Siren in the Wind

by Louise Dawn

  “You know about him.”

  “Abby told me he hurt you, but she never gave details.”

  “Did she now? What a stand-up friend.”

  “Abby loves you, please don’t do this.”

  Lizzy’s reply was lost as Max surged to his feet. A flash of movement to Johnny’s immediate left drew his attention. Johnny threw Lizzy to the floor, her landing brutal, his narrowed focus on the patron training a weapon on his tiny woman. Gun already drawn, Johnny squeezed off a shot, providing cover for Lizzy.

  Ignoring her dazed expression, Johnny dragged her towards a rear exit. Had Max yelled that Muller was dirty? Fuck.

  Johnny communicated with Slater. “Heading to the rear with the second asset.”

  Slater scrambled for cover behind a concrete pillar. “Check. Visual on a black sedan with additional insurgents.”

  The black vehicle mounted the curb. Assailants poured out and opened fire on the structure. A nearby vase exploded as bullets rained down on them.

  Johnny yelled at Lizzy. “Move! Now. Stay down.”

  The son of a bitch who’d taken Johnny’s round square in the chest staggered towards them, taking aim at Lizzy for a second time. Fucker wore a bulletproof vest. Johnny calmly squeezed the trigger, hitting him between the eyes. He then swiveled, eliminating a second target as Slater took out two militants before coldly cleaning up the rest. Mandla’s men lay down suppressive fire and Johnny hustled Lizzy out the back door.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Levi Bakal had a gun on Abby, waving it around as he wrestled her towards the three men spilling from the white van. Max fired his first shot, blowing the small man off his feet. Two masked men shoved Abby into the back of the van. Max took out a second militant taking potshots at Donnie and then shot a third, all while clearing his path to the accelerating vehicle. Continual gunshots echoed behind Max. The fuckers had ambushed the café in a diversionary attack. All that mattered was getting to Abby. Max propelled himself through the van’s door before it slid closed.

  “Squeeze the trigger again and I’ll blow her fucking head off!” Roman Petrovich held Abby firmly against his chest, a pistol shoved up against her jaw.

  Two men aimed AK47s at her head. A fourth man in the passenger seat trained his weapon on Max. Petrovich was on South African soil—which according to their intel was not possible, but informants could be paid off and photographs doctored. They’d been fed fake intel from Somalia.

  He weighed up his odds. Khalid needed her alive but she could still get caught in the crossfire. The men tried to steady themselves as the van lurched around corners, fingers too close to their triggers. Max handed his gun to the man behind him.

  “Nicely done. On your knees. Hands behind your back.”

  Max followed orders as they trussed him up and destroyed his comms. Finally, Roman restrained Abby’s hands before shoving her on the floor. She burrowed into Max’s side. The small move wrenched his heart. He’d failed her. Their saving grace could be the embedded tracker in his arm, a standard requirement for covert agents on Mobile Intelligence Teams. But he wouldn’t rely on the device. He didn’t need guns to kill; his hands were just as lethal. Retribution for touching Abby would be brutally swift.

  Chapter Twenty

  The rear door opened onto an alley. Johnny pulled Lizzy behind him as he cleared the area, leading her away from the café. The chatter of fire dropped off. The now infrequent pops meant that the threat was under control. She lagged behind.

  “Move, Lizzy, we’re getting out of here.” Johnny adjusted his earpiece. “Slater, do you read?”

  “Copy. Terminated eight tangos. No new unknowns located in the area. What’s your location and status?”

  “Both unharmed. Moving around to the right side of the building. I’ll need to evacuate Goldie. Status on Max?”

  “Status unknown. Donnie gave chase,” Slater said.

  “Did you just call me Goldie? Because I’m blonde?”

  “We’re not doing this right now.”

  “Not that you’re being a sexist jerk-face or anything.” She huffed.

  “Goldie, because you look like Goldie fucking Hawn when she was young. We use aliases so the targets don’t get a bead on you. Now move your sweet ass, princess.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with a two-faced beast waving a gun around like he’s used it his whole life and don’t call me princess.”

  Her wobbly voice indicated shock, a natural reaction given the circumstances.

  “You want to stay back here, in the alley, be my guest. Let’s hope we took out all the bad guys.” Johnny eased his head around the side of the building.

  He stepped back and Lizzy—careful not to touch him—stumbled out of the way. “You just blew that man’s head off. Inside that place. I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Since he was aiming for you, I chose to save your life and eliminate his.”

  Now on her haunches, Lizzy eyed his weapon like it was a viper.

  “Don’t freak out, I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to protect you.” Johnny stepped towards her and Lizzy flinched. The small act was a shit grenade to the plexus and Johnny swallowed back his frustration.

  Donnie checked in. He’d lost the van. Max and Abby were in the wind.

  “Is Abby okay?”

  “I have no idea. This is a clusterfuck. Stand up.”

  Lizzy stood, clutching her side.

  “Dammit, have you been shot?”

  Johnny pulled up her shirt. Dark bruising marred her midsection. “Goddammit!”

  “I banged up my side when I fell.”

  “You mean when I threw you to the ground. Shit, I’m sorry Lizbug.”

  “I’m not your Lizbug. I’ll never be that to you again.”

  “It shouldn’t have come—”

  “It’s over, John. How are we getting out of here?”

  Johnny ignored the hurt, concentrating on keeping her safe. “I’ll examine your ribs more closely when I’m able. Where are your car keys?”

  “In my backpack. It’s still in the coffee shop.”

  “Slater, I need Goldie’s car keys, her rucksack was left at my last location.”

  “I’m on it. We’ve been advised to vacate the area before local enforcement arrives. Stay where you are. I’ll meet you around the side.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Mandla wanted them gone. Having American operatives tangled up in a terrorist shoot-out would mess up everyone’s day on a global scale.

  Donnie pulled into the lot. Johnny thumped Slater on the back, glad to see his friend in one piece.

  “I’ll take Lizzy home and set up a temporary base,” Johnny said.

  After handing Lizzy’s gym bag over, Slater circled to the driver’s side. Donnie scooted over, pulled out his laptop and immediately searched for Max’s signal as they pulled away. Slater and Donnie were going hunting.

  A groan just inside the shot-up café had Johnny turning. One of the attackers was still alive. The dick maggot needed to be questioned.

  “We’ll handle it,” Mandla said, stepping up beside him.

  “I need two minutes with the man,” Johnny replied.

  “We don’t have two minutes.”

  “Then one minute and thirty seconds. I’ll question him in the bathroom.”

  Mandla groaned and gestured to his men. “Make it quick. I need to know if it was one of my men that set us up. I’ll watch the girl.”

  “Johnny? What are you doing?” Lizzy’s eyes were wide in her pale face.

  “Give me a minute. This man will keep you safe.”

  Johnny hated leaving her, but Max’s life was on the line. Mandla’s men dragged the mercenary into the small bathroom and dumped him on the floor. The man swore in Afrikaans, pain making freckles stand out against his ginger complexion.

  “You’re a South African, so what the fuck are you doing working for terrorists?”

  “Fok you. I’m not saying anything.”

&nb
sp; Johnny knelt down, applying pressure to the bastard’s shot-up knee. “I’m short on time. Answer my questions and you live, choose not to and you’ll sacrifice yourself for a man who’ll be just as dead as you are within the week.”

  Mr. Freckles screamed, vomiting on the white tiles. Johnny shifted out of the way and placed a gun to his head.

  “How did you find us? Did you follow us here?”

  “No. We followed the blonde woman.”

  John stiffened as his trigger finger twitched. “Why?” he growled.

  “We planned to take her. It was dumb luck that the Evans woman turned up.”

  John swallowed the rage. “Why target the blonde?”

  “My boss couldn’t get near Evans, she always had men with her. We suspected her boyfriend was more than just a fuck. From the way you all move, my boss thought you were CIA. He was going to use Lizette Steyn to lure Evans away.” Freckles whimpered in agony, trying to straighten his leg.

  “It wouldn’t have worked. Where are they taking them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Johnny made a move and Freckles scrambled back. “I swear, I was only hired three days ago. I can give you the location of the abandoned warehouse that was our original meeting point, but they cleaned out the place.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “They’ll kill me if I talk.”

  “I’ll kill you if you fucking don’t. Who the fuck do you work for?”

  “He called himself Roman—that’s all I know.”

  Johnny holstered his weapon and stood. He squeezed out some soap and washed the blood off his hands before speaking to Mandla’s men. “Text me the warehouse address and any other information that you squeeze out of him. The piece of shit is all yours.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  They pulled out just as local police descended. Shivers racked Lizzy’s tiny frame. She refused to look at him, huddling against the passenger door. Johnny turned up the heat as he negotiated the busy streets. Talking to her would be a waste of time. Percussive trauma meant that she wasn’t thinking clearly. Hysteria would run the show.

  There were no signs of a tail, but Johnny wasn’t taking any chances. Evasive driving added to the journey time. Five minutes from her parents’ home, Lizzy stirred, digging around her backpack. Hands shaking, she pulled out her phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “My mom.” She sounded like a scared kid.

  “You cannot speak to anyone about this. My team is not supposed to be here. Too many people’s lives are at risk and pulling your parents into this is not wise.”

  “What is this that I’d be pulling them into, and who the hell are you? I stumble into a network of lies and discover that my best friend is the ringleader surrounded by a gang of Spartans. The biggest and baddest swine of them all is the man that I’ve fallen in… Never mind. None of you give a flying squirrel’s nuts about me and all I want, right at this fucked-up moment, is a bear hug from my mom.” The last part of her tirade was stuttered through a barely intelligible mess of tears.

  Johnny pulled into an empty lot, slammed the car into park, and pulled Lizzy into his arms as she sobbed out the shock. They sat that way for some time before Lizzy wiped at her eyes.

  “Who has Abby?”

  “I don’t know, Lizbug. I’m going to try my level best to save her. Save them both. She’s with Max, and he’s the best-trained man I know.”

  “Is he your best friend?”

  “He’s my best friend, my teammate, and my brother all rolled into one.” Johnny stroked fingers through her soft curls.

  “Did you torture that man, in the bathroom?”

  “No, angel. I asked a few questions, that’s all.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “I left him that way, which was fucking hard.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s complicated. He wanted to hurt you, and for that he should die.”

  Lizzy tried to pull away, Johnny held on. “Did Abby ever tell you where her son is?”

  “No. Why won’t you tell me who you are?”

  “You’ve already come to your own conclusions. I work for a black ops team, we’re here without full permission from the South African government and cannot be exposed.”

  “So, in other words, I can’t be the rat. I’ll have to keep my mouth shut.” Lizzy twisted away and resettled back in her seat.

  Johnny felt the loss. “Saying something could get good men killed and Abby needs us here, to extract her.”

  “Then why are you still here, with me, and not with your team. I gather it’s to make sure I don’t open my blabby mouth, rather than out of concern for my well-being.”

  “That’s not true, your safety comes first. I’m not comfortable taking you home, the men who attacked us may know where you live.”

  Lizzy hefted her bag onto her lap, holding it like a shield. “Take me home, and I don’t ever want to see you again. I won’t tell a soul about you or your operation. I would never dream of endangering my friend, but I need to get as far away from you as possible. You’ve endangered my family, and that makes me so mad, I want to claw your damn eyes out.”

  “When this is over, I’ll be back to see you to sort out this mess between us.”

  “I don’t want you coming back, I don’t want you. Period. I had one violent liar in my life, and that’s one too many.”

  Johnny stared at Lizzy’s profile before shifting the car back in gear. His stomach felt like lead. This grim day was beyond recall. He focused on the one thing he could control, doing his job and finding the assholes who took Max.

  Lizzy stalked into the empty house without saying a word. Her parents weren’t home. Johnny checked the security, grabbed an ice pack and checked out her injury. No broken ribs but she’d be damn sore. He located an Advil equivalent in the bathroom cabinet and poured her a sugary pop drink.

  “I’ll tell my family that I fell down the stairs. Text me an update on Abby. Lock up on the way out, you know the drill.”

  Lizzy took the supplies to her bedroom and shut the door. Walking away was hard, but there was work to be done. He’d sort out their mess once this was over.

  Donnie checked in with lousy news. The white van was found abandoned in a railyard an hour north of Johannesburg. The signal from Max’s transmitter stopped relaying at the train tracks, which meant it was now purposely jammed. Johnny then contacted Mandla for a warehouse location to set up new comms. Mandla promised to designate a trusted two-man team to watch over Lizzy.

  Three of Mandla’s men met him at a designated warehouse, providing state-of-the-art equipment. In no time, Johnny made a call on a secure line to their Deputy Director at MIT Headquarters. Aside from the ass roasting, they were given the green light to track Max to Khalid. For JSOC, rescuing Max and capturing Khalid took precedence. Max was valued as a two-million-dollar super soldier due to the extensive training he’d received over the years. The agency wanted him safe.

  Extracting Evans was a secondary objective. Johnny would follow orders but placed the rescue of Evans and her son as an equally vital mission. They didn’t have much time; once Khalid knew the location of his son, he’d eliminate any witnesses. The team technically should fly to Cape Town and start the search from there, but that could mean sacrificing Max. Khalid wouldn’t take Max along for the ride.

  Currently, it looked like they were being transported inland, farther up north, which made little sense. North of Johannesburg lay the city of Pretoria. Beyond that, there were some small towns, safari lodgings, but little else. Where would they go? Private land. Johnny would bet his life on that.

  If Muller was involved, he’d likely purchased property on South African soil. Johnny contacted Mandla and then his handler, looking for any links to real estate in the Polokwane area, and the territories that lay to the west of the Kruger National Park.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  A fucking container. They were in a container truck; clever bastards weren�
��t taking any chances. The steel box blocked any signal transmissions. The stifling shell was pimped out with iron shackles, welded to the sides and to the floor. An ankle and wrist were both secured, rendering him ineffective. They’d fastened Abby to the opposite wall. Too far away from him. So far she’d been treated well enough, without any roughhousing, and thankfully they’d given her water.

  Max needed out of the metal box for the transmitter to work, a breadcrumb for his team to follow. He estimated their journey time at around the two-hour mark.

  “I need to piss.”

  “Piss in your pants, asshole,” Roman said.

  “I can do that. Hope you can deal with the smell. It sure is a warm day today, and no offense to the smelly-ass dicks in here, but some of your colleagues are less hygiene conscious then say…the three of us.”

  Max looked over at the guard in the right corner who reeked of garlic and unwashed duds. The guy stank. It was no surprise that the immaculate Roman gave the man a wide berth; vanity was a bitch.

  “Guess the smell of urine will just add to the bouquet.”

  “Max, please don’t,” Abby piped up. “I’ll throw up. I’m already nauseous.” His woman had caught on and was playing the game.

  “Well, this should be a sweet-scented ride. She suffers from motion sickness and a swaying steel crate isn’t the best cure.”

  Roman glanced down at his shiny loafers, clearly envisioning a floor covered in piss and vomit. Pulling his gun, he pressed the intercom secured to the wall and told the driver to stop. With sudden ease, he shoved Abby to the floor.

  Max lunged, restrained by the damned cuffs. “Get the fuck off her.”

  Roman ignored Max’s rage, straddling Abby as she lay on her back. Gripping her jaw, the fucker shoved the barrel of the gun into her mouth.

  “You son of a bitch!” Max scrambled to reach them.

  “My beauty, we haven’t officially been introduced. I’m looking forward to getting acquainted on an intimate level.” Roman rolled his hips.

  Max exploded. His savage shouts thundered through the container as he fought against the restraints.

  “Calm the fuck down, get out and take a piss. One wrong move and I’ll blow her head off, Khalid be damned. I won’t die for another man’s cause. Oh, and I would hurry if I were you. I’m tempted to play, such a pretty piece of ass.”