Page 34 of The Torturer's Target

“I have no idea, but our team engaged her. She knocked out two guards, but the rest managed to overpower her. She won't escape this time,” Clinton reported.

At that moment, the door swung open, and three security men entered, forcibly escorting Tesiera Anderson between them. Max blinked, stunned. Why was she here? And how had she been captured so easily?

Ares, pressing down hard on her shoulder, forced her to kneel. “We caught her attempting to breach the property,” he announced.

Max's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Tesiera snorted derisively. “Dumbass,” she muttered under her breath.

The guard’s jaw tightened. “What did you just call me?”

“Who the hell invades an enemy’s heavily guarded property by walking through the front door in broad daylight?” She shook her head. “Dumbass.”

Ares growled in frustration and advanced on her.

“Ares.” Max's voice was barely more than a whisper, but it immediately halted the guard in his tracks.

The security guard shot a glare at the leather-clad woman, and stepped back. “Forgive me, sir.”

Max looked at Tesiera, the red-haired woman who had ravaged his life like a wild tornado. He suddenly noticed a change in her appearance; her striking red hair was now a few shades lighter, complemented by black highlights that added a new edge to her look.

But instead of the usual icy hatred, her face was without expression. She was as gorgeous and enigmatic as she was the very first night he saw her standing in his bedroom dressed like an avenging angel with knives in her hands.

What the hell was she doing here?

He didn’t think she was here to attack him.

“Let her go,” he ordered the security men.

They were surprised but they stepped away from her. Tesiera rose, hiding her own surprise. She’d half-expected him to order them to deal with her or something along those lines. Definitely not to let her go.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her, bluntly.

“I’d like to speak with you,” she looked around. “In private.”

He simply stared at her.

In a low voice he almost wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t so attentive to her, she added, “Please.”

“Leave us,” Max ordered at last, holding eye contact with her.

“You can’t possibly mean—”

“Leave, Clinton,” he stated firmly, cutting Clinton off. He then glanced at his chief of security. “You too, Harvey.”

“Alright, boss. We will be outside. Call if you need anything,” Harvey stated.

His men were well-intentioned, but they often forgot that he was perfectly capable of handling himself. He nodded as they begrudgingly stepped out of the office, and he was finally alone with her.

As she swept her hair away from her face, his gaze involuntarily followed the motion. Instead of her signature ponytail, her hair was loose, cascading down her back like a silken waterfall.

He realized he was paying her too much attention. Dangerous lines. It was time to send the woman away.

“What exactly are you doing here?” he asked again, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You escaped. So, why did you come back?”

For a moment, he caught the look of indecision on her face. But it was replaced with resolve. She walked closer to his desk and stopped in front of him.

“I want to apply for the position of being your full-time protector,”—a pause—”sir.”

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