Chapter Four

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 rammed something into her side. A knife? She collapsed like a wet rag, and her head bounced off the tarmac. Exploding with wrath, Max tossed the sunglasses aside as a van pulled up. Max dimly heard the exchange as he narrowed in.

A gruff voice yelled from the van. “What the fuck happened!”

“Change of plans,” the perp answered, picking up a knife off the ground, then dragging Evans towards the vehicle.

Not on Max’s watch.

The driver yelled out, “Behind you!”

Max brought the attacker down hard, wrestling the knife away with a few deft moves, but the son of a bitch was quick. Military training. He tried to flip Max over. Max countered the move. The bastard kneed him in the ribs and reached for a black object on the ground. Taser—too late, Max shifted sideways, and it glanced off his arm, the pain paralyzing for a brief second. His opponent used the advantage, bucking him off. As Max flew back, the fuckhead expertly rolled away and dived into the van. Tires squealed as the vehicle raced away.

Lying on his back, Max swore up at the night’s sky. Team members yelled through comms, checking if he was okay and he gave them a quick thumbs-up. Slater appeared a few feet away, breathing heavily. Max gave him a brief nod, and the Ranger disappeared into the shadows.

Rolling over, Max stumbled towards her still form. Blood covered that beautiful face. Max swept back her hair, first checking for life, then for injuries. Gash above her temple, a knot forming on the back of her head. He ran his hand down and around her waist, feeling for the stab wound. Donnie spoke, “He jabbed her with a Taser, not the knife.” Max let out a breath. Evans whimpered and stirred.

“Stay still, sweetheart, I’m calling an ambulance.”

Evans grabbed at him, trying to focus. Max stroked her cheek before pulling out his phone.

“No. No. Please. No ambulance. I’m fine…fine, I swear it.” Shoving his hands away, she pushed herself up. “I need to go. Help me, help me get out of here, please!” Panic fueled her frantic desperation.

With a sinking heart, Max knew why she avoided the authorities. No red flags for Miss Abigail Evans, who couldn’t be caught before completing her mission. The violent urge to shake sense into her wouldn’t help. If Evans was indoctrinated, she wouldn’t stray from her macabre task. Feeling ill, Max let go and she stumbled. He turned his back, as Evans staggered around, gathering her belongings.

A small crowd grew, as a mall security guard headed their way. Grow some balls; this is a way in. He’d help Evans but refused to analyze the twinge of relief at the prospect of spending more time with her. Fuck that. She was nothing more than a target, one planning a despicable act. Pivoting around, Max was appalled to see her seated in the car, trying valiantly to slip the key in the ignition. He opened the door and knelt down.

“I’ve got this.” Max covered her shaking hand. “I’m driving.”

With a gentle nudge, he drew her out and guided her to the passenger side. A couple of witnesses saw the tail end of the fight and the security guard pushed for answers. Max told the guard it was a mugging, and he was taking her to the hospital. Rent-a-cop asked her a few questions and she answered woodenly.

Max ignored the man’s grumblings, as he secured her seatbelt and gently cupped her face. The translucency bothered him. He checked the head wound; bleeding had almost slowed to a stop. She needed a decent medical, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle for now. If she deteriorated, Johnny would conveniently drop by. Or a visit to the ER was on the cards.

“Abs, I need your address.”

A blank stare. Max waited and asked again. He knew where she resided but couldn’t give the game away.

After licking her swollen lips, Evans whispered it, and he sprang into action, swiftly moving around to the driver’s side and activating the GPS as cover. Max cranked up the heat, checking the rearview mirror for unwelcome tails. The team would take care of any, and maybe get answers to this mess.

His mind raced as he floored it towards the freeway. This wasn’t a random hit or a hijacker taking a chance. If it was planned, what the hell was the motive? Why injure or kill a useful operative? Had she betrayed Khalid? Was she trying to escape the cell? Hope surged. Max moved on to other possible scenarios and quickly dismissed the possibility of another elite team moving in. A trained professional might snatch the target but wouldn’t sexually assault her.

MIT2 needed details on what the bastard did to her. The nature of the attack pissed him off.

Evans sat ramrod straight, trying to hold herself together with a gargantuan effort. Any other woman would be a blubbering mess. Max hoped she’d release some of that robotic control that defined every aspect of her life. He could handle the hysterics. As adrenaline levels dropped and the body relaxed, it was a natural process to release emotions. Evans needed that good cry. As a soldier, he’d learned to deal with the aftereffects of adrenaline and trauma over the years and developed other coping mechanisms but understood the body’s natural need for release.

***

The world excluded her from all color and sound. Abby sat in an anesthetized bubble as the city flew past in a blur. Her brain couldn’t stay in tumble dryer mode. Think, Abby. Was her cover blown? Were they coming for her? She knew they would; it was just a question of when. The attacker took his time hurting her. Why would he do that? She couldn’t remember much after the bastard Tased her. She’d been vaguely aware of Max charging into the melee. Was he hurt? Why would she agree with a strange man driving her home? Max saved her life, but now he was involved, and that was the last thing she needed.

 The adrenaline wore off. Her head pounded in time with sore muscles. Abby straightened her legs to relieve cramping pains. Those had to be the effects of the Taser.

“Where do you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Bull-fucking-shit.”

The expletive had her shrinking back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to swear, I should be taking you to the ER. Your head is pretty banged up. There’s a hospital two blocks from here.”

Max drove fast, Abby grabbed the seatbelt as he rounded a corner. “I feel tender, but nothing’s broken. Are you okay?”

He looked at her like she’d grown an extra head. “I’m fine. Why don’t you want to go to a hospital?”

“Bad memories.” She knew he didn’t believe her and that was okay. He hardly knew her. It was far from a requirement that he know all her dirty secrets. “Pain pills and a first aid kit are all I need.”

The assessing look he gave almost made her squirm, but she already felt more grounded. Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re fine. You’ve been through worse. You’re fine. The mantra played over and over in her brain, sedating frayed nerves.

***

Evans handed Max her key card to access the complex. Once in the carport, he helped her out of the car. Awareness of her fragility added to the simmering anger. Max didn’t want to feel protective or responsible. This was a convenient way into her guarded life. All that mattered was getting to Khalid, and Evans was the golden ticket. She tried to brush him off at the gate to her yard. Not happening. Max grabbed the house keys.

“I’ll patch you up. When I’m done, John will pick me up at the gate.”

“I can take care of myself.” She stumbled, would have fallen if Max didn’t grab her around the waist, leading her up to the front door.

“Just like you’re walking all on your own?” He unlocked the layers of security and guided her in.

“Not my sofa. I don’t want bloodstains. The guest bathroom is down the passage to the right. There’s a first aid kit under the sink.”

Max guided her to the toilet and pulled the kit out, dreading to see what it contained. Most civilian outfits were useless. They included generic items like burn cream, cheap Band-Aids, small stretch bandages and maybe a tube of antiseptic ointment.

His fully stocked military-issue kit—sat in his room, just a hundred feet away. If she didn’t have supplies he could work with, he would make an excuse to run out to the pharmacy and pick up supplies across the lot. But hers was a well-stocked box. It shouldn’t surprise him. Every facet of her life was well organized. Why would she need such a large kit? Max filed the question away for later analysis and grabbed the iodine.

A dark smudge on her neck caught his eye. Brushing her hair back revealed a rapidly bruising bite mark.

“The son of a bitch bit you?”

Jumping at his voracity, she nodded.

“Shit. Jesus. Shit.” Max was up and pacing the small bathroom. “He fucking bit you!”

Putting his fist through the wall wouldn’t calm the raging anger. The only release would be pounding that sick bastard’s face into solid concrete over and over again. Evans’s cowering forced Max to bring himself back down.

“Just give me a moment, sweetheart. You’re safe with me. I just need a moment.” For the next minute, the only sound in the small bathroom was uneven breathing as Max leaned on the sink and dropped his head. Finally, he looked in the mirror, meeting her wary regard. “I’ll plug the slice on your forehead, but first I want to examine that neck. A human bite can lead to infection.”

Kneeling down, he gently ran a finger over the injury. The individual teeth marks were obscene, but the bruised skin wasn’t broken.

“I don’t think you’ll need antibiotics. You’ll need to keep an eye on it.”

“Sure.” Evans’s voice lacked any substance.

Her eyes showed no signs of a concussion. “How’s the headache?”

“Manageable.”

“Any nausea, dizziness?”

She shook her head.

Max asked a few basic questions, checking for alertness. He then donned gloves and cleaned the wound just below her hairline. She barely flinched, which surprised him. That had to sting. The gash wasn’t as deep as he initially thought. Glue would work. He grabbed the Vetbond, stood up and pulled her head towards his abdomen.

Evans recoiled. “What are you doing?”

“Easy. I’ll need to squeeze the wound closed to glue it. If you lean against me and tip your head back, I have a better angle.”

Max knelt down and addressed the guarded look in her wide green gaze. “I swear I’d never hurt you. Abs, I can help. Let me do this. I need to do this.”

***

He kept calling her “Abs”—rolling off his lips in that low growl—and it did something to her insides. Sitting opposite this striking man in her tiny bathroom was so intimately surreal, and his guiding attitude spoke to her desire to restore order. Maybe if she allowed him that control until she regained her equilibrium, it wouldn’t be so bad. Except his dynamic capability unnerved her. Anyone who was this well rounded was too good to be true.

“You have experience as a medic.”

Her statement seemed to surprise him. “I initially trained as one in the military. I still attend refresher classes. You never know when you’ll need it.”

His answer was adequate and would do for now. Blood rolled down her forehead. The quicker she got patched up, the better.

“Heck, let’s do this. Impress me with your medical skills but if I end up looking like Frankenstein’s monster, I’ll kick you in your rock-hard ass.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Max grinned as he rose. He gently dabbed at the gash and guided her head towards him. Holy hell. Those incredibly defined abdominals beneath his shirt were heavenly against her cheek. Max tipped her head back as his fierce eyes concentrated on her hairline. It hurt when he pinched the gash together and the glue burned like the blazes, but all Abby noted was the radiating body heat comforting her cool skin.

“Don’t move. It needs to dry.”

How long had it been since Abby had basic human contact? Someone holding her with affection. Touching another solid human being felt so damn fine, she never wanted it to end. Her throat burned. Not now. Please not now. Max made eye contact as humiliating tears spilled over.

“Oh, crap sweetheart. I can’t move yet, and I can’t let go; the glue hasn’t set.”

Abby couldn’t slam the floodgates shut and couldn’t speak or move without messing up the glue. Silent tears rolled as Max cradled her with his free hand, swiping gently at her cheek.

“You’re safe now. Cry it out, sweetheart. Just cry it out.”

She never took her eyes off his. This grim stranger’s bleached eyes touched her soul. Minutes passed as Max soothed her with kind words. When he could finally move, he slid onto the floor, pulled her into his arms and scooted against the wall.

***

Jeez. Talk about moving at warp speed. They had only just met and here he was, sprawled on the floor with Evans – no Abby - sobbing in his arms. Max eased through her defenses like a buttered asshole yet couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. The cold space felt cramped, and his leg numbed under the weight but hell, she fitted him in all the right places. Way up in his personal space, Abby’s soft breath tickled his neck, and that ethereal scent hit him straight in the kahunas. Woodsy elegance. Vanilla sandalwood with that hint of coconut.

Max took target analysis seriously; working in the Middle East and Africa for many years, he’d learned about vices. A flutter of robes could unleash an opulent, beckoning trail of scent. The Middle East had the biggest spenders per capita on luxury perfume in the world; the locals purchased a new bottle every couple of months.

Then came the layering. Throughout the Arab and North African regions, both men and women approached fragrance ritualistically, layering on various oils and even infusing their clothing and hair with smoky incense before spraying perfume.

If vanity played a role, wealthier suspects like Khalid were advocates of exclusive clothing brands, body lotions, designer shoes, perfumes. If you knew what they couldn’t do without, then the game was on. When wealthy terrorists evaded surveillance, it was possible to track their digital footprint, and custom-made perfumes were good footprints for high-value targets.

Much to the team’s horror, Max had taken his men to an institute of perfumery for a month to learn the basics about fragrance structure and tracing complex compositions. The taskforce had a global network of perfumers and technicians that assisted MIT teams in tracking orders. Virtual tracking had led to the location of more than a few elusive extremist targets.

But no one smelled as good as Miss Evans, and he pulled her closer. Those somber eyes undid him as he’d glued her gash. An unblinking stare stacked with fear and hurt… Max was in fucking trouble. Abby was a suspect in an international terrorist cell. It was sheer dumb luck that he’d landed on this cold-ass floor with the target snuggled in his arms and his expertise wasn’t to blame; it was all on the dickhead, the piece of shit that attacked her. He’d send a thank-you note later. Maybe stuff it down the unlucky bastard’s throat when Max found the son of a bitch and shot his balls off. Fucker bastard.

Abby shifted in his arms.

“You’re hurting, sweetheart. We need to get you tucked up in bed.”

She stiffened.

“Relax, I’ll just help you to your bedroom.”

“It’s not that.” Her voice sounded husky from spent tears. She cleared it as she pulled away. “I’m sorry. Oh hell. I’m never this clingy. I’m— Wait, let me get up.”

Shifting his weight, he pulled her to her feet. His leg tingled as nerves sprang to life.

***

Leaning on a hard-looking stranger was a sign of her desperate state and Abby knew it needed to stop, but not tonight. Tonight, she aimed all her energy towards reaching her bed. She was grateful for Max’s assistance as he covered her aching limbs with a fluffy duvet and brought her some pain pills.

Abby muttered her thanks and asked him to swing the security door shut on his way out.

“I can’t leave,” Max said. “I can sleep on your sofa and monitor you through the night.”

“Thank you, Max, for saving me. Although I’m grateful, I don’t know you and I cannot trust in someone I’ve just met. You need to go.”

He didn’t move, instead those iced-over eyes assessed her as he stood at the side of her bed. Abby groaned and raised herself up. She didn’t want a strange man in her home while she was vulnerable. Before she could climb out, Max laid his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want to upset you. I don’t know if sleeping with that head injury is the best idea. Here’s my number.” He pulled out a card and laid it on the side table. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you but I promise my head feels fine. Will you get home okay?”

“I’ll send John a text. Do you mind if I ask Lizzy to message you tomorrow?”

Abby mumbled a yes into her pillow. Then he was gone. She heard the front door slide shut. The clanging of the garden gate closing meant that she was finally alone and safe, yet her dreams were filled with faceless attackers and a ghostly knight, fighting at her side.