Chapter Twenty-four

Hurley Janklov's Training Camp

Claxson, rural Maryland

Elizabeth gave Hurley a bow and stepped back to stand beside Rome. She heard low voices from the small group but couldn't make out what they said.

She whispered, "I hope I didn't scare them off."

He whispered back, "You gave them a goal, to learn to survive, to win, and that's what it's all about."

Rome looked at her thick braid. "This is a fishbone?"

"It is. Not bad, right?"

He studied the intricate braid. "Nope, it isn't bad at all."

He merely arched a brow at her. Rome looked out over the large multipurpose space—a meeting area, state-of-the-art gym, and boxing ring, surrounded by a small indoor track. He'd seen the beginning of Hurley's extraordinary security when Elizabeth had told him to turn off the small country road and they came to a gate. He'd seen cameras turn toward them and focus. And the gate cameras were only the beginning. There were alarms and more cameras throughout the compound. The compound itself wasn't that huge; it didn't have to be because Hurley kept attendance down to eight people at most. But it had everything from a gun range and steam and massage rooms to dorms and a dining room with its own chef whipping up endless calories. Hurley's own home, all glass and wood, was set on a small rise. Rome had seen two gardeners working to keep the grounds immaculate. Elizabeth had told him Hurley started building the house when he was only twenty-two and added on every year, refining it and adding new outbuildings.

Rome said to Elizabeth, "I know the companies pay a small fortune for the three weeks their people spend with Hurley, but it's well worth it if their training could prevent another kidnapping. I remember sitting through the films of situational survival Hurley filmed at Quantico—how to escape from the trunk of a car, how to hide in a tree's foliage, how to survive in a swamp or a rainforest, how to take cover in a dust storm. I bet this group will watch some of those same films, depending on where they'll be sent." Rome eyed her. "You spent three months with him, not three weeks. I'll bet your training wasn't all that different from mine at Quantico, since Hurley developed a lot of it."

"Different enough for me to kick your butt, Foxe."

His brow shot up again. "You think so?"

"That's Jean-Pierre. Major's a big black Lab."

"Uh-oh, Major, Mom doesn't want us here." The boy ran to her, Major racing beside him.

Rome walked back into the gym and stood next to Elizabeth. She was tucking in her shirt. They continued to watch Hurley work his clients until their clothes were sweat soaked and several were flopped on their backs trying to breathe. He couldn't imagine Elizabeth going one-on-one with him for three months, with all his attention, all his focus, on her. It must have cost a fortune, but then, she was the daughter of an aristocrat and probably never had to pay for a thing in her pampered life, not to mention taking up with a monster—his thought died in its tracks when she said, "Oh, how I feel for them. So many days I couldn't get up, all my muscles simply dead, but for me, it was worth every penny." She laughed. "My banker was horrified when I cleaned out my entire savings."

Hurley grinned. "I know what you mean. Did you know she told me why she'd taken Samir Basara as a lover? Did she tell you?"

Hurley grinned, showing very white teeth. "When she arrived here I wasn't at all sure I could help her, much less make that much of an impact, but by the end of the first week, let me say she'd already made a greater impact on me. And after three months? She never gave up, no matter what I demanded of her, even when she could barely move. She even learned how to curse in American. Yeah, she's a brick."

Rome said, "Can you tell me any weaknesses I should watch out for?"

Elizabeth blinked. "Thank you, but you, Angelique, you and Hurley, you're the amazing ones."

He eyed her, tilting his head in that way of his, and waved her back into his office.

Elizabeth's heart beat in slow deep strokes. She drew a deep breath.

He arched a thick dark brow. "I see. You have something else to say. Come on, spit it out."

She did. "Will you lend me a gun, Hurley? I know it's madly illegal, but I'm scared. Ever since they attacked me in my bedroom and I nearly died, I've been scared. I hate feeling helpless. Please, Hurley. You said you'd teach me to protect myself, but how can I when you know they will have guns and all I could do is give them a kick in the chest? I'd be dead by the time that happened. Dillon and Sherlock wouldn't give me a gun, and you know Rome won't. What good is all my training if I don't have one?"

Her own weapon, at last. "It's so small."

"Not good for distance, but you know that. It's a last-ditch weapon."