by Louise Dawn
“Time for some schooling. Lesson number one, don’t fuck with my face.” Roman drew out a long, thin knife. “I got this as a gift, from your brother, Kris. A Frank B. Nine-inch Italian stiletto.”
“He’s not my brother,” Abby gasped.
“No. He’d like to be a lot more. He wants to fuck you like I’m about to, but the only thing of his that will ever slide into you will be this knife.” Roman shifted his hips; nausea rolled as he sliced open her shirt.
“That looks painful.” The stiletto ran over the dark bruising decorating her side. “I gave that to you. Makes me so hard, knowing that I’m marking you in every way and no one will hear a thing.”
In a blink of the eye, he sank the blade into Abby’s shoulder. The shock of pain made her gasp for breath.
“I chose well, avoiding any major arteries, so we can enjoy the maximum amount of time together.” Roman twisted the knife and Abby keened in agony, floating in a haze of pain.
Shifting his weight, he unzipped his pants. “How about I introduce you to my other sword before we continue getting to know each other.” The evil look in his flat eyes twisted her to the core.
Dirty rain slammed against the rattling window, rising above the music with determined anger. The tempest called to her and Abby turned her head to the raging storm that spoke to her delirious mind.
“You’re a beautiful woman. I’ll be the last thing you see on this earth.”
He had it wrong. With superhuman strength, Abby arched her hips. Roman jerked back. Her good arm reached for the handle of the knife, and she yanked it from burning flesh, twisting it and burying it in Roman’s neck.
Shock registered on his handsome face.
“I am the storm,” she whispered. “And the last thing you’ll see on this earth.”
Roman grabbed her throat, squeezing as he wheezed through gurgling blood. Her energy was centered on his monstrous face when it exploded like a melon. Time slowed as the fine spray clouded in the filtered light. Blood suddenly slapped against the wall like crimson paint thrown on a canvas.
Abby’s gaze stayed transfixed on that wall as a black shape moved across her vision before dragging a large weight off her legs.
Someone yelled over the metallic sounds pounding through the room. “Abs, baby. Oh God. Abs.” Gentle hands pushed hair from her face, still she stared at the Jackson Pollock wall. Fingers pressed against her neck. “Someone turn that damn music off!”
Another voice cut in. “Sir, has Petrovich been neutralized?”
“Damn straight. I shot the fucker in the head.”
“Do you have a pulse? Max, move your determined ass out of the way. Find where all that blood’s coming from while I check her vitals.”
“Looks like he jabbed her just under the collarbone.”
The wave of pain in her shoulder was accompanied by intense pressure. That got her attention and her eyes focused on the two alien beings looming over her.
“Stay with me, baby. I’ve got you.” Ghostly eyes shone through yellow goggles. It was Max pressing on her shoulder, not an alien. Men wearing tactical gear knelt on the bed.
“Gabe. Where…is…my son.”
“He’s safe. Don’t talk, Abs. Just rest. I’m sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry.”
“Saved…us. Saved my son?”
“He’s safe and in one piece. Forgive me baby, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Need to see Gabe.”
“Shoulder,” the other GI Joe barked, and Max swapped positions to the other side.
“Stop Khalid.”
“Consider him stopped. Permanently. Noleen and Slater took him out.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, baby. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Keep her still, I need to get this bleeding under control.”
She recognized GI Joe number two as John, who worked with an efficient urgency. The fire in her shoulder expanded as his latex-gloved hands dug in, causing her to cry out.
Max stroked her hair. “Hold on, baby, it’s going to be okay.” His tone hardened as he turned on John. “Jesus, she needs some freaking drugs.”
“Once she’s stabilized. You know the drill, hold your damn horses and get the IV running.”
The two men worked quickly, finally loading her onto a stretcher.
“I’m giving you something for pain,” John said as Max turned away, speaking into his comms.
“Not yet, need to see my baby first.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Mandla met Max at the door with a contingent of men. All the tangos were accounted for. The protection detail was a precautionary measure that Max was comfortable with. To say that he was on edge was an understatement, more like blowing apart at the seams. Entering that room and seeing Roman straddling Abby’s broken body, her sightless eyes staring straight ahead, had sent him over that edge. Neatly blowing Roman’s head off had been a smooth reflex that removed the threat, but Max craved more time with the asshole. The luxury of drawing out Petrovich’s demise would have sat well after what he’d witnessed. That brief moment of thinking he was too late, that she was already dead, would stay with him forever.
“Police units are on the way.” Mandla hustled them to the barricade of vehicles.
“Abigail Evans needs urgent medical care. I won’t risk her health for an easy exit,” Max shouted over the wind.
“If you’re exposed in my country, your superiors and my government won’t be so understanding, and your careers will be toast. We’ll take care of Evans; your team needs to disappear now.”
Max halted. “I won’t leave her here! Khalid’s remaining cell members may seek revenge, and Muller is still at large.”
Mandla crossed his arms and grunted. “I thought you might say that. Lucky that I plan for all scenarios involving crazy Yanks.” He nodded towards an armored van pulling onto the block. “An ER doctor and paramedic are waiting for you. My plane can fly you into Namibia. I’m aware of your contacts at that German clinic in Windhoek; they’re on standby.”
Max nodded to his team, and they moved into action. Max grasped Mandla’s hand before pulling him in for a quick hug. “Without your help, we couldn’t have saved them. You’re a good man.”
“Not as good as you might think, without my help, I could never take credit for killing one the most notorious terrorists on the planet.”
Max chuckled as he slapped Mandla on the back. “Enjoy the moment, but I somehow think that no one will get the credit. Pretty sure the public will be led to believe that this was just a local drug sting of sorts.”
“I’m thinking more along the lines of poachers. Now get moving, cowboy. I can hear the cavalry approach.”
Sure enough, sirens sounded over the howling wind as Max clambered into the back of the vehicle. It was a tight fit, even with Slater and Donnie following in the Hilux.
Noleen sank to the floor next to Abby’s cot, Gabe reached for his mommy and Noleen tucked the sniffling toddler under her friend’s uninjured arm. Abby soothed her baby as best she could as the doctor checked her injuries. Max’s stomach turned as he gazed at her abused face. Her left cheekbone would need X-rays; the swelling indicating a possible fracture.
Two fragile beings that were the center of his world lay on the floor of a van, unaware of the challenges they still had to face. So fracturable in this moment, but Max had little doubt that Abby would come out fighting every step of the way. He’d be by her side regardless of whether she wanted him there or not, through the nightmares and the impending PTSD. She deserved better than a man who’d turned his back on her in that concrete cell, who hadn’t saved her from Khalid’s wrath or shielded her from that sick fuck Roman.
He might not be worth her love, but he could no longer watch his woman from a distance. Climbing over seats and grumbling bodies, Max finally held her hand before stroking the back of Gabe’s head. Abby’s drugged eyes found his, and Max smiled into those mossy depths as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Windhoek, Namibia.
By American standards, the German-run health facility was up to code. By African standards it was the Ritz Carlton. The floors were clean, walls freshly painted, it was well stocked and seemed organized. None of that alleviated the tension running through Max. They were still situated in fucking Africa, where he was relying on foreign medical staff he knew jack shit about to perform surgery on Abigail. Two hours had gone by and still no word. The nursing staff were giving Max a wide berth after he’d hounded them for the past hour.
“The speed walker in the room is screwing with my mojo,” Donnie mumbled, slouching on the lone couch.
Slater worked on a crossword puzzle in the corner, his legs propped up like he was on summer vacation. “Agreed. Sit your ass down. You’re fucking with my concentration and wearing a hole in that ugly ass carpet.”
“How long does it take to stitch up a shoulder? It’s been too long,” Max grumbled as he sat down.
Donnie re-situated himself in a more comfortable position. “Don’t forget the chest and zygomatic X-rays to check for fractures to her face and ribs, so calm the hell down.”
Five minutes later, Donnie was snoring away and Slater stood up to stretch, eyeing Max’s tapping foot. “I’m grabbing some coffee; do you want anything?”
Max shook his head. Coffee was the last thing he needed. What was wrong with him? He needed air, not this balmy African air, just a deep whiff of frigid Colorado air to clear his head. Was he having some kind of nervous shitting breakdown? He eyeballed the exit before observing Noleen heading his way. She eased down next to him.
Max didn’t feel like making conversation but had to ask. “Where’s Gabriel?”
“Down for a nap in an empty ward. Your giant teammate is watching over him.”
“Thanks for helping us to save him.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“You have a German accent,” Max noted. “Outside the safe house, in that wind, I thought it was a heavy Afrikaans twang, but no, it’s definitely German.”
“My father is German. My mother is Xhosa. I went to boarding school in Germany, before returning to my motherland.”
“I’ve read your file. I didn’t realize how quickly you assimilated in Munich.” Max switched to German, but she cut in.
“I prefer English.” Before he could reply, Noleen skewered him with a militant look. “Your charm won’t work on me, and I’m not afraid of you.”
“Excuse me?”
“You may intimidate the doctors and nurses and even your teammates, who are tiptoeing around your testy ass, but I won’t back down.”
Max quirked a brow. “From what?”
Noleen didn’t answer right away, just gave him an assessing stare. Max stared right back.
“Does she mean as much to you, as you mean to her?”
“Who? Abby?” Max asked.
“Yes, Abby. Who else? I saw the way she looked at you in that van. She loves you and that fucking sucks.”
The protective-friend routine irritated Max. “You don’t like that she’s in love with me.”
“Cut the bull. Are you going to do right by her? Because a moment ago you were about to cut and run.”
“Run exactly where? This is my mission, and my team is situated a few feet away. What I’m about to do is rip someone a new asshole if they don’t update me on her status.”
“Abby will be fine, she’s been through worse.”
“I know what she’s been through, lady, believe me, and the last two days haven’t exactly helped.”
“Are you kidding? Thanks to you, Khalid is no longer a threat. You saved Abigail and our little angel.”
“I fucked up. I let them touch her again. I swore I’d never let that happen, she trusted me to keep her safe and I screwed it up. She deserves better.”
Noleen let out a rather unladylike snort. “Gotta love those SF egos.”
“What does that mean?”
“I worked in embassies for over ten years, alongside operators and their swollen heads. Dedicated career military who loved the ladies, promised them the world and then left them in the dust.”
“Bitter much?”
Noleen ignored the jab.
“The whole family thing is pretty huge and they’re both worth it. I want the whole package. The loving and promising thing I can do, I’m not going anywhere,” Max said.
“Good. It just takes practice and even then, you’ll still have sucky-ass moments. That’s called being human.”
Noleen stood to leave. Max ordered her back down. “I was going to do this after Abby woke, but we might as well get it out of the way while twiddling our thumbs. Wait here.”
Max ignored her wary curiosity and retrieved a recording device from his pack. Noleen wouldn’t be accompanying them back to the States, and Max needed her statement. Donnie rolled to his feet and pulled up a chair. They questioned her on the day’s events before Max narrowed down on her history with Abigail. There were some anomalies in her story that he needed resolution on.
“When Abby turned up at the South African Embassy in Abu Dhabi after the attack in Sharjah, you were assigned as protection detail, and even escorted her all the way to South Africa.”
Noleen folded her arms. “That’s correct.”
“Why were you assigned?”
“I was the only female bodyguard in residence.”
“Why did the embassy feel the need to assign her protection?”
“Did you read the report? What they did to her was barbaric.”
“I agree, but it was her word against his—him being a wealthy local—yet it was kept under wraps and she was smuggled out of the country.” A slight nostril flare indicated that Max was on the right track. “Your embassy knew of Khalid’s suspicious activities. I find that surprising since the only agencies who had him under surveillance were MI6 and the CIA.”
Noleen bit her top lip before carefully replying. “Just because South Africa isn’t the biggest player on the espionage chessboard doesn’t mean that we’re not in the game. Southern Africa is under an emerging threat as extremists seep down from Central Africa. Any intel that comes our way is carefully taken apart.”
“Who gave you intel on Khalid?”
“I’m not giving you a name. A British contact, a good friend.”
“My agency won’t be happy with that.”
“Take it up with the South African Ambassador. It saved Abby’s life.”
“You took her to your home in Cape Town, where she lived for a time. When Gabriel was threatened, you quit your job to look after him. Why would you do that for someone you hardly knew?”
“We had an immediate connection, like we’d met in a previous life. Call it crazy, but I couldn’t walk away. Josephine—Abby—was a broken mess and had no one. Besides I’d just finished battling my own small crisis and wanted to pay it forward.” Max frowned, and Noleen elaborated. “Six months before we met, I won the battle with ovarian cancer. Stage one—we caught it early—but nevertheless, it made me question my purpose on this planet.”
“Are you still sick?”
“I’ve been cancer free for three years. When Abby gave birth and moved back to Johannesburg, I worried for them. Gabe is my godchild. When Abby said that Khalid may have found her, I knew I could save our child. I’ve had some lucrative assignments in the private security sector. Financially, I’m comfortably situated, so taking a sabbatical to guard Gabe was a no-brainer.”
Max picked up on the “our child” comment. He felt like scum for pushing but needed to know all potential threats to Abby’s happiness, both real and imagined. “You’d give up everything—including your life—for a baby that’s not your own?”
Noleen’s eyes glistened. “He’s my godson. I don’t have a family, he’s the closest thing I have.”
“And you’ll have to say goodbye. Are you comfortable handing him back, after all that’s happened?”
She choked on a
sob. “He’s safe and back where he belongs. Wherever they end up, I’ll visit. As the godmother, I’ve done my job.”
Johnny ambled down the passage holding a squirming kid. Max switched off the device, and Noleen rose.
Her voice sounded hoarse with emotion. “Those dark months that Abby spent recovering, she never smiled or laughed. Not once. Then Gabe came along, and she reserved her smiles for him. Today was the first time that I saw her light up for someone else. That moment in the van when she looked at you, I saw the girl she once must have been, so full of trust and love. You’re a lucky man.”
Max turned his head away, gathering himself.
Johnny handed Gabe over to Noleen. “This little tyke has been hopping around for the last ten minutes, refusing to sleep.”
“Don’t give him to me,” Noleen said. “I need to use the head. Pass him over to the grouchy boss man.”
Johnny grinned and deposited the energetic bundle into Max’s arms. “Good luck, bro. I need a break.”
Turned out that Max didn’t need luck. The cheerful little boy snuggled in like he’d belonged there all his life. Max walked Gabe around the clinic, stopping to show him the “fishies” in the tank and pausing to look at the “pretty flowers” in a vase. After Max paged through a National Geographic, showing Gabe the “growly lions,” the kid finally fell asleep, cradled in his lap. Max retrieved the provided baby blanket, covering the both of them and settling into an armchair. Gabe curled tiny fingers around Max’s thumb and in that moment, looking down at the little cherub, Max was a goner.
He stroked Gabe’s soft curls, the color of Abby’s hair, and stared at the tiny eyelashes resting on fat cheeks. “I’ll make it right, buddy. No one will hurt you or take you away from your mommy ever again.”
A quick clearing of a throat signaled the arrival of the doctor and an update on Abby’s condition.
◊ ◊ ◊
Abby woke to two very different male snores. One loud and raspy and the other sounding like a squeaky puppy. Max lay stretched out on the chair, balancing a snoring Gabe like a football in his lap. The comical pair had her giggling, a sound she promptly regretted as a pain lanced through her chest.