Page 102 of Property of Bones

Max’s jaw ticks. “Skin.”

A beat of silence.

“Trafficking,” he clarifies grimly. “I’ve been trying to figure out who the partner is, but the bastard keeps it locked down tight. My plan was to get names before I killed him and walked away. But there’s no time for that now. I need to get Sunny out before he touches her. Which means I’ve got to kill him early. Tonight, maybe even sooner.”

“What part of Mexicali are you in?” Bones asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Max says, grabbing my hand and heading for the door. “We’re coming to you. Muerte will most likely bring Abby back himself…just to gloat.”

He mutters, more to himself than anyone else, “Fuck. How the hell am I going to get you past all these men?”

“If this was his plan,” Spike cuts in, “then why the hell did you come to the compound?”

Max hesitates at the door, glancing out. “It was a test,” he says quietly. “I told him the layout of the compound, and he wanted to see if I was lying. He plans to attack once you and the rest of the officers are dead.”

“You told him which building was the clubhouse?”

“Yeah,” Max admits. “And I said the rest were just homes. Nothing anyone couldn’t figure out by looking through the damn gate.”

“The bunker?” Spike asks, voice suddenly cold.

“Fuck no,Prez,” Max says instantly. “I know you don’t trust me, and maybe you shouldn’t. But I wouldneverput the women or kids at risk. I knew the second we rolled up they’d be down there. Even if they planned to fire that grenade launcher, I never would’ve let it happen.”

“Damn it, Max, you’ve got my head spinning,” Spike mutters.

“Sorry, Prez,” Max says, shutting the door. “I need to figure out how to get Sunny out of here without raising suspicion.”

“Punch me. Right here,” I say, pointing to the area over my broken ribs. “Tell them Muerte sent you to get me to a doctor. Men don’t think straight when a woman’s screaming in pain.”

“I’m not punching you in yourbroken ribs,” he says, exasperated. “Besides, these men wouldn’t care if you were screaming or bleeding out. It wouldn’t matter.”

“What?” Jack explodes through the speaker. “Damn it, Sunny! Quit saying shit that can get you hurt.”

“Fuck,” Max mutters as his phone beeps. “Guys, I’ve got to call you back. Muerte’s calling.”

He cuts the line before they can respond, then shoots me a look.

Got it. Not talking.

“Boss,” Max answers, voice turning cold and emotionless in an instant.

“Max, how’s my new pet doing?” Muerte asks, amusement dripping from his voice.

“Being a pain in my ass,” Max replies. “She keeps throwing shit at me.”

Muerte laughs. “Feisty. Iloveit.”

There’s a pause before he continues, “Anyway, I’m headed to Palm Springs to drop our little mouse off.”

Max glances at me, then says flatly, “I’m putting this woman back in the pit.”

His wink softens the blow, and I give a small nod.

“Oh, come on, Max,” Muerte chuckles. “She’s notthatbad. No, not the pit. That’s forprisoners, not queens.”

I roll my eyes so hard they nearly get stuck. Max smirks.

“Well, I have no intention of babysitting,” he grumbles.

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