Page 34 of Royal

Halfway down the sheet metal wall of the warehouse, a steel side-door interrupted the corrugated metal.

Maxence edged along the side of the building, checking behind him and holding the gun down and aimed in front of his feet.

As he neared the door, Micah and the other two turned the corner around the far side of the warehouse.

Maxence waved them up, standing plastered to the wall beside the door and waiting.

They moved quickly, all of them holding their guns expertly with straight arms and pointed at the ground in front of them as they moved.

After Maxence had been kidnapped as a child, he’d taken self-defense classes in hand-to-hand combat and weapons training, but he’d thought such skills were somewhat rare. Perhaps all Americans were taught to do that, or maybe just these particular few happened to know what they were doing.

Micah, Blaze, and Logan made it to the door, but they stayed on the other side. The door had a square window on its upper half, and someone might be watching the window or notice their shadows if they tried to cross.

Maxence turned the knob gently and found the door unlocked. He tried to ease the door open, but something heavy was lying against it.

The door flipped toward him in his hand.

He jumped back as cardboard boxes tumbled out. Pottery spilled out of the boxes, the dull red and blue ceramic vibrant in the sunlight.

One of the vessels cracked. White powder leaked onto the yellowish clay dirt.

More shouts sounded inside.

Maxence dropped to one knee and peered around the edge of the door.

A few of the guys pointed at the opening door, but more gunshots were streaking in through the truck entrance, so they turned back and began firing again toward the opening at the end of the warehouse.

Still crouching, Maxence ran inside, keeping behind the boxes and shelves near the wall.

Micah Shine, Blaze Robinson, and Logan Bell slunk in behind him, holding their guns aimed at the far end of the warehouse.

Near the open garage door, the people inside the warehouse traded shots with Arthur, Casimir, and Twist, who were providing cover and misdirection. Everyone inside was focusing on the gunfight.

The warehouse was enormous, a corrugated-metal cavern reminiscent of an aircraft hangar, and it was filled with a sickly sweet smell that was rapidly being overpowered by the acrid, sulfurous stink of gunpowder. Sallow sunlight leaked through yellowed skylights in the roof, and the shadows were pale gray with the sun high in the sky.

At the rear of the warehouse, doors stood ajar that must have led to storerooms and office space.

Maxence’s heart seized and seemed to stop beating for a moment. That office space and storeroom area must be a rabbit warren of closets and shelves and niches that would take hours to search, even if they were sure that Dree was here.

Or they might’ve already killed her, and his phone was in a desk somewhere, luring them into this trap.

But Maxence couldn’t leave.

He walked near the wall, dodging behind shelves and a forklift and watching behind himself in case the people at the other end looked back and started shooting at the lone guy sneaking around the back of the warehouse.

A little bit of movement off to his left drew his attention. Blaze and Logan were also creeping among the shelves, boxes, and bins, while Micah stood sentry near the door they’d come in.

The three of them moved toward the enclosed area, Maxence looking back at the front, then at the doors in front of them, then looking back, and he slid around a shelving unit.

What looked like an enormous white bag stuffed with potatoes fell toward him, flopping against his legs and then sagging to the floor.

Dree Clark looked up at him like her head was sticking out of the top of the bag. “Augustine? I mean,Maxence!Oh, myGod!”she whispered.

Black mascara smudged under her eyes, and the fine spider silk of her blond hair had become a pale yellow, matted mess.

She had never been more beautiful in his eyes.

He dropped to his knees beside her. “Are you all right?”