by Em Petrova
“I can see you’re surprised.”
He held Madeline’s gaze. “You’re lying.”
“I assure you I’m not.” The grave tone of her voice echoed her words.
His chest heated. No, hell, that was his heart. The last person he could reveal a reaction to about this bit of information stood before him.
He didn’t like the look on Madeline’s face, not one bit. “What did you do? Madeline, what the fuck did you do?”
She remained nonplussed by his enraged outburst. “I told her the truth.”
“Fuck!”
“You know where to find me, Lars.” Madeline moved past him and walked down the sidewalk, leaving him alone. He couldn’t even think straight at the moment.
As soon as she drove away, Lars leaned heavily on the door frame, battling to regain his senses.
She’s not in love with me. She’s mistaken fear and lust and somehow twisted it all up in her mind.
Christ, his chest burned so much. He couldn’t even see straight. The door blurred until he could no longer make out the color and Lillian’s face wavered in front of his mind’s eye.
But Madeline told her the truth. What truth was that? He could only guess the things the woman might have told Lillian. But honestly, he’d warned her too. He took an oath— one that he’d disregarded. Yet, that hadn’t stopped him from getting into her panties.
He groaned and then entered the house. He spoke briefly with the host and thanked him for keeping watch over his ward. Though now that Lillian proved how easy it was to move herself, Lars had no faith in any of these people’s skill set. They’d all need retrained. He made a mental note to tell Oz.
Each step he took toward Lillian’s room, his heart beat faster. He slid his mask in place and knocked. He waited what felt like an eternity, and finally the door cracked. Lillian peered through the opening. He heard her gasp, and his heart tumbled over again.
She opened the door and faced him with all the strength visible in her stance and the look in her eyes. She stepped back and allowed him to enter, but he felt how cool and distant she was.
“Did you finish it?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m safe?”
“You are now.” Safe from me. Safe from this goddamn life I lead.
“Then I’m ready to go home. It will only take me a moment to gather my things.” She turned from him, and he watched her woodenly walk around the room, picking up garments. She packed them in her bag and put on her boots. Then she went into the bathroom and came back carrying a hairbrush and a tube of lip balm.
She stashed these away as well, and he tracked every move she made. His fingers twitched to grab her and force her to meet his gaze. What an anti-climax. On the flight back, he’d stupidly believed she might greet him differently. Whatever passed between her and Madeline ended that once and for all.
It was probably for the best.
Dragging in a deep breath, he caught Lillian’s scent. The rich sweetness he only picked up when he held her in his arms.
She was breaking his goddamn heart. But he deserved to be treated so callously. Hadn’t he treated her the same?
She called her cat over and then urged him into the cat carrier. She picked it up, as well as her bag. “Let’s go.”
Exhaustion made his eyes burn, but he blinked it away. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d thought to take her away from the safehouse and spend the night making love to her one last time before flying her home himself. Now that plan had been blown up, wiped out, with the impact of a nuclear bomb.
He could ask what she and Madeline had spoken about in regards to him, The Guard and his job…but what good would any of that do?
“I’ll have the jet refueled and ready to go in half an hour.”
She nodded and followed him out of the house to his vehicle, toting her bag and the cat. He took note of how she only murmured a “thank you” as she passed the host. He nodded in farewell and closed the door behind them.
When she climbed into the car without even a glance toward Lars, that pain spread through his chest and down to his stomach, leaving him hollow. All the way to the airport, he wondered how to speak to her, to rebuild that bridge collapsed between them.
She loved him. If that was true… Fuck, he couldn’t entertain the idea. What good did it do?
They drove in utter silence. She sat beside him stiffly, staring out the window and leaving him even emptier. From the beginning, she talked too much, been far too open with her thoughts, which gave him an understanding of who she was. He thought he disliked those things about her, but he was so fucking wrong.
When they reached the airport, he threw her a look. “Are you all right?”
She paled slightly but met his eyes. The hard stare uprooted all his beliefs in her feelings for him. Her expression said nothing of love.
Madeline must be wrong. Or trying to end his career. He wouldn’t put it past the woman.
“I want to go home, but if it’s safe now, then I can travel alone.”
“No. I’ll fly you.”
Her brows pinched. “Fly with me?”
“No, this is our jet. I’ll pilot it. You’re welcome to sit in the cockpit with me, or if you prefer, in the back. It’s up to you, Lil.”
She swallowed hard, the first indication she might be feeling something more than indifference. “All right, but I’m fine to return to France alone.”
He pushed out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. How to make this right? Leaving her on these terms was un-fucking-acceptable.
When they reached the jet, one of his techs stared at him. “Lars, why are you back? You just got in.”
“I’m flying her home. Are we cleared for takeoff?”
The man regarded him. “You haven’t slept. It’s a long flight to Europe.”
“I’m fine.” It just meant that once he touched down in France, he’d need to find a place to lay his head…and nurse this goddamn hangover he had for Lillian. It lasted weeks, and now would extend for a lifetime.
Chapter Twelve
From beneath her lashes, Lillian examined Lars in the driver’s seat. She’d just spent hours in flight watching his every move. Each twitch of his fingers on the controls, all the times he spoke into his headset with ground control… God, none of this felt real.
Because it wasn’t. At least not real to her. After she got home to Paris, she would return to her simpler life and all the things connected to Lars would vanish.
He caught her staring at him and she quickly turned her gaze away. The cat curled up asleep in her lap. On the flight, they’d shut him in an animal carrier in the back, and Olivier wasn’t very happy with her. She told him she’d make it up to him once they got home, and Lars stood unmoving, the hard mask he wore back in place as he listened to her baby-talk her pet.
The time difference would mess her up for a while, and she didn’t look forward to sleepless nights where her mind would linger too much over a very handsome and chiseled man.
When he parked behind her flat, he didn’t make a move to get out or turn off the car. In fact, he gripped the wheel tighter, until the veins stood out on his forearms.
He pivoted his head and pierced her with his gaze. He opened his mouth as if about to say something, but then he shut it again. “Come on. I’ll walk you up.”
“I’m capable of—”
“I know, Lil. But it’s my final duty as your bodyguard. Humor me.”
Her heart lurched, and she nodded. He climbed out of the car and reached into the back for the cat carrier and her bag. With Olivier gripped tight against her chest to quell the ache there, she got to her feet and led the way to the back door of her building. Her flat was situated on the third floor, and the walk seemed like an endless funeral march. She could almost hear the despondent chords of an organ playing in the back of her mind.
Everything looked the same, as though she’d never left. She reached for her key, and he put out a hand to
stop her. “Let me.”
“You don’t have my key.”
While holding her stare, he made a very deliberate waving motion over her door lock. She heard it click open and gasped.
“What was that?”
He turned the handle and pushed the door inward. “I’ll just do a sweep of the place to make sure it’s all clear.”
She stood in the open doorway, watching him revolve through her apartment, looking more like he belonged here the more he searched the place. Olivier meowed, and she set him down to pad around his own turf. That left her arms empty and feeling weighted with the need to hold…someone.
She drew in a shaky breath as Lars came to a stop feet away from her.
“All clear,” he said in a gritty tone. His jaw hardened.
“Thank you.” She looked down at his big hands hanging by his sides. “How did you open the lock?”
He turned his palm upward, revealing he held no key. Though she did see a miniscule scar on his wrist.
“Is this some type of magic?” she asked.
“Something like that.” His lips twitched, and for a heartbreaking moment, she thought he might smile. What she wouldn’t give to see his devil-may-care grin one more time so she could lock it into her heart for the rest of her days. His solemn expression returned.
What to say? Look me up when you’re in town—we’ll have a drink? I appreciate you saving my life, but I’ll take my heart back now, thank you very much?
She swallowed the huge lump forming in her throat. “Lars—”
Suddenly, he leaned in. A thrill hit her belly as she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he dropped a soft peck to her left cheek and then her right, in the European style. She closed her eyes on the sensation of his soft lips against her skin for the very last time. When he straightened away from her, his piney scent lingered.
Suppressing the urge to touch her cheeks where his lips had been, she met his stare. “Thank you for everything.” Her voice wavered.
She refused to cry, even for a bond lost.
“Take care of yourself, Lil.” With that, he walked past her and out of her flat. The final click of the door closing wrenched a cry from her throat. She bowed her head, letting her heartbreak envelop her.
She’d lost her heart to the idiot. How did one love a stone wall? She did, dammit.
For the first time in weeks, she was totally alone. She had a feeling the loneliness would last for a long time to come.
* * * * *
Lars lifted the cigar to his lips though he didn’t draw on it. What more could he want? He was kicked back with a vodka nearby and an excellent cigar clamped between his lips. His buddy North just got cleared by the doctor to return to The Guard, and around him, everyone celebrated.
The church hall milled with people, and North’s preferred alternative music projected through the speakers. Lars caught sight of him snagging Madeline and trying to force the woman into dancing with him. She just pushed him away with a laugh and continued on to talk to Rose.
“Well, don’t you look like the happiest chap in the room?” Roman’s rumble made him look up.
He set aside his cigar, which had gone out. “What’s not to celebrate? No, don’t sit down.”
Roman grinned and yanked out a chair anyway, spun it backward and straddled it. “You look fucking miserable, man.”
“What the hell do you care?”
Roman leveled a look at him. “I know you’re in love with that woman. Why don’t you go back to fucking France and tell her?”
Both Lars’s boots hit the floor, and the chair his feet had been propped on shot a few feet away. “You’re trying to make me admit to something so you can call me out for breaking the code.”
He hung his head. “We started off bad, that’s true, Lars. But I told you I consider you a friend and I mean it.”
Jaw set, Lars stared him down, trying to discern if he was setting a trap that Lars could never break free of without paying a price. Sure, he’d broken the rules—he didn’t fucking regret it either. Now after losing Lillian, he was paying a different kind of price.
Roman raised his head, attention on the room. He twitched his jaw toward Oz and Rose, now on the dance floor, swaying in each other’s arms. Lars might be happy for his friend, but he couldn’t watch for long. He picked up his vodka and tossed the alcohol down his throat.
He could get sopping drunk and still recall every detail about Lillian. There was no way to escape this torment, and it’d only been two days since he left her. Hopefully, the need inside him faded with time.
Roman released a sigh and then swung his leg over the chair. “Believe what ya want, man. I look over there and see our boss happy, for the first time in the ten years I’ve known him. I saw that on you too, man.”
Lars jerked his head up. “What? When?”
“That day I came to get you to go after those guys at the airport. I saw something in you that I never did before.”
“The Church will never allow it. They only gave Oz a pass because he fucking founded the organization.”
“Times change. Maybe it’s time our rules catch up with the era. We’re not goddamn monks here. We’re men. Men who’ve devoted our lives to this agency and protecting people. If we can’t have a little happiness for ourselves, then what the fuck are we even fighting for?”
Roman walked away, though his words echoed long after. Lars sat alone, brooding over a second vodka. The man was right.
Dammit. Now I owe the motherfucker.
For the first time in weeks, he smiled.
* * * * *
The only person in the room smiling now was North. The bastard wore a big ole shit-eatin’ grin stretching from ear to ear.
After Lars’s announcement to the principal members of the Church, he felt an odd calm steal over him. Though the fact nobody responded yet made his palms sweat.
“Did I hear you right?” Madeline blinked several times. “You think our bible should be changed? That our rules, the code, the fucking oath should get tossed out the window to accommodate you?”
Lars straightened. “There’s nothing in the bible that says we can’t have a relationship—a family.”
Everyone eyed Oz and Rose, standing silently at the front of the chamber where Lars gathered everyone.
“No, there’s not, but there is a rule that you can’t lay hands on your ward. You broke the rule, Lars,” Madeline argued.
“Why is it always you bustin’ our balls, Madeline? Who the hell made you such a frigid ice queen, anyway?”
“Enough,” Oz broke in. “I broke my own code, so I can’t say anything about Lars’s dalliance with his ward. Though I’ll say the rule was set in place so we don’t have dozens of guards screwing the people they’re meant to be helping. There’s a fine line between consent and taking advantage.”
Lars growled. “You think I’d fucking take advantage?”
“I know you wouldn’t, but we can’t allow any temptation among us, either, which is why the rule exists.”
Lars ground his teeth. “In the years I’ve been with The Guard, I’ve protected thousands of people. I’ve saved women from traffickers and too many held for ransom to count. I helped a princess gain exile. Not once has my head been turned by the many beautiful women I’ve encountered. Not. One. Goddamn. Time. Until Lillian.”
They all stared at him.
“I fucking love her.”
“And you’re asking our permission to go after her?” Madeline asked.
“I’m asking for you all to consider dropping that rule in our books. Or alter it somehow to make allowances, for people like Oz and me.” He waved a hand to indicate them both. Rose leaned in to Oz’s shoulder, and he anchored her to his side with an arm around her waist.
“How do you know if she’ll even accept you?” Madeline’s question only hovered in the air a split second before Lars jumped in front of the woman and glared her down. She didn’t cow to any man, though, and he saw her muscles h
arden in preparation for a fight.
He backed off but continued to glare at her. “You made sure Lillian knew that I wasn’t able to have a relationship, didn’t you, Madeline?”
“I only spoke the truth, Lars. It’s against our code, and she needed to know it.”
“You think I didn’t already tell her? She knew. Dammit.” He spun away, struggling to control his fury. He could be putting his career on the line for nothing—Lillian hadn’t spoken a dozen words to him their entire trip back to France, nor did she make an attempt to kiss him goodbye, not even with a kiss on the cheek as he had done.
His chest burned so much, he couldn’t draw air.
A hand came down on his shoulder, and he tossed a glance at Roman. He couldn’t be more grateful at this moment for his support.
“I move in Lars’s favor,” he said to the group.
Slowly, Lars turned to face them all.
“Let’s have a vote that the verbiage is altered to allow for special circumstances. All those in favor?” Oz looked to Rose, who held up a hand, as he did.
North’s hand shot up, and he threw Lars a grin.
Roman, Manuel and one of their missionaries who just returned from Down Under all raised their hands.
Madeline, hard ass that she was, kept her fists at her sides. Lars’s stare traveled over her to Archer. He wasn’t in his usual cowboy attire today, but in disguise. A pretty damn good one too—the guy was gaining skill since his induction into the Church a few months back.
“Sometimes things aren’t black and white,” Archer said. “I’m all in.”
Lars’s chest expanded as he realized every person in the room, with the exception of Madeline, had their hands lifted. Emotion burned in his chest.
“Thank you all,” he grated out.
“Sister, I need you to help me draft the amendment,” Oz said to Madeline.
She nodded, her expression giving away nothing of her feelings on the matter.