by Louise Dawn
A tear ran down into her hairline.
“Your situation isn’t normal. You’re doing your level best to save the people you love. To save your future, short-term sacrifices will be made. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”
His heart turned over at her watery smile. “You think I’m brave?”
“As brave as a mountain lion. I also think you’re exhausted, so have a nap, then tonight is a Lizzy night.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “What’s a Lizzy night?”
“It’s when your tiny, happy friend comes over and we watch movies and guzzle popcorn. What’s not to love?”
Wiping her tears, Abby stood up and stretched. “Only if you promise to also get some rest. Did you stay up all night?”
“Damn right, protecting you from fiery dragons, and all that.” Max headed for the door.
“Watch that rain doesn’t rust up your shiny suit of armor,” Abby called.
“You’re hilarious, Abs,” Max called back as she sauntered down the passage.
◊ ◊ ◊
Lizzy’s squeals of delight squeaked through the monitors’ speakers. Max wandered towards the front room where Donnie watched Lizzy throw herself into Abby’s arms like they were long-lost sisters reuniting.
“She’s an enthusiastic little thing, ain’t she?”
Max concealed his weapon in the small of his back. “She grows on you.”
Watching a douchebag all night had screwed with his mood. With little to no rest, his head pounded. It was going to be a long night. He grabbed a gummy worm on the way out.
“I can’t believe Johnny actually allowed Lizzy to drive him over in this.” Donnie flipped a camera. A bright yellow Beetle convertible sat in Abby’s guest parking. White flowers decorated the sides—even the taillight covers were cut-outs of daisies.
Max grabbed a couple more worms. “Yep, we can’t let him live it down.”
“Have fun on your double date.” Donnie winked at him.
“It’s all business.”
“Sure it is.”
“Abby is showing strain. It’s good for her to have a girlfriend around, take her mind off the fact that she’s bait for a jihad extremist.”
“She’s missing the kid. Emotion can lead to rash decisions.”
Donnie’s comment riled Max up. “I know how to do my job. Do yours, keep an eye out for any unwanted visitors.”
Donnie swiveled back and forth in his chair. “Well aren’t you a little ray of pitch black.”
“Screw you.” He was an easy mark and Donnie riled him up without breaking a sweat.
Abby’s sliding door sat open. Johnny was sprawled across the largest sofa, snoozing like he was on his daddy’s yacht. Drifting chatter indicated that the girls were down the hall. Max kicked Johnny’s leg. Hard.
“What the fuck, dude!”
“Napping on the job.”
“I’m not napping. It’s more like a horizontal life pause.”
Max snorted. “Horizontal life pause, that’s your defense? The door is wide open! Let’s just invite ISIS and all their fucking friends in.”
“Chill the hell out, ice-hole. It’s not my fault you sat cross-eyed all night. Besides, I heard your loud ass stomping over here.”
“You wish. What are the women doing?” He retraced his steps to slide the security gate into the locked position.
Johnny settled deeper into the couch. “Lizzy’s changing into something more comfortable and Abby’s grabbing a couple of throws.”
Visions of watching The Notebook while snuggled under a fluffy blanket made Max want to poke his exhausted eyeballs out. He collapsed onto the opposite sofa, feeling like a bear shot in the ass. His expression must’ve given him away.
“Don’t get bent out of shape. You’re the one who planned this torturous movie marathon.”
“I don’t care. Wake me up when it’s over.” Something scrumptious was cooking in the oven, smelled like chicken. Maybe Max would stay awake long enough to wolf it down.
“The hell you are! Never leave a brother behind! I’m going to kick your scrawny ass if you do.”
Abby wandered in and threw a blanket at Max’s head, aiming the next one at Johnny. “Make yourselves useful and switch on the telly and that DVD thingy. I never know how to operate it.”
Grinning to himself, Max grabbed both remotes. Abby was so right, in the three months he’d watched her, she hardly ever watched the television, preferring to hibernate in the art studio. Lizzy bounced into the room and Max’s jaw dropped. Mother of God. What in heaven’s name was she wearing? Johnny grinned in surprise. There was no way Max could keep his trap shut.
“What in the hell is that?
A light blue baggy one-piece thing decorated in white snowflake designs engulfed her petite frame.
“It’s cold and rainy so I wore a Onesie.” Lizzy pirouetted in a circle.
“A one what?”
Abby laughed. “A onesie. It keeps her whole body warm, including her toes.”
“You look like Alice in Wonder-freaking-land!” Max said, screwing up his face.
Abby chuckled. “I think it’s the black headband along with that pale blue color.”
Lizzy touched her stretchy headband holding back the crazy blonde curls and gave an exaggerated curtsy.
“Just call me Alice. And don’t diss the headband, it keeps my hair out of my face.”
Johnny stretched his leg out and tapped her with his giant foot. “Lizbug, you look adorable.”
Lizzy grinned crazily, picked up a grocery bag and pulled out Taken.
“That’s my cool as shit girl!” Johnny grinned.
“I love dude movies! Predator and The Accountant are next!” Lizzy threw down the bag.
Smoothly lifting the DVD out of Lizzy’s hand, Abby said, “First you’re playing us something on your guitar while I grab the snacks from the oven.”
Johnny sat up. “You play the guitar?”
Lizzy backed up. “Yep, but nope, I think I’ll take a pass. I’ve changed my mind.”
“Lizzy also sings. She has the voice of an angel. It’s her secret weapon.” Abby winked.
“I haven’t played in forever. I’m not sure I even know how!”
Abby tugged at her friend’s curls. “You’ve sung for me, it’s incredible.”
Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Dingbat, that’s different, I’m allowed to screw up with you.”
Johnny entwined his fingers with hers. “I dig it. I’d be honored to hear you perform, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.”
Lizzy sighed. “One song.”
“Five songs,” Abby countered.
“Two songs.”
“Three…and I’ll make your favorite hot chocolate laced with cinnamon cream.”
“Son of a beach ball! You drive a hard bargain. Fine, get Whitney and I’ll grab my guitar pick out of my bag.”
Max frowned. “Who’s Whitney?”
“My guitar. Named her after Whitney Houston, ‘cause she has some pluck to her.”
Johnny pulled Lizzy into his lap. “My crazy flower child.”
“I’m not a flower child! I’m an eighties child, with a bit of nineties thrown in.” Lizzy sighed dreamily. “I’d have given anything to be a groupie in the eighties.” Max chuckled. What an oddball.
Lizzy sat cross-legged, her guitar resting on her dainty lap. “Since we’re all currently living it up in South Africa, my fellow Americans, I guess I’ll start with Toto’s ‘Africa.’ This one makes me want to go on a weekend game drive into the African bush.”
The guitar playing was masterful, but once Lizzy started to sing, the whole room was stunned into silence. Her voice was a shining wave of joy. Her passion for the music was reflected in her angelic face. Goose bumps broke over Max’s skin when she sang a Lana Del Rey song. Johnny’s eyes were glued to the petite blonde. Abby smiled lovingly at her friend, looking happy and proud. It was a good moment.
As tired as Max
felt, he enjoyed the evening and found himself laughing out loud at a few of the girls’ antics. Johnny nodded off halfway through Predator and Lizzy followed shortly after, her head resting on his broad chest.
Max glanced over as Abby stretched. Her hair was scooped into a messy bun—the way girls liked to wear their hair these days—and it made him want to unloosen the knot and run his fingers through the heavy waves. She wore yoga pants with a soft grey T-shirt that clung to her in all the right places.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Abby asked as she stood.
The whispered words seemed pointless as the other two snoozed through Predator bedlam.
“Nope. Are you off to bed?”
Abby snagged a knitted blue throw and headed across to the kitchen. “I need fresh air, you’re welcome to join me.”
The back door led into a narrow lane that ran down the backs of the apartments. A high wall separated her lane from the entrance road into the complex. It reminded Max of the cobbled streets that ran between houses in Europe. Just wide enough to fit a small table and some chairs. Abby occasionally ate her breakfast out here. Although they had cameras monitoring the lane, Max didn’t like it. A great spot for an ambush, but Max didn’t sense any danger. Besides, Donnie was watching from across the way.
Abby balanced herself on a wrought iron chair, pulling her knees to her chest while tucking the throw around herself. Iron scraped on stone as Max dragged a nearby chair closer. The skies had finally cleared, and the chill in the air felt good.
“Can you hear them?” Abby asked softly.
Max stiffened, alerting himself to possible dangers. “Hear who?”
“The crickets. One of the first signs that spring is here.”
A couple of crickets chirped softly in the distance. “Does the chirping scare you?”
Abby looked at him as if he was daft. “Why would that scare me?”
“I just thought that since you were afraid—”
“Afraid of them jumping on me. When I was eleven—on the farm in Botswana—I played in the shade of the front steps on a warm summer’s day. A giant cricket jumped down the back of my shirt and it wasn’t just any cricket, it was an Armored Bush Cricket that’s native to Southern Africa and is common in Botswana. It has sharp spines and thick armor and I couldn’t reach it as it fought for its life, like a thorny branch shoved down my back. Once it was caught in my hair and scrambled up against my neck, I was a goner, screaming and screaming for help. Everyone, including Kris, thought I was just being a drama queen, eventually my mom saw the huge beast. They cut a chunk out of my hair to remove the fat cricket and it squirmed and scratched the entire time.”
Abby rubbed her arms with the blanket. “It took six months for my hair to grow out. Every time I felt the shorn hair, I was reminded of that spiny giant cricket crawling on my skin and the terror stuck, becoming a lifelong fear. I’m not afraid of crickets chirping. I actually think crickets are kind of cool, from a distance.”
Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “Did you know the intensity of their chirps depends on the temperature? The warmer it gets, the more frequently they chirp? In China, crickets are a symbol of good luck.”
Max smiled. “I did not know that.”
They paused to listen to the night. A cold breeze swept up the narrow passage and Abby tucked her socked feet in.
“I heard you rescued a praying mantis the other day.”
“The damn cameras.” Abby rolled her eyes.
“You’re not afraid of a praying mantis? They kind of resemble crickets.”
“They do, but they’re fragile enough that I can control the ickiness factor. Their legs are so delicate. I make a point of studying insects, especially anything that looks remotely similar to a cricket, to overcome my fear. Familiarity negates fear—besides, I’ve faced real fear and violence—an insect could never hurt me that badly.”
Before her dad tried to mold her into the perfect daughter, before Khalid mauled her, Max got the feeling that Abby had been a bundle of bright energy. The small glimpses of her animated side lurking beneath the surface was a stark contrast to the composed mask that Abigail Evans presented to the world.
“How do you cope with what you’ve endured? How do you heal?”
Abby blinked away sudden tears. “Some days are rougher than others. I keep busy. Swimming helps, it washes over scars and I pretend that I’m whole again.”
The foreign lump in his throat took Max unawares; her self-soothing statement kicked him in the gut. Abby was damn easy to love, and her dickhead family should have protected her, they should’ve loved her better.
“I’ve had enough therapy to last a lifetime. It’s all about taking baby steps. Learning to sleep in the dark again. Being in a room of strangers for the first time after the attack was a big step. Going on a first date.”
“You’ve dated since?”
“I dated a lovely man about a year ago, really kind and gentle. It would’ve been ideal except he was possibly the most boring man on the planet, all he spoke about were feet. George was a podiatrist. We dated for two months.” Abby rubbed her socked feet. “With the help of a great therapist, I worked through my intimacy issues and the scars from the rape.”
“You mean you were, um…with this George…” Thinking about her with another man had Max tensing.
“We were never in love, but he never judged me. If I’d never dated, the damage would have won, and I’d never let another man touch me. Thanks to his patience, I overcame much of the horror. George was what I needed at the time.” Abby glanced at Max. “Relax, shortly after we broke it off, George fell in love with one of his patients. They’re happily married with a kid on the way.”
Max didn’t know what to think; warring emotions had him frozen in his seat.
Abby shifted awkwardly. “When Khalid hurt me…I was a virgin. Violence was all I knew. I was determined to experience kindness in the bedroom. It’s only been three years but I don’t want my future husband to have to deal with all the repercussions of the rape.”
“God. Abby.”
“I’m just like any other girl. I want a normal life one day with a man who loves me, who doesn’t just see a damaged soul.”
“I’ve been groping you like I’m a teenage boy. I’m sorry.”
Abby turned to him and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t be. For the first time, I’ve wanted to grope someone back.” Her thumb stroked his arm and the air heated. Abby stared at him with hunger, trust and so much more.
Max opened his mouth to promise her a world he wasn’t sure he could give, when she suddenly let go, settling back in her seat.
“Enough about me. What are you afraid of? What would a big, bad soldier fear?”
It took Max a second to answer. “I’m big and bad, am I?”
Abby smiled. “Sometimes. Hell, much of the time.”
Max leaned in. “If I’m the bad wolf, then where is your red cape?”
“Not sure, Mr. Wolf, but I do have a snazzy blue throw.”
Max roared with laughter.
Chapter Sixteen
La Coraggio was packed, Max and Johnny sandwiched Abby on the bench. Max pulled a dollar bill out of his wallet and folded it into a sword shape as Lizzy chattered away on the other side of him. Abby had initially sensed his impatience with her bubbly friend when they’d first met, but Max now saw the girl beneath. Intelligent, kind and courageous.
His mouth turned up as Lizzy made a silly joke, but Abby was thoroughly absorbed in his sexy hands folding with confident precision. His long fingers so capable. Capable enough to take away life or to protect it. Well-trained hands decorated with a few rough calluses and light scars. Feeling them run down her back or stroke her arm always resulted in goose bumps.
Max stroked her calf with his foot; who knew that the game of footsy could be so damn sexy? The small paper dagger was waved in front of Lizzy, who snatched it up. He needed to smile more often. He had the sexiest smile, and combined with those
piercing eyes, the result was heart-stopping.
Kris made his way through the crowded patio and Max turned serious. Abby hoped they’d form a bond and now was as good a time as any. Kris could occasionally act like an ass, but his heart was in the right place. Besides, the past couple of weeks had been torture for her friend. Seeing your teammates blown away by poachers. Max should know how that felt, to lose a teammate. Abby rose to greet her friend.
Kris pulled her in. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “about the other night. I’m a complete idiot.”
Abby tried to extricate herself, but Kris held firm. She tamped down the urge to shove him away; Kris was like a brother and oldest friend rolled into one.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Just one beer. I swear.”
“I’m worried about you.”
Kris drew her head in, and she felt his lips against her ear. “It goes both ways, I’m yours, you need to know that.”
That was an odd thing to say.
“You look beautiful by the way.”
Abby smiled her thanks. Heated stares greeted them as Kris pulled her into the chair next to his, causing Max to stiffen. After all-around introductions, Kris slouched back, slinging an arm over the back of her seat. The sudden silence had more of a deadly feel as opposed to uncomfortable, although Abby could happily tick both boxes.
Kris was no match for Max’s stone-washed glare in the mini staring match that commenced. The stillness running through Max caught Abby by surprise. It was the trained soldier in him but needed dialing back, if they were to keep this pretend-couple subterfuge thing going.
◊ ◊ ◊
Mature, Max thought as he read Muller’s wrinkled T-shirt: Game Rangers do it in the bush.
Judging from the bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks, Kris was juiced up again. Max knew he should be more understanding. PTSD varied from person to person. Hell, after the Black Friday bombing, Max had suffered nightmares and cold sweats.
Kris spoke up first. “All these Americans at the table… You’re making me feel like the bloody foreigner in the room. So, Max. Abby tells me you sell tactical gear, shoes and shit?” Muller’s trembling fingers toyed with his car keys.
