Page 107 of What Doesn't Kill You…

Thunder rumbled in the distance, signaling the worst of the storm had passed. The sky briefly turned white as intra-cloud lightning flashed on and off, and debris swept across the lawn, ruining the pristine grass. The weather wasn't finished with them yet.

Violet peeked around the corner. There were two more guards standing flat against the wall that flanked the sitting room windows. They stared out into the grounds, automatic weapons at the ready. Every now and then, one of them would try to wipe the water from his face. Neither looked happy to be there.

Between Violet and the guards sat a couple of oversized white wooden sofas that'd been bolted to the veranda. They were missing their soft cushions, which had obviously been taken inside out of the storm, but they still had enough bulk to offer some cover. She could use them to sneak up to the windows and get the damn photos Max wanted. All she needed was for Alan to provide a distraction, so the guards wouldn't look her way.

She turned back to tell him what to do.

And saw a guard coming through the dining room doors.

"Behind you," she hissed.

Alan turned as the guard raised his gun.

"Duck!" she snapped as she shoved him hard.

He obeyed and fell to the deck, rolling to the edge of the veranda. The guard hadn't seen her behind Alan's bulk and was surprised when suddenly confronted with an armed woman. Violet raised her gun, but didn't want to pull the trigger. It would alert the other guards.

"Put your weapon down." She imbued the words with absolute authority.

The guard hesitated for a second before a cruel smile curved his mouth. He lifted the gun higher and aimed at Violet.

Alan was on his feet and running straight for her.

They collided, just as the gun went off. She felt him jerk and stumble against her. She wrapped her arms around him as she rooted her feet to stop from toppling over. Alan groaned, went limp and slid down her body.

To hell with keeping quiet.

Violet aimed her gun and took out the guard. He died with a smile on his face.

She heard footsteps thumping on the deck around the corner, as the guards ran toward the shots. They were out of time. And there was no way they could run. Alan was all but a dead weight in her arms. She held onto him as he collapsed to the wet veranda floor, taking her with him.

"No," she said as they landed in a heap, her on her knees, his upper body in her lap.

His eyes found hers and stayed there.

The footsteps got closer, and Violet aimed her gun at the corner. Waiting for Damien's men to appear.

"It's okay," she told her stalker. "It's going to be okay. I'll get you out of here."

"I. Protect. You," he gritted out, sounding weak.

"Stay with me soldier," she snapped. "That's an order."

She heard a scuffle and a thud. Thunder rumbled angrily as the rain lashed the house. It ran down Violet's face and she blinked it away as she concentrated on the coming threat.

She couldn't move. Alan had pinned her down, and he was struggling to breathe.

"You do not have my permission to die," she told him.

"Yes, Ma'am," but his voice was a whisper.

The footsteps got closer. Violet steadied her gun.

And then a low voice called out. "It's Rodrigo. Don't shoot me."

She dropped her weapon as relief flooded her. "I have an injured man here," she said.

Rodrigo came cautiously around the corner, followed by Logan. Both were armed and soaked to the skin.