by Louise Dawn
Max sipped his pineapple juice. “Where did you get that?”
“In the freaking bathroom! The bathroom, Max!”
“I understand you’re upset—”
“You’re damn right I’m upset! Oh God. You’ve seen me on the toilet! In the shower! Oh crap.”
“You were a suspected terrorist. We install cameras everywhere. Now we use them to keep you safe.”
“In the bathroom? What? In case a giant poop wrestles me down the toilet?”
Max tried to hide a grin.
“This is not funny!”
“We’re professionals and do this a lot. No one is ogling you. The men on my team know better. We allow for privacy while still keeping a handle on things.”
“Oh! So, what you’re saying is that you’re just like a gynecologist? Seeing people’s private bits is just another day at the office!”
“In a sense. I’ll tell you what, I’ll remove the surveillance from the bathroom. That’s the best I can do for now.”
“Gee, thanks! Where else are they hiding? In the bedroom?”
Max nodded once in reply.
“Guess I’ll be changing in the bathroom from now on. No cameras in the damn bathroom!”
Reaching out, Max said. “Abs, this isn’t permanent, it’s just until we catch Khalid.”
She shrugged him off before cringing. “Oh God! The shower. Two weeks ago…” Her face flamed.
“Come with me.” Max took the camera from her and placed it on the counter before taking her hand and leading her to the bathroom. Once inside, he closed the door and turned on the shower, then placed a damp face towel over the second listening device behind the sink before turning to her.
“No one can see us or hear us. That day…after I left you in the kitchen…” Max stopped to take a breath. He ran his hand over his face. “Dammit to hell. I can’t believe I’m saying this.”
Abby waited for him to sort out his thoughts.
“I wanted you so fucking badly. I wanted to mount you on the dishwasher and shove my dick deep inside.”
Her eyes widened.
“It’s the first time in my long ass life that I’ve ever considered crossing a line. That I’ve ever felt anything for a target and it scares the hell out of me. I’ve served my country for over ten years and never compromised a mission. I know you don’t believe me, but I would never have taken you to bed. I planned to pull you in for questioning, the day after our date.”
“Where are you going with this?” Abby asked.
“After I left you loading the dishwasher, I took over the surveillance. I was alone in the room when you had your shower.”
Abby’s face reddened as she looked away.
“I deleted it from the recording feed. I was the only one that saw you.”
The room felt charged as shower steam fogged the mirror. Abby’s chest rose and fell rapidly. When she finally looked up, she asked, “Did you watch?”
Max was done with lies when it came to her. “I initially turned away.” He swallowed. “But then you screamed my name.” He pulled her face back to his. “You were so fucking beautiful.”
Their harsh breathing echoed through the small space. Slipping hands around his waist, Abby stood up on her toes and kissed his neck. It wasn’t a chaste kiss. It was an open-mouthed, tongue-swirling, teeth-nipping kiss that nearly buckled his knees.
“Fuck, Abs.” Max stood like a statue as she nibbled the side of his mouth.
“I love your bottom lip. It’s so damn sexy,” Abby whispered, before nipping it gently. Max shoved her against the tiled wall.
“Don’t play with me,” he growled, dragging her yoga pants down, and rubbed her mound with the heel of his hand. He captured her moan in his mouth as an index finger sank into her tight heat. His thumb rolled back and forth over her clit. “You’re so wet. Is that for me?”
“God. Max.”
Slipping a second finger in, Max scissored both before slipping them out…then in again.
“I remember everything about that shower. The way your tits rubbed against the tiles. How you squeezed your nipple while rubbing your clit with your other hand.” Max’s thumb pressed down, and she spasmed around his fingers. “Were you thinking of my hands touching you like this?”
Abby whimpered.
“Say it, say you were thinking of me finger fucking you like this.” He curved upwards towards the top of her passage, applying pressure, finding and stroking the spongy spot he’d been seeking. “Wrap your legs around me baby.”
Abby kicked her pants free and did as he asked. Max sat her on the edge of the sink, his hand working her between them as he sucked on her earlobe.
“Oh God. Yes.”
Max pressed hard into her heat. Abby came apart, and Max covered her mouth with his. Her body spasmed around his fingers. He freed his hand and stepped between her legs, rubbing his clothed cock over her entrance. He wanted her so badly, his hands shook. Stepping out of the bathroom was the right thing to do, they’d been in here too long.
Max dragged his mouth from hers before stroking a thumb over her lips. “Get your gardening gloves on; I’ll meet you out front.” With Herculean effort, he stepped away from a dazed Abby straddling the sink and slipped out the door.
◊ ◊ ◊
The following day, Kris Muller hadn’t contacted Abby, even after she’d messaged him with a place to meet. If they had not heard from Muller in the next twelve hours, Max would reach out to Mandla to check on his whereabouts. Max knew that Abby was worried, and he distracted her by asking for a painting lesson. Max was no Michelangelo, but at least his palm tree looked like it was supposed to.
Pleased with his progress, Abby leaned in. “You have a natural understanding of perspective. I like that you’re analytical in the way you divide the painting up and the way you look at lines. With a little practice, you’ll be a decent landscape painter.”
“Decent, huh?” He winked. “Lucky me.”
Such proximity to Abby had been torture. He only had himself to blame for landing in the hot seat. He’d complimented a landscape sketch she’d left on the kitchen counter, saying that he wished he could draw. Abby took that as a challenge and hustled him into the art studio for Art 101. Now as she leaned over his shoulder, her breast rubbed his back and her sweet-smelling hair tickled his neck.
“Watch how the shadow of the palm fronds fall; you’ll need to get that same angle in the painting.”
After one of Max’s past assignments, he’d had been lucky enough to visit Zanzibar, where he’d snapped some incredible beach photographs. He used one of those images as a reference for his first work of art. Except all he could concentrate on was Abs’s sweet ass curves as she moved around him. Concentrate, Andersen. Freaking shadows. We’re painting a freaking shadow.
Slater’s voice chirped in his ear. “Sorry to interrupt the scene from Ghost, but we have a problem. Donnie’s on his way over.”
Max was already on the move. “What kind of problem?”
“Kris Muller’s at the front gate.”
“Muller’s at the fucking gate?”
“Timothy told him that he has the wrong address, no one by the name of Evans lives here. Ranger boy, however, is determined and is calling the burner phone.”
Abby followed anxiously, skidding to a stop as Max rounded on her. “Does Kris know where you live?”
“What? No. I deliberately kept it from him. After what happened to Meg, I wanted him to move on. If he knows where I live, he’ll insert himself back into my life.”
“Well, he sure as shit knows. He’s squatting in the cul-de-sac.”
Donnie unlocked the sliding door and swung it shut as he gave Max the ringing phone. “Do you want Abby to answer it?”
“Hell’s fire.” Nostrils flaring, Max handed it to her. “Find out how he knows your location.”
“He’s my friend. Should I let him in?”
“Ask him first, then we’ll decide.” The phone stopped ringing. A
bby called back and put it on speaker.
“Yer security dude at your complex won’t leth me in! What the hell Cwicket. Fucking acting like I’m some stalker!”
“He’s drunk,” Abby mouthed. “How do you know where I live?”
“I followed you.”
“What? When?”
“When ya drove homey wif that headache. I was wurried for yer.”
“Kris, hold on a second.”
“Anyfing for you, sweets.”
Abby covered the mouthpiece as Max grabbed Donnie’s arm and marched him to the spare bedroom.
“He followed her home. Did you not see him trailing behind her, behind you!”
“Jesus. It was a short drive—a couple of blocks, and he probably hung way back. Abby was driving real slow that night—with her migraine—there was a whole train of cars behind us.”
“Who’s the fucking professional in the room! For shit’s sake, Don.”
“Sir, I screwed up.”
Max thought for a second. “Let’s keep him close; I need a better read on Muller. We also need eyes on his residence in case Khalid tries to get to Abby through him. The poaching incident put Muller’s name in the news. This complicates the shit out of things, plus he’s in a bad place and a potential grenade.”
Abby stood where Max had left her, mouthpiece covered and clutched to her chest. Still and calm, among a sea of unknowns.
“It’s up to you, Abby. Let him in or send him away. Either way, we’ll work around it.”
Abby thought for a second before uncovering the phone. “Kris, you’re drunk. I’m not letting you drive home.” She gave him her apartment number, hung up and then dialed Timothy to let him in.
◊ ◊ ◊
Donnie had already left. “You need to go,” Abby said to Max.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him. You said it yourself, he’s drunk.”
“He’ll be fine. I’ve known him pretty much all my life. He’s like my brother. He’s just shaken up by the ambush.”
“Abs.”
“You’re a few feet away and can hear every word. Kris needs me.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Seriously, save the slaying of my dragons for another day. This is one hassle I can deal with. I’ll sober him up with strong coffee and bucket loads of water, then he’ll crash on the couch for the night. Now go!”
She ran down the porch steps, leaving Max to fume—the obstinate man was now a hulking statue in her doorway. It didn’t help that Kris was in a bad way. The sour stench of liquor made it hard to breathe. “Jeez, Kris, did you drink a whole brewery?”
Kris stumbled, almost dragging her down with him. Her knees buckled as she led her inebriated friend up the garden path. Oh, the irony.
Judging from his slurred speech, he wasn’t remembering any of this by the morning.
“Ag. My loverly Creekit… So damn bootiful… I got a gift for yur…” Kris pressed his hot face into her neck, and she stumbled up the stairs.
“Please don’t let the gift be vomit. Jesus, turn your head away. I mean it. You stink, Krissy!”
Muller whined. “You used to call me dat when we were kiddies… I lick it when you say my name…Kwissy. Kissy. Kwissy.”
Oh brother. Muller laughed hysterically as she shoved him onto the sofa. He groped at her, and she wrenched herself out of the monkey grip.
“Ouch, watch the arm. Wait! I got sumfing to show ya…”
Max moved to the side. Abby didn’t need a ‘told you so’ and ignored his scowl as she dragged Kris’s heavy legs onto the cushions. Anger vibrated off Max’s hard body as he paused in the entrance.
“Go, Max, it’s all good.” Kris handed her his car keys and a wadded-up napkin. A backward glance told her that Max was gone. At least she only had one obstinate male to deal with.
“Who was that?”
“None of your business. I’m brewing some coffee. Now lie back and behave.”
Kris gave her a sloppy salute. “Open my gift, Cwicket! I wrapped it meself! In the napkin! Open it! Open it! Open it!”
“I don’t have time for this.” Abby pulled the napkin apart, and her breath froze.
◊ ◊ ◊
Max was halfway back to their unit when Abby’s earsplitting scream pierced the air. What. The. Fuck. Buzzing in his head blocked all else as he threw himself at her front gate, ripping out his gun and racing up the porch steps. If Muller had laid a fucking finger on her… The sliding door sat open.
“Max! Dial it back! Dial it back, dude! She’s okay.” Slater’s voice in the earpiece cut through the panic.
At the last second, Max concealed the weapon, barging into the room. Abby scooted back towards the opposite couch. The look of terror made him want to rip the laughing bastard’s face off. Had Muller touched her?
Her eyes were glued to an object on the tiled floor. All Max saw was a napkin. Something large crawled out of it—a half-dead cricket. Abby looked at it like it was Satan. It half limped towards her, and she shrieked in fear. Muller guffawed even louder.
Max scooped up the offending insect and quickly dispatched it outside. The poor creature had lost a couple of legs and was suffering. He returned to kneel next to Abby’s frozen form. He tucked her hair behind her ear and gently stroked her arm. “You okay, Angel?”
It was unlike Abby to be scared of anything, and her reaction surprised the heck out of him.
“Abs, look at me. It’s gone. You’re fine. It’s just an insect. It can’t hurt you.”
She whispered so softly that he had to lean in. “I have a fear. It’s silly. Ortho… Ortho… Orthopterophobia.” Her voice shook.
That would explain it. His calm and brave girl was afraid of an insect. He barely stopped his mouth from twitching in amusement. It wasn’t funny to her. It had been a hot spring day.
“Where did the cricket come from? Did it hop in?”
Abby shuddered at the word hop, which made him want to smile again. Her eyes narrowed. “Kris knows about my phobia and tortured me with them as a kid after one got stuck in my hair. He brought it as a gift!”
“You was funny, Cweekit! Your face… I found it outside yer gate. It was fate.”
Max rose, wanting to punch Muller. Abby scrambled to her feet, trying to push Max towards the door. He planted his feet instead. Son of a bitch. Donnie’s voice chirped a warning in his ear.
Kris stretched out. “Relax, bru; it was a jokey joke.”
Abby almost launched herself at Kris. “How could you! You should damn well know better, plus you hurt the poor thing. That’s damn cruel.”
Anger was much better. That terrified look in her eyes freaked Max out.
“You need to get ova it. You harped bloody on about confronting yer fear for years. It’s just a cricket for my crickety cricket.”
“You know I hate being called Cricket. It’s not damn funny. It was never funny, not the first time and not any of the other times either.”
The fact that the bastard had done this before pissed Max off.
“But you lurve me anyway.”
She gave Kris a dirty look. “I’m done. It’s late.” Eyes blazing, she turned to Max, jabbing him with a slender finger. “You, go home.” She swiveled to Kris. “Not another peep out of you. I’ll give you a water bottle and a warm blanket. I don’t want to hear a sound from that sofa until morning.”
Kris started to whine but shut it when Abby shot him a dark look.
Max pulled her aside. “Are you okay?”
“Just dandy.”
“Lock your bedroom door.”
She huffed. “Kris is fine…”
“He’s an ugly drunk who’s mentally in a bad place, so lock your damn door.”
“Fine. Now move your concrete ass out of the way and leave me in peace.”
Max jabbed a finger towards Kris. “Lay a finger on her, and I’ll snap it in half like a fucking twig!”
It was a futile threat. Muller’s head lolled back, and his mouth
hung open. A gravelly snore filled the room.
Chapter Fifteen
Eight in the morning saw Abby making Kris breakfast and kicking his smelly ass off the sofa. Max hadn’t taken his eyes off surveillance of Muller.
When the ass-hat stirred in the early hours to use the head, Max gathered himself. Leaving the bathroom, Muller turned towards Abby’s room instead of walking back down the passage to the sitting room, pausing at her closed door for over a minute. Both men stood immobile in the night. One readying himself to make the biggest mistake of his life and the other readying for retribution. Finally, Kris backed away. Good move, asshole.
Abby walked Muller to the door as Max ate the last of his yogurt.
“I’m sorry, my sweets. Last night shouldn’t have gone down like that. I was an idiot,” Kris said with a remorseful tone.
“You did act like a bit of an asshole. You cannot drive drunk; you’ll endanger others.”
“I’m going through a tough time. They all died. Why did I survive?”
“I don’t know, but I’m here to help. If you’re having a rough day, don’t reach for the bottle, just call me. Maybe you need to see a therapist?”
“Maybe. I’ll think about it.” Kris pulled her in for a rough hug. “Don’t disappear on me again, swear that you won’t.”
Muller held on like a damn limpet.
“Go home and rest. We’ll have dinner sometime, I’ll call you.”
Kris left. Slater followed. Max headed over. Misty rain dampened the air. “Soliloquy to the Frogs” played in the background. Her head rested in her hands. Max used a detector to scan the place for electronic bugs, a standard practice when a new individual entered the space. Finding nothing, Max sat down on the sofa, as close to Abby as he could get, shoulders and thighs touching.
Glancing sideways at him through her fingers, Abby mumbled, “You look like shit.”
“Are you okay?”
“Nope.” Leaning her head back, Abby sighed.
“This song helps a little? I notice you play it often.”
Abby smiled. “It was the only song that Gabe would fall asleep to. His fwoggy song. God, I miss him. It hurts so much at times that I can barely breathe—every day I ache for my baby boy. Then my dearest friend in the world comes over, and I barely recognize him, wanting him gone. I’m a bad mother and an even worse friend.”
