CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Max ran toward the beacon of light in the dark hallway with his heart in his throat. Considering what his father had exposed him to as a teenager, Max grew more fearful over what Crystal might be forced to endure. Why didn’t he know about this part of the house? Was it a recent addition, or had his father engaged in more illicit dealings than Max had been aware of while growing up in the mansion?
He burst through the open door with hands raised in defense. Harsh disappointment slammed into him when he found the room empty.
Terror twisted his gut as he took in the padded tables and S&M equipment decorating the space. This was a room designed for pleasures of the flesh. And Crystal had been held here. Good God, what did they do to her?
As he took a step forward, he stumbled on an object, drawing his attention to the floor. A black stiletto. Its mate lay near an overturned table. An empty snifter rested on its side in a wet puddle.
Hope sprung in his chest. Whatever happened, she didn’t go down without a fight.
“Max,” one of the twins called to him. “Crystal escaped. She’s on the run.”
I’m in the room now. Which way did she go?
“To the right. Hurry. She thinks—” The sudden pause made Max’s heart skip.
What? She thinks what?
“She had a vision. She believes she’s going to die.”
What! When? How? He ran for the hall.
“I don’t know. I was only able to catch a fleeting image.”
“Stop right there,” a male voice ordered.
Max ducked back into the room, narrowly missing a barrage of bullets.
Motherfucker. A couple of bullets he could deflect, but a hailstorm of lead was something he didn’t want to test his powers on, especially with his energy waning.
He pulled his .45 from his belt and slid home his magazine. With a kiss on the barrel for extra luck, he took aim around the doorframe and pulled the trigger.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered with each pull of the trigger until the gun emptied.
In a last-ditch effort, he held out his palms. The broken chair and table sailed through the air as piss-poor excuses for missiles.
“Come on. Come on,” he muttered, trying to peer around the doorjamb into the hall. If he could just focus for a few seconds on one of the shooters’ guns, he might have a chance to snatch it for himself.
But the constant barrage of bullets prevented him from leaving himself exposed for more than a heartbeat.
A weapon. Where the hell was he going to find a weapon?
A wicked smile twisted his mouth as he snatched a whip from a shelf.
“Thank you, Dad,” he said aloud.
Heavy footsteps approached the door. Quickly, he took a stance to the side and held his breath in anticipation.
The end of a rifle appeared first. The tip of the whip cracked as Max looped it around the barrel, jerking it free and tossing it toward the bed, where it landed with a gentle thump.
Not so gentle was the technique Max used to break the soldier’s arm and slam his forehead into soft cartilage. As the man crumbled to his knees, a second guard opened fire, spraying the room haphazardly. A bullet grazed Max in the arm, cutting a swath through the leather and taking a chunk of skin with it.
Max’s bicep burned as he slung the whip out to encircle the gunman’s neck. The solider dropped the rifle to grasp the strip of hide. His eyes started to bulge behind his visor when Max yanked back and snapped his neck.
In through the mouth, out through the mouth. He tried to ignore the coppery scent of the blood seeping into his jacket. This was not the time to get sick.
After ensuring the hall was clear, Max raced in the direction Crystal had taken. A door at the end stood ajar. He eased it open and peered out.
“Which way, which way,” he murmured.
The vast expanse of lawn stretched out before him. Dew was already forming and clung to each blade of grass, except for where a darker trail snaked off to the left. The courtyard.
“Whoever’s available, come to the courtyard,” Max directed to his earpiece. “It’s the hedged-off area near the ballroom. Crystal’s there and she’s in trouble.”
“On it,” Doc answered.
His breath puffed out in swirling clouds as he raced toward the courtyard. During the spring, his mother had loved to sit under the cherry blossoms and read to him when he was a child. Within the confines of the hedges, he had been allowed to play, to imagine, to be a little boy when his father had wanted him to be a man. The courtyard was a haven.
If Crystal made it there, then one of the others could catch up with her. She’d be safe.
In the distance, he spotted the break in the hedge. A man stood at the opening. The back of his white shirt appeared to glow in the moonlight. Anthony.
Max’s legs pumped harder as anger surged through him, coating the back of his throat with the bitter taste of vengeance.
As he approached the entrance, his view of the interior widened and he saw his father standing to his right, a gun drawn. The faint light glinted on the weapons both men held pointed at each other with Crystal caught in between.
Suddenly, Anthony hauled Crystal in front of him as if she were a shield. Madden’s laughter reached Max’s ears a second before he squeezed the trigger.
“No!” Max reached out into the air, throwing his energy in an effort to deflect the trajectory of the bullet. Blades of grass bowed out in a ripple, and the leaves swirled as the surge of energy rolled in a wave toward Crystal.
No, no, no. He was too far away. He wouldn’t make it.
Crystal jerked and slumped in Anthony’s hold as he fired back twice in quick succession.
Madden stumbled backward. The bullets added more holes and splotches of blood to his shredded shirt. Shock slackened his face before he fell back into the fountain with a heavy splash.
Anthony set Crystal’s limp form on the stone pavers and straightened a second before Max tackled him from behind. Over and over they tumbled across the hard surface. DeMateo rolled on top of Max and blocked the right hook aimed at his face. He answered back with a punch that connected with Max’s jaw, snapping his head to the side and dislodging his sunglasses.
Murderous rage took over Max’s mind, numbing him to everything else. Stiff armed, he grappled with DeMateo, who had his hands wrapped around Max’s neck, while digging his knee into his gut.
“I’m sorry, Max,” DeMateo panted. “I’m sorry your father hurt your girl.” His fingers tightened. “We can make this right. Work with me. Together we can save the world.”
“Crystal is my world, you son of a bitch,” Max rasped.
He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on DeMateo’s beating heart. Molecule by molecule, Max manipulated the blood racing through Anthony’s veins.
Anthony gasped and keeled over, writhing and clutching at his chest. The whites of his eyes turned pink with breaking blood vessels.
Max staggered to his feet and stared down at the man he once loved like a brother. There wasn’t enough pain he could inflict to ever make up for what the bastard had done.
“Please.” DeMateo reached out. His breath rattled in his faltering lungs.
“Payback’s a bitch, huh?”
With one last wheezing breath, Anthony’s head lolled to the side. His empty gaze stared in the direction of Madden’s loafers that hung over the side of the fountain. Neither man was getting up again.
He rushed to Crystal’s side. Blood seeped from a hole above her heart and trickled down onto the stone beneath her. In the shadows, her pale skin glowed ghostly white, the dark crescent of her lashes laid like half-moons on her cheeks.
“Crystal,” his voice cracked. He ripped a section of her flimsy skirt off and pressed it to the wound. For once, it was his utter helplessness that weakened his stomach and not the stench of blood. “Sweetheart, baby, please open your eyes.”
Her lids fluttered ever so gently. “Max,” she mouthed.
“Doc’s coming, sweetie. Doc!” he shouted. “Just stay with me.”
Her mouth trembled in a weak smile. Her face was pinched tight in pain. “Love you.” The barely whispered words speared through him.
“I love you, too. Stay with me, baby. Stay with me,” he ordered, then begged. Her eyes drifted closed and her body wilted. “Stay! Stay!”
Under his palm her pulse slowed, then stopped altogether.
“Crystal. Crystal!”
“Max, I’m here. Move.” Doc shoved against his hunched form. “Dammit, Max, move!”
When he didn’t budge she jumped to the other side and shoved his blood-covered hands out of her way. She placed her bare palms over the hole in Crystal’s chest and closed her eyes.
Max gritted his teeth, every muscle in his body tensed as if to feed her his strength. He took Crystal’s icy hand between both of his and bent to whisper encouragements in her ear. Failure burned like acid in his gut when he saw her face. Bruises marred her cheeks, the entire left side swollen and red. Heat scorched down his cheek as his first tear fell.
Losing her now was not an option. Without her, his world was as dark and empty as his mountain had been before he met her. She was his light, his warmth, his reason for believing in the good of man.
Please, baby, please, please, please.
Continuing his prayers, he lifted his gaze to the clear night sky, then over to where Anthony’s body lay. A bolt of fury shot from Max’s core and raised the body in the air and slammed it back to the ground. Over and over he bashed the corpse against the earth until the last of his energy gave out and Anthony was nothing more than a bloody pulp. He sagged with exhaustion, yet the rage still roiled inside him.
“Holy shit.”
Max whipped his head around to see Sheriff Lancaster and Deputy Davis running into the courtyard with weapons drawn.
“Sheriff?” Max blinked in confusion.
“Gunfire was reported to be coming from Madden’s mansion. We sent in the SWAT team and found your friends.” His sharp gaze took in the scene. “Holy shit,” he repeated and reached for his radio. “Send me a medic around back. Now. We’re near the cherry blossoms.”
“No,” Doc gasped. “Don’t.”
“Your medics can’t help,” Max added. “Please.”
Lancaster’s mouth pinched as if he wanted to argue, but he nodded and placed a hand on Davis’s shoulder. “Get blankets, first-aid kit, whatever. Keep the EMTs on standby.” He dropped to his knees next to Doc. “What do we have?”
“Gunshot. She—” Max broke off, unable to say anymore.
“Shock,” Doc panted. Her arms shook from trying to keep her weight off Crystal. Deep lines bracketed her mouth and sweat beaded on her brow.
Lancaster placed his arm around Doc’s shoulders to keep her upright. Uncertainty creased his forehead, but he held his tongue. Collectively, they focused their energy as if by will alone they could somehow help revive Crystal’s heart.
This could not be happening. He had superpowers, for fuck’s sake. He could manipulate molecules. There had to be something he could do.
Wait. He could manipulate molecules.
“Doc, hold on. I’m going in.”
Her eyes widened with alarm and the line of her lips tightened, but she didn’t say a word, continuing to concentrate.
Max placed his palm on Crystal’s chest, careful not to block Doc’s efforts. He imagined Crystal’s heart, struggling, broken, and used his power to keep the muscle beating as Doc worked her magic on repairing the damage.
Long seconds dragged, with only Doc’s labored breathing and his own breaking the silence. With his free hand, Max lifted Crystal’s limp hand and pressed his lips to her cold fingers and resumed his prayers while more tears fell from his tightly shut lids.
He meant what he said to DeMateo. Crystal was his world, and the thought of not having her in it was beyond torture.
An icy touch brushed his cheek, tickling his evening stubble. He pulled back and stared at Crystal’s fingers. They were twitching.
They were twitching.
Crystal hitched a short breath, then a longer one. Her eyelids fluttered open just as Doc collapsed against Lancaster.
“Doc,” the sheriff gasped.
“I’ll be okay.” She smiled and sank deeper into Lancaster’s hold. “Tired. That was close.”
“Max?” Crystal whispered.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Euphoria crashed over him, and he collapsed over her prone form, hugging her head with his arm. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Underneath him, her little body began to shudder. Damn, he should have known she was freezing. He pulled his duster off and draped it over her before gathering her back in his arms.
She blinked as if waking from a dream. “I died.”
“Doc saved you. You can’t leave us that easily.”
“Doc.” She turned her head.
“I’m here, sweetie.” Doc reached out and brushed the coat with her trembling fingers. “Don’t die on me again.”
“I’ll try not to.” She glanced over and did a double take. “Sheriff?”
“Prism.” He nodded. “You’re looking a lot better than you did two minutes ago.”
“Thanks.” Her weak chuckle sounded more like a wheeze that died as she caught sight of the bloody cut in Max’s arm. “You’re bleeding. Do you need a medic?”
His bark of laughter caught him by surprise. Even at death’s door, she still wanted to fuss over him. “I’m fine.” He pressed his forehead to hers and gazed into the brown depths of her eyes. “I can’t lose you, don’t you know that? You make me whole.”
“I’m sorry.” Her lips quivered. “I’m sorry about everything.”
He feathered his lips against her. “I’m sorry, too. You do realize that I am never letting you out of my sight again.”
“We’ll discuss that later. Just hold me for now.”
“Done.”
He gathered her closer and pressed his nose into her hair. Through the fabric of his shirt, her warm breath seeped into the cotton and heated him to his soul. She was alive. He inhaled her scent again. She was alive.
Lancaster cleared his throat, drawing their attention. When he lifted his brow, Max realized that he had lost his glasses and was facing the sheriff unmasked.
“You’re the son. Max Madden.” It wasn’t a question.
Max swallowed and clutched Crystal tighter. “Yes.”
Lancaster tipped his head toward the pair of feet hanging out of the fountain. “Who is that?”
“My father.” Max jerked his head toward what was remaining of the other body. “He fired a shot at Anthony, who was using Prism as a shield. That’s how she was injured. DeMateo fired back and killed him.”
“Anthony DeMateo? I thought he died in an explosion a few months ago.”
Max shook his head and swallowed down bitterness that lingered with that lie. “That’s what I thought, too. It was a coverup.”
“So if DeMateo killed your father, who killed DeMateo?”
Max met his gaze without flinching. “I did.”
Lancaster stared at him hard then nodded. “Inside the house is a hell of a shit show. Rich people being chased by a panther and men decked out with machine guns. Care to explain?”
“I’ll tell you everything, but first I’d like to get my girl someplace she can rest. It’s been a long night.”
“We’ll see.” He glanced back and forth between Crystal and Doc, who still lay limp in his arms. “This feels wrong. Shouldn’t we get a doctor?”
“I am a doctor,” Doc answered without opening her eyes. “Give me a minute to recharge, and I’ll be fine.” She cracked one eye open to look at Max. “We’ll both live.”
“Thank you.”
She closed her eyes again. “I know. We all need her, Max. Take care of her. Or I’ll rip you apart.” The threat would have been more menacing if she hadn’t been interrupted by a jaw-popping yawn.
“Hey, bossman?” Chase asked in his earpiece. “We’re contained in the house. Do you have Prism?”
“I’ve got her.” He gazed down at the sleeping woman in his arms. More hot tears filled his eyes and he wished his power included the ability to transport them to the comfort of his bed. Until then, he’d make do with sheltering her with his body and his love. “I’ve got her.”