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Chapter Forty Three
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2021-12-26 06:08:40Johannesburg.
Four weeks later.
That damn dog wouldn’t be able to fight its way out of a paper packet, never mind protect his Lizzy. Johnny watched her mom’s little rat dog take a shit on the sidewalk, before his blonde beauty bent over with a poop bag to sweep up the steaming parcel. Johnny paused to take in the spectacular view that was Lizzy’s incredible ass. Perky butt cheeks shaped beautifully by faded skinny jeans. Her retro outfit included a Michael Jackson “Thriller” T-shirt, silver sneakers, fire-engine lipstick and a bandana holding back curls.
Where was she taking the ankle biter? There were no parks nearby plus she carried a bright red handbag. Not the wisest choice on the streets of Jo’burg, yet she wandered down the street like she was strolling through Central Park. Granted, it was a suburban area, but it wasn’t safe. Lizzy dropped the bag of rat droppings into a neighbor’s garbage can, then wiped her hands with a wet wipe. Her p
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Where the hell had she parked? Max made his way through two rows of vehicles before shoving in his comms.“Where’s Evans?”Donnie’s voice barked in his ear. “It’s a clusterfuck, someone’s just jumped her.”Max stilled. “Where?”“Back of the lot. North side. Should I break cover?”Max took off. “Negative. I’m closer. Be ready in case I need you!”He moved soundlessly, spotting the distant figures. Was the son of a bitch her contact?“Are they having a meeting?” Max barked.“Not unless the agenda includes sexual assault and bashing her head in.”Anger gushed. The asshole was dead. Could she have parked any farther away?The bastard dragged Evans up by the hair, and all hell broke loose. Max choked on impotent rage, pushing his limits in a full-out sprint. They were gonna watch Evans die. Her attacker ram
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The noon sun filtering through the shades caused Abby to stir. Bruised muscles made rolling out of bed an ordeal; the head wound was tight and sore. Carefully covering it with a shower cap, Abby jumped into the hot spray. The steaming water helped a little, but it still took time to pull on a loose black T-shirt and a pair of grey leggings.One brewed cup of coffee later, and Abby was sitting on the front patio, warming herself in the pale sunlight. The soft breeze and chirping birds calmed her rolling anxiety. She wasn’t ready to analyze what happened, who the masked man was. All she could handle at that moment was the creamy cup of caffeine and the simple sounds of nature.She ignored the desperate need to phone the one person that mattered most, just to hear his beautiful voice. Her brain kept poking her—just use a burner phone—it’ll be a quick phone call, a minute tops. There’s no danger; no one will know. Abby knew better; sh
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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.
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The only makeshift weapon in the austere room was a clay bowl situated on the bedside table. Abby lunged for it, as Roman pounced onto the mattress. Grabbing the lip of the bowl, Abby smashed it into the side of his head, causing him to collapse as the ornament exploded.Roman moaned as Abby scrambled off the bed. Due to her injuries, she moved far slower than she’d have liked, as though she were wading through quicksand. She crawled to the door, the swaying room and the hammering music added to the disorientation. She had to get to Gabe.“You fucking bitch.”
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The landing was rough. Fourteen miles per hour winds rocked the aircraft. A Cape windstorm descended on the city, and fifty mph gusts were predicted within the hour. Thanks to Mandla’s contacts, they’d secured a private landing strip on a wine farm near Sir Lowry’s Pass—thirteen clicks out. With lights and speed on their side, they were looking at a nine-minute drive. Khalid’s jet had landed at Stellenbosch Airfield twenty-eight minutes before them but had a longer commute of twenty-one kilometers. Praying that Khalid hit traffic, Max’s team raced for Somerset West.Mandla gave Max the stink eye. “N
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The helicopter landed just north of Johannesburg at Lanseria Airport. Max leapt onto the runway, followed by Donnie, Slater, and Anton. Go-bags were provided as they raced to a private aircraft, fueled and ready for takeoff. Mandla Nkosi and Johnny greeted Max at the bottom of the stairs. Johnny dude-hugged him before breaking the news. “Khalid hired additional help. We didn’t get there in time. Our drone saw five men entering Noleen’s safe house. They’re holding them hostage until Khalid arrives.”Mandla grabbed Max’s bag. “My six-man team got there as quickly as they could but we were too late.”
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Fifteen minutes after takeoff, Abby had to delay Khalid and his four guerrillas. There were too many of them to take on herself, especially with a limited knowledge of self-defense. If she guessed correctly, the flight was only eighty to a hundred minutes of flying time. You can do this, girl. Take what you know about aircrafts and formulate a plan. A history of extensive flight safety training might just give her an edge. Two of the four guards were buckled in their seats. One man in the lavatory while Roman stood near the cockpit. Khalid tapped away on his laptop, seated towards the front of the aircraft on the plush seats facing the cabin. The cold bastard behaved like an ordinary businessman on a work trip. The guard seated opposite Khalid was buck
