Honor Avenged Read online

  Harvard must have put a hand over the phone because his voice sounded muffled and far away as he relayed that information to someone. Probably Sami—which was confirmed when her voice came over the line with a squeal of excitement.

  “You want me to hack the FBI? Please tell me you’re commanding me to hack the FBI.”

  “‘If you want to be elite, you’ve got to do a righteous hack.’”

  “Did you just quote Hackers at me, Deangelo?”

  That gave him pause. He supposed he had. He loved movies, but since moving to Sumba, he hadn’t had a TV. “Seemed appropriate.”

  “So appropriate. I’m on it.”

  “Don’t get caught.”

  She scoffed. “I never get caught.”

  Harvard came back on the line. “We’ll dig on Cabot and have something for you by the time we land.”

  “What am I supposed to do until then?”

  “Keep Leah safe,” Harvard suggested. “Maybe warm her up to the idea of having us there?”

  Yeah, fifteen hours wasn’t enough time for that. “She won’t be a problem.” He hung up and sat there for a long time, staring at his email inbox but not really seeing the unread messages. Finally, he got up and walked back toward the master suite. He listened at the door but heard nothing except the nighttime chirps of crickets and frogs. A koi splashed in the pond. Otherwise, all was still.

  He tapped on the door. When he got no answer, he carefully pushed it open. Leah sat on the lounge at the end of the bed, wrapped in a colorful kimono. She looked like a painting, all soft and lovely, her damp hair falling in waves around her face. She stared at her wedding ring, slowly twisting it around on her finger.

  He knocked again—a soft tap tap with his knuckles so as not to startle her—and she looked up. Her eyes were red, lashes spiked with wet. “Marcus.” She sighed heavily and shifted on the lounge to face him. “I’m sorry I snapped earlier. What I said about you behaving differently toward me since Danny…it was cruel.”

  “It was the truth.”

  “I wanted to hurt you. I was hurting and I just wanted to twist that knife so I wouldn’t feel like this alone.”

  “I know.” He hesitated, then crossed the room and sat down beside her. He didn’t touch her, though he wanted to. Didn’t dare. They were both vulnerable right now and last time… Well, he didn’t like to think about it. “You were right,” he said softly. “If Danny was still here, it wouldn’t have crossed my mind to say something like that.”

  She touched her ring again, dragging her thumb over the shiny diamond. “Are we ever going to talk about…” She trailed off and didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t need to. He knew exactly what she was referring to.

  Maybe sitting down so close beside her wasn’t such a hot idea. She smelled of something sweet and tropical, and the night creatures filling the humid air around them with noise lent to a weird sense of intimacy, like they were the only two humans left on the planet. The memory of that night, of the feel of her in his arms, spread heat through his gut. His balls suddenly felt too heavy, his shorts too tight.

  “Nope.” He stood up and walked to the edge of the room, pretending to take an interest in the statues of Buddha lining the master suite’s private garden.

  “We can’t avoid it forev—”

  “Yeah, we can.”

  “Forgot who I’m talking to.” Annoyance sharpened her voice to an edge. “The king of avoidance.”

  So what if he was? Avoidance was easy. It hurt less. It didn’t ask him to dig too deeply into the messiness of emotions. It kept him away from dangerous entanglements where hearts could be broken. He’d always been a love ’em and leave ’em type of guy—that included friends and family as well as lovers. Everyone knew this about him, so why was everyone suddenly so fucking determined to call out that particular character flaw?

  The muscles in his back tightened as his own annoyance spiked and he rolled his shoulders. “It’s just better that we pretend that night never happened.”

  She didn’t respond for a long time. So long, he started to wonder if maybe she’d left the room.

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “I think about it all the time. I think about you all the time.”

  Aw, fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back. If he hadn’t given up on religion years ago, he might’ve prayed just then. Prayed for help being a decent human being. For the strength to do the right thing here.

  Instead, he said, “I think about you, too, but it’s wrong. That’s why I left. It’s wrong to want you like I do.” He strode toward the door, careful not to look at her. “The team arrives tomorrow. We’ll make arrangements for you to go home to the kids. We’ll make sure you’re protected until this is over.”

  “Marcus.”

  He stopped moving. Didn’t turn.

  “Where are you sleeping?”

  “I’ll take one of the guest rooms.” Not really. He didn’t want to be a whole football field away from her. He’d likely end up crashing on the couch, but she didn’t need to know that. “Get some rest. You’re safe here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Leah jolted awake, torn from the same horrible dream of blood spilling into sand that she’d had for nearly a year. She could still hear the bang of a phantom gun echoing around in her head.

  Danny’s death.

  She didn’t know the details. Had never asked for them. But her lack of knowledge didn’t stop her brain from churning out images while she slept.

  It had been a long while since she had one of these nightmares. Months, in fact. Current events, along with the approaching one-year anniversary of losing him, had sparked her imagination again.

  Maybe it was time she knew the truth. Maybe she should ask what really happened on that beach on Martinique.

  Leah sat up and tried to orient herself, but for one heart-stopping minute nothing looked familiar. The wall-less room with high, peaked ceiling. The huge bed with the silk drapes, the sofa with its satin cushions and pillows. The large, stone soaker tub. The kimono she wore.

  As sleep faded, awareness seeped back. She was at Tucker Quentin’s villa in Bali.

  With Marcus.

  And he had walked away after she shared her most damning secret.

  She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have kept her mouth shut and let him go on thinking that night had been a fluke. She hadn’t meant to tell him how often she thought about it, but she’d been overtired and her emotions too raw and jagged. When she’d opened her mouth, the truth had come tumbling out without her brain’s go-ahead.

  Way to make a bad situation worse.

  The kimono had slipped off her shoulders in her sleep, exposing her breasts. Frustrated with this whole sideshow of a week, she shrugged it back on, retied the belt, and then jumped out of bed. She looked through the bag Quentin had provided and chose a loose button-up top and khaki capris. She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and then faced the door. Drew a breath to fortify herself.

  Unlike Marcus, she wasn’t one to avoid the tough stuff. And facing him this morning was definitely the tough stuff.

  She stepped out into the garden and shielded her eyes from the rising sun with one hand. She hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the beauty of their surroundings the night before. Large paper lanterns surrounded the double doors of the master suite. The garden beyond was a lush jumble of green. To the left were the steps leading up to the living room. She saw Marcus’s bag sitting on one of the chairs, and his laptop open on the coffee table, but he wasn’t there. To the right, the massive expanse of a pool sparkled blue in the sunlight. Beyond the pool was another lotus pond, with a walkway branching out to four smaller versions of the master suite. She assumed those buildings were the guest rooms, where Marcus had slept. Maybe he was still sleeping? She wouldn’t be surprised.

  She�
��d passed out shortly after he left her and had slept for almost twelve hours, but it was still early. She didn’t know what time it was exactly, but judging by the rising sun, she guessed around six thirty a.m. If he had stayed up late, he might very well still be in bed.

  Okay, then. She could put off facing him for a little while. She’d find her way to the kitchen, make coffee, and take him some as a peace offering.

  She walked up the steps to the living room and found that, no, Marcus wasn’t still sleeping. He’d very obviously slept here on the couch. The pillow was still dented from his head. On the coffee table next to his laptop and phone was the bottle of tequila and an empty glass turned upside down. She winced at the sight. He drank too much, but if she said anything about it, he’d shut down on her.

  She picked up the throw crumpled at the foot of the couch and looked around, but still didn’t see him in either the TV room to the left or the kitchen to the right. She folded the throw, then continued on to the kitchen. He was already up somewhere in the villa, but she bet he’d still appreciate a coffee if he’d continued drinking after she’d gone to bed.

  The coffee bar in the kitchen was like something found in a high-end espresso shop. Luckily, she’d worked as a barista before getting her real estate license. She brewed a strong, black coffee for Marcus and then indulged in a latte with whipped cream for herself.

  Calories didn’t count when you were on the run from bad guys.

  As the espresso brewed, she pulled out the phone Marcus had left for her last night. By her best guess, it was afternoon in Los Angeles, and she was dying to talk to her children. She dialed Regina’s cell phone number from memory, and as she listened to the rings, she hoped Regina would answer the unfamiliar number. It switched to voicemail and she had a moment of panic. What if something had happened to them?

  No. Stop. She drew a breath, let it out slowly. Nothing had happened. The danger was focused on her, and as long as she stayed away, her babies would be fine.

  She forced some cheer into her voice. “Regina, it’s me. My phone is gone, but you can reach me at this new number. How are the kids? Call as soon as you can.”

  She hung up, then finished with the coffee and took both mugs back to the poolside garden. If Marcus had slept in the living room, maybe he’d gone to one of the guest rooms to use the bathroom and clean up. She started to walk past the pool, but then noticed movement in the two-story building at the other end.

  The downstairs area looked like a spa with two massage tables. She continued past the tables up the stairs to the second floor and was met with a breathtaking view of the sunrise over the ocean. Surfers already out looking for the best wave dotted the water in a bobbing line.

  Marcus sat on the terrace railing, his back to the wall, one leg drawn up to his chest, the other dangling off the edge. His chest and feet were bare, but he wasn’t relaxed. Instead, he reminded her of a panther perched in a tree just waiting for the right moment to pounce on his prey.

  At the creak of her foot on the top step, he looked at her. And suddenly, she felt like the prey he’d been waiting on.

  “Uh.” She faltered, momentarily forgetting why she’d sought him out. Then the feel of the hot coffee warming her hand through the mug reminded her. She held it out to him. “I thought you’d like coffee. I made it strong.”

  He accepted the mug and gazed out over the water again. “Thanks.”

  She leaned against the railing and tested her latte. Mm. Perfection. “Beautiful sunrise.”

  He grunted noncommittally and she realized that, duh, he hadn’t come up here to watch the sunrise. A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded toward the surfers. “You want to be out there in that lineup.”

  “It’s why I came to Indonesia.” He took a drink from his mug, then leaned his head back against the wall and gazed out over the surfers again. “I was dying, killing myself slowly, and I didn’t care. I had to leave, Leah. I knew you needed me, but I couldn’t stay. I was no use to you in the state I was in. It took a long time for me to feel human again.” He motioned to the surfers with his mug. “Sitting out there on a board with nothing but water around me, waiting for a wave, it was a balm. It helped me cope when it felt like the grief was chewing me up from the inside out. I might not have survived otherwise.”

  Leah took a drink to help swallow down the sudden surge of bitterness. “I didn’t have that luxury.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “It’s not fair that you got to run away. It’s not fair that you left me to deal with the fallout on my own. I hated you for it.”

  “You had a right to.”

  “I couldn’t escape. I had to live with it every day. I had to look at my kids missing their dad every day, and I couldn’t even explain to them what happened or why he was gone.”

  Marcus met her gaze. “You told me you didn’t want to know.”

  Her heart was beating too hard and her hand shook as she set her mug on the railing. “I think not knowing has been worse. I dream about it. About how it could’ve happened.”

  “Knowing’s not any better, doll. I dream about it, too. In vivid, gory detail.”

  “Still.” She traced the rim of her mug with her finger. “I think it’s time. Will you tell me?”

  Marcus didn’t respond right away. He gazed out over the ocean, but this time, she knew he wasn’t seeing the sunrise or the surfers. He was looking into the past, dragging up painful memories because she’d asked him to.

  “We thought the mission was over,” he said finally. “We thought we’d won. We’d freed the hostages from the hotel, the bad guys were dead or had given up. We lost one of the hostages—a spy in our training program killed her before we breached the hotel—and Jean-Luc was shot but he was going to be okay. Everyone else was safe. We were just wrapping up, cleaning up, debriefing…and then the shit hit the fan before we realized there was any shit or even a fan.”

  She pictured it all so clearly. Did she want to hear the rest? Because she’d picture that, too, and maybe Marcus was right. Maybe the unknown was better, but she couldn’t live with it anymore. “What happened?”

  “Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She made sure there was no hesitation in her answer.

  Marcus was silent for a beat. “I helped load Jean-Luc into an ambulance, then went looking for Danny. I found him sitting on some lounge chairs on the beach with Lanie Delcambre, watching the sunrise. I started toward them, and Lanie must have heard me because she glanced back. I’ll never forget the expression of horror that crossed her face. She shouted at me to get down. I dropped to the sand, but I felt the bullet go by. It must have missed me by centimeters.”

  Leah closed her eyes because, dammit, that hurt to hear. If it had hit Marcus, she’d have Danny now—but then Marcus would be dead. Danny wouldn’t have taken the loss of the man he considered a brother any better than Marcus had. Would their marriage have survived such a blow? Or would it have drawn them closer, as Danny’s death had done for her and Marcus?

  It was silly to wonder. In a perfect world, she’d have them both, just like the good old days. Oh, she missed those sun-soaked days where their biggest concerns were schoolwork and beach parties. But that wasn’t how things had turned out. As much as she had loved Danny, she wouldn’t wish for Marcus’s death to have him back. She knew, beyond blaming himself, Marcus would give anything to trade places with Danny. Was it wrong that the thought of losing him now made her nauseous? If it was possible for the two men to switch places, shouldn’t she want her husband back?

  She stared out over the surfers as her stomach wrapped itself in guilty knots. Acceptance was a wonderful thing. It lifted the weight of grief, allowed life to go on, but it could also be so ugly. She’d accepted that Danny’s only part in her life now was as a memory. She wasn’t the same person she’d been while married to him. The last year of
grief had changed and molded her into someone else. If he miraculously came back to life tomorrow, she honestly didn’t know if they could pick up where they left off. She’d loved the memory of him for too long now.

  She realized Marcus was watching her and offered a reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”

  “You’re sure? You want me to keep going?”

  She couldn’t speak. Her throat had closed up, so she just nodded instead.

  Marcus let out a soft exhale. “The bullet would have hit Lanie—she was directly behind me—but Danny jumped up and knocked her out of the way.”

  “Yes, he would do that. He always wanted to save people.”

  “Yeah, well. He saved Lanie. The bullet traveled through him, and by the time it hit her it had lost so much velocity that it didn’t do much. He took all the damage for her. All the damage originally meant for me.”

  “Marcus—”

  He shook his head hard and continued talking. He seemed to need to finish the story now that he’d started, so she fell silent.

  His voice came out rough, like gravel had clogged up his throat. “I knew it was bad as soon as I got to them. Danny was very pale and struggling to breathe. He kept saying he was cold. I shouted for a medic and Jesse came running. Bullets flying everywhere, nobody knew who was shooting or why, and he came running with his medical bag. For a second I thought, It’s okay now. Jesse’s a fucking superhero with that med kit. He can fix anybody. But then Jesse put in one of those…what’s it called?” He made a stabbing motion toward his chest. “Chest tube or drain or whatever. To help Danny breathe. Blood spurted out. Just…everywhere. All over me, Jesse.” He held up his hands and looked at them like he could still see the blood painting them. “I think I knew then what was going to happen. I didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t accept it. But I knew as soon as that blood came pouring out of that tube, he wasn’t going to make it. You need to know Jesse didn’t give up. He refused. He said there was a bleed somewhere in Danny’s chest and he needed to stop it or else Danny wouldn’t make it to a hospital. He opened Danny up right there.”