Page 88 of What Doesn't Kill You…

This was all Max’s fault.

And she was not happy with him.

"What kind of man marries a woman, tells her he loves her, then rushes off into danger?" She snapped as she righted the toppled stool. “And what kind of lunatic leaves his highly trained bodyguard behind because he’s protecting her? I am seriously beginning to think I married an idiot. No, I married an obsessive crusader with no concern for his own well-being. That’s who I married.”

She grabbed the toilet brush and climbed back onto the stool. There was a flexible silver duct, made of what looked like Aluminum foil, leading from the vent to what she assumed was a hole in the roof. She used the brush to get rid of it. It was easily removed. Without taking a minute to consider her plan, because what was the point, Violet lobbed the brush up into the attic in case she needed it.

"If anyone lays a hand on you," she shouted into the universe, hoping her voice carried on the wind, straight to her accidental husband. "I’m going to kill them. Do you hear me, Max? I'm coming for you, and I am furious."

Then she jumped up and grabbed the edge of the hole and pulled herself up into the attic.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

"Oh!" Evan said, jumping to his feet. "Oh, oh, oh!" Each oh went higher than the last as he grabbed the top of his head.

"What is it?" Rochelle rushed across the rental to stand beside him. She scanned the laptops, but there was so much information Rochelle didn't know where to start.

"Oh!" Evan said again, his eyes wide.

Rochelle grabbed his arms and turned him to face her. "Evan, take a breath and tell me what's going on. I have very little patience and we don't have time for theatrics." The temptation to shake him was clawing at her.

"It's the dude," Evan said, pointing at the screen in the middle.

"What. Dude?" Rochelle ground out between her teeth.

"The security dude. The dead dude. The one the stalker killed. That dude!"

"I swear, if you say dude one more time, I'm banning you from the internet for a month."

He sucked in a breath. "That's cold," he said. But the shock of the threat seemed to break his annoying hysteria. "It's this."

He turned and tapped at the screen, which was suddenly filled with only one email. The email was from Elle in the London office.

"Explain this to me," Rochelle snapped, because it looked like Elle had sent through every attachment she could find.

Evan leaned in and tapped the keyboard. "This!" He held out a hand like he was presenting his grand invention.

Rochelle leaned in and read the start of the document Elle had sent. "Damn," she muttered.

"Exactly," Evan said, folding his arms like everything made sense now.

Rochelle scrolled down a bit, scanned the text, checked out the attached photo, then stood. "Is Elle sure about this?"

"She's Elle," Evan said, like that explained everything.

It didn't. "Where did she get this information? Because it wouldn't have been easy to find. Not when people's lives are at risk because of it."

"Dunno." Evan shrugged. "When it comes to Elle you don't ask."

"Can you verify this information?" Rochelle asked.

"No point." Evan tapped the screen again. Document after document opened up in quick succession. "She already did."

''Then we might have the leverage we need to get some help after all." Rochelle pulled out her phone and called her contact at the DEA. The same guy she'd spoken to earlier who'd been unable to help, even though he'd been very apologetic about it.

"Rick," Rochelle said.

Before she could say anything else, Rick interrupted. "Although it's always great to hear from you, Chelle, nothing has changed from the last time you called. My hands are tied, I can't put boats in the water on the hunch Damien has a criminal partner he's meeting tonight." He sighed. "Plus, have you looked out there? Nobody is meeting on the water tonight."