"They're coming." He kept the thread of his voice between them. "Don't make a sound."
She nodded, and he closed the locker door, muffling the sound so the men sneaking down the passageway couldn't possibly hear. Opening the grate over the window, he called in the fog, beckoning long gray fingers toward the ship and into the small cabin before leaping up to catch the ventilation screen above his head. He lowered the metal grate carefully and swung into the small space.
For a big man, he was flexible and used to closed-in compartments. He was also very patient and could remain still for hours if necessary. He didn't know about Airiana. She had looked very fragile and vulnerable as she slipped behind his war bag. The damned thing was bigger than she was.
The hatch swung open abruptly and four men spilled inside. He recognized them. Prince Saeed didn't go far without them. Conley and Shamar Dover were brothers, mercenaries with a sizable reputation. Saeed considered them the best in the business. Maxim had run across many others far better. They were loyal to Saeed because he paid them massive amounts of money and kept them supplied with women and all the weapons they could possibly want to play with.
Yosuf and Jamel had grown up with Prince Saeed and entertained him as boys. They were used to his savage, brutal need for blood and death. He enjoyed hurting others, and they had learned if they didn't want to be one of his victims, they had to continue supplying him with warm bodies. Over the years they had become accustomed to disposing of the dead and covering for him. He compensated them and considered them true friends.
Yosuf approached the locker, reaching a hand to open it. Before he could touch it, Maxim slammed the heavy metal grate into his head, driving him back into Jamel. Both men staggered, Jamel trying to catch Yosuf before he fell. Blood streamed down Yosuf's face from the wicked cut to his temple.
Maxim swung down from the small, cramped space in the ceiling, using his momentum to kick Conley with both boots right in the face. He dropped in front of Shamar, his knife slicing deep into the inner thigh, up high to sever the artery. He turned and threw the knife at Jamel, the blade sinking deep into the carotid in his neck. As Jamel fell, Maxim caught Shamar's wrist with biting fingers, digging deep into the pressure point to open his fist and remove the bodyguard's knife.
Jamel was dead, and Shamar wasn't far behind him. Maxim threw himself forward onto the floor, using a scissor kick to weave his legs between Yosuf's legs as the bodyguard came at him. He rolled, taking Yosuf hard to the floor. Slamming Shamar's knife into Yosuf's throat hard, he kicked the body off of him and rose, facing Conley.
Conley spat blood and teeth onto the floor. He brought his knife in close, protecting his possession of it. Maxim pulled another knife from the sheath at the small of his back. They stared at each another, two warriors who had performed this dance too many times.
"You son of a bitch, you killed my brother," Conley hissed between his broken teeth. His eyes glittered with anger and the need for revenge.
"He was a first-class, pompous asshole and a rapist and murderer. No one's going to miss him much." Maxim kept his voice pleasant. "Your own mother put out a hit on the two of you. She knew you were scum."
He had no idea if the woman kept in contact with her sons, but she'd certainly come under investigation and she seemed decent enough. Conley had a temper. He liked to beat his opponents to death with his hands. He held a couple of boxing titles and had competed in martial art events when he was young. Riling him up shouldn't be too difficult.
Conley spat more blood on the floor, aiming for the toe of Maxim's boots. "I'm going to cut you into little pieces and feed you to the sharks," he snapped.
The bodyguard followed his threat with action, coming in hard and fast. He was good with a knife, but not nearly as fast as his brother had been. Maxim had disposed of the most dangerous threats as quickly as possible. Maxim met Conley halfway, their hands moving with blurring speed. Deliberately Maxim blocked several attacks and cut small slices into Conley's arms and chest.
Swearing, Conley kept coming. "You always did think you were better than us."
"I've always known it," Maxim replied softly.
He sidestepped the bodyguard, shoving at the man as he went past. The hard push sent Conley stumbling, and Maxim was on him like a large jungle cat, thrusting his knife deep into the right kidney and twisting to get the maximum damage possible as he pulled out to do the same to the left kidney.
Conley dropped hard, choking. Maxim kicked the knife out of the fallen man's hand and crouched down beside him. "Go to hell, Conley. It's where the two of you belong." He cut the man's throat.
Shamar held up his hand as Maxim approached. "Just let me die in peace."
"Like all those children you let your boss rape and murder? Did they die in peace?" Maxim asked, his voice low, keeping the words between them. "What's his body count, Shamar? Five hundred? More? He's been raping and killing for years. Little children, and you helped him. You're just as guilty as he is."
"So just let me die. What difference does it make?"
Maxim's radar went off. He forced a smile. "Stall tactics and not very good ones at that."
He watched Shamar's eyes, and sure enough the "tell" was there. A small narrowing, just enough to let Maxim know he was right in his assumption that the four men hadn't come alone. Shamar didn't want to die in peace, he wanted to make certain the bastard who killed him died as well. There was at least one other in the passageway waiting to ambush Maxim should he come out alive.
He cut Shamar's throat without another word. Very carefully he moved toward the hatch, blowing softly into the middle of the room so that more fog began to swirl around. He took up a position just to the side of the hatch, staying low, prepared to wait while the fog built in density.
He pressed his thumb into the very center of his palm where it itched. He knew the meaning, and knew what he had to do to give himself some relief, but if he put his mark on Airiana, his claim bound him just as it did her.
That face. Those eyes. The trust she'd given him when he'd ruthlessly taken her from the sanctuary of her home. He didn't know women like Airiana existed. Certainly they didn't in his world. She didn't belong with him, no matter what his body or his head said. It would be impossible.
Men like him didn't have wives or families. Loved ones were liabilities and could be used against him. He'd learned that rule when he'd been a boy and his parents had been murdered in front of him.
He directed the fog in small tiny fingers to slip through the slightly open door, just a touch, enough to pique the curiosity of whoever waited for him. Into the silence, he "threw" Shamar's voice. "You weren't so tough after all, were you?"
Out in the passageway, someone heavy moved. A second pair of footsteps, much lighter than the first, moved closer to the cabin. The heavier man t
ook the left side of the hatch while the lighter man took the right.
"We're clear," Maxim called out, sounding annoyed, his voice the exact pitch of Shamar's. "He hid the girl."
"He can't have hidden her too well," the heavier man began, walking into the cabin. He halted when he saw the density of the fog. "What the hell is this?"
"He had the vent to the outside open," Shamar's voice came from across the room. "I think he pushed her into the cubbyhole up above. She could fit there."
Maxim waited for the man with the lighter footsteps to enter, but he didn't even come to the hatch. If anything, he'd shifted away from the cabin. Maxim didn't wait. If this man's partner was becoming suspicious, he needed to kill them both and be done with it.
He came up behind the heavyset man fast, his arm locking around his throat, his knife stabbing him deep in the chest, right in the heart. He used the same twisting motion as he withdrew, the one ensuring as much damage as possible, but just for good measure, he lowered the body silently to the floor and cut his throat.
Using the fog to guide him, he somersaulted out of the room right to the feet of the last bodyguard, slashing across his thighs fast and deep, coming to his feet as he slammed his knife under the man's arm then he brought his weapon up high to slash down across his neck.
The bodyguard staggered back, gurgled and toppled before Maxim could catch him. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else to come down to the cabin and discover a pool of blood--not before he was ready for them.
He dragged the fallen man into his cabin and hurried to the locker. "Airiana, don't shoot. And don't look. Just stand up and look only at me." He pulled the door open, blocking the view in the room with his body and the fog.
"How many?" she asked.
"Saeed sent six. He meant business," Maxim said, reaching for his bag. He shouldered it easily and then caught her up with one hand, swinging her around to his back. "Hang on. And close your eyes until we're out of here."
Airiana clung to him, burying her face against his back. He was grateful she didn't struggle. He stepped over two of the bodies and skirted a third. He felt her sudden inhale, a kind of gasping shock, and knew she had seen the two bodies nearest the hatch.