by Louise Dawn
Icy rage ate at his hardened shell. Max was one tough mother. His career had shown him how sick and twisted human beings could be, the evil tortures they inflicted on others. He’d grown accustomed to switching off from the destruction he faced. But Evans got to him, slipping under armor. Those doe eyes swamped with tragic emotion as she told her story held him fucking captive as the black hatred rose. He believed her; no one could pull off a performance of that caliber, although some came close.
He’d corroborate it with facts, and she’d better hope to God that she had evidence to support her violent tale, or he wouldn’t be able to protect her pretty ass.
“How did you escape from the property?”
“I aimed for the tree line running along the perimeter wall. My legs barely held me up, I headed in the vague direction of the exit; there was a guard house and boom gate. Shrubbery nearby provided good coverage; thankfully the guard’s radios were quiet. When a hummer slowed down to exit, I ran alongside as it drove through the gate, diving into roadside bushes. I then used the dark as cover. It felt like I’d been running for hours and kept collapsing. I woke in an olive grove and heard an engine. The olive and palm tree farmer who found me took me back to his house. He didn’t speak English. His wife did though.” Abby smiled sadly. “She climbed in the truck, holding my head in her lap. I begged them to take me straight to the embassy.”
“There’s nothing on file indicating you went to the US Embassy.”
“We drove to the South African Embassy as I have dual citizenship. Khalid knew I was American, but I never mentioned that I’d lived in South Africa for five years as a teenager. He’s a powerful man with connections—the first places he’d look would be the hospitals or at the US Embassy. The South African route was safest.”
Abby continued with her story. “They barely had enough money for gas. I promised to pay them everything I had if they could just take me there. The embassy staff were amazing. They transported me to a local clinic used for official medical checkups. When I was well enough to travel, they flew me to Johannesburg, where I stayed in the hospital for just over a week. I later found out that Meg’s body was discovered in a burned-out car on the side of the road. The papers said it was a car accident. Khalid must’ve had police officers on his payroll. There were even so-called witnesses to the accident that supposedly killed her.”
Abby stared with haunted eyes. “I debated coming forward, but at the end of the day, I hid like a coward even though I was responsible for her death.”
Max summed up all she had told them. He knew about the cover-up. Two roommates, one dead and one missing. Except Megan Jehani hadn’t been what she’d seemed: she’d infiltrated Khalid’s circle as an MI6 agent. Her death had triggered investigations from multiple agencies. Khalid had a mother of a target on his back.
Time to play devil’s advocate. “Let’s examine your story from a different angle. Interesting that you chose the South African Embassy. The US has more power to get you the right help and protection in a foreign land but, then again, they would demand a full investigation. Lots of paperwork and resources that could expose Khalid’s network. Maybe you didn’t want questions raised about your activities? Risk any exposure? It’s on record that you met Khalid many times. Something went wrong in his office that night. Perhaps Megan Jehani went looking for her friend and stumbled on your dealings with the devil. She freaks out, is murdered. Plans get adjusted. The easiest location to hide is in a place where you have citizenship. Khalid slaps you around a little and bingo; everything is tied up in a neat little package.” Max ignored the visible pain passing over Abby’s face. He had to be a thorough bastard, couldn’t afford not to.
Abby spoke softly, Max leaned in.
“Slaps me around…” She huffed out a dry laugh. “If that’s the term you want to use for what he did to me.” She rounded on Max as her voice gained strength. “Thirty internal stitches from the rape. Khalid found creative ways to violate me.”
Max inwardly flinched.
“A broken wrist, cracked ribs and a concussion—I must’ve fought back at some point and got my head bashed in. Multiple contusions all over my body. I still have a few of the scars. Oh, and let’s not forget the branding.”
The what?
“I’ll give you the names of the doctors who treated me, both at the clinic in Dubai and at the hospital here. They have my records.”
“Wait, what did you say about branding?”
Abby snapped as anger ignited tears. “Screw you for making me do this.”
Gone was calm and in-control Abigail Evans. Emotion now ran the show. He always congratulated himself on manipulating the interview towards this point—except now he just felt guilty for making her relive that abhorrent nightmare. The truth screamed out at him from every pore. He had his answer; Abigail Evans was innocent, but really at what price?
Abby shot up, Johnny moved in, and Max held up his hand. Her burning gaze raked over Max with contempt before she turned her back to him. He heard her unbutton her jeans and slide the zipper down.
What the freaking hell. Max rose as she slowly pulled down her jeans then paused. At a glimpse of rounded ass cheeks, for the first time in his life, Max felt a warm blush creep up his neck.
“Abby,” he croaked.
Slater stepped forward. “Sweetheart—stop—what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not your sweetheart,” she spat, before turning back to Max. “Look at my back.”
She raised the soft T-shirt. Perspiration broke out on the back of his neck as Max took in that gorgeous ass half molded by tight jeans. And then he saw it. Rage slammed in, rocking him back.
“Do you see it?”
“Yes.” Max turned away.
Abby pulled up her jeans and the shirt fell into place.
Fury clogged up the room.
“It means whore.”
“I know what it means.” Max growled the words. Abby’s lower back was branded. Arabic lettering stamped into flesh. The scar stood out starkly against her creamy skin and was now seared permanently into Max’s brain.
“They branded me after drugging me. I remember feeling the injury when I first woke, but the agony of internal injuries overrode all else. I only saw the blistering two days later at the hospital.”
Slumped shoulders made her look achingly vulnerable. Max had a ridiculous urge to take her in his arms, but the job came first.
“We’re done for tonight. Two men will stay with you until we can sort out this mess. Don’t put up a fuss, pull a fast one over on us, or you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of a firing stick.”
Abby nodded once.
“I’ll need to check out your story, and we need proof. You will provide that. Get some rest and stay out of our way, you’re still under heavy surveillance. If you endanger this operation in anyway, you’re done. You cannot tell Lizzy about us, we are a black ops team. No one knows we’re here. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
The team gathered in the kitchen, Abby hadn’t moved. Max gave out orders, glancing her way as she clenched and unclenched her trembling hands. They’d put her through the ringer, and she’d come out the other side bloody and bruised but still standing.
Chapter Ten
Max struggled to keep his eyes open. Four in the morning and his team had finally settled. Abby was told to sleep in her living room with a team member present, until she was cleared. Slater sat on Abby’s other couch on watch duty. Her apartment needed a thorough search and they’d take their time. After crashing in the guest room, Donnie would lead the search when he woke. Both Max and Johnny took turns with guard duty from across the way.
Instead of resting, Abby curled up and quietly sobbed. Max rubbed his forehead tiredly. The soft weeping drifting through the speakers drove him up the goddamn walls, and Slater looked to be in the same boat. Max felt like a son of a bitch for forcing her to tell them about her ordeal. Abby had likely never shared the full story with anyo
ne, and now she’d told it to a room of strangers.
Khalid would pay. Nausea threatened every time he thought of what that evil bastard did to her.
Did Abby know of the surveillance in her apartment, that a group of men had access to her most private moments? Close surveillance was needed in case they’d misjudged her. Max knew within his gut that she was a victim caught up in Khalid’s web, but he always covered his bases. Until there was definite proof that she was telling the truth, they’d be cautious. Her medical records from Dubai would be in his hands by late morning.
The mind map he’d been working on for the past year lay in front of him. After updating the file on Abby, Max filled in some of the gaps. His fingers folded a piece of paper over and over as he ran over the intel.
Why was Khalid so determined to track her down? Intel indicated that he was narrowing in on her location? Josephine Abigail Evans had been hiding from Khalid for almost three years, yet the dust hadn’t settled. Khalid’s people were actively looking for her. Was he obsessed with her? The one who got away? Did he want to teach her a lesson for escaping and thwarting his sick plans that night? Had Abby unknowingly taken something that belonged to Khalid, or perhaps seen someone in Khalid’s network that she shouldn’t have, and how did this tie into the attack at La Coraggio? They were related.
Abby finally fell asleep. Max sensed that she knew more than she was telling. Get some rest, sweetheart, because the second round starts tomorrow.
◊ ◊ ◊
A new sofa was on the cards. Maybe she’d buy a cushy lounge sectional set. Abby was still sore and bruised from the attack, but holy hell. One torturous night of feeling sorry for herself while huddled in the corner meant that she was shuffling to the kitchen like an old lady. Mr. Lover Boy shadowed her every move.
“Give me some freaking space,” Abby grouched, turning to Slater’s looming form before continuing. “I’m making a cup of coffee. That’s all I’m doing, making damn coffee. Sit down quietly in the corner like a good little Stormtrooper, and maybe I’ll make you a matching cup.”
A grunt was all she received. Abby ignored the grumpy oaf as she muddled around the kitchen. Donnie and John systematically searched her home looking for God knows what. Were they expecting an Uzi-clutching Sylvester Stallone to be hiding under the bed? Tuning out the giant warriors rifling through her space was key to her sanity. She stood on the edge of a mental abyss—one small shove, and she’d break into a million pieces. Abby stared glumly out the window as the percolator started to bubble.
Slater suddenly chirped, “Perkatory.”
Abby jumped. “What?”
“The anguished, prolonged period spent waiting for a fresh cup of coffee to be ready. That’s called Perkatory.”
“Pfft. You’re an ass.”
Slater’s bleary eyes sparkled with humor. “But I got you to smile.”
Abby pursed her lips to stop the grin. Maybe Mr. Banana Hammock wasn’t so bad. Bless the man, exposed to her pity party for most of the night. Any man’s worst nightmare. Abby couldn’t stop those humiliating tears. Slater had made her a cup of tea, covered her with a throw and tuned the telly to a “Friends” marathon. That was super nice of him.
“Sorry for the crying fest last night. You were very kind.”
The man winced. “It’s nothing. You didn’t want a bunch of strangers seeing you that way. It was a tough night.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” Abby squeezed his arm.
Max stepped into the kitchen and glowered at Slater. “Abby, can we talk?”
Her heart stuttered. This was it—she might be on the next flight to some US facility. She couldn’t leave. Not now. It would destroy her world and her biggest secret. Whatever it took to convince Max to let her stay, she’d do it.
The bruise on his cheek was angry, and his face looked drawn. Abby guessed that he’d spent the evening going over her story. Well, welcome to the exhaustion boat, buddy. The only member of the team that looked somewhat rested was Donnie, who dashed around like an Energizer bunny. Good for him.
Despite the fatigue, Max was very male and very virile. Damn the man for looking so good. Her traitorous heart did a small flip as he cupped her back, leading her to a dining room chair.
◊ ◊ ◊
What was with the sudden familiarity between Abby and Slater? They were here to do a fucking job, not to get all touchy feely. Max would kick Slater’s ass if he looked at her sideways. The foreign possessive surge when it came to Abby was unwelcome. She might no longer be a target but was still a person of interest, and a tangle of complications when it came to catching Khalid.
“I have copies of your medical records from Dubai and from the follow-up visits at the clinic in Cape Town. The South African Embassy in Abu-Dhabi released your travel records along with your statement.”
“You believe me?”
“The evidence backs your story.” It did a whole lot more than back her story. Shit. Jesus. After flipping through the records, photographs and the documented rape kit, the fragility of her broken body was etched into his brain. In his career, Max had seen some sick shit, but this took the cake. What he wouldn’t have given to have been there that night in Sharjah. To have killed Khalid before he’d lain his putrid hands on her.
Instead, here they were. Abby’s tangled hair and chunky bathrobe did nothing to hide her natural beauty. Dark circles hinted at her crying jag, yet her thickly lashed green eyes were starkly beautiful against that luminous skin. Open windows to her brave soul that hid nothing. Not the pain, not the horror and not the fear. Shit and hell. She was a landmine to a man’s heart.
“So where do we go from here?”
Gritting teeth against her frailty, Max answered, “We haven’t decided. Sending you to a debriefing facility is the next step.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“You have no choice. The debriefing will take anything from a week to six months. After that, you can choose to return to South Africa or remain Stateside. If you come back, you’re painting a large target on your back. If you stay in the States, the witness protection program will be the best option.”
Abby paled; her next words took Max by surprise. “Let me help. Khalid wants me, I can lure him out of his greedy hidey hole.”
“This isn’t a game. I cannot one hundred percent ensure your safety. Besides, why would you want that? I’d think after what you’ve been through you’d jump at the chance to disappear.”
“Except if I vanish, I’m just delaying the inevitable. Do you think I’d trust you or the powers that be to protect me? I’ve relied on myself for so long, and that’s not about to change. I won’t leave until Khalid is either dead or locked away in a deep, dark corner of the world. You’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming onto that aircraft because I’m not budging.”
“We could do that, you know. Remove you forcefully from South Africa.”
She swallowed nervously.
“But for now, we’re in a holding pattern. I don’t have the power to keep you here if Command is determined to pull you Stateside. I can submit my recommendations along with my reports, but at the end of the day, it’s not up to me.”
“I understand. When will you know?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I promise that as soon as I do, I’ll be the first to tell you.”
They were alone in the dining room. Slater had grabbed a coffee and gone over to the other apartment to rest. The other men were in her bedroom.
Abby bit her lip before asking, “Why did you lead me on, pretend that you liked me? There were other ways to get me to open up.”
“I won’t apologize. We needed a quick insertion into your life. You were a suspected terrorist. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, but it is what it is.”
“Insertion being the keyword. Do you make a habit of sleeping with all your targets to get information?”
“That’s not what I said. I wouldn’t have taken you to bed. I’ve never resorted to that. We
planned to confront you today.”
Abby snorted. “What about Lizzy?”
“What about her?”
“She’s a human being, you know.”
“Johnny isn’t sleeping with her and doesn’t plan to. She’s your best friend and the best cover we had. For all we knew, she was just as involved in his network.”
“John might as well be sleeping with her. Her heart’s involved. Do you think that makes it okay? Just because he hasn’t screwed her doesn’t mean that she won’t be devastated by the betrayal.”
Max’s jaw ticked. “I won’t defend our actions. Lizzy will also need protection. Khalid will find ways to get to you. Since you’ve cut ties with your family, your friends are the next obvious targets.”
Closing her eyes, she nodded. “Will John be reliable protection?”
Max reassured her. “In his career, Johnny has rescued many hostages and protected high profile leaders. He’s the best there is.”
Silence descended as Abby appeared to mull over Max’s words. He could almost see her mind ticking over as she sorted through the chaos of her new world. She traced a grain pattern in the wooden table.
Finally, she spoke. “That flirty man who took me on the date wasn’t really you, I see that now.”
“We’ve gone over this, Abby.”
“I’m looking forward to getting to know the real Max.”
That threw him. Was she freaking kidding? Max was sure that she wouldn’t want anything more to do with him. “There’s no need, this is all business.”
Abby stood. “I disagree. I have a feeling we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. You know my secrets. It’s only fair that I know at least one of yours,” she said, stepping into the kitchen.
“Careful, sweetheart. That’s third-degree burn territory you’re wandering into.”
Smiling cynically, Abby poured some coffee. “Excellent, my kind of territory and I’ve got the scars to prove it—I’ll feel right at home.”
Abby then situated herself in front of her computer for the rest of the day. Max and his team went over the apartment with a fine-tooth comb while a remaining team member watched her work. Intel needed revising, looking at new angles and potential scenarios. Throughout the day, Abby only emerged twice. Once to go to the bathroom and once to grab a cup of tea. Max insisted that she eat and forced a couple of slices of pizza down her throat.
