Siren in the Wind Book One of the MIT Series

Chapter Thirty Nine

What did he just do? Fear tore away control as Max threw himself towards their disappearing backs. Rabid threats for Muller's demise came screaming from his lips. The manacle shredded broken skin but never halted Max's continued efforts to get to Abigail.

"Kill him," Roman said.

Abby screamed, launching herself at Roman. "We had a deal! Don't touch him!"

"Your boyfriend is too dangerous. Shut the hell up before Khalid hears you."

"Max!"

Roman smothered her screams, dragging her away.

Kris turned at the door. "Guess you lost both your life and the girl. Sorry for you, buddy."

"Roman will sell you out!" Max yelled at Kris. "Deceit seeps out of his black heart. Whenever he looks your way, he fucking hates you."

"You're wrong," Kris said. "There's a large bundle of cash coming his way, and more to follow."

"That asshole is playing you like a chump."

Kris turned towards Max. "I never take a man's last words seriously. They stem from desperation and fear."

The fear wasn't for himself, it was for Abby. He'd spoken the truth. Roman was a snake who'd destroy Muller, and Abby would get caught in the crossfire.

Kris paraded up to Max like a vain cock. "You'll be shot in the head knowing you've failed at your job and you've failed her. Joey's mine now. Think about that in your last kak-ass moments. I'll keep her around for a couple of years and when she's lost her pretty mojo, I'll bury her in my backyard."

Max blocked out the prick's taunts as Scarface and his two sidekicks walked over with suppressed M4's. If they got close enough, Max could take one target out and acquire the weapon. Survivability sat below the ten percent mark. He'd faced crappier odds before—well, maybe not this crappy, but his homicidal rage might tip the scales.

Kris broke in. "Not in here. I don't want a blood-soaked floor, that's a bugger of a stain to clean up. Take him into the bush; the vultures will clean the carcass. Keep your distance. He's a lethal bloody bastard."

"Yes, sir."

"Lock up the place and pay off the staff. We'll meet over the border in a few days." Muller left to join Khalid.

The crappy odds were now happier ones. Max allowed himself to be freed. The men were cautious, having no idea that they'd just become chickens in the coop and Max was one bloodthirsty fucker. They shoved him up a hill. The opposite direction to the house. Then down a path, crossing over a cattle grid and into the bush; arguing over the best spot for an execution. Max slowed his gait, listening for closing distance. A couple more steps and he'd make his move.

An unknown gunman burst from the surrounding brush and fired at the men. Max dove, twisted and tripped up Scarface's legs. He gripped the M4, wrestled it from the brute's hands, then slammed it upwards into the asshole's nose. Scarface went limp. One shot to the face and Max realigned his sights on the second mercenary, who staggered back under the stranger's fire. A double tap from Max and the man fell dead on impact. The third target groaned in the sand with a gaping chest wound. Max pointed the assault rifle at the lone ranger.

"I'm with you, don't shoot!"

The man looked Indian or Pakistani.

Mutali emerged from the bush, stepping between bodies, before slashing away at the dying man with a machete. "This is Rashid. He is my good friend."

"Thanks for the assist, buddy." Max rolled to his feet before checking the M4 and the dead men for ammunition. He had to get to Abby.

"You're from Pakistan?" Max asked Rashid in Urdu.