Siren in the Wind

by Louise Dawn

  “Bud, they’re incredible. I’ve had three this morning already,” Slater encouraged.

  Omar shrugged. “Sure. If they’re that good.”

  Max glared. “Three, bro? Really? You’re getting as bad as Johnny! I leave you alone for two seconds.”

  “And how many have you had, you Finnish bastard? I saw you stuffing your face earlier!”

  As the two bantered, Abby quickly plated two cupcakes, one for Omar and one for herself—needing the sugar to calm the jitters. She then grabbed an icy glass from the freezer and poured him a chilled glass of milk. By the time she sat back down, she felt a little more human. Omar grunted with pleasure as he bit down into the thickly frosted cake with a gooey center.

  “You’re a good baker, Miss Evans! I would say better than Aisha, but she would kill me if she ever found out.”

  “Thank you and please call me Abby. Do you have any kids, Omar?”

  “Three little rascals. All under the age of eight. The youngest is still in diapers, so it makes for a lively house.”

  “Sounds like a happy home.” Abby smiled. The love Omar had for his family was clear to see.

  “It is. I’ll miss them. I’m gone for two months.”

  “That’s tough.” Abby smiled wistfully. “Bet they’ll grow like beanstalks when you’re gone.”

  “True. I’ll make it up to them with lots of gifts. Gifts and tight hugs are the secret to homecomings.” Omar regarded her mildly. “Abigail, I’m sorry to do this, but I need to go over your story with you. I bring a different perspective. There may be something that we’ve missed. A puzzle piece for finding Khalid. We’re always adding to the image that makes up the man. Trying to get to the core of what makes him tick.”

  Abby played awkwardly with the empty cupcake baking cup, refusing to make eye contact.

  Adding to his plea, Omar elaborated, “I never personally knew Khalid growing up, but I knew of his family. His parents are extremely wealthy. Wonderful pillars of their community. Khalid has brought shame upon them with his hatred and greed. His father disowned their son, but it hasn’t stopped the destruction wielded by Khalid on our villages back home.” Omar sat back, his face drawn with sadness. “He recruited soldiers from our community. Teenagers seeking instant fame. His actions tore apart families. It destroyed mine. When the elders stood up to him, his mercenaries planted a car bomb in the town square. My brother and uncle died that day.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Abby leaned forward and grasped his hand.

  “Thank you. I was eighteen at the time and vowed to seek revenge on the Sandpiper. He wasn’t much older—Khalid started killing at a young age. My father is a well-known, outspoken civil rights activist who fights for regime change. When his family’s life was threatened, we were offered asylum in the States. I now fight alongside my father against tyranny. He writes books, I use laws and guns. Help us catch the man who’s haunted both of our dreams. Both yours and mine.”

  Max squeezed her arm. “We can give you space, Abby. Slater and I will just be outside if you need us.”

  She still didn’t answer.

  “If you prefer me to stay…”

  “I have a feeling I’m going to be telling it too many times, before that chapter of my life is closed.”

  “It is what it is,” Max replied.

  Abby finally looked up into his serious gaze. “I know. I’m just so worn out and drained and angry and frustrated. God, I’m so frustrated.”

  Abby placed the plate on the coffee table with calculated gentleness before placing her head in her hands.

  “Fine,” she mumbled, “let’s just get this over with.” Raising her head, she rallied. “I can do this on my own. Max, make yourselves useful out on the patio and tidy up a little, please. Between John’s giant ass shoes scattered in the way and Slater’s dirty plates on the outside table—well, it’s driving me up the wall. Oh, if you could also water my pot plants while you’re at it.”

  With competent economy, Max grabbed cleaning supplies from under her sink, closed the door on them and got to work. Abby noticed him keeping a close eye through the glass, as she ran through that black night in Sharjah.

  Omar asked many questions. He was kind and patient. Bone-deep exhaustion was all she felt by the end of her narrative. It was easier to talk the second time around, and she felt a little better for it.

  Yet after saying her goodbyes, Abby excused herself to take a long shower and to gather herself. She had a mission to complete, one that didn’t include the special ops team squatting in her sacred space.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Omar sat with Max and Donnie before his trip back to the airport. Max appreciated his spook colleague’s assistance on what was turning out to be a labyrinthine reconnaissance mission. Max trusted Omar both in and out of the field.

  “She’s hiding something.” Omar stared unseeingly at the wall as he sorted through his thoughts.

  Max didn’t like the sound of that.

  “But I don’t think she’s working for Khalid. No one is that good an actress in telling that story. It’s personal though. Something happened that night that she’s hiding.”

  “Do you think that’s the reason Khalid is searching for her?”

  “I think that’s exactly the reason. Whatever she has on him will compromise his operations. If it was just about her escaping, yes, Khalid would want to get his hands on Miss Evans, but after three years? It’s a little farfetched. Even for a man with a giant ego.” Omar stood. “I’ll send you a report once I get to Kenya. Max, I’m always available to come and see you if need be.”

  “I appreciate the offer, I have this handled.”

  “I know. I have a bad feeling about this op. Be careful, my friend,” Omar said.

  “I will. Wadāʿan.”

  “Maʿa al-salāmah, I’ll keep in touch.”

  They chatted in full Arabic before they said their final goodbyes. Donnie and Omar slipped quietly out of the door. Max stared down at the monitor. Abby sat on the edge of her bed, combing the knots carefully from her wet hair. She was a tough nut to crack but he’d broken tougher. Max just hoped that their mission didn’t go FUBAR before he drilled through that pretty outer shell.

  And…yes…his thoughts had taken an uncomfortable turn. He needed to think about anything else than drilling into Abby. Drilling into her with his… Goddammit. It was now Max’s turn for a shower. An arctic shower. He yelled for Johnny to take point as he grabbed a towel.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The rest of the week passed by uneventfully. If they didn’t go to blondie’s birthday barbecue, it might raise suspicions. Lizzy was Abby’s closest friend. Abby would naturally go about her routine, at least until they had a handle on the threat. She was their only link.

  Eleven in the morning and the sun was already baking hot. Max dressed casually in faded jeans and a white T-shirt. While waiting for Abby to emerge from her bedroom, he ambled down the passage and paused at her studio. The woman was talented. A new canvas featuring a charging African elephant sat on the easel. The rough sketch already captured the movement and power of the giant mammal. Throughout the busy week, Abby had still made time for her art. Sandals clicked as Abby walked towards him.

  “What do you think?”

  Abby’s deep blue dress blew his socks off, complementing her warm chocolate hair and tanned skin. She’d paired it with tan sandals and a matching belt. The dress flowed casually to the floor and clung in all the right places. The gentle dip of her cleavage peeking through had him working up a sweat.

  “Killer dress,” he said gruffly.

  “I mean about the artwork.”

  Max looked at her blankly.

  “You were looking at my new canvas?”

  “Um. It’s good. Amazing. You have bucket loads of talent.”

  “I don’t need to be pandered to. I won’t be able to improve if people aren’t honest with me.”

  Max leaned towards her, taking in her comforting scent. �
�Do I look like someone who panders? If I didn’t like it, I’d tell you.”

  Abby nibbled her lip. Did she know what that simple action did to a man? This assignment was hell. Max pushed away from the wall. “Let’s go, Abby, we’re going to be late.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  “It’s as hot as fucking balls,” Max muttered.

  “Hot and dry, baby. Just pretend you’re in your sauna back home,” Johnny said before sauntering away. The men never got tired of the Finnish jokes.

  “Screw you, Big Bird!” Max poured a Sprite, loading it with ice.

  Lizzy’s backyard was a hive of activity; South Africans sure knew how to throw a party. Endless amounts of meats sizzled on the grill, tables overflowed with salads, and the beers were flowing. Max eventually lost track of all the family members. Each person was just as crazy as the last, and it was clear where Lizzy got her energetic nature from. Roars of laughter and good-natured ribbing filled the yard. Lizzy raced past, giggling as one of her crazy cousins threatened to push her into the pool.

  She’d merged her eighties vintage vibe seamlessly with current fashion trends, in fitted jeans with a neon-pink belt matched with a striped white-and-pink tank top. Converse sneakers and chunky bracelets finished the look. Her blonde hair was blown out into a fluffy hairdo. Max kept a close eye on the girls as he stood with the men around the grill.

  Abby stood amongst the chaos like a beacon in foggy seas. She smiled sweetly at one of Lizzy’s jokes. It pleased him that she was relaxing among her friends. She deserved every ounce of joy after all the misery she’d suffered, first at the hands of her father and then that bastard monster, Khalid.

  Max couldn’t resist walking over and placing a hand on her waist. They were supposed to be newly dating—that was their cover story and he took every opportunity to drive that home. Not that it was a hardship—if anything it felt natural to slide his hand into hers or to stroke her back—it felt too darn good.

  Abby ran her fingers up and down his spine as she chatted to Lizzy’s mother. Shit, if she kept that up he’d be sporting a giant boner and waving it in her friend’s mom’s face. What were they freaking talking about anyway? Rose pruning? Oh hell no. That was a sign to excuse himself. Max almost ran back to the grill.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  The afternoon passed quickly. Good food and good company, however, Abby’s focus should be on the endgame, and Max and his team weren’t coming along for the ride. Her heart thumped sluggishly. As soon as she had an opening, she’d give them the slip. Josephine Abigail Evans had work to complete.

  Abby wandered over to the bar, and Max stepped up, entwining his fingers with hers. Even though this was all an act, she’d gotten used his steady presence and his heavenly touch, but that was a dangerous step towards a place Abby couldn’t afford to go.

  Max spoke quietly. “Donnie says there’s a suspicious car driving around your apartment block. I need to talk to him while I check the perimeter on this end. Johnny is wrapping up; we’ll need to leave soon.”

  Max moved off into the crowd. John stood at the far end of the yard chatting with Lizzy’s father. Abby headed inside towards the bathroom before swinging off into one of the guest bedrooms. Lizzy’s house was quiet; all the guests were enjoying the warm weather. She opened a bedside drawer.

  Please let it be here. Her hand ran along the back of the drawer, and her relief was immediate. Abby pulled out a disposable phone and switched it on. Her neck felt damp with perspiration as she dialed the memorized number. She moved around to stare out the window. John glanced towards the house, and it wouldn’t be long before he came looking for her.

  “Shit,” she whispered. “Please answer, answer, answer…”

  Her contact picked up, and the relief was so huge that she stumbled back on shaky legs.

  “Abigail?”

  “Is the line secure?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “How are things?” Abby asked.

  “Good. We miss you.”

  “How is he?”

  “He wants to see you.”

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Abby took a deep breath. “It’s just a matter of time. God, I miss him so much. I love him so damn much. I so badly want to talk to him, but there are others involved. An American special ops team is watching my every move. I think they’re working with the CIA and are talking about sending me to a spook facility. They’re after Khalid, and if they get in my way, it changes everything. Plans will be destroyed.”

  “Oh, Jesus. Are we adjusting our strategy?”

  “That’s a negative, at least for now, although I’m thinking of disappearing,” Abby replied.

  “Are you safe? Have they hurt you?” her contact asked.

  “For now, I’m as safe as I can be, but I have to go.” Abby swallowed hard. “Tell him I love him.”

  “I will. Abigail, please be safe.”

  Abby hung up. The phone blurred as tears brimmed.

  “You’re one cold fucking bitch,” Max said from the door.

  Oh, God. Before she could turn, he had her wrist in a vise-like grip. Abby tried to twist away, and Max shoved her against the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of her, as his powerful forearm pinned her across the chest. Max grabbed her hair and pushed her head back against the wall. Not exactly hurting her, but she couldn’t stop the overwhelming panic. She gasped for breath, staring into glacial eyes.

  His body vibrated as he snarled at her. “Stay still. Think about twitching, and I’ll end you.”

  She believed him. His loyalty lay with his country and his men; she was now branded as a traitor and a terrorist.

  “Max—”

  “Shut it.”

  “Let me explain.”

  “Fuck you and your pretty-faced lies.” Max shoved his arm between them and wrenched the phone away, tossing it on the bed. His knees pushed her legs apart, and he traced his hand over her body, probably looking for hidden listening devices or weapons.

  Her dress draped to the floor and Max worked around the pooling material. Like she could hide an arsenal under her flimsy dress.

  “This is crazy.”

  Max shoved his face into hers. “Shut the hell up.”

  Still pinning her with his forearm across her chest, he tapped his ear with his other hand. “We’ve been compromised. Third bedroom down the hall. Now. We’re moving out. Slater, we need pickup.”

  “Max, stop.”

  He skewered her with a vicious glare. “I’ll find you a new buddy to chat with at Gitmo. I’m not interested in anything you have to say, ma’am.”

  He called her ma’am. Ouch.

  John slid into the room. “What the fuck?”

  “Miss Evans here decided to have a chat with her terrorist buddies, on that.” Max nodded to the burner phone on the bed. “Pity that I happened to hear the whole thing. Right, sweetheart? Bag the phone and let’s move.”

  Animosity rolled off John. “Don’t draw attention to yourself; it won’t end well for your little friends or be conducive to your physical well-being.”

  Max anchored her to his waist and walked out to the garden. Abby felt John’s gun pressed into her back.

  Her friend bounced up, and Max stepped forward. “Abby just had a fainting episode. It has to be the heat; we’re taking her home.”

  Lizzy gasped. “Honey, you look as white as a sheet. You could rest on my bed for a little while.” Abby reached out; John nudged her in the back.

  “I’d feel better at my place. Besides, I might pop into the emergency room if this dizziness continues.”

  John turned to Lizzy. “Sweetheart, I’ll go along just in case Max needs help.”

  Lizzy fussed worriedly, her bracelets jangling as she stroked Abby’s hair. Max shifted.

  “Take it easy and enjoy the rest of your birthday, I’ll call you later.”

  Lizzy nodded at Abby’s words, tried to give her a delicate hug, and Max pulled Abby away. In under a minute she was sandwiched between Max and John in
the back of a black sedan.

  “Please let me explain.”

  “Not a word,” John growled.

  Abby ignored him and focused on Max. “Five minutes is all I need.”

  Max’s tightly strained voice indicated his struggle to remain calm. “Five minutes will get my team killed. I told you to shut your traitorous mouth.”

  “They’re in no danger, I swear.”

  “You sold us out to your Sandpiper buddy.”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Khalid roughed you up, to provide the cover for your new life in South Africa. Am I right? In case you’re questioned then your sob story stands up. Are you Khalid’s little fling on the side?” Max used a girly voice as he air quoted sarcastically, “‘How is he? I love him. I miss him. If they get their way, plans will be destroyed.’”

  Max then turned in the seat, his face so close that she could see the dark rims encircling those pale irises. “What. The. Fuck. Was. That? You’re his little whore, aren’t you, Evans?” Abby flinched. How to kick a girl when she’s down.

  Max ran on, his face flushed with rage. “It’s time to move out. Let’s hope you survive the experience, and your militant friends don’t decide to take you out. Your mission is shot to shit. I’ll have the truth from you tonight, and let’s just say you’re not going to like my interrogation techniques.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  He knew he was losing his shit and he didn’t give a flying fuck. Cool as ice Max was now a raving lunatic.

  Her reaction wasn’t what he expected; she looked at him as if he was daft before shrugging. “You men are all like amped-up rabbits bouncing all over the place; I can’t talk to you while you’re like this. Where are we going?”

  Max glared at her as options raced through his head. He trusted his profiling. If he gave Evans the benefit of the doubt, it could get them all killed.

  “Fuck!” Max swore loudly, she jumped, and the two men in the vehicle shot him a worried glance. “Pull over, Slater.” He turned to her. “Five minutes and if I don’t buy your bullshit cockamamie story then you’re done. Understand that?”