by Louise Dawn
Max smiled benignly. “Yeah.”
“What brands?”
“Arc’teryx, Mechanix Wear, Crye…” Max said.
“Interesting.” Muller gave Max the once-over. “You look like a fit kind of guy.”
“I work out.”
“Did you serve?”
“Sure.”
“Good for you. That’s honorable. Navy? Army?”
“Army.”
“See a lot of action?”
The undefined intensity rolling off Muller put Max on edge. It was clear that he saw Max as a threat.
“I worked on the back end. A security specialist of sorts.”
Abby cut in. “Max was a programmer for the military. He helped secure facilities, Stateside.”
“So, you were a geeky security guard, and now a traveling salesman who’s seeing my girl.”
Max raised his brows. “Your girl?”
“We have a history. She’s like my—”
“Sister.” Max threw in.
Kris bristled. “You hurt her and I’ll bliksem you.”
“Understood.” Max’s eyes glanced down at Muller’s fingers resting on Abby’s arm.
“And I’ll beat the shit out of you too, if you keep getting touchy with my woman.”
Abby shifted forward as another stare off commenced. Visions of snapping Muller’s fingers ran through Max’s skull. Muller glared back a while longer then stretched, pulling his hand back.
Bingo, don’t fuck with the alpha in the room.
Lizzy’s cheery voice piped in. “Fantastic! Now that we have that sorted out, who’s having what? Kris? Can I get you a menu? Anything to drink?”
◊ ◊ ◊
Once everyone had ordered, Abby tried to relax. Kris told John about various species of African giraffe and how numbers had dwindled due to habitat loss. Max punched out of the conversation, instead locking Abby in with an unblinking stare, like a hawk zeroing in on a piece of meat. He was definitely out of sorts. Well, tough toodles, these men needed to grow up and get along.
Lizzy paid little heed to the men’s conversation. Abby followed her friend’s gaze to the dessert display. Lizzy and her sweet tooth. Her transparency was heartwarming in this harsh world, even after all she’d been through. Deceit ate away at Abby.
When this was finally over John would leave her friend in the dust, and there was no guarantee that Abby would be there to pick up the pieces. In fact, there was a real possibility that Lizzy would never forgive Abby for injuring her heart. Another casualty of her war-torn life. Abby wanted to rush over and beg forgiveness for being a deceitful bitch along with her shifty band of liars.
Her male friend’s deep voice drew her back to his profile as the waiter placed antipasti platters on the table. Kris was awfully good looking. Lizzy and Kris could make a beautiful couple. She loved them both dearly and who knows. Maybe in the chaotic future that lay ahead, they could turn to each other for comfort. A city girl and a country boy. Or perhaps not, they might end up killing each other. A chuckle escaped.
A shoulder nudge from Kris had her glancing up. “What are you giggling at?”
Her mouth still curved into a smile, Abby shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Liar, your clever brain latched onto something. What gives?”
Sitting forward, she decided to throw it out there. A test of sorts. She was most interested in Big John’s reaction and watched him out the corner of her eye. He definitely liked Lizzy. If he turned out to be the biggest dick of them all and crushed her friend’s heart, well it wouldn’t hurt to plant a seed for the future.
“Tell us,” Lizzy said, nibbling on a bruschetta.
“Before you and John started dating, when I first ran into Kris at the mall, I had a crazy thought.” Abby paused for effect, looking at Lizzy and then at Kris. “Wouldn’t it be wild if my two best friends—two people I adore most—eventually got together.”
“What do you mean?” Lizzy asked, looking confused.
“You know, you and Kris?”
There were horrified expressions all around. John’s grip on his water glass tightened. Nostrils flaring, he stared at the table. Now wasn’t that interesting.
Lizzy laid down her fork. “Sweetness. Seriously. You know I’m with John.” She spoke slowly like Abby was daft.
“It was a silly thought, don’t mind me.”
“Really stupid!” Lizzy huffed.
Kris snorted. “Blondes are so not my type. You can keep her, big man.”
Then Kris whispered furiously in her ear. “What the hell was that?”
“When last did you go on a date? I’m just kidding, but you need to find someone nice.” She met his livid gaze.
“Pass the Balsamic, I don’t have time for little girls and their shit. Besides I get plenty of action from game ranger groupies who just want a quick fuck in a tent.”
Abby’s mouth fell open as she handed over the vinegar. “I didn’t just hear that… Kris, you need someone good in your life.”
The sudden flat look in Kris’s eyes chilled her. “I had someone. She died, remember? But of course, you remember, because you were there. Or were you? What really happened that night?”
Abby looked away…into Max’s intelligent eyes zeroing in on the conversation. An awkward three-way moment charged the air.
Kris focused on slicing up the caprese as he spoke. “That was a mean thing to say. I love you, and I know you want what’s best for me. I’m an arse at the moment and taking it out on you.”
Abby allowed the guilt to flow, wanting to scream out her frustration at the world.
She was drowning. Screwing things up with her dearest friend, who was now a royal mess. Missing her son so badly that it tore her apart, not to mention fighting for her son’s freedom and life. Don’t lose it, Abigail Evans. Suck it up.
“Buck up, Cricket, have some of this buffalo mozzarella. It’s amazing.” Kris nudged her plate towards her. “Remember that flight to Rome? You worked that layover and I bummed a ride. We bought all those Italian meats and cheeses and had a picnic on the Spanish Steps. This mozzarella is almost as good.”
“That was a great day. And I fell in that fountain,” Abby said with a watery laugh.
“Because you were trying to get an impossible photo, you almost dragged me in! I need more pepper.” Kris stood and walked to the next table as Abby wiped a drying tear.
Max placed a second paper sculpture on the table and scooted it across. He knew what she was going through and God bless the man, he was trying to help. She gently picked up her new addition to Gabe’s paper frog collection. Max already made three frogs over the past few days and they were all different, this looked like a bullfrog—the man had talented fingers.
“You did those?” Kris pointed at the paper sword and frog as he sat back down.
“Sure.”
“That’s hectic, bru. What do they call that shit? Oregano? Oro…”
Abby reached forward and picked up the tiny dagger. “Origami.”
“Sounds like something my grandmother would do.”
John froze with a fork halfway up to his mouth.
Max shrugged. “Different strokes.”
“That must really help your game?”
“Excuse me?”
“I bet chicks eat up that shit. Make them teeny, tiny flowers on the first date, and next thing you know, you’re popping their sweet cherry.”
John shot a warning glance towards a motionless Max. Abby kicked him under the table.
“What fancy shapes can you make? Are you like those balloon guys who can pretzel a balloon into some kind of functional car? Let me extend a challenge. I name something, then you make it.”
“Name it,” Max said.
Tapping his index finger against his jaw, Kris pretended to think of an object. Abby wanted to bash him upside the head. This wasn’t the side of Kris she knew best, he was generally an easy-going guy. They hadn’t seen each other in years. There was a brittleness to
Kris’s demeanor, a bitter edge that she’d never seen. She was partly to blame. A dead girlfriend would forever taint that initial innocence and the recent massacre of his friends didn’t help. Sourness was now his sword, and it was currently aimed at her pretend boyfriend.
Kris pulled out his wallet. “Why don’t we use South African currency, how about a two hundred rand note?” The money landed on the table. Worth about fifteen dollars. “At least your teeny artwork would have some value once you’re done…”
“This is ridiculous.” Abby tried to snatch the money back from the table and Max stopped her.
Kris smiled. “What to make? What about a cricket for my little cricket? Can you make it jump? Put some spring into its little paper legs?” He used his hands to manically action his words. “That way it can jump into all sorts of nooks and crannies.”
Kris’s bouncing hand jumped into Abby’s cleavage and Abby shoved his hand out.
Max pushed back from the table. “I’m done. I’m seriously done. I’m using the head.”
Abby jumped up as he headed inside the bistro.
“Ag, shame. Someone’s a little sensitive,” Kris said.
John excused himself. “I’ve got this.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Max let the blowhard get to him. He paced the small unisex bathroom as the door swung open.
“Is Slater watching the girls?” he asked Johnny.
“Yep. He’s at table seven. What the fuck, bro? Muller is wasted, you know better than to engage.”
“Not a word. Not a goddam word,” Max said.
Johnny looked at him like he was a stranger and not a brother on his team. Max knew why—he was always as cool as a cucumber yet some snotty game ranger tipped his lid off. Usually he psychologically controlled every room, but sadly not today. He pulled apart the last fifteen minutes, trying to find the trigger point.
He was comfortable with who he was, the origami was a quirk and he didn’t give a fuck about the ranger trying to poke fun. Max could easily kick his ass. Muller couldn’t dream up the shit that Max had seen and done. There was no need for a pissing contest. This was about Abby. Muller wanted her. It was plain to see, yet it wasn’t the jealousy driving Max’s rage. The minute Muller stepped in and took rough liberties with Abby, Max’s temper began to rise. What made him angrier was that she allowed Muller to get away with it. Kris ramming his hand down her blouse had been the final straw.
“Kris wants her.”
“And that’s our problem how? We’re here as a lure for Khalid tonight, not to tango with an idiot game ranger. Get your shit together and let’s do the fucking job.”
Johnny left Max to get his shit together, and Max thought he’d done a fine job—until he stepped out, running headlong into Abby’s sweet body. Abby pulled him back into the bathroom before locking the door.
“Kris is going through a tough time. He knows he’s a jerk.”
“Stop defending him. We’ll talk about this later.”
“No, we’ll talk about it now. You’ve had a bad attitude ever since Kris walked in. You didn’t even try to play nice.”
“Jesus, woman.”
“You sat there like a wet blanket, skewering him with sulky man glares, and after all he’s gone through!”
“You’re defending him after he shoved his hand down your shirt!”
“He just saw his teammates being murdered in front of him. If anyone should understand that, it’s you.”
Now he was royally pissed. “Don’t ever compare me to him. We’re nothing alike.”
“Max—”
“Fuck it. You want to know why I’m pissed? Because you allow him to walk all over you. He had his damn hands everywhere, you allow him to touch you and push you the hell around.” Max grabbed Abby’s shoulders. “Do you let him take advantage because of guilt, or have you always let him touch you that way?” It was jealousy pushing his rage but Max couldn’t stop. “How far would you let Muller go?”
“You have some nerve. You have no right to tell me who touches me. Let go of me!” Abby kicked him in the shin.
Max crushed her lips to his. Passion fueled his temper as he ravaged her mouth. Abby moaned, and he ran a thumb over her rib cage, stroking beneath her breast. His other hand lifted her onto the ledge of the sink. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he ground against her. She mated her tongue with his, and his dick saluted in response. Dragging up her blouse, he thanked the gods for a front-clasping bra. Her perfect nipple peaked in his mouth. God, he could suck on it for hours.
“We’re doing it again,” she moaned.
“Doing what?” Max asked as he worked his way to her other breast.
“Getting raunchy in an impossibly small bathroom. It’s our thing.”
Hard counters and cold tiles weren’t exactly conducive to canoodling. Max needed to make an effort to seduce her in a comfier spot. His mouth paused, and he stroked both nipples with his thumbs. Eyes closed, Abby looked like a wanton queen as her head fell back in ecstasy. Mine. He went cold thinking of Muller’s hands touching her, but what right did Max have, telling her who to be with? Abby wasn’t his woman. It was all just a pretense.
Johnny was right, they had a job to do and Max was screwing things up. His dick needed distance. Touching the flawless Miss Evans fogged up his brain.
◊ ◊ ◊
Max’s mouth felt so damn good. Good wasn’t the word. Orgasmic, mind-blowingly, freaking incredible. Abby’s warm throbbing body was like honey in his arms. Coming apart in a public toilet, under the skillful touch of this rock-hard warrior. She closed her eyes as desire-laced blood pounded through her veins. Deliberate thumbs stroked her hard nipples then… nothing. Magical hands very suddenly pushed her away. She opened her eyes to his rigid back as he ran those delicious hands through his hair.
“Max?”
“Fix yourself up, Abby. I’m not fucking you in a public bathroom.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not fucking you. Period.”
“Is that what we were doing? Fucking.”
Max looked over his shoulder with icy eyes. “We’re not having this conversation.”
Slipping off the granite counter, Abby pulled down her shirt. Anger and hurt balled in her throat. “Because I thought it meant a little more than that.”
“I’m here for a specific reason, and I can’t let anything get in the way.”
“Of course not. What was I thinking? The first man I could actually trust—care about—and it turns out he’s just like the rest. Looking out for himself and everyone else.”
“Abby.” His voice sounded hoarse.
“I don’t need your pity fucks. You and your team can go and jump in a big man bastard lake for all I care.” Abby pushed past.
“Jesus, Abs.” Max swung her around.
“Get your hands off me.” The big lout wasn’t listening.
“You’re an angel. You’re freaking pure and sweet. I’ve never done this before—been so close to an asset. You’re all mixed up in this case and it’s screwing things up.”
“I don’t care,” Abby said.
“I just need time. Let’s sort through this later.”
“Max. I don’t play games. It’s already too complicated, and I want simple. If you can’t give me simple, then you have no right to touch me.” She felt like she’d run a mile.
Max rubbed circles on her arms with his thumbs. “I care about you.”
“Well, don’t. I’ll only destroy you and your precious career. Now go. I’m a big girl and need a minute to put my big girl panties back on.”
◊ ◊ ◊
The bistro was quieting down. It was late and time to wrap up a screwed-up night. Max wasn’t going to pretend to be civil, which was a-okay because right at this moment, Muller seemed to be ignoring him, focusing on Lizzy instead.
“Lizzy Liz. Abby’s new friend. Here’s my number.” He scooted a business card across the table. “In case you wanna give my number out to some fr
iends—it’s Kris with a K.”
Lizzy ignored the card. Johnny pushed it back with a deliberate and large finger.
“You’re really pretty.”
Lizzy smiled awkwardly. “Thanks.”
“Your sweet accent reminds me of my girl.”
There he went with the “my girl” thing again. Max gritted his teeth.
Kris continued, “So Lizzy, how long have you lived in South Africa?”
“Since I was twelve. My mother is from California, my father grew up on the South African coast. My parents met when he consulted for a mining project in San Diego, way back when.”
“Now, it makes more sense. So how did you meet Abby?”
Lizzy lied well. “An art class. We were both Americans and I invited Abby to join my Facebook Group—Americans in Jo’burg.”
“You’re also an artist?” Kris asked.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. Let me guess. Bouncy blonde, Californian roots. You’re a hairdresser?”
Sarcastic fucker. Max wanted to wipe the grin off Kris’s face, and by the look of it, Johnny wanted to rip his head off. This was going south quickly. There was more to Lizzy than people thought. Max was just as guilty of prejudging her based on her initial sparkle. He’d delved deeper into her background since they’d discovered her past. A survivor who had fought her way out of an abusive relationship. She hid the damage well; PTSD was indeed a bitch. Lizzy was working toward a nursing degree before her fiancé savagely snapped. Due to the trauma, she’d dropped out of college. Max had little doubt that she would eventually get her life back on track. Lizzy had recently enrolled in a beauty school, but her confidence had taken a violent hit and she seemed lost, putting on a bubbly face to mask the anxiety.
Max glanced at Lizzy as she answered Muller’s question. “Massage therapy.”
“Do you give ‘happy’ massages? Give a squeeze, get a squirt?”
“It’s time to go, Lizbug.” Johnny reached for her hand.
Eyes sparking with anger, she shook him off. “You know nothing about me.”
