Broken Honor

by Burrows, Tonya

  Quinn sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the quilt over his lap. “I turned chicken. I could see it—us—” He motioned toward her midsection. “This. I could see it so clearly, and I wanted it. Christ help me, I wanted it, but I don’t deserve it or you. And that baby doesn’t deserve to be stuck with a pathetic excuse of a man like me for a father.”

  “Travis, you’re not giving yourself enough credit.” She shook her head, her denial plain on her face. “Our baby’s privileged to have such an honorable man as a father.”

  Honorable. Right. Because honorable men always ran away from the women they cared about. Honorable men were always terrified of their children.

  Who was she trying to fool? He knew where he stood, and it hadn’t been on the honorable side of the line since he’d left her back in November. Maybe he’d crossed the line even before that. Why else would his former teammates want his head on a platter? Had he betrayed their trust long before he’d betrayed Mara’s?

  A half memory bobbed to the surface of his conscious, but when he reached for it, it sank under again. There was something about this whole mess he was missing. Something hidden by all the scar tissue in his brain.

  He glanced at her, but the tears streaking her cheeks broke his heart. Instead, he grabbed his pants and concentrated on stuffing his legs into the holes.

  He wished he could be what she needed. If he knew how to change to be her perfect man, he’d do it without a second thought. But he was just…him. Travis Quinn, a mess of a man barely holding the strings of his manufactured life together, a warrior at constant war with the world and with himself. He didn’t know how to be anyone else. He could certainly never be what Mara needed, and he was a fucking idiot if he let himself believe otherwise for even one breath of a moment.

  “I shouldn’t have called you,” she whispered. “I should have kept the baby a secret.”

  He knew he should say that he was glad she’d told him. It was what she wanted to hear. Probably what she needed to hear. But with his former teammates riding his ass, with Gabe most likely dead and his current team scattered in the wind, he couldn’t muster the words to comfort her.

  He found he couldn’t even look at her. Couldn’t see the hurt he’d put in her eyes, but she refused to move when he tried to leave the room, so he manned up and met her glare.

  Pain. Yes, it was there just as he thought it would be, but what surprised him was the unflinching strength, the iron will of someone who had made a decision there was no coming back from.

  “This is never going to work between us,” she said, and he inwardly flinched at the uncharacteristic shards of ice in her tone. “And I can’t keep doing this dance with you. When we get home, I want you to give up your parental rights. I want you out of our lives.”

  Wasn’t that the story of his entire existence?

  Quinn shut his eyes as pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before lanced his heart. He was barely able to squeeze words through his constricted throat. “Consider it done.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Consider it done.

  God, how could he just give up their baby without a fight?

  Mara skidded to a stop halfway across the Belyakovs’ courtyard. Her heart felt as if he had cracked it open and scrambled it like an egg. He truly didn’t want the baby. Or, by default, her.

  She tilted her head toward the sky, filling her lungs with the biting-cold air. Clouds had rolled in during the day and snow swirled all around her, dusting her nose and frosting her eyelashes. Despite the cold, there was something magical about it all. Too bad she wanted nothing more than to forget this entire day.

  Nadejda called out from the door to the kitchen. Fortifying herself with another slow breath, Mara plastered a smile on her face and joined the child.

  “He’s back,” Nadejda said in Russian. Or at least Mara was fairly certain that’s what she said. “The real him is back.”

  “Da,” Mara agreed. “He’s back.”

  “That’s good. We saved you some tocana and mamaliga.”

  “Spasibo,” Mara said and she truly did appreciate the family’s kindness.

  Nadejda’s brow wrinkled. “How do you say spasibo in English?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Spanish?”

  “Gracias.”

  “Gracias,” Nadejda parroted. She was a curious child, always asking questions. Mara got the feeling the little girl didn’t have the opportunity to talk to many other people besides her grandparents. Especially not any nonwhite people. Nadejda had come right out and told her she was the first brown-skinned person their family had ever seen, which made their kindness that much more poignant. Humans of any race, creed, or culture tended to shun that which they were not familiar with, but the Belyakovs had welcomed her with open arms despite the differences in their appearances. She didn’t know how she and Travis would have survived without them.

  Travis. Even when she tried to block him from her thoughts, he always managed to ninja his way in somehow.

  Nadejda took her hand and dragged her into the kitchen. Rustam and Valentina were both gone, probably retired to their section of the house for the night, but they had left several platters covered on the table. Guilt stabbed through Mara’s conscience. It had been rude of her and Travis to disappear and not join the family for dinner.

  “Sit,” Nadejda urged and started uncovering the food. “Where is Paulie?”

  “Sleeping. Very tired.” Mara made her hands into a pillow by her cheek and mimed sleep. She decided not to try correcting his name. That whole situation would require a big explanation and she didn’t have a firm enough grasp on the language to provide one.

  “Oh.” Nadejda stopped spooning the traditional corn porridge called mamaliga onto a plate and set the dish down. “Sotovyj telefon!”

  Now that, Mara didn’t understand. She watched the girl cross the room to a cupboard and climb onto a stool to reach for a small square device on the shelf.

  Travis’s cell phone.

  She had looked for it in the van and thought it lost. He must have had it on him this whole time.

  Mara jumped out of her seat and took the phone from the girl’s hand, powered it up and checked the battery. Half dead. Only half. And there was a signal! Not much of one, but enough that she should have little problem making or receiving calls.

  Except…

  She didn’t know any of his teammates’ phone numbers, and there was nothing in his contacts or recent call history, which meant she had to swallow her pride and face him again tonight. Damn. She had wanted to throw a tantrum and give him the silent treatment for a while.

  Nadejda bent down to put herself in Mara’s line of sight. “Good?”

  Mara nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome!” Nadejda said in exuberant English. “Are you going to call your mama?” she then asked in Russian. “I miss mine. She’s in Turkey. Had to go to Turkey because there is no work here…”

  The girl’s Russian blurred together, and Mara lost the thread of the conversation, but one word transcended the language barrier and stood out to her like a beacon.

  Mama.

  Oh, her mother must be worried sick. Why hadn’t that occurred to her until now?

  “Yes,” she said to the girl and flipped open the phone. “I’m going to call my mom.”

  …

  Airfield near Tiraspol, Transnistria

  “Lots of movement up there,” Seth said.

  From his seat on the floor, Jesse opened his eyes and craned his head around. Seth sat against the wall at the foot of Gabe’s bed, nursing what the sniper claimed was “nothing but a cracked rib.” Still, Seth’s complexion had taken on a greenish-gray hue in the last couple hours, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. He was in far more pain than he wanted them to know.

  Then again, everyone was worse for wear. Lanie had a minor concussion—not that it had slowed her down much. Ian a broken arm. Jean-Luc, Marcus, and Harvard
all sported a variety of cuts and bruises. He himself had a black eye, a swollen jaw, and his body was one massive throb.

  And Gabe…

  Jesse checked on him. Found him still alive, but in a coma. And fading. That he’d hung on this long was a miracle in and of itself.

  Jesse gritted his teeth against a flood of anger born of impotence. The SEALs hadn’t even left them with the first aid kit that usually sat bolted on the wall by the door, and he’d done all he could do for his boss.

  Footsteps sounded overhead, fast, moving with some kind of purpose. Rustling. Banging. Muffled voices.

  Jesse looked at the ceiling. “What the hell are they doin’?”

  “Sounds like they’re mobilizing.” Ian sat up on his bunk across the aisle, wincing as he jostled his arm. Unfortunately, the two bunks had been stripped of linen and the only thing available to fashion a sling had been their clothes. Most of their clothing was filthy, wet, and torn. Lanie had offered her shirt, but Jesse wasn’t about to let her parade around in her bra in front of the guys, so he’d given up his instead.

  “Think they found Quinn and Mara?” Jesse walked toward the door. Listened, trying to make out words from the murmur of voices upstairs. The sounds faded away. “They’re gone.”

  “Would they leave us unguarded?” Lanie asked and also stood.

  “Why not? Not like we’re goin’ anywhere. They—” On impulse, he tried the door’s handle…and it moved.

  It. Moved.

  He let loose a surprised string of curses and shoved the door open.

  Yup. Should’ve known it was too good to be true.

  Jace Garcia stood on the other side, decked out in winter gear, face painted white and gray under his floppy hat, an M4 held loosely in his hands. Except he didn’t seem inclined to shoot anyone. Yet.

  “What are you doing, Garcia?”

  “Oh, you know.” Garcia shrugged. “Betraying my team, throwing away my career. The usual shit.”

  “You already did that, asshole.”

  “Did I? Or maybe I was just playing a part. Keeping myself breathing and our exit open like I was supposed to. Why do you think I didn’t answer any of your radio calls? I was trying to tell you to stay the hell away from the airfield without ending up dead.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the stairs. “We don’t have a lot of time, but you need to know Quinn and Mara are alive.”

  A heavy weight lifted off Jesse’s heart, and from the collective sigh behind him, he imagined the others felt the same thing at the news.

  “The SEALs received intel from a tap on the family’s phone that Mara contacted her mother,” Garcia continued, “and they were able to lock on her general location about thirty klicks southwest of here, but it’s going to take them some time to pinpoint exactly where she is. No doubt Quinn’s with her, and when they go in, they’re going to be shooting to kill. Can you find him first?”

  “I can,” Harvard said and got to his feet. “I just need a computer and two minutes, tops.”

  Garcia nodded and stepped aside, tilting his head. “Get to it.”

  Harvard slid past both of them and jogged up the stairs. Jean-Luc and Marcus followed, grabbing weapons from the bag sitting at Garcia’s feet.

  As the room cleared, Garcia stepped inside and stared down at Gabe. His lips tightened. “Is he alive?”

  “Barely,” Jesse said. “He needs surgery.”

  Garcia nodded and handed over his weapon. “There’s a vehicle waiting for you outside. Go help Quinn. I’ll make sure Gabe gets to a hospital.”

  Jesse took the weapon and shoved the barrel into Garcia’s chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling they were being played—again. “You sold us out. Why should we trust you?”

  The pilot said nothing for a long time and, damn, he could even teach the great Gabe “Stonewall” Bristow lessons on impassivity. It was impossible to read his intent from his eyes or expression.

  Finally, Garcia shrugged. “Because you have no other choice. How’s that for a reason?”

  …

  The curtain over the door rustled, and Quinn moved his arm away from his eyes, hoping like hell his visitor wasn’t Nadejda, since he hadn’t bothered to finish dressing. Yeah, his cock was covered, but he still didn’t like the idea of the girl seeing him in a sex-rumpled bed wearing nothing but his jeans and his bad mood.

  Mara appeared in the opening, and for one glittering second, he thought everything would be okay now. She’d come back to him.

  But instead, she handed him something. His brain, numbed by all the emotional turmoil, didn’t immediately recognize the device.

  Cell phone. And it was turned on.

  Everything else faded away as his training kicked in. “Mara, did you call anyone?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “My mother. I had to let her know I’m okay.”

  Fuck. “How long ago?”

  “I don’t know. Fifteen, twenty minutes.”

  Quinn ripped the battery out of the phone and strode over to the soba. Heat singed his eyeballs when he opened the metal grate, but he paid no attention to the discomfort and tossed everything except the battery into the flames. The plastic hissed and cracked as it melted.

  Mara made a distressed squeaking sound. “What are you doing? We could have called for help.”

  “There’s no help. Gather your things. We need to leave.” He slammed the grate shut with a metal clang. “Now!”

  “Why?” Mara dogged his heels as he finished dressing and started gathering anything they might need. Blankets, clothes. He probably should have kept his cell phone, because the components would have been useful in a survival situation, but he couldn’t risk the chance that someone had a lock on its signal.

  “Shouldn’t we wait until morning?” Mara asked.

  “No time.”

  She caught his arm and pulled, forcing him to stop packing and face her. “Travis, tell me why.”

  “You called your mother. Did she ask any specifics about where you were? Did she try to get you to admit you’re with me?”

  Mara’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No. She didn’t. In fact, she had no idea I was even missing.”

  Quinn froze. No doubt her mother’s obliviousness was the work of that goddamn stepfather of hers. What a prick. “I’m sorry,” he said and meant it. “But calling her was a mistake. At very least, the SEALs have a lock on the signal and now they know to come here looking for us—” A thought, the memory that had eluded him for months tickled the back of his skull. Something…important…dangerous… A sliver of hazy recollection… He squeezed his eyes shut, straining to bring it into focus, but as soon as he closed his mental hands around the half memory, it slipped from his grasp like a fish diving back into the ocean. He rolled his fingers into a fist and punched his thigh for a lack of anything else to punch. “Goddammit. Why can’t I remember?”

  “Remember what?”

  “I don’t know, but something’s going on here, Mara. I just can’t…remember.”

  “So that’s it? You’re just going to run away?” She shook her head, sorrow and disgust warring on her beautiful face with an expression he couldn’t name. “Figures. That’s what you’re best at, aren’t you, Quinn?”

  He flinched at her use of his last name instead of his first. “It’s more than—Mara, you gotta understand, this is something big. And now that Liam Miller is back—”

  “Who’s Liam Miller?” she demanded. “You talk about him like he’s the devil or something.”

  “That’s not too far off.” When she planted her hands on her hips and scowled at him, he added, “Liam’s a former British Special Forces operative—basically a sociopath with delusions of grandeur and advanced training. Our history goes way back. The short of it is Gabe and I caught him snorting coke during a mission, and we got his ass canned. We found out later that he had been selling us out to the highest bidder for years. He was so far into the black market at that point he couldn’t see the light of day, and
he was pissed when we refused his bribes and reported him. He’s had it out for us ever since, but he has a special place in his black heart for me.”

  “Why?”

  He shoved one more blanket into the pack then yanked the elastic cord to close it. “I killed the woman he loved.”

  Mara blinked. “You—what?”

  “It was during an op, and she was on the wrong side. I was doing my job, protecting my team—but Liam doesn’t see it that way. Which is why he can never know about you and the baby. If he does…”

  He didn’t have to finish the thought, let her draw her own conclusions. She swallowed audibly.

  “They plan to kill me, Mara.” And, Christ, that hurt. Men he’d once considered friends, brothers, were now hunting him down like public enemy number one. And the kicker was, he had no clue why. He could only guess that they were working with Liam and this was all that crazy motherfucker’s doing. “You won’t get the chance to tell anyone I killed Urban to protect you. The only way they’ll allow me to go back to the States now is in a body bag, and as much as I sometimes hate my life, I’m not ready for it to end.”

  And wasn’t that a surprising realization? Two weeks ago, his desire to keep on keeping on had been next to nil. “I need to get you to safety and then disappear.”

  Mara’s lips trembled as she fought to hold back the tears shining in her dark eyes. “Where will you go?”

  “Dunno. Maybe someplace warm and tropical. I’ve always hated the snow.” He smiled a little and reached out to cup her cheek. She pressed her hand over his and lost the battle with her tears.

  “I didn’t mean what I said before about not wanting you to see the baby. I was pissed off at…everything. This whole situation. It isn’t fair.”

  “No, it’s not, but my life has rarely been fair.” He whisked away her tears with his thumb. “I’m glad you told me about the baby. You gave me a reason to live.”

  Sniffling, she lifted drenched eyes to meet his. “I don’t really want you to give up your parental rights.”

  “Nah, it’s for the best that way.” Quinn hesitated for a beat before mentally scolding himself and dropping his hand from her cheek to her belly. Emotions, dark and bittersweet, swamped him until he was afraid he’d break down and sob like a pussy. And beg her to run away with him, which logic dictated just wasn’t feasible. He couldn’t put her and the baby through a life filled with danger. He wouldn’t. “Probably better you don’t put my name on the birth certificate at all.”