks beneath my feet, and a concussive blast rustles the leaves all around us. My ears pop.
“Plan B.” Knox’s expression turns grim. “They’re early.”
“No shit.” Max draws out a gun from under his jacket. Knox follows suit.
How the hell did they get firearms? Benefield is ruthless in ensuring none of his guests carry weapons of any kind. I suspect there were problems in the past.
Max releases the end of the belt and frees the loop from around my neck. I guess we’re beyond pretending I’m his slave.
Early?
Who’s early?
Another concussive blast rips through the courtyard. It’s closer than the first one. I feel it in my lungs and in my throat. My ears ring from the shockwave.
Max wraps an arm around me, covering me with his body as limbs and leaves fall all around us.
Adrenaline spikes through my body, racing around as it preps me for fight or flight.
I glance up at Max, terrified, but also reassured. I trust him. I trust him with my life.
He presses close to whisper in my ear. “I’ve got you. Stay by my side and I promise I’ll get you out of here.”
I lay my hand on his forearm and give a little squeeze. I’m too terrified to speak, and with all the ringing in my ears, I don’t trust myself not to shout.
That odd dichotomy back in his suite disappears. No longer do I see a vile man interested in purchasing a slave. I see the man he’s always been. He’s a protector. A savior. And Max is going to rescue me.
Shouts sound out not ten feet away from where we’re hiding. Those must be the men from the hallway.
Benefield wants me back.
A whole-body shudder overtakes me. I can’t go back. There’s no more pretending.
Another concussive wave slams into us as a third explosion tears through the air. Max places his hand over mine and gives a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
I want to believe him. I really do, but it feels as if the world’s gone crazy. We’re in the middle of a war zone. As if to punctuate that thought, another explosion, closer yet again, rattles the air.
“Max.” I look up at him. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be, bubbles. That’s our team softening things up.”
I don’t know about softening things up, and I’m not sure why we’re still hiding in the bushes. Shouldn’t we be running? Either away from, or toward, those explosions?
I’m no expert in this kind of thing, but I kind of feel like staying in one place makes us a sitting duck.
“His men are moving off.” Knox pivots in his half-crouch.
“Copy that.” Max taps his ear, pushing inward. “Gate’s a no-go. Heavy resistance.”
“It’s still closer…” Knox tilts his head, as if listening to something in his ear.
Then I get it. They’ve got some kind of communication gear on.
“Deliver packet to rear wall.” Max’s lips firm into a hard line. “Exit the breach?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Knox shifts again, this time looking around the bushes. “On me?”
Max holds up a finger, telling Knox to wait. He leans toward me and cocks my head to speak directly into my ear.
“Put your hand in the back of Knox’s trousers. Grab his waistband. Stay close. Head down. I’ll have my hand at your back.” He reaches to my back and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of my pants. His fingers curl, gripping the fabric tight, demonstrating what he wants me to do with Knox. “Our team is going to breach the rear wall. On the count of three.” Max stares at me until I nod, telling him I’m ready.
Honestly, I have no idea what I’m supposed to be ready for. They don’t teach this kind of stuff in etiquette class.
“One. Two.” Max keeps his eyes on me and flicks his gaze toward Knox’s back.
Oh right. I’m supposed to… I slide my fingers down the small of Knox’s back and grip the back of his trousers.
“Three.” Max completes the countdown.
I lift a little, getting ready to run, sprint, walk, or stroll, but nothing happens. Instead of moving, Knox lifts his hand next to his head and forms a fist.
Max’s grip on my jeans tightens as Knox sweeps his weapon toward the sound of footsteps. His entire body tenses.
Lights swing back and forth, looking for us. The courtyard is huge, but it doesn’t have any lighting inside of it, except for the fake torchlights along the paths. The bushes we crouch behind should keep us hidden.