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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, s
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Johannesburg. South Africa.Present day.Abby lowered herself into the water, welcoming the fluid embrace. Adjusting her goggles and tugging the back of her swimming cap down, she pushed off. God, she loved this, therapy for the soul. Soon she’d be warmed up enough to slide into an effortless rhythm and then the meditation would begin. The distant noises of the gym were drowned out by even breathing and the water sliding smoothly over her skin.Lap one. The tension rippling through Abby’s body craved release, and she pushed harder, cutting through the water with efficient strokes. Laps flew by as muscles burned. Quiet was how she liked it, and even though the rest of the lanes were empty, it was one of those days where it was impossible to unplug.Abby avoided peak times at the gym—early mornings or late evenings—especially during the week with screaming kids or swimmers jostling for la
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Johnny and Donnie left to trail Evans to her rendezvous with Muller. Once Abigail Evans stepped out, Max snapped up the opportunity to switch out a microphone in her bedroom that had fuzzy sound quality. Max slipped through Evans’s gate into the immaculate garden. Delicate paving ran along the neat flower beds. Rose bushes lined the wall. He’d watched her many times fussing around among her plants. The result was charming. Her dark porch made breaking in easier. It was late, and he was also glad she’d drawn the curtains before she left. Nothing like a nosy neighbor spotting him through the windows once he was inside. South Africa posed more challenges when it came to breaking and entering, so Donnie had acquired a copy of her keys from her bag in the gym locker. In Johannesburg, windows as an entry point were ruled out due to the hefty security bars crisscrossing them. Max clicked open the door mechanism before opening her sliding security gate. The smell of
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The following afternoon, Abby pulled into the strip mall and chose to park on the periphery of the frantic lot. Although there was a spring chill in the air, the late afternoon was pleasant. Due to the warmer weather, people spilled out of crowded cafés onto the pavements, La Coraggio was the busiest of the bunch. The Italian community loved the place, and the result was a boisterous, laid-back atmosphere with incredible cuisine. Honestly, she loved it too. Abby had an Italian grandmother, vague memories of a warm, loud lady enveloping her in happy hugs. Although her grandmother passed away when Abby was four, she felt a sharp pull towards her Italian roots. Abby was told growing up that she was the spitting image of Granny Lucy.Lucy had been married to Grandpa Noah for twenty-four years when she’d died suddenly of a heart attack. Abby’s father, Jimmy—their only child—turned in an extreme way to religion. A couple of years later, frustrated wit
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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 ram
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The noon sun filtering through the shades caused Abby to stir. Bruised muscles made rolling out of bed an ordeal; the head wound was tight and sore. Carefully covering it with a shower cap, Abby jumped into the hot spray. The steaming water helped a little, but it still took time to pull on a loose black T-shirt and a pair of grey leggings.One brewed cup of coffee later, and Abby was sitting on the front patio, warming herself in the pale sunlight. The soft breeze and chirping birds calmed her rolling anxiety. She wasn’t ready to analyze what happened, who the masked man was. All she could handle at that moment was the creamy cup of caffeine and the simple sounds of nature.She ignored the desperate need to phone the one person that mattered most, just to hear his beautiful voice. Her brain kept poking her—just use a burner phone—it’ll be a quick phone call, a minute tops. There’s no danger; no one will know. Abby knew better; sh
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A battered taxi blared its horn as it forced its way in front of them, ignoring the rules of the road and veering over the pavement in the process. Anton Vorster slammed on the brakes.“Shee-it!” Johnny white-knuckled the door handle in protest. TIA, buddy, this is Africa. Hell, this wasn’t just Africa. They were heading into Hillbrow, an inner-city neighborhood of Johannesburg riddled with gang activity. Hillbrow was known for high levels of population density, unemployment, poverty, and crime. Max glanced out the back window of the Jetta. It was a Saturday afternoon, and activity littered the streets. Gangs of men huddled on street corners, arrogantly watching over the scurrying locals. Anton pulled up at a light. Street vendors and beggars tapped at the windows, jostling for their attention. “Fok off!” Anton yelled, waving an aggressive window washer away. Anton was a neutral contact who would get them in Mandla Nkosi’s d
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