Siren in the Wind Book One of the MIT Series

Chapter Twenty Seven

Back at base with Abby locked in for the night, Max gazed at the monitoring station, recalling the girls' conversation. It maddened him that there were fucking monsters out there who inflicted such lasting damage on women.

At the same time, seeing his tough woman comforting her friend filled him with pride. Despite Abby's last words to him, she felt like his woman. What an effing screwup the night had been. First dealing with Kris "the dick" Muller and then discovering that Johnny was also emotionally invested in an asset. His team was falling apart, and Max was the rebellious leader doing the damage along the way. The sooner they wrapped up the assignment, the better, then hopefully they could screw the brains out of their chosen women without having to deal with the guilt.

Abby wandered out to sit on her patio in the dark, and there was too much physical space between them. He was always watching. Max was so tired of the watching. He wanted to be touching, always touching.

He traced her image on the screen. She looked so sad; losing a lifelong friend would do that to you. He wanted to unravel all the bandages wrapped around her heart and rescue her and her baby from the terror. Unravelling the hurt wasn't his job. He was expected to hand Evans over to the agency, wrapping this mission up with a nice little bow. Except he didn't want to do that. He couldn't. Abby was no longer a job. She hadn't been that since he'd discovered her innocence.

Donnie surprised him from behind, and Max pretended to adjust the screen for a better angle before grabbing the nearest file.

Donnie sank into a nearby chair. Equipment hummed softly in the quiet space. "Did I ever tell you about my wife?"

Donnie never spoke of her. She'd passed away from breast cancer a year before and it had nearly killed him. Donnie was still fairly new to the team, only just a year with them. A year that saw less action in the field then they were used to, but there was no doubt that David "Donnie" Wilson, also a former Green Beret and their 18Fox—the intelligence specialist—was in for the long haul. Donnie's reserved shell was hard to slip through, but once you got to know him, you had a loyal dog at your back.

Max didn't know what to say and Donnie continued. "Not about how she died—you all met her when she was ill—I'm talking about how we first met."

Max shook his head. All he knew was that she was French. He'd met her once briefly, when Donnie joined the team, just over a year ago and by then she was terminally ill. Too weak to stand, connected to IVs...frail and so vulnerable. That horrifying and helpless journey that ultimately led to the loss of Donnie's wife, scared the hell out of Max.

"I never speak about how we met. I should, but it's our own special adventure and no one else's business."

"Donnie, you don't need to—"

"I met Sophie in Mali, when I was an MLE, providing additional security for embassy employees in Bamako."

MLEs were small teams of Special Ops guys stationed at US Embassies to gather intelligence and assist in counterterrorism operations. They were usually drawn from Green Berets and Rangers, as well as Navy SEALs, marine and air force units. Max held huge respect for those small teams, who operated in a similar capacity to his own four-man unit.

"Sophie worked as a translator, also providing support by befriending the locals and reinforcing our informant network. The instant I saw her I knew I wanted her. I convinced myself that we'd screw each other till we could barely stand and then walk away. But that ain't me. Some soldiers may find a warm bit of pussy in a foreign country to pass the time, but I've always focused only on the mission, looking for a hometown girl whenever I returned Stateside."