Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Violet wasn't even surprised when she woke sprawled over Max.
Apparently, that was how she slept now. She glanced at the phone beside the bed and saw it was barely nine in the evening.
Through the skylight she saw a heavy greenish gray sky had stolen all the daylight.
Outside, the wind howled its displeasure and rain beat the earth.
Thunder rumbled and a flash of lightning briefly lit up the gray. The storm was in full fury now.
Carefully, so as not to wake Max, Violet climbed off her human perch and slid onto the floor beside the bed.
He was sound asleep, probably exhausted from the overwhelming news that his story was dead.
Her heart had ached for him when he'd been standing out on the patio.
He'd looked like a man who'd lost hope, and she couldn't bear the sight.
That was why she'd gone to him. Nothing more.
Briefly, she wondered what her family would think when they hadn't joined them in the bar for a night of live music and dancing—if it was still on in this weather.
Then she remembered lunch, where Marigold had declared that Max and Violet were leaving to consummate their marriage and they might not see them for a while.
It would have been humiliating if Poppy hadn't said, "Why would they eat their marriage?
" For once she'd been grateful the Lee clan came without a filter.
On tiptoes, Violet headed for the bathroom, where she had a quick shower, grateful the noise of the storm would cover any sound she might make. Max needed to sleep. It was the best thing for him. Tomorrow, they'd deal with the problem of Damien.
Once out of the shower, she dried off before paying a quick visit to the toilet. And that's when things went to hell.
She was finishing up when there was a thud against the door. Fearing the worst, Violet lunged at the panel, ready to throw it open and deal with whatever threat was on the other side.
Only, the door didn't budge.
She shook it hard, but it didn't move. What the hell? She hadn't locked it. Anxious now, she feared Damien had used the cover of the storm to send someone to deal with Max. She thumped her fist on the door.
"Let me out of here," she demanded. "Do not touch Max Durant. I swear, I will hunt you down and skin you alive if you do."
"I'm sorry, Violet," Max said through the door.
Max?
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she bellowed. "Open this door right now."
"I can't," Max said. "You'll stop me, and I need to do this." He sounded resolved.
"What exactly do you plan on doing that doesn't involve taking your bodyguard with you?" But she was afraid she already knew the answer.
"I'm going to get the evidence I need to put Damien away for good," the fool said.
"And how exactly are you going to get your evidence? Do you plan on walking up to his estate and asking him what criminal activity he might be involved in?"
"I don't need to," he said. "Damien left the island to go meet his partner. There's nobody on the estate. Don't you see? Now is the best time to sneak in and have a look around."
"No, it isn't," Violet snapped. "He won't have left the place unguarded. There will still be armed men and security cameras. You're not equipped to deal with either."
"I've thought about it, and I'm going to knock the cameras out with rocks. The security team will blame the storm. As for the guards, I don't plan on meeting any of them. I'm just going to snoop around the house, take some photos, and leave."
"This is the craziest plan I've ever heard." She thumped the door again. "You have no experience doing this kind of thing. Let me out and I'll help you. I'll go with you."
"No, you won't." He barked a laugh. "You'll tie me up, or drug me, or do something else to stop me from going. You're just mad because I got there first and confined you before you could do the same to me."
He wasn't wrong. "Max, this is not how things work between us. You're the one who talks things through and I'm the one who communicates physically, remember?" She said the words through her teeth, trying to sound calm and reasonable and not quite pulling it off.
"I thought I'd try it your way for a change," he said. "Got to say, I can see the appeal. This is a lot faster than trying to reason with somebody."
"Max!" Violet bellowed, her attempt at patience shattered. Oh well, it was half-hearted at best anyway. "Let me out of here right now."
"I can't do it, Vi," Max said, sounding far too reasonable. "This is my only chance at bringing this guy down and I can't let anything get in the way, even you."
"You're a journalist. Not a field operative. You've no idea what you're doing."
"Probably," he said. "But I have the weather on my side—nobody is going to be out in this rain. And, like I said before, Damien isn't even on the island. This is as safe as it's going to get, and don't worry, I'll be careful."
"This is the dumbest idea you've had since we met. I swear, if you even get a scratch on you, I will be furious."
"I know," he said in a soothing tone. "It's okay. I know you're the only person who's allowed to get physical with me. I won't let anyone else touch me."
She blinked at the door. How did the man always make it sound like her detaining him was some sort of intimate foreplay.
"You are going to get yourself killed," she warned.
"I don't plan on dying tonight," Max said. "But just in case it all goes wrong, and I don't come back, there's something I need you to know. Today's ceremony was real for me. I'm not talking about the license thing. I'm talking about how I felt." He took a deep breath. "I love you, Violet Lee."
She gasped and placed her palms flat on the door. Her ears straining to hear his soft words. Her brain scrambling to make sense of them.
"You completely blindsided me," he said, sounding bemused.
"All I could think about was bringing Damien down, about getting justice for all the people he's hurt, and stopping him from hurting more.
And then you stormed into my life, this tiny tornado filled with an iron will and a sensuality that disarmed me completely.
I love how strong and capable you are. I love how sexy you are.
I love how soft and confused you get when you feel insecure.
I love that you have the darkest sense of humor and say the most unexpected things.
I even love your violent streak. You are spectacular, Violet.
I can't figure you out and I want to." The sound of yearning in his voice was a vise around her heart. "I really want to."
"Then don't go," she said.
Stay with me. Stay safe. The words stuck in her throat.
"You know I have to. This has to end. Damien has to go to jail, and tonight is my only window of opportunity for making it happen."
Rage built again. "Then take your bodyguard with you. Let me do my job. Let me protect you."
He laughed, it sounded sad. "See, here's the weird thing, now that I should want you standing between me and danger, I find I can't stomach the thought of you getting hurt because of me."
Violet stared at the door for a beat, uncomprehending.
"Wait a minute, you're protecting me?" Was he out of his mind?
There was no reply.
"Max?" she called, thumping the door again.
This time the silence of the bungalow was all the answer she got.
How dare he? How dare he tell her he loved her then leave her like this? Naked and vulnerable while he rushed off into danger. Violet couldn't remember the last time she’d felt so much rage.
No, not just rage.
Fear.
Not for her, but for Max.
She let her head fall back and she screamed out her anger and frustration.
The sound reverberated around the tiny room, sending her emotions straight back to her.
She took a deep breath, then another, clenching her fists at her thighs.
At last, the red in front of her eyes began to clear and the room came back into focus.
Violet shoved at the door again. It didn't budge. Max had obviously wedged a chair under the handle to stop her getting out. If he thought this would contain her, he didn’t know her at all. He’d have been better off drugging her and chaining her to the bed.
Her eyes landed on the vent in the ceiling.
It wasn’t big, but then neither was she.
Seeing as there was no switch to turn it on, she assumed it was just an airway out through the roof.
If she could get the cover off, she could squeeze through the opening into the attic.
And from there, she’d find a way out into another part of the bungalow.
She glanced around, scouring the room for something she could use to unscrew the vent cover. There was a toilet brush, toilet paper holder, a tall narrow stool with a bowl of potpourri on top of it, and that was it. There wasn't even a sink.
Her attention went to the small, framed pictures on the wall.
She removed one and smiled when she saw it had metal corner brackets.
The right-angled shape would make the perfect screwdriver.
Just what she needed to unfasten the vent from the ceiling.
All she needed to do was break the frame to free one of the brackets, and to do that, she had to smash it.
Not wanting to send glass flying around the room when she was naked. Violet wrapped the picture in toilet paper to contain the shattered glass, then hit the frame against the side of the toilet.
After the first hit, she carefully removed all the glass, then slammed the frame against the toilet bowl until one of the brackets came loose. She smiled with satisfaction as she held the metal shape in her hand.
Now she had a screwdriver.
After removing the potpourri from the stool, she stood on it to reach the vent.
It was agonizing work. Violet had to keep stopping because her arms ached from holding them over her head for so long.
But at last, she got two end screws free.
She tossed the makeshift screwdriver to the floor, worked her fingers into the gap she'd made and clutched the vent cover.
Using her weight, she pulled it off its frame.
It sent her crashing to the floor, and she hit her head on the wall.
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.