"I'm already a killer, Max." Perry's gun pressed deeper into Darcy's side as he dragged her limp body nearer to the edge: "Every agent overseas I turned in who died. That's already on me. What's one more? It's over and I know it. I am so damned tired of playing second-string Robin to your Batman front and center. I want to take some satisfaction with me."
Satisfaction? What was he missing here? If he could fit that last piece into the puzzle, he would understand how to play this scene out longer and buy time for backup. "Satisfaction? For what?"
"You should have been the one to die that day instead of Eva."
Damn right he should have died in her place, and he would have to live with that for the rest of his life. But he'd never had a clue Perry took her death so hard. Their Agency connections had been minimal.
Whatever Perry had in mind, no way in hell did Max intend to accept a replay of the past today with Darcy.
"That's right, Max. Remember it all. Who do you think Eva cried to every time you disappeared for your next big-guy deep-cover assignment? She respected me, the way I was willing to take on low-level operative status for my family. I did all this for love."
For his family? What kind of twisted logic was that? The guy had sold out his country, turned traitor. That wasn't love for his family.
Love?
Max looked at Perry again and saw... Holy hell, the guy was married.
"Yeah, Max." He nodded, his gun hand wavering. "I loved Eva, too. And you let her die."
Darcy twisted to glare at her captor. "Bastards who sell out agents killed her. Bastards like you."
The full power of Perry's hatred pulsed through the air. Illogical but real. Max didn't need the words to confirm a thing. Perry was through waiting—ready to go over the edge.
With Darcy.
A woman so incredible as she fought like hell to stay awake, holding on to life and giving him any advantage she could. He only had maybe six inches of Perry's chest in sight. Darcy too close.
Her only chance lay in Max taking that shot. And praying she didn't launch over the cliff.
The Glock weighted heavy in his hands. He stared at her one last time. Hoped she would read his intent and prepare. Prayed she would see how much he loved her.
Max cocked his head to the side, aiming. "Perry?"
"Yeah, boss?"
Max pulled the trigger.
The bullet tore through Perry's shoulder. Propelled him backward toward the edge, his arm banded around Darcy's waist.
"Max!" she screamed.
No! He launched forward. Darcy flung her arms out, kicked backward as she angled over the side with Perry. Max ran, reached. Her hand clapped against his wrist even as Perry's body dragged her down.
Max's fingers clamped around her forearm, and he wasn't letting go. Ever. He set his feet. Jerked. Perry's crazed eyes met his over Darcy's shoulder for one expanded second.
And then he fell away.
Max yanked Darcy into his arms. He buried her face in his neck to shield her from the vision below and thanked God she wasn't down there, as well.
For once he was grateful for those fast reflexes his power-tripping father had honed in him over the years. "Damn it, you scared the hell out of me."
Her limp arms looped around his neck as streaks of morning sun fingered through the sky. "I guess that means you were worried and you care. But we're gonna have to work on your delivery, Doc."
"We've got time for that." Thank God they had time. He cupped her face and studied her dilated pupils. "Are you okay?"
"Just doped up on some kind of...dolphin drug," she answered, her words slurring as her lids drooped. "Maybe you could take me back to our room and have your wicked way with me. Except I probably couldn't stay awake much longer."
He laughed into her hair. No question, it took more than tranquilizers and a brush with death to down Darcy. Damn it, yes, he loved this incredible woman. "You're a tough one, Darcy Renshaw."