Page 34 of Never Lost (The Unchained #3)

HER

T he old gardener seemed hypnotized by his own knife—the same serrated one he’d apparently taken when he left our house, for sentimental reasons.

Now its tip traced a cold, meticulous line under my chin, up my jaw to my ear, its path seemingly too precise for a lummox like him.

Then again, he’d had years to rehearse it in his head.

I pawed uselessly at my waistband, where Erica’s knife should have been. Gone. I must have lost it in the canal when I jumped.

Useless. Pathetic. Stupid ? —

“That white throat deserves a pretty red necklace, I think,” he said, not realizing what I had lost. Then he dropped the hand with the blade. “But if I kill ya first, ya wouldn’t feel nothing, and that just wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

His hot, decaying breath was close enough to land on my face. I tried to jerk away, clawing at the bark, trying desperately to find some purchase to fling myself at him, or away from him, or at least to buy myself a little time to figure out how to stay alive for even a little more time.

High above, a huge goshawk screeched in fury at having a rival snap some hapless prey from its maw.

Automatically, we both peered up, transfixed by the plummeting black speck.

My chance. I brought my knee up with all the strength I could collect, crying out as the knife nicked the side of my neck.

He was ready for me, though, and instead of the higher target, I connected with his shin.

Obadiah stumbled, the knife flying in a cinematically perfect arc over the steps of the cenotaph and toward the edge of the escarpment.

I lunged for it, my fingers closing weakly around the hilt.

The keyword being weakly. He reached me in seconds, twisting my wrist back like a screw.

It was gone. That had been my one try. Pathetic.

He shoved me back against the tree trunk, angry now, one hand pinching my throat shut, and his other hand moved on to my shirt and the top of my leggings, pawing and tearing at the fabric.

I gasped for air, clawing desperately at his arms, but my strength was gone.

It all faded, and soon I couldn’t see his rotting, stubbly, wrinkled face anymore, which maybe was a blessing of some kind, especially when I managed to replace it with something much nicer.

I couldn’t change what I would feel, though.

But one second passed, then another, and to my surprise, I felt nothing. And gradually, from behind my captor, I recognized the sound of a round being chambered. A hammer being cocked. And finally, silence, as Obadiah stopped slowly killing me.

“Hey, asshole, you can talk shit about my company all you want, but you weren’t exactly in the running for any service and devotion plaques, either.”

Obadiah snapped his head around. “Langley? Aren’t you s’posed to be on a plane?”

“It’s Langer, you dumbfuck. Remember me?

The guy who bought you, freed you, and hired you at the top of the pay scale plus benefits, just to watch you spend half the day sitting around drunk off your ass?

And I’m in a really shitty mood, given that I gave up my chance to sip top-shelf reposado on a tropical beach to stare at your ugly fucking face.

So if you don’t want to test me, drop the girl. ”

His fat fingers left my throat long enough for me to get a glimpse of my rescuer.

Max Langer Action Edition held a sleek, compact pistol that stylishly matched his leather moto jacket, T-shirt, and jeans, his normally sculpted hair hanging loose around a face with the kind of hunted look it certainly had not had when I’d last seen him, making suave bon mots around my home swimming pool.

Come to think of it, that’s where he’d first met Obadiah, too. And here they faced each other down once again. One holding a gun, the other holding me.

“What are ya gonna do, kill me?” Obadiah demanded.

“Yeah,” Max replied. “But first, I’m gonna fire you.”

I tried to reach up and pry the grubby digits off my throat, desperate—grateful as I was for the help—to do something except stand there waiting to be rescued like a goddamn damsel in distress, not to mention gambling on Max’s aim.

Max kept the pistol aimed steadily. “Last chance.”

Obadiah bared his grotesque teeth. “I hear they’re already on you for kidnapping and murder. If I was you, I wouldn’t wanna be burying a body when the cops show up.”

“What cops? Last I saw, every squad nearby was headed back south.”

Wheatley. I suspected he’d done what he could to help me by leading Labrecque and the others down the wrong trail. But he’d seen the blue Datsun, and he must have also known there was a chance he’d left me to die.

In other words, Max was saving my life, and it wasn’t everyone who could say that about a billionaire tech mogul.

Obadiah’s grip tightened around my throat, his breath hot and rancid against my cheek. “You could just walk away and pretend ya never saw nothing,” he said to Max. “What do you care? You didn’t have no problem fucking over her daddy, and she’s just a younger version with tits.”

Max huffed a sigh and closed his eyes. “Because we aren’t all doomed to become our parents.” He glanced pointedly at me. “And I like to think I haven’t completely failed at proving it, yet.”

“Wanna bet?” Obadiah squeezed me like a squeaky dog toy. I gasped and clawed at his hands, sinking into the earth.

And still Max, my one hope, kept the gun aimed steadily. “Listen, man. I get it. You’ve had a rough time. You want better. We all do. Better than a shallow grave in the desert, anyway. And that’s all you’ll get if you don’t drop her.”

“You don’t got a clue what I’ve been through, ya spoiled rich fuck.”

“Granted, no, I don’t. I don’t spend a lot of time researching the life histories of my low-level security staff, although maybe I should take this as my cue to start.

” He met Obadiah’s increasingly wild eyes steadily.

“But nevertheless, let’s end this little woodland frolic and I’ll get you what you’re owed. ”

Obadiah hesitated as if he were—of all things—thinking, and I writhed, unable to even gasp, my vision starting to go spotty. How was my entire life suddenly depending on an expert at hiding his better nature figuring out how to appeal to someone who didn’t have one?

“You’re bluffing,” my captor rasped.

Max took another step forward, gun aimed unwaveringly at Obadiah’s chest. “Maybe. I’ve been known to. But I’ve also been known to kill people, so it’s up to you to decide what side of me you think you’re getting.”

For a long moment, nobody moved. The desert held its breath, the setting sun casting long, gloomy shadows as I hung there, dying. But a second later, I hit the ground with several thuds, coughing and heaving and fruitlessly gulping air.

Who would have thought that being burned half to death, followed by nearly drowning in a grimy canal, followed by a two-mile sprint up a small mountain, followed by struggling against being raped and murdered would leave me with nothing in reserve?

In any case, Obadiah took another reluctant step back, raising his hands slightly as his eyes darted between Max and the gun.

I flinched as Max approached before looking up at him with watery eyes as he gave my shoulder a hesitant squeeze, rummaging inside his leather jacket.

“Shit, I forgot to bring water. Sorry, I usually have people for everything,” he said apologetically as he helped me into a semi-reclined position.

“By the way, I’ll take that envelope, too,” he said to Obadiah, who handed it over sullenly.

Max turned back to me. “I think this was intended for you.”

Not that it mattered when the note was lost to the wind.

What else could be in there that I could possibly need?

Even money was no help now. The only thing that could help was the law on my side.

But I didn’t have that anymore, and neither did Max.

And neither did Wheatley, most likely, so there was no point in counting on him.

I just prayed that wouldn’t leave Erica and the others sheltering at Ivy’s house totally exposed.

“Can you walk? Okay, that’s a no,” Max said after I remained motionless. He kneeled down, his gun hand still pointed toward Obadiah. The other gently curled around the backs of my knees. “Do you mind? Your boy might, but I won’t tell if you don’t.”

I paused. “Can’t trust you.”

“No, really, I won’t?—”

“Not about that .”

He looked perplexed. “But I thought you knew that Resi?—”

“I know,” I sputtered. “But I also have it on good authority that you don’t do anything without an ulterior motive.”

Max sighed and ran a hand through his uncharacteristically tangled hair.

“Your boy taught you well. Look, while I figure out the best way to prove myself—other than saving your life, that is—will you at least trust me to get you somewhere where nobody will kill you? After that, it’s all negotiable. ”

I nodded. Good enough. At least good enough to melt into the smooth, fragrant, buttery leather of Max’s jacket and bury my head on his shoulder as we descended the steep sandstone steps.

And if my boy had a problem with it in principle, well, I knew he’d understand in practice.

We were doing it to help him , after all.

“How’d you get here?” I murmured.

“The Datsun followed you. I followed the Datsun.”

“What the hell are you yapping about over there?” the old gardener growled as he followed along. “I don’t got all day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, how inconsiderate of me.

Is this throwing off your entire rape and murder schedule?

” Max demanded. “No? Then shut your goddamn piehole. I told you I’d give you what you want, and I will, but only after you take us where we want to go, which is to Resi and the kid, because they sure as hell aren’t here.

Sorry,” he stage-whispered to me. “Didn’t mean to get you stuck in Fuckface’s company even longer. I wanted to kill him, too. Really.”

“But—” I looked frantically behind me as he carried me down. “We can’t leave. He’s somewhere in this park. The chip can’t lie. Can it?”

“No,” said Max gravely. “It can’t. Not by itself. But your boy can make it lie for him.”

“Then that means?—”

I dug deep into the envelope, heart racing, and after a few seconds of rummaging, emerged with an object. An object that sat between the dirt-caked ridges of my torn-up fingers. For a second, Max and I just stared at it.

“The kid did it,” he said quietly. “He goddamn did it. And I suspect something in that envelope tells us how.”

Mind-boggling that something so small was the key to keeping millions of people enslaved.

Or possibly, freeing them.

“Is it too late, though?” I asked. A grave question for a man whose entire fortune and life had been wrapped up in this thing. “For Project White Cedar? For—” For him? For my father? For all of us?

Max took a deep breath and surveyed the vast coolness of the lake spread out below in the fading twilight.

I followed his gaze. “I don’t know. All I know is that we have to get that envelope somewhere safe, and then find him .

I have an idea how, but until we do that, everything else can wait.

I only wish we could take the helicopter. ”

“No?”

“No.” He turned away from the vista resolutely, and I relaxed further into his arms. “Now that I’m a fugitive, it’s time to switch to something less conspicuous.” He turned to Obadiah. “Where’d you park that Datsun?”