Disclaimer:

I do not own either of the Mission: Impossible series or any of the characters therein. I receive no compensation or other tangible benefit from this story and no copyright infringement is intended. I am just a fan who enjoys taking the team out for an adventure every now and then. Please read and review!

Chapter 8

With one hand on the handcuffs and the other hand on the gun that was firmly planted in Max's back, Stoya forced Max to walk out the door of the consulting firm and to the side, where a large green metal toolshed stood. Stoya knocked twice and the door opened.

Inside was one additional guard, his gun trained on a handcuffed figure that Max recognized as Sam Patterson.

Stoya threw Max onto the floor of the shed. "Ross said I couldn't kill you yet," he muttered. "He didn't say anything about roughing you up."

Stoya took his foot and stomped Max in the stomach. He cried out in pain.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Patterson yelled.

Stoya reached over and slapped him across the face. "Shut up!" he retorted.

Max, through rugged breaths, couldn't resist a retort. "Takes a...coward...to kick a man...when he's down."

Stoya turned his attention back to Max. "To hell with Ross. I ought to kill you right now, pretty boy," he sneered. He proceeded to pistol-whip Max with the butt of the gun he was holding. After giving him several hard licks to the temples, stunning Max, Stoya aimed the pistol at the dead center of Max's forehead and pulled back the hammer with a click.

Patterson knew instinctively that this man was IMF and had been sent to help him. He didn't know if Stoya was serious about killing the man or just messing with him, but he couldn't just sit back and watch the man die without doing something. It was not his way.

"NO!" Patterson yelled.

Stoya, distracted and angry, turned his attention from Max, aimed the gun at Patterson, and pulled the trigger.

"Gunshot!" Nicholas hissed through clenched teeth as they drove into the parking lot of McClain Consulting.

"I heard it, too," responded Grant. "It sounded like it came from that green shed over there."

"We have to hurry," Jim urged. "Max could be hurt in there. Nicholas?"

"Ready, Jim," he replied instantly, and emerged from the Land Rover looking exactly like Stoya.

Nicholas and Grant ran toward the shed and stood on each side of the doorway. Nicholas knocked at the door.

"Who is it?" came Stoya's voice.

"Ross," growled Nicholas. He hadn't had much time to perfect the voice of the security officer, but hoped it would do.

Stoya came to the door, opened it, and stepped out. Instantly, Grant grabbed him and sprayed him with knockout gas while Nicholas ran inside the shed.

The other guard, taken by surprise, started to say something, but Nicholas took him down by the same knockout gas. Then he turned his attention to Max, who had dazedly gotten to his feet and was crouching by Patterson's side.

"Are you okay?" he asked his friend.

"I'm all right," Max replied worriedly, "but Patterson took a bullet for me."

"I'll be okay," Sam Patterson assured his new friend. "It's only a flesh wound."

Grant dragged Stoya's body into the shed, then he retrieved the handcuff keys from Stoya's pocket and set to work freeing Max.

"Glad to see you're in one piece, partner," he told his friend as the handcuffs popped loose.

"Thanks for the rescue," Max replied, popping his cuffs on Stoya as Grant turned his attention to freeing Patterson.

Once Patterson was free, Max accompanied him to the Land Rover.

"You'd better get inside," Grant advised Nicholas as he locked the shed door. "Ross will be wondering what happened to his number one officer."

"Right," acknowledged Nicholas.

"Be careful," Grant cautioned, glancing at his watch. "We won't be able to be in touch for a little while, and Ross will have his guard up."

Nicholas nodded in response. "Hopefully, it will be showtime here in a couple of hours." Then Grant set off toward the Land Rover and Nicholas went back inside the compound.

"Well?" Ross wanted to know.

"Both prisoners are cuffed and under guard," Nicholas reported.

"Good," Ross replied. "Now we just wait for Phelps to make his move."

Grant keyed his communicator to let Shannon know that Max was safe just as McClain was beginning to stir.

"Good morning, lover," she smiled at him while adjusting the sheer robe she was wearing, creating the illusion that she and McClain had been intimate the night before.

McClain snapped awake. "What the...? Who are you? What are you doing here? What time is it?"

"Shhh, easy, darlin', one thing at a time," Shannon drawled, wrapping her arms around McClain. "Don't you remember me? From the Silver Star? You had a little...too much to drink last night, so I brought you home."

McClain's eyes went wide. He couldn't remember anything about last night; yet here he was, undressed, with a strange woman in a silk nightie smiling at him. He looked worried.

"What time is it?" he stammered.

"It's almost ten," Shannon whispered. "You weren't thinking of going anywhere, were you?"

"Ten? In the morning?! I've got to get to the office!" McClain jumped up and rushed into the bathroom to dress, then he poked his head around the corner again.

"Um, where's my car?" he asked sheepishly.

"Out front where it belongs," Shannon purred. "I drove it home for you. I hope you don't mind."

McClain said nothing about the car. He threw on his suit jacket and headed for the door.

"Aren't you going to take me home, lover?" Shannon asked.

McClain took out his wallet and threw a handful of bills on the bed. "Take a cab...anywhere you want to go," he grunted, and then disappeared.

Shannon grabbed her communicator as soon as she heard the sports car pull out of the parking lot.

"Grant," she said, "McClain just left."