Maxwell Cain: Burrito Avenger by Adam Smith

Author:Adam Smith [Smith, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

A Traincar Named Burrito

Blood oozing from a thousand cuts turned Max into a walking nightmare. Every other occupant of the monorail car quickly shifted through the doors at either end of the long metal tube and found a seat in another area. By the time Kate came back and dropped a bottle of sweetened tea on the seat next to Max, they were alone.

“A whole car all to ourselves,” Kate laughed. “How often does that happen?”

“All it took was a few papercuts and my patented scowl to make it happen.”

“Your patented scowl?” Kate looked skeptical. “How scary can it be?”

Max tried his best to twist his face into an angry, forbidding look, but the effect was somewhat marred by the way he slumped with exhaustion in his seat. Kate just laughed as she plopped down on the seat next to him. The first aid kit she’d scavenged came in a plastic case that popped open when she applied pressure to the two tabs marked OPEN.

Both looked inside the kit and grimaced.

“Not much to work with,” Kate lamented.

“I hate it when women tell me that,” Max replied with a laugh. A sharp pain in his side made him wince and stop laughing.

The expression was not lost on Kate, and she picked up some gauze and rubbing alcohol. “Okay, your shirt is shredded and covered in blood, so I can’t see what needs attention. Get your tank top off so I can see what you’ve been hiding.”

“Not hiding anything,” Max growled, but with slow movements and a few breathy groans he did as she asked. When he’d bared his chest, Kate swallowed with an audible gulp.

Max’s body was covered in a web of brutal scars. Many of them looked like they should have been fatal, meaning Max had probably been saved with the quick application of first aid on the sidelines while the fighting continued. There were so many scars it looked like some Hollywood makeup artist had gone a little crazy trying to make the actor look tough. Her sharp blue eyes traced one ragged, puckered tear which ran diagonally from his right shoulder across both pectorals and ended below his ribcage on the left. As if acting with a will of its own, her hand rose to follow her eyes in tracing the scar. She stopped with her fingertips less than an inch from his flesh and lifted her gaze to meet his.

Max had watched her trace the huge scar with her eyes. “Chainsaw,” he said simply.

Kate’s blue eyes widened. After another frozen moment, she broke eye contact and looked for the new wound on Max’s side. When she cleaned away the blood, Kate saw a clean semi-circle eaten through his flesh from front to back. She guessed a bullet had grazed the side of Max’s ribcage during their shootout in the shopping mall.

Max hissed when she began cleaning the wound with sterilized gauze and rubbing alcohol. The wound was deep, and the burn was probably agonizing, but Max reacted to the pain the way an average man would respond to a minor cut.

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