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Max’s eyes meet mine, and as we descend the last floor to the parking area, I watch as all emotion drains from his face until there’s only a potent ruthlessness coming off him in waves.
Where he terrified the shit out of me the first time he got that look, it now gives me a sense of safety.
He turns to face the doors, raising the gun to eye level. The veins snaking beneath the skin of his forearm are more prominent. I can see his biceps straining against the fabric of his dress shirt.
Jesus. Never has he looked hotter.
My heart hammers in my chest, and I grip the duffle bag tighter to my body.
Time slows, and my mouth goes completely dry right before the doors slide open.
Max moves forward and out of my sight. Suddenly there’s a loud pop of gunfire. I let out a shriek, and scared that something has happened to Max, I cautiously lean forward and peek out of the elevator.
There’s a body lying near a Mercedez, and Max is searching between the other parked cars. When he reaches the guard house, I notice the usual guard isn’t inside.
God, I hope nothing bad happened to him.
Suddenly a man leans around the corner of the exit, but Max reacts instantly, taking a shot that ends the man’s life.
Max turns around and runs back to me, shouting, “Come.”
I dart forward and run to the Bugatti, but he shouts again, “No, we’re taking my SUV.”
I backtrack to the SUV, and when the doors unlock, I yank the passenger side open and quickly climb inside.
Max slides behind the steering wheel and shoves the massive gun onto my lap. He pulls his smaller firearm from behind his back and places it between his thighs.
Starting the engine, the tires squeal as he reverses. My body jerks as he switches to drive, and a second later, we’re barreling toward the security boom.
The red pole is smashed in half by the nose of the SUV, the tires screech again, then we’re speeding down the road.
I sit frozen, clinging to the massive gun and the duffle bag.
“Are you okay?” Max asks, his tone cool and calm, as if he didn’t just kill people.
In all fairness, they were going to kill me.
I blink a couple of times. “Uh-huh.”
Max takes a sharp right, then asks, “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Finally, life starts to return to my body, and I shove the bag and weapon into the space by my feet. I glance over my body, then shake my head. “No. I’m fine.” My eyes dart to Max. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” His jaw is clenched, and he still has a ruthless expression.
I slump back in my seat and focus on my breathing and rapid heart rate while processing the fact that I could’ve died tonight.
The threat is real. Very real.
My dry lips part, and I whisper, “Jesus, someone just tried to kill me.”
“No one’s killing you on my watch,” he mutters, his tone low and deadly.
I nod, my eyes trained on the road ahead. “In that case, can I keep you forever?”
He lets out a chuckle and continues driving until we leave Paris.
Max keeps checking the rearview mirror, and it has me glancing out the back window while asking, “Are we being followed?”
