by Louise Dawn
She sighed. “Under the small birdbath at the back of the yard next to the outside water tap. Safe from Khalid if ever any of his men came snooping. The less he knows about my son, the better.”
“What will Donnie find when he starts digging?”
“A toolbox covered in plastic wrap. Inside, three waterproof layers encase a large envelope.”
“Is the toolbox locked?” Johnny asked.
“With a small padlock.”
Johnny moved off, and they waited in silence. Max stood up and stretched. This was what it took to get to the truth. Abby’s confession slotted in with the rest of her story. Finally, the pieces fitted seamlessly. Every day as a covert analyst, you just get a little piece of the puzzle; you won’t complete the puzzle all in one day, it builds up like a soap opera and Abby’s soap opera now made sense. Max believed her.
He glanced back. Abby watched him quietly.
“Any more lies?”
She shook her head. “I’m glad we’re finally working together.”
“Hold up, sweetheart; you’ve got it all wrong. My team is bringing Khalid down, and you’re still heading up north for a debriefing.”
The panic flared, closely followed by a stubborn glint. Oh boy. “If I disappear then so will Khalid. Keep using me as bait.”
Max shook his head as Abby continued with her crazy talk. “That was the mission I’d formulated with Noleen. With her help and embassy connections, I looked into Khalid’s background. We knew he was a criminal, suspected in the disappearance of a couple of women. Noleen taught me how to shoot and covered basic self-defense moves.”
Abby pulled her knees to her chest. “I’m not waiting for fate to wrap around me, to rip my child away. I’ll kill Khalid; you can either help me or move out of the way.”
“You know we can’t do either.” Max cupped the back of her neck to gain her attention. “And Khalid will exterminate you before you have a chance to harm him. You’re the lamb to his wolf. Look, let’s take this one step at a time. First, I’ll need the evidence, and then we’ll decide what comes next. We’ll sit down tomorrow and sort this mess out.”
The industrial park descended into darkness as they waited for Donnie’s confirmation. Johnny decided to walk the perimeter of the building. Slater parked nearer to the gate to watch for any unwanted traffic. Max sat silently beside Abby. She hadn’t said too much after pleading her case and offering herself up as bait, staring calmly out into the night. A warm breeze kicked dry leaves across the lot.
“I’m sorry I called you a whore.”
She stiffened, angling her shoulders away. “It’s okay.”
“It was unforgivable of me.”
“Max, it’s fine.”
Max glanced at her profile and noted her wrist tucked snugly into her lap. Technically it was justified due to the threat level, but it still bothered him.
◊ ◊ ◊
“Let me see it,” Max said.
“What?”
“Your wrist.”
“It’s fine.”
“Is that why you’re cradling it in your lap? Let me see it, Abs.”
She placed her hand on his, and he pulled out a flashlight to examine it. Goose bumps broke out at his soft touch. Max squeezed along the inside, and she flinched in pain.
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Her smile shook.
“Yeah, right.” Max ran his thumb up her arm, checking the tendon.
“This is the wrist I broke, remember? You probably just twisted it wrong, it’s never healed fantastically.”
“I should’ve remembered, especially after what happened with Wayne Jacobs.”
Bumping his shoulder, Abby said, “You thought I was a bad guy and did the right thing.”
“Ice this as soon as we get in. It may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t purposely hurt women.”
Her mouth turned up at one end. “Unless they’re suspected terrorists about to blow up the world.”
“Yes.”
The pain in his voice sat heavily in the intimate space.
Max continued, “There’ve been times when I’ve killed women. Female extremists armed with RPGs, disabling a mother with a baby strapped to her back and a bomb strapped to her front. It’s part of the job. Violence in combat eats away at every soldier, and if you’re not careful it can fill you with bitterness and hate.”
“You’re doing a job that many men aren’t brave enough to do. I’m sure you were justified every time.”
He smiled sadly. “Every time.”
They sat in the dark, and his body heat seeped through the thin dress, slipping through her defenses. Max still examined her wrist, and his bent head brushing lightly against her arm. Warmth trickled like honey from her stomach, settling between her legs. Abby sucked in a quick breath.
“Is it still throbbing?” he asked.
“What?”
“Your wrist?”
His thumb traced circles. There was definitely throbbing happening, just in a different spot. The energy in those hands matched his clever eyes. The open hunger she saw reflected her own. For this one moment, shrouded in the dark, all she wanted was to touch him.
◊ ◊ ◊
Max ran a hand down her throat and lightly traced her collarbone with his thumb. Abby gasped, and his eyes shot to hers. Her lips were just inches away, and his hormones raged like a damn teenager’s. A loud vibration cut through the night—his phone, but shit, what the hell just happened with Abby. Max leapt to his feet and took long strides, putting distance between them. Air would be good. Donnie’s name popped up on the screen.
“What have you got?”
Donnie sounded upbeat. “It’s all here, Evans even saved the napkin from the coffee shop. There are detailed accounts of her son’s birth including all his identity documents and a handful of family photos of mom and the baby.”
“Is everything secure?”
“Yes, sir. I’m back at base.”
Max hung up just as Johnny strolled around the corner.
“Her story checks out. We need to get her secure. Khalid is after his heir, and he’ll take out anyone that gets in his way, including and especially, the mother of his child.”
Max led her to the vehicle. Abby smiled shyly, but Max shut her out. He couldn’t afford pretty distractions no matter how hard his dick got. Touching her was a mistake. He’d been chasing Khalid for a long time, and nothing would get in his way.
Chapter Fourteen
The ringtone indicating Mandla Nkosi’s call pushed Max to jump out of the shower and snap up the phone. Mandla wouldn’t call without a damn good reason.
“How are you, sir?”
“I’m sitting on some interesting news and pondering how this might affect our plans. Where are you?”
“Back at our base.”
“Do you have eyes on the woman?” Mandla asked, putting Max on edge. It had been two days since the barbeque and all seemed quiet.
“One of my men is with her, and one is watching her place. What’s happened?”
“It may not be much, but I like to keep a close eye on what goes on in my country, even if it is all the way up on the northern border.”
Northern border. Were Khalid’s men filtering in from Zimbabwe or Mozambique?
Mandla’s baritone voice continued, “Kris Muller’s anti-poaching team was ambushed two days ago. Poachers shot at the five-man squad and the rhinos they were protecting. Kris Muller was the only survivor.”
Max swore as he grabbed a towel. “Do you think it’s related to Khalid?”
“Rhino poaching is carried out by criminal gangs, sometimes linked to extremist groups with sophisticated multinational networks. Al-Shabaab funds its activities through elephant and rhino poaching. As far as I know, Khalid is linked to gunrunning but isn’t linked to any poaching networks. More than 120 Rhinos have been killed in the last 200 days, which is tragic for our people and our animals. The poaching syndicates are w
ell organized and well-funded.”
“Who funds them?” Max asked, rubbing the towel through his hair.
“Wealthy businessmen. Illegal wildlife trafficking is one of the world’s top criminal activities.”
Something didn’t sit right. Would Khalid target Kris Muller to get to Abby?
“I need details on the attack. Was Muller injured?”
“His left arm was grazed by a bullet, nothing serious. He’s heading back to Johannesburg,” Mandla replied.
“Send me the details.” This wasn’t good. Muller was a potential distraction. Abby already felt guilty for lying to Kris about what happened to Megan in the UAE.
◊ ◊ ◊
Reading a book on the sofa, Abby greeted Max with a smile. John yelled out a greeting as he rooted around in the kitchen.
“Are you eating again, bro?” Max asked.
“None of your business, hoe.”
“Make me some muesli. I haven’t eaten breakfast.”
“Make your own damn birdseed,” John grumbled. “I’m heading to Lizzy’s soon.”
Max sat on the edge of the sofa. “Are you enjoying your book?”
“It’s an interesting book. Irena’s Children.” She flashed the cover, then paused. “You know what I’m reading, of course you do.”
“I haven’t researched it as I stalked you on camera if that’s what you’re referring to.” Max smiled.
“It’s a novel about a woman who rescued thousands of children by smuggling them out of the Warsaw Ghetto in World War II.”
“Sounds heroic,” Max said.
“I’ve just started, seems good so far.” Abby paused. Max seemed different, more reserved if it was possible. Reserved and distracted. “What’s wrong? Have you heard something?”
His eyes shot to hers. “What makes you say that?”
“You seem stiffer than usual. Is it Khalid? Has he found me?”
“No, but I spoke to HQ back home. They’re understandably charged up about Khalid having a son and want Gabe’s location.”
“They won’t get it. None of you will. I trust you to an extent, but the risk of a leak is too great.”
“We can offer greater protection than you currently have. There are safe houses and teams trained for this.”
“How many of those teams have been killed protecting a high-value asset? Isn’t that what you’d call Gabe? Khalid isn’t some low-level criminal, he’s an international terrorist with global connections. Two people know where my son is, and I’m one of them.”
“We’ll talk later. I have other news.”
Abby could see from the determined glint in his eye that Max wasn’t letting this go, but the wary look that replaced it had her on edge. “Max, you’re making me nervous.”
“Kris was ambushed two days ago while guarding three rhinos.”
Shock slammed in and Max quickly reassured her. “Kris is okay. Bullet grazed his arm—lightly grazed—and he’s shaken up, but he’s doing good.”
“Thank God,” Abby said, closing her eyes in relief.
“Is his team okay? The rhino?”
“They didn’t make it. Kris was the only one to escape. He went back to the vehicle to grab more water when the shooting started. Kris used the Land Rover as cover and returned fire but was outnumbered; he drove out for help. By the time he returned with enforcements, the poachers were gone, and his men were dead.”
Abby squeezed her eyes shut from the horror. Those poor men were cut down in the prime of their life, doing an honorable job. She was so tired of wicked people thinking they had a right to kill and maim others, assuming they were superior to all else on earth. Kris had survived this. He had survived.
She might have betrayed Kris, but she could at least comfort him. Max was gauging her reaction. Abby ignored him as she got up to retrieve her phone.
John leaned against the opposite sofa arm, legs crossed as he ate a sandwich. A large slice of cake teetered vicariously on the edge of his plate.
“What are you doing?” Max asked her.
“What do you think I’m doing? Texting Kris.”
“Texting Kris what?”
“Why is that any of your concern?” she demanded.
“This could be a trap.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Abby reached into her handbag.
“Khalid knows that Kris is your friend. If he’s been tracking Kris, he could have hired mercenaries to kill the team, knowing Kris might contact you for support.”
Abby paused. “Do you think that’s the case?”
Max stared at the floor, saying nothing.
Continuing, Abby said, “Because I trust you to give me the right advice, to have our backs. If you tell me not to contact Kris, then I won’t. I don’t have to like it.”
“It complicates things,” Max replied.
“Or maybe it makes things simpler? Khalid will finally make a move, and we’ll be ready. We can get this over with, and I can be with my son.”
Max looked up sharply. “Don’t be naive. It’s not going to be that straightforward, not in any scenario, so get that out of your damn head. Even with my team as backup, Khalid is a dangerous man with resources and weapons. I’d love to get my hands on him—hell, I’d like to see the bastard coming, but that may not be the case, even with all our intelligence at our backs. My best hope is to keep us all in one piece and hope there aren’t any additional casualties caught in the crossfire—like your friend, Kris Muller.”
The psychological burden Max carried to keep everyone safe wasn’t lost on Abby. He seemed driven to shield those weaker than himself while hunting evil anarchists.
Abby felt inconsiderate and careless. “As usual, I’m dragging innocents into the mix. I should’ve learned my lesson by now, especially after getting my best friend killed in Sharjah.”
Max grabbed her hand, squeezing it hard. His light eyes drilled into hers with an intensity that took her breath away. “Don’t you fucking go there. You are not responsible for Meg’s death, not even remotely.”
She opened her mouth to reply but Max cut her off. “Megan was a well-trained operative who knew what she was doing. It was a tragic thing that happened to her, but Jesus! It happened to you too. You’re the innocent here, you and your sweet baby boy. If I hear garbage coming out of your mouth, then you and I are going to have a serious problem.”
His vehemence tore her up. His passion in her defense was gallant, but she still felt answerable for that night because she’d caved at Khalid’s fateful job offer and Meg was dead.
“Max is right.” John leaned over and plonked his empty plate on the coffee table. Abby had forgotten that he was in the room. “Constantly blaming yourself isn’t doing you any favors. It’s self-serving and coloring your vision.”
“Self-serving!” Abby glared. “I’ll give you self-serving. No more cake for you Johnny boy, get your smelly carcass off that armrest and vamoose!” She shoved his startled massive frame towards the door. “Out now.”
“You’re not kicking him out!” John yelped as Max grinned in amusement.
“Max has better sense than to call a girl ‘self-serving’ and besides, he takes up less space in my living room compared to your clumsy ass.”
“Clumsy!” John’s bewildered expression had Max breaking out into a full out laugh.
“You heard the lady, Big John. Hustle your fat booty out of here now that you’re done stuffing your crumb catcher—”
“Fat booty, my ass! Screw you. I’m Dwayne Johnson shitting hot.”
Abby giggled as she shut the sliding door. John glared at them through the glass, making them hoot with laughter.
“Hey, Icelander. This isn’t over. You’d better sleep with one eye open; I’ll be coming for you.”
Max gave John the finger as Abby pulled the curtains shut.
“Dwayne Johnson shitting hot, did he just say that?”
Max grinned. “He surely did.”
“I feel bad that I calle
d him fat. He’s far from it.”
Max laughed. “You didn’t call him fat. You called him clumsy. I called him fat.”
“True. I’ll make it up to John and bake some chocolate chip cookies.”
“Keep that up, and we’ll all end up with giant booties, waddling around with chocolate crumbs decorating our shirts as sugar soars through our veins.”
Abby chuckled at the mental image.
◊ ◊ ◊
A slight dimple graced her right cheek. Its appearance was a rare occurrence. Max itched to know what would lighten that load. He’d find out, technically gathering more intel—Max couldn’t protect Abby without knowing everything there was to know about her. Nothing personal.
Keep telling yourself that, Andersen, just keep repeating that mantra.
He allowed Abby to use a burner phone to text Kris. The game ranger was back in town and resting up for the rest of the day, so they agreed to meet up the following afternoon at a coffee shop. Slater could scope out the location beforehand.
Handing the phone back, Abby said, “I need to weed the yard. Want to help?”
“I don’t know much about plants. I might kill the things by looking at them, but if you trust me with your bug-infested babies, then why not.”
Abby snorted. “Bug-infested. What kind of operation do you think I run here?” Her eyes sparkled with humor.
“The organic kind. I see you, Miss Evans, with your earth-friendly sprays and your little tomato plants, tucked in the corner.”
“I also have green peppers and a whole pot of herbs.”
“Well excuse me, Miss Fancy Pants.” Max tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and his hand paused. Her cheek felt soft beneath his fingers; he itched to pull her in for a bone-melting, tongue-melding kiss.
“Umm… Speaking of fancy pants, I need to change into gardening clothes. I’ll be right back.” Abby’s husky voice pulled him out of his reverie.
Shit a dick. Sucking in air, he went to the fridge to grab a cold juice, while Abby changed clothes.
“What the hell is this?” She stormed down the passage and held one of their surveillance cameras out to him.
