Siren in the Wind Book One of the MIT Series

Chapter Fifteen

Max struggled to keep his eyes open. Four in the morning and his team had finally settled. Abby was told to sleep in her living room with a team member present, until she was cleared. Slater sat on Abby's other couch on watch duty. Her apartment needed a thorough search and they'd take their time. After crashing in the guest room, Donnie would lead the search when he woke. Both Max and Johnny took turns with guard duty from across the way.

Instead of resting, Abby curled up and quietly sobbed. Max rubbed his forehead tiredly. The soft weeping drifting through the speakers drove him up the goddamn walls, and Slater looked to be in the same boat. Max felt like a son of a bitch for forcing her to tell them about her ordeal. Abby had likely never shared the full story with anyone, and now she'd told it to a room of strangers.

Khalid would pay. Nausea threatened every time he thought of what that evil bastard did to her.

Did Abby know of the surveillance in her apartment, that a group of men had access to her most private moments? Close surveillance was needed in case they'd misjudged her. Max knew within his gut that she was a victim caught up in Khalid's web, but he always covered his bases. Until there was definite proof that she was telling the truth, they'd be cautious. Her medical records from Dubai would be in his hands by late morning.

The mind map he'd been working on for the past year lay in front of him. After updating the file on Abby, Max filled in some of the gaps. His fingers folded a piece of paper over and over as he ran over the intel.

Why was Khalid so determined to track her down? Intel indicated that he was narrowing in on her location? Josephine Abigail Evans had been hiding from Khalid for almost three years, yet the dust hadn't settled. Khalid's people were actively looking for her. Was he obsessed with her? The one who got away? Did he want to teach her a lesson for escaping and thwarting his sick plans that night? Had Abby unknowingly taken something that belonged to Khalid, or perhaps seen someone in Khalid's network that she shouldn't have, and how did this tie into the attack at La Coraggio? They were related.

Abby finally fell asleep. Max sensed that she knew more than she was telling. Get some rest, sweetheart, because the second round starts tomorrow.

***

A new sofa was on the cards. Maybe she'd buy a cushy lounge sectional set. Abby was still sore and bruised from the attack, but holy hell. One torturous night of feeling sorry for herself while huddled in the corner meant that she was shuffling to the kitchen like an old lady. Mr. Lover Boy shadowed her every move.

"Give me some freaking space," Abby grouched, turning to Slater's looming form before continuing. "I'm making a cup of coffee. That's all I'm doing, making damn coffee. Sit down quietly in the corner like a good little Stormtrooper, and maybe I'll make you a matching cup."

A grunt was all she received. Abby ignored the grumpy oaf as she muddled around the kitchen. Donnie and John systematically searched her home looking for God knows what. Were they expecting an Uzi-clutching Sylvester Stallone to be hiding under the bed? Tuning out the giant warriors rifling through her space was key to her sanity. She stood on the edge of a mental abyss—one small shove, and she'd break into a million pieces. Abby stared glumly out the window as the percolator started to bubble.

Slater suddenly chirped, "Perkatory."

Abby jumped. "What?"

"The anguished, prolonged period spent waiting for a fresh cup of coffee to be ready. That's called Perkatory."

"Pfft. You're an ass."

Slater's bleary eyes sparkled with humor. "But I got you to smile."

Abby pursed her lips to stop the grin. Maybe Mr. Banana Hammock wasn't so bad. Bless the man, exposed to her pity party for most of the night. Any man's worst nightmare. Abby couldn't stop those humiliating tears. Slater had made her a cup of tea, covered her with a throw and tuned the telly to a "Friends" marathon. That was super nice of him.