Air Bound

by Christine Feehan

  Yosuf approached the locker, reaching a hand to open it. Before he could touch it, Maxim slammed the heavy metal grate into his head, driving him back into Jamel. Both men staggered, Jamel trying to catch Yosuf before he fell. Blood streamed down Yosuf’s face from the wicked cut to his temple.

  Maxim swung down from the small, cramped space in the ceiling, using his momentum to kick Conley with both boots right in the face. He dropped in front of Shamar, his knife slicing deep into the inner thigh, up high to sever the artery. He turned and threw the knife at Jamel, the blade sinking deep into the carotid in his neck. As Jamel fell, Maxim caught Shamar’s wrist with biting fingers, digging deep into the pressure point to open his fist and remove the bodyguard’s knife.

  Jamel was dead, and Shamar wasn’t far behind him. Maxim threw himself forward onto the floor, using a scissor kick to weave his legs between Yosuf’s legs as the bodyguard came at him. He rolled, taking Yosuf hard to the floor. Slamming Shamar’s knife into Yosuf’s throat hard, he kicked the body off of him and rose, facing Conley.

  Conley spat blood and teeth onto the floor. He brought his knife in close, protecting his possession of it. Maxim pulled another knife from the sheath at the small of his back. They stared at each another, two warriors who had performed this dance too many times.

  “You son of a bitch, you killed my brother,” Conley hissed between his broken teeth. His eyes glittered with anger and the need for revenge.

  “He was a first-class, pompous asshole and a rapist and murderer. No one’s going to miss him much.” Maxim kept his voice pleasant. “Your own mother put out a hit on the two of you. She knew you were scum.”

  He had no idea if the woman kept in contact with her sons, but she’d certainly come under investigation and she seemed decent enough. Conley had a temper. He liked to beat his opponents to death with his hands. He held a couple of boxing titles and had competed in martial art events when he was young. Riling him up shouldn’t be too difficult.

  Conley spat more blood on the floor, aiming for the toe of Maxim’s boots. “I’m going to cut you into little pieces and feed you to the sharks,” he snapped.

  The bodyguard followed his threat with action, coming in hard and fast. He was good with a knife, but not nearly as fast as his brother had been. Maxim had disposed of the most dangerous threats as quickly as possible. Maxim met Conley halfway, their hands moving with blurring speed. Deliberately Maxim blocked several attacks and cut small slices into Conley’s arms and chest.

  Swearing, Conley kept coming. “You always did think you were better than us.”

  “I’ve always known it,” Maxim replied softly.

  He sidestepped the bodyguard, shoving at the man as he went past. The hard push sent Conley stumbling, and Maxim was on him like a large jungle cat, thrusting his knife deep into the right kidney and twisting to get the maximum damage possible as he pulled out to do the same to the left kidney.

  Conley dropped hard, choking. Maxim kicked the knife out of the fallen man’s hand and crouched down beside him. “Go to hell, Conley. It’s where the two of you belong.” He cut the man’s throat.

  Shamar held up his hand as Maxim approached. “Just let me die in peace.”

  “Like all those children you let your boss rape and murder? Did they die in peace?” Maxim asked, his voice low, keeping the words between them. “What’s his body count, Shamar? Five hundred? More? He’s been raping and killing for years. Little children, and you helped him. You’re just as guilty as he is.”

  “So just let me die. What difference does it make?”

  Maxim’s radar went off. He forced a smile. “Stall tactics and not very good ones at that.”

  He watched Shamar’s eyes, and sure enough the “tell” was there. A small narrowing, just enough to let Maxim know he was right in his assumption that the four men hadn’t come alone. Shamar didn’t want to die in peace, he wanted to make certain the bastard who killed him died as well. There was at least one other in the passageway waiting to ambush Maxim should he come out alive.

  He cut Shamar’s throat without another word. Very carefully he moved toward the hatch, blowing softly into the middle of the room so that more fog began to swirl around. He took up a position just to the side of the hatch, staying low, prepared to wait while the fog built in density.

  He pressed his thumb into the very center of his palm where it itched. He knew the meaning, and knew what he had to do to give himself some relief, but if he put his mark on Airiana, his claim bound him just as it did her.

  That face. Those eyes. The trust she’d given him when he’d ruthlessly taken her from the sanctuary of her home. He didn’t know women like Airiana existed. Certainly they didn’t in his world. She didn’t belong with him, no matter what his body or his head said. It would be impossible.

  Men like him didn’t have wives or families. Loved ones were liabilities and could be used against him. He’d learned that rule when he’d been a boy and his parents had been murdered in front of him.

  He directed the fog in small tiny fingers to slip through the slightly open door, just a touch, enough to pique the curiosity of whoever waited for him. Into the silence, he “threw” Shamar’s voice. “You weren’t so tough after all, were you?”

  Out in the passageway, someone heavy moved. A second pair of footsteps, much lighter than the first, moved closer to the cabin. The heavier man took the left side of the hatch while the lighter man took the right.

  “We’re clear,” Maxim called out, sounding annoyed, his voice the exact pitch of Shamar’s. “He hid the girl.”

  “He can’t have hidden her too well,” the heavier man began, walking into the cabin. He halted when he saw the density of the fog. “What the hell is this?”

  “He had the vent to the outside open,” Shamar’s voice came from across the room. “I think he pushed her into the cubbyhole up above. She could fit there.”

  Maxim waited for the man with the lighter footsteps to enter, but he didn’t even come to the hatch. If anything, he’d shifted away from the cabin. Maxim didn’t wait. If this man’s partner was becoming suspicious, he needed to kill them both and be done with it.

  He came up behind the heavyset man fast, his arm locking around his throat, his knife stabbing him deep in the chest, right in the heart. He used the same twisting motion as he withdrew, the one ensuring as much damage as possible, but just for good measure, he lowered the body silently to the floor and cut his throat.

  Using the fog to guide him, he somersaulted out of the room right to the feet of the last bodyguard, slashing across his thighs fast and deep, coming to his feet as he slammed his knife under the man’s arm then he brought his weapon up high to slash down across his neck.

  The bodyguard staggered back, gurgled and toppled before Maxim could catch him. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else to come down to the cabin and discover a pool of blood—not before he was ready for them.

  He dragged the fallen man into his cabin and hurried to the locker. “Airiana, don’t shoot. And don’t look. Just stand up and look only at me.” He pulled the door open, blocking the view in the room with his body and the fog.

  “How many?” she asked.

  “Saeed sent six. He meant business,” Maxim said, reaching for his bag. He shouldered it easily and then caught her up with one hand, swinging her around to his back. “Hang on. And close your eyes until we’re out of here.”

  Airiana clung to him, burying her face against his back. He was grateful she didn’t struggle. He stepped over two of the bodies and skirted a third. He felt her sudden inhale, a kind of gasping shock, and knew she had seen the two bodies nearest the hatch.

  “I said not to look,” he snapped. “Just do as I say. You need to obey me when I tell you to do something. I don’t just say it to hear myself talk.”

  She pressed her face into his back without speaking
, and he found himself sighing softly. Once into the corridor he closed the hatch, took her a few more feet away from the blood splatter and set her down.

  “Are you all right?”

  She didn’t look at him. “Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t try to look, not like you think. I wasn’t curious, it was more confirmation.”

  It cost her to admit the truth. She needed to see a body to know he had actually fought off Saeed’s men and it wasn’t some kind of elaborate game he was playing with her. She was actually embarrassed that she had doubted him for a moment.

  “No harm done. I would have done the same thing.” Of course, he was a skeptical man and didn’t believe a third of what anyone said to him.

  “The weird thing is, I trust you. And that scares me. I don’t trust so easily and it’s hard for me to get to know anyone or even talk very much to outsiders, but the more I’m in your company, the more I feel comfortable and that’s just so strange.”

  He saw that she kept a grip on her assault rifle. “I understand. I’m having those same strange feelings. It’s the situation. We only have one another to rely on.” Which was a great line of bullshit, but he delivered it in a reasonable tone.

  Some of the panic left her eyes, and she nodded. “I guess you’re right. The situation certainly is unusual and very intense. Where are we going now?”

  “I’m killing Saeed. I’ve been after him for over five years and I’ve never had a better chance. I’m not missing the opportunity.” He’d be damned if he made apologies either. She said she wanted to help him, but she’d seen the blood on the floor and bodies lying in the cabin.

  “Are there others on board? Others like Saeed?” She stayed right behind him as they moved toward the stairs.

  “I studied the layout before coming aboard. There are seven luxury cabins, so potentially, that could be six other sexual predators aboard. They will all have bodyguards, although I suspect not quite as many as Saeed.”

  “Did you know this was a floating human trafficking vessel?”

  “I suspected. There was no way to know until I actually got aboard ship. I wasn’t told about any special passengers, only that sometimes the rich and famous are bored enough to pay lots of money for the privilege of traveling on a cargo vessel.”

  They kept their voices projecting only to each other, that thin thread of sound that connected them. He found he wanted that connection with her, even there, in the middle of a very dangerous situation.

  “How many crew?”

  “Including the cooks, twenty-one, and there is a security force that Evan keeps aboard. There’re eight of them.”

  “Great. We might be a little outnumbered.”

  “No problem, baby, that’s my specialty.”

  She touched the back of his shirt. He knew she didn’t mean for him to feel the barely there brush of her fingers, but he did. He felt the impact all the way to his bones. She was seeking reassurance, that was all, nothing more, but he felt as if she belonged to him. She had been under his protection for her father’s sake, but he knew that was no longer the reason he watched over her. Selfishly, he wanted her alive in the same world with him.

  “I wish I could be more of a help to you,” Airiana said. “This isn’t my specialty, but I’m good at following orders.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised.

  “When I want to,” Airiana corrected.

  He put his hand on the railing of the stairs. “We go up slow and easy. Stay directly behind me and try to step where I step. Don’t make a sound.”

  Airiana twisted her fingers into his shirt, bunching the material into her fist. He wanted to give her that much. It would be a small comfort, but he knew he had to be able to move fast when necessary.

  “Honey, you’re going to have to let go. I’ll watch out for you. I will, but . . .”

  She dropped her hand away as if he’d slapped her. He cursed under his breath in his own language. He wasn’t suave or sophisticated. All the training, all the beatings had never made him into someone different. He could pass himself off as those things, but he was a rough, dominant man whose every instinct was that of a killer.

  Airiana needed reassurance, and he found himself baffled by her. She followed him closely, but she didn’t touch him again. Her shoes whispered on the metal stairs, but she contained the sound, every bit as adept in that gift as he was.

  It didn’t surprise him that no one came to challenge them—this was Saeed’s luxury cabin and as paranoid as he was, he wouldn’t want anyone, not even a crew member, disturbing him. He brought his own security with him and they would keep everyone away.

  He signaled to Airiana to move up to his side.

  6

  KNOWING a depraved monster was just on the other side of the hatch kept Airiana’s stomach churning. She pressed her hand over the knots and took a deep calming breath. She didn’t know why she believed in Maxim Prakenskii, but she did. He exuded absolute confidence, and somehow, that gave her the strength to stay by his side.

  Maxim took the MP-5 from her hand and laid it on top of his war bag, just to one side of the hatch, so when the door opened, no one could see it.

  She let out her breath and twisted her fingers together, feeling naked and vulnerable without the weapon.

  Maxim caught her hand for the briefest of moments. Her fingers trembled inside of his, and he pressed his thumb into the exact center of her palm. She felt the touch over her heart. Startled, she looked up at him, her gaze colliding with his. He had amazing eyes, brooding and hooded. Sexy. Dangerous. He was all those things and more.

  He lifted one eyebrow. “Are you ready for this?”

  She nodded her head. Who could ever really be ready to face a monster?

  Maxim called on the air surrounding them. He blew out his breath in a circle around their bodies. Instantly she felt the difference, as if the air was heavier, much denser in the passageway. She actually could see it shimmering between them, distorting his features until he looked a little shorter, more compact and his shaggy, wild hair was glossy and polished.

  He tapped on the hatch, a one-two signal repeated four times in rapid succession. Clearly he knew the right code, because the hatch began to creak and groan as someone inside slowly opened it. Maxim didn’t move aside, but stood firmly in the center of the opening, transferring his hold from her hand to her arm.

  “The others are dead, Saeed, but I brought her to you.” Maxim spoke in a perfect replica of Shamar’s voice.

  Saeed’s robed figure filled the doorway. The robe was open and his bloated body gleamed with oil. He rubbed his hands together gleefully, leering at Airiana, not even looking at his bodyguard or acknowledging that the men who had served him for years were dead.

  She shuddered and forced herself not to move closer to Maxim for protection. Bile rose. The prince was disgusting, his face pure evil. She was afraid if she looked at him too long, she’d throw up. She gave her brain another problem to work on, pushing out fear to try to mathematically understand how Maxim had managed to distort the air until his own features resembled those of another human being. The voice was easy enough, but to be able to change appearances, that was exceptional.

  She kept her head resolutely down, working the probabilities in her mind, trying to find a theory that would explain how he’d done such an incredible feat, anything to keep her mind away from what might happen to her if Saeed actually got his hands on her.

  Chuckling, pleased with his victory, the prince turned his head to look over his shoulder. “All is well, Sasha. You can have that little used one and leave me alone for a few hours.” He sounded smug and magnanimous.

  Maxim thrust Airiana behind him and struck fast, a blur of movement, whipping a garrote around Saeed’s throat as he spun him around to face the inside of the cabin. He twisted the thin wire mercilessly while the prince thrashed
and fought.

  Sasha rushed to his aid, dragging a naked child of about ten in front of him, holding a gun to her head. She cried continually, terror on her face and bruises on her body. There were thin knife cuts across her small torso.

  “I’ll kill her, Maxim, let him go.”

  The child called out in Italian, “Let him kill me. Don’t let that pig go.”

  Airiana felt the breath leave her lungs in a burning rush, terrified for the little girl. The garrote continued to cut off the prince’s airway, his wild struggles only making it tighter. Maxim never moved. His face was set in hard, implacable lines. His ice-blue eyes had gone dark, a turbulent storm of absolute resolve.

  He whispered in Italian, the thread of sound going straight to the child. “This pig will never harm you again.”

  Saeed made horrible gurgling sounds, his face purple and his eyes bulging. His efforts to escape became feeble as the garrote tightened relentlessly. Maxim continued to look at the man he obviously recognized, his gaze unblinking while he strangled the prince in front of the bodyguard.

  “You know I’ll kill her,” Sasha warned.

  Airiana was standing almost directly behind Maxim. He moved so fast she didn’t actually catch the blurring motion as he whipped his hand behind him and withdrew a pistol, pulling it forward around the prince’s body and aiming all in one movement. The bullet hissed out of the chamber and smacked into Sasha’s forehead. A hole blossomed there, bright red and ugly.

  The child screamed and twisted out of the Sasha’s slackening grip. His gun fell to the floor. The prince was entirely limp now and Maxim allowed his body to fall as well. Grimly, he bent down to ensure Saeed was dead, using his knife to finish the job.

  To Airiana’s horror, the child picked up Sasha’s weapon and turned it on herself, putting the gun to her head. “No! No! You’re safe. Don’t.”