by Louise Dawn
Max stretched across the table. “Lizzy.”
She silenced him with a glare and swiveled back. “We’re not stereotyping or anything but go ahead, Kris, let me know what you really think?”
Muller grinned like a hyena. “Let’s see… I’m guessing you have a rich daddy? Apple of his eye? You collect stuffed toys and display them on your bed. Probably a little high maintenance.”
The whites on Johnny’s knuckles were showing.
“How on earth did you come up with that?” Lizzy asked.
Kris nodded to the chair next to her. “Your Louis Vuitton bag is draped on its very own chair.”
“Holy cow! My mother gave that to me four years ago for my twenty-first birthday, and for your information it’s the only designer bag I own.”
Kris ignored her. “Sweetheart, don’t talk kak, no man likes a spoiled little rich girl.” He turned to Johnny. “Good luck, bru, I bet her last boyfriend nearly strangled her to death to get away.”
Oh. Hell. No. Max shot towards his friend as Johnny launched across the table, barely managing to get between them. Max’s typically laid-back buddy morphed into a rabid dog. Did Muller know about Lizzy’s past? Or was that last phrase just a coincidence?
“Calm down. Fucking breathe.” Max pulled Johnny farther aside. “Look at me, Johnny. Calm the hell down. You’re causing a cluster fucking scene.”
His teammate took a moment before switching into a more familiar operator mode. Thankfully due to the later hour, the audience was minimal. Slater ambled past before retreating into the shadows.
Abby yelled out, “Get out now!”
Max turned, not sure who her ire was directed towards.
Abby pointed to the door. “Now, Kris.”
“Are you serious? That jaw breaker attacked me and tore my freaking shirt!”
“I heard what you said to Lizzy.”
“I’m sorry. I’m a fokking idiot.” Kris stepped towards her, desperation now leaking from his pores.
Abby moved back, and Max stepped between. “She’s done, buddy. I suggest you leave.”
Kris tried to touch Abby and Max sidestepped, shoving him back.
“Cricket!” A high-pitched whine.
Have some pride, Max thought.
Abby stood firm. “I know you’re going through a tough time, but that’s no excuse, I can’t help you. I can’t even look at you.”
Kris stiffened, and Max readied himself. “Don’t be stupid. Walk away, buddy.”
“I’m not your buddy, and you know what? Fuck you, Josephine. You can use your middle name and hang out with all your new kak-ass friends, but I know who you really are. A sad little girl with fucked-up daddy issues.”
Max stepped forward. “Out now, before I pound you into the floor.”
Kris turned, sauntering out. Kris Muller was becoming a big ass complication, and Max had a bad feeling that this wasn’t close to being over. He turned to Abby and she walked into his arms.
“Ding dong, the dirt-hole is gone,” Johnny said as he met Max’s grim stare. Lizzy lunged for her hand bag like a frightened rabbit. John reached for her as she leapt back.
Sensing her friend’s distress, Abby let go of Max. “Sweet pea, are you okay?”
“I have to go.”
Johnny tried to embrace her. “I’ll take you home, angel.”
Lizzy yelped in a shrill voice. “Don’t come near me. I need some air. Max, can you give John a ride home?”
Max nodded.
Clutching the VW keys tightly, Lizzy made her escape. Johnny tried to go after her.
“I’ve got this.” Abby stepped forward. Johnny’s distress convinced Abby that she was doing the right thing. “If I talk to her, promise me that you will do right by my friend. Come clean and tell her why you’re really here.”
“I’m planning to tell her.”
“Do you want to be with her?” Abby asked.
Johnny looked sideways at Max and nodded. “After this mission is wrapped up, I’m planning on taking vacation time, I’ll return to South Africa to see her.”
Max swore. “And you were going to tell me this when?”
Abby poked Johnny in the chest. “You’re good together, if you can get off your deceitful butt and do right by her. You seem to be a good man, but that won’t stop me from kicking your ass if you play games with her heart.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Abby raced to catch up with her friend and Max trailed behind, sticking to the shadows.
“Lizzy!”
Tears streamed down her friend’s face. “I can’t be with him. This was a giant mistake.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Didn’t you see the violence?” Her wild fear was apparent to Max. “I thought John was my defender against all the brutality that we’ve seen, that we’ve experienced.”
“He was protecting you.”
“And one day when he turns that violence towards me…”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“How could you know?” Damage from Lizzy’s past ran her life.
“Oh, Lizzy.” Abby hugged her tightly.
“He’s just like the rest. Men with their filthy tempers are all the same, wanting to destroy everything around them.”
“That’s such bullshit, and you know it.”
“The hell it is! That’s the reason why you isolate yourself from the world.”
“I’ve been wrong. Happiness doesn’t exist in a singular bubble, never touched by life’s realities.” Abby grasped Lizzy’s hands. “What about your dad?”
“What about him?”
“He loves you to the moon and back. Has he ever hurt you?”
Lizzy shook her head.
“He adores you, and your mom and would commit violence to defend his family.”
“That’s different.”
“John is nothing like Ivan,” Abby stated.
Lizzy flinched at the mention of her former fiancé’s name.
“In therapy you once mentioned that Ivan was all darkness, you instinctively knew that his soul was damaged, the first night you met him. You ignored those instincts.”
“Ivan felt wrong from that first moment,” Lizzy agreed.
“What about John?”
“What about him?” Lizzy asked.
“Is he darkness or light? When you first met him, did you want to run away or towards him?”
Lizzy scrunched her nose as she sank back against the driver’s door. “He’s a mix of both I guess.” Her shoulders drooped. “I only ever wanted to run to him. Until tonight.”
“Tonight, you’ve questioned your instincts. I’m not saying John is perfect—no one is—but he’d never hurt you physically.”
“I thought I was getting back to normal. That everything was fine. I’m not fine though, I’m damaged and stupid and—”
“You’re brave and strong and it takes time.”
“Did you tell Kris about Ivan?” Lizzy asked.
“I’d never do that!”
“His strangling comment seemed weird.”
Abby folded her arms. “It’s a generic insult. I’ve barely spoken to Kris since we’ve reconnected.”
“Don’t confide in that man, I don’t like him.”
“Liz—”
“I don’t know how you ever became his friend. He’s cruel and mean spirited.”
“He’s lost and hurting. He wasn’t always like that.”
“People don’t change all that much. You believe in what you want to see. Trust me, I did the same with Ivan.”
Abby tucked her arms in tighter. “It doesn’t matter, that friendship is over.”
“What about John? Did you say something to him? His reaction was a pretty extreme one to the ‘generic insult.’” Lizzy air-quoted.
“No, sweet—”
“Because I don’t want John’s pity. He can never know.”
“He wouldn’t look at you that way.”
“I can’t take the p
itying glances my parents shoot my way when they think I’m not looking, and he’d do the same.” Lizzy jangled her car keys before unlocking the Beetle. “I have to go. Thanks for standing up for me tonight.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. I need time to myself.”
“Call if you need anything.” Abby nudged her. “For you, I killa the bull.”
Lizzy smiled at their obviously private joke as she climbed into her bright yellow car. “Well for you, I killa the bullfighter and save the bull.”
Abby chuckled. “Text me when you’re safely home.” She waved at her friend’s disappearing convertible.
Max stepped up. God, she made him feel things. Hopeful things that could tear apart his carefully constructed world.
Abby turned to him. “I lied to her again—about John not knowing.”
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“That’s just it. I do have choices and I’m done with all the deceit, especially when it comes to us. I don’t belong in your military world, hiding whatever this relationship is. You’re messing with an asset and risking your career. This flirting thing is over—once your mission is wrapped up we’ll go our separate ways.”
Those words were demolition to his soul.
Chapter Seventeen
Back at base with Abby locked in for the night, Max gazed at the monitoring station, recalling the girls’ conversation. It maddened him that there were fucking monsters out there who inflicted such lasting damage on women.
At the same time, seeing his tough woman comforting her friend filled him with pride. Despite Abby’s last words to him, she felt like his woman. What an effing screwup the night had been. First dealing with Kris “the dick” Muller and then discovering that Johnny was also emotionally invested in an asset. His team was falling apart, and Max was the rebellious leader doing the damage along the way. The sooner they wrapped up the assignment, the better, then hopefully they could screw the brains out of their chosen women without having to deal with the guilt.
Abby wandered out to sit on her patio in the dark, and there was too much physical space between them. He was always watching. Max was so tired of the watching. He wanted to be touching, always touching.
He traced her image on the screen. She looked so sad; losing a lifelong friend would do that to you. He wanted to unravel all the bandages wrapped around her heart and rescue her and her baby from the terror. Unravelling the hurt wasn’t his job. He was expected to hand Evans over to the agency, wrapping this mission up with a nice little bow. Except he didn’t want to do that. He couldn’t. Abby was no longer a job. She hadn’t been that since he’d discovered her innocence.
Donnie surprised him from behind, and Max pretended to adjust the screen for a better angle before grabbing the nearest file.
Donnie sank into a nearby chair. Equipment hummed softly in the quiet space. “Did I ever tell you about my wife?”
Donnie never spoke of her. She’d passed away from breast cancer a year before and it had nearly killed him. Donnie was still fairly new to the team, only just a year with them. A year that saw less action in the field then they were used to, but there was no doubt that David “Donnie” Wilson, also a former Green Beret and their 18Fox—the intelligence specialist—was in for the long haul. Donnie’s reserved shell was hard to slip through, but once you got to know him, you had a loyal dog at your back.
Max didn’t know what to say and Donnie continued. “Not about how she died—you all met her when she was ill—I’m talking about how we first met.”
Max shook his head. All he knew was that she was French. He’d met her once briefly, when Donnie joined the team, just over a year ago and by then she was terminally ill. Too weak to stand, connected to IVs…frail and so vulnerable. That horrifying and helpless journey that ultimately led to the loss of Donnie’s wife, scared the hell out of Max.
“I never speak about how we met. I should, but it’s our own special adventure and no one else’s business.”
“Donnie, you don’t need to—”
“I met Sophie in Mali, when I was an MLE, providing additional security for embassy employees in Bamako.”
MLEs were small teams of Special Ops guys stationed at US Embassies to gather intelligence and assist in counterterrorism operations. They were usually drawn from Green Berets and Rangers, as well as Navy SEALs, marine and air force units. Max held huge respect for those small teams, who operated in a similar capacity to his own four-man unit.
“Sophie worked as a translator, also providing support by befriending the locals and reinforcing our informant network. The instant I saw her I knew I wanted her. I convinced myself that we’d screw each other till we could barely stand and then walk away. But that ain’t me. Some soldiers may find a warm bit of pussy in a foreign country to pass the time, but I’ve always focused only on the mission, looking for a hometown girl whenever I returned Stateside.”
Max did the same. All work and no play made for a really lonely existence, but a James Bond lifestyle never appealed, and screwing random strangers in third world countries could potentially lead to crazy STDs.
“I loved Sophie from the first moment I saw her, sounds corny but it’s the truth. I avoided her whenever possible and almost got away with never touching her, that would’ve been the biggest damn mistake. One night, Sophie introduced us to an informant at a local market. We were targeted by insurgents. It took every ounce of skill to get our four-man unit out of there. Five of us walked out of the embassy that morning, but only three of us walked back in. Two of my teammates were airlifted out.”
“Perkele, I’m sorry, man.”
“Yeah. It sucked. Jesus. When Sophie was safe, I threw her on the bed and marked her as fucking mine. When my contract was over, I applied for leave and went back to Mali to propose. We got married…and buddy, I had the best year of my life. My wife was so freaking beautiful.” Donnie smiled sadly. “Sophie found a small lump under her left arm while in the shower, on the morning of our first-year anniversary.” He swallowed, his voice rough. “That was the end of our hiatus.”
Max squeezed Donnie’s shoulder, allowing his friend a moment of mourning.
Donnie cleared his throat. “The point I’m making is this. Regardless of work conflicts or moral quandaries, Sophie and I made it work, because we loved each other. Sophie wasn’t a distraction, she was the real deal.”
“Abby’s not a distraction either.”
“Bullshit. Me and the boys know you’d never place the unit in jeopardy. We trust your judgment regardless of what option you choose, but where you are right now? Questioning yourself. Questioning your instincts. It’s dangerous for all of us. Make a decision and act on it.”
“Aaah. Fuck it.” Max leaned back in his chair. “I care about her a lot more than I should, and I won’t stand back and watch her walk away.”
“Then don’t. She’s not Sharon Nasari, you know that, right?”
“What the fuck, Don! I know that.”
“We know that too, it’s as clear as day. None of us trusted Sharon. Sully was fooled, but you weren’t the only one who figured her for being a viper in the grass.”
Life was short and damn cheap. Max refused to spend another moment without Abby by his side. He stood, staring at the monitor as she headed indoors. “I’m heading across the road.”
Donnie yawned. “I’m going to get me some coffee. I’ll keep an eye on things. If a certain listening device behind a certain dresser happens to malfunction, I’ll write a report.”
Max nodded as he rounded the chairs.
“And Max, take your mobile with you, just in case.”
◊ ◊ ◊
The epically dismal day was over, which included losing Kris once and for all, a horrid fallout with Max and, as always, Abby missed her little angel. Just to feel him in her arms, to snuggle into his chubby neck and smell that sweet smell. Oh God. Her baby. Logically she knew she was doing the right thing by protecting him from his mon
strous father, but it was tough. She’d cried more this past month than her whole life combined.
Wrapped up in her softest robe, Abby sipped warm milk laced with honey as she headed to bed. A sudden noise almost made her drop the mug. A dark shadow with ghostly eyes slipped through the sliding door.
Max.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
He pulled her cup from nerveless fingers, his eyes ravaging her face. As she tried to speak, Max shook his head and firmly led her to the bedroom, closing the door and locking it. Was something wrong? Had Khalid made a move? Max walked over to the dresser, staring at the small Nike statue before running a finger down its side. He seemed pensive, and she kept silent.
“I monitored your movements for months. Every day I watched you glide through the water like some kind of water sprite. Like you were born to it, and I couldn’t look away. Were you a siren luring me to my destruction or my lighthouse in the storm?”
Abby didn’t like that insinuation. He meant siren in that Sharon Nasari kind of way.
“When I saw this statue in your bedroom, I felt uneasy, drawn to its alluring beauty. A calm deity in the face of the storm, standing steadfast in destructive winds.” His thumb ran over a wing. “Men are drawn to your calm; you’re the eye of the hurricane. Even my team has fallen at your feet, wanting to slay your dragons and to protect you.”
He had the analogy all wrong. She wasn’t the eye of the tempest. She was the storm, wiping out everything in her path, destroying the lives of those she loved.
Abby stirred. “You’re comparing me to a monstrous sea nymph—a siren with a flayed soul that sits on a heap of decaying bones and lures any mortal who sails by with a bewitching song. You may be right.”
“Baby, no—”
Abby took the statue from Max. “When I worked for the airlines, I’d bid for Parisian trips. As soon as we landed, I raced for the Louvre, standing in those long lines for hours. Once inside, I’d head straight for this statue. It’s an immense work of art, sitting at the top of a wide staircase. I gazed at it for hours, studying and sketching it from every angle. A woman leading her own course. Fighting the elements. Winning the battle. We’ll never know what the full statue looks like. The Nike lost her head, hands and feet, yet, she’s still strong, confident and victorious. Everything I always wanted to be.”
