Siren in the Wind Book One of the MIT Series

Epilogue

Utah.

Four months later.

Max pulled into the drive. It was good to be home. He'd sold a generous acreage of his land in Colorado and decided to purchase the luxury log cabin in the mountains near the Snowbasin Ski Resort in Salt Lake City. Utah was a safe place to raise kids where they could comfortably live off the grid. Close enough to the city yet tucked away in their own slice of paradise. Abby loved the snow, trying out snowboarding and then skiing. As spring weather set in, she'd taken Gabriel on a couple of hikes in the Wasatch Mountains. Max couldn't wait to join in.

The recent three-month deployment he'd just flown in from, meant that he'd spent little time with them since settling down to family life. Max thought back on their journey after leaving the clinic in Namibia all those months ago. After arriving in Djibouti, a bunch of suits met them on the tarmac. Max refused to be separated, stating that the mother and child were under his protection during her de-briefing. His relationship with Abby almost got him kicked off the unit and Max would've accepted that fate. Thankfully, the removal of Khalid Al Juhani and Roman Petrovich, superseded his involvement with an asset. After she'd been cleared, Max set up Abby and Gabe in Utah – before re-deployment with his unit in Nigeria. He'd just returned from Lagos where they had assisted MIT1 and the Nigerian military in their campaign against Boko Haram to rescue sixteen school girls from the nest of nine Islamic militants hiding in the jungle.

MIT still searched for Kris Muller. Max had definitely shot Muller at the lodge—he recalled the blood spray as the bullet slammed through Muller's shoulder—yet there was no sign of a body or medical treatment. Either he'd bled out in a ditch somewhere, or Muller's powerful connections came through for him, and he was recovering in some extremist rat hole. The bastard was nowhere to be found.

Sitting on his doorstep had him smiling. Max needed a break and the team needed time out. He worried about Slater, who showed signs of a PTSD burnout. Johnny wasn't faring much better. The now somber warrior stayed behind in Africa. Max bet that the distraction came in the form of a feisty blonde firecracker. Max had returned from Nigeria six days ago, and Abby had no idea that he was back in the States. His passenger was the reason for his evasiveness. Locating him had been a challenge.

"Are you ready for this?" Max asked.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready," his companion replied.

A burly older man walked briskly down the drive towards them. Bill Taylor. A former marine who was now a security specialist Max had on retainer whenever he was deployed. Abby and Gabe were still vulnerable to an attack from Khalid's splintered cell. The chances were slim, but Max wasn't taking any chances, especially with Muller going AWOL.

Max climbed out and shook Bill's hand, pulling him in for a hardy back thump before leaning in the truck window. "This is Bill Taylor, he'll show you the way. Give me time to break the news. Are you sure you want to do this?"

The man nodded resolutely.

The open-plan living area was quiet and the kitchen empty. The only evidence of occupants were two cereal bowls drying on the dish rack and a tower of vanilla cupcakes stacked on a plate. Max nabbed one and headed up the stairs towards the distant voices.

They were in the far room he'd converted into a sunny art studio before he'd left. His two angels squatted in the middle of the room on a floor covering, slapping paint on a square canvas partially masked with lines of tape. He paused in the doorway, watching the project unfold. Both rascals were decorated with paint smudges and he couldn't love them more.

Gabe squealed in delight as he squished a tube of paint. Abby promptly lunged. "Easy on the paint blobs, little man."

Max grinned. "He's following in his mommy's footsteps."