Unfaded Glory

by Sara Arden

  What the hell was Renner thinking?

  He’d be sure to ask him when he got to D.C. Byron thought about quitting again. It was insane to keep putting Damara’s life in his hands. Only an idiot would trust him with her, and Byron didn’t want to work for an idiot.

  Byron looked out the window at the clouds, the horizon line where the pale blue sky became darker as the atmosphere thinned. Memory after memory of Glory washed over him.

  Stomping down those cobbled brick streets in boots not unlike the ones he wore now, buying cigarettes off the old man who ran the bait shop and being a constant, ever-present disappointment to his father. His grandmother dying of a stroke after he’d been arrested—his dad had made sure he knew that it was Byron’s fault when he’d signed the papers to send him to Mauer Hill Military Academy.

  Death followed his failures as if they held some particular enticing perfume.

  He couldn’t go back. More important, there was no need for him to go back. Picking open his scars wouldn’t help the princess and it wouldn’t help him.

  The best that Byron Hawkins could hope for was one more night in her arms and dying a good death in defense of his country—maybe sooner rather than later.

  Byron chewed over his thoughts for most of the flight. It was all he could do to keep from staring at her—or worse. Dragging her into his lap and burying himself inside her where she took all the pain away, where there was only jasmine and pleasure. Only peace and her sweetness.

  All things wasted on a man like him.

  He never should have touched her. She was like a drug, and he needed another hit.

  He took a deep breath and centered himself. He turned off his emotions because that’s what had to be done. It was the only way he’d complete the mission. At least until he could figure out what Renner’s plans were and how to change them.

  He steeled himself and finally stole a glance at her when Gregson announced they were landing at Dulles Airport outside D.C. She’d tried to hide how his words had made her feel, but the more proper and royal she became, the more he knew he’d hurt her.

  Hawkins decided as soon as he saw Renner, he’d tell him he was going back to finish Grisha. A one-two pop to the back of the head with a 9 mm would handle what the .38 to the chest couldn’t.

  She shifted, trying to get comfortable in her seat, but she didn’t complain.

  He knew she wouldn’t. It would be beneath her to complain. Uncouth.

  “After Dulles it will be about three more hours to Kansas City, and then another hour home.”

  Home. Not that Glory was really his home.

  And not that he’d even accepted he was going.

  “What’s Glory like?”

  Hell?

  The look on her face was hopeful, earnest, so he tried to think of something good to say. “It’s not flat. Everyone thinks that all of Kansas is flat, but it’s rather hilly in some places. Where I lived, we’re only a few hours from the Ozarks, so there are glacial hills. Glory and Fort Glory were strategic points on the Missouri River, a gateway to the West.”

  “Like cowboys and gunfights?” She perked.

  “Yes. There’s a small town close to Glory where Jesse James was born.”

  “So much history in one place. We were always taught that America is new, so everything must be new. But you revere your history as much as Castallegna.”

  Not my history, he wanted to say. Never his own. Maybe his country’s, but Glory had nothing for him now.

  “If you like ghosts, we’re close to Atchison, Kansas, and they have a restaurant that used to be a whorehouse. Legend has it, the ghosts of the women will sit at your table with you.”

  She laughed. “Now you’re teasing me.”

  “No, I’m dead serious.”

  “Can we go eat there?”

  “We’ll take the whole ghost-hunting tour if you want.” Christ, what was he promising her? He wasn’t going to be around long enough to take her on a tour. She shouldn’t even be going to Glory. What was he thinking?

  “Were you the class quarterback who dated all the cheerleaders?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  “I never dated them.” Taking them for a ride in his dad’s Bimmer and banging them under a slide in the park couldn’t be considered dating.

  “Did you play sports?”

  “Nah, that wasn’t me. I was the guy in the leather jacket under the bleachers with the cheerleaders. I was the guy they took home to piss off their daddies. I was the kid with an ADHD diagnosis and I sold my pills for cigarette money until my parents shipped me off to a school for ‘behavior modification.’ My rap sheet was as long as my arm before I joined the rangers.”

  She tightened her seat belt as they descended to land. “Special Forces? I’d love to hear more about that.”

  “Didn’t last very long.” He hoped the way he clipped his words would keep her from digging any deeper.

  She seemed to be content to let the conversation die, and neither of them spoke again until they disembarked and were taken to a private part of the airport used for maintenance.

  They were surrounded by men in suits, with Bluetooth earpieces, leather gloves and guns. Yeah, that was subtle.

  Renner was a tall man with a thick gray handlebar mustache and hair cropped close to his head. He reminded Byron of Sam Elliott in more than just his appearance.

  He didn’t bother with introductions. “Our plans have changed.”

  “That’s not surprising.” Byron arched a brow, daring Renner to take him to task for anything.

  Renner returned the expression and the dare. “By leaving Grisha Kulokav alive, you’ve stirred the crap pot to a full boil.”

  “Come on,” he drawled. “She’s a princess. There was going to be an international incident no matter what happened. Save your spin for the oversight committee.” He already knew that Daniel Renner wasn’t about to change his mind concerning whatever he’d concocted. He could tell by the tone of voice, the set to his jaw and the look in his eyes. Made Byron want to cuss all over again.

  Renner gave him a lazy smirk. “Glad you brought up spin because this is how we’re going to play it. We can’t deny what happened on Circe’s Storm. I really would’ve thought Kulokav wouldn’t have admitted to trying to kidnap the princess, but he says they’re engaged. Abele Petrakis had the engagement ratified by the Council while Grisha was sent to retrieve her.”

  Byron didn’t see any discernible difference in Damara. Her expression was one of serenity, but he just knew. He could feel her fear as if it were his own.

  He didn’t care for that.

  Not at all.

  Not her fear or the man who put it there. Yet again, he’d failed. And, yet again, someone was in danger because of him.

  “I’m going to kill him.” He growled low in his throat like a wild animal and Damara put her hand on his arm like a mistress holding back a mastiff.

  “I’m sure you will, but it’s going to be a while unless you can find a way to kill him from Glory.”

  “I’m not going to Glory,” Byron said with surety.

  “Yes, you are. Otherwise the spin won’t work. And this has been approved at the highest levels. Do you understand what that means? This is a matter of national security.”

  What Renner was actually saying was that the plan was the plan, and if Hawkins didn’t get his ducks in line, he’d go to prison as an unperson. They’d shove him in a hole so deep no one would ever find him.

  Damara was attuned to the doublespeak. “Whatever your plan is, I’d rather have a protector who is willing. Mr. Hawkins kept me safe and got me here. I don’t think I, or Castallegna, could ask any more of him.”

  “Good thing you’re not asking and I’m telling, then, right?” Renner grinned.

  And
Byron was reminded of Foxworth’s grinning rictus. More to life than this, hoss.

  Byron gritted his teeth. What the hell did that even mean now? More to life than war? Yeah, he knew that for some men there was. But not for Byron.

  “Listen to me. We’ve already released a statement. Byron, you’re a ranger. You never resigned. You were sent to aid the princess, but you fell in love. It’s going to be just like the Bahrain princess and the marine. People will understand wanting freedom for your country, but the world at large has a thing for star-crossed lovers.” Renner focused his attention on Damara. “People will move mountains for love.”

  “Didn’t they get divorced?” Byron drawled, barely able to keep his anger leashed.

  “They did. So we will give them something new to believe in. Something new to hope for. This isn’t a girl rebelling against her parents. This is a woman running from a brutal man who’d hurt her, who traffics in people, drugs and arms. And she fell in love with the man who saved her. We’re going to give the world a hero, Hawkins. And that’s you.”

  Every word was a bullet of higher caliber than the last. “You know why it can’t be me.”

  “Uganda doesn’t matter now. For your sake and for hers, you have to put it behind you. Because this is already done. We need that base in Castallegna. What part of national security did you miss?”

  “National security doesn’t mean it has to be me.”

  “Yes, it does. Kulokav is alive. Your cover is blown. Your picture has been all over the world news networks for the last six hours. There is no one who doesn’t know your face. Your work as an operative is done. Do this job and you’ll be set for life. Pension, benefits, hazard pay...whatever you want.”

  Then what would he do with himself? Byron felt as if his whole life, as piss-poor as it was, had just been jerked out from under him.

  “You don’t know what you’ve done.” With no way to channel his aggression, the dark beast that seemed to live inside him, he didn’t know what he would do.

  “What I had to.” Renner nodded. “Get back on the plane. Go to Glory. I’ve made arrangements for you there. I’ll be in touch.”

  Byron wanted to roar, to rage, but instead he stood, frozen.

  Damara moved her hand on his shoulder, and he jerked away from her. Being near her just made it worse.

  He had no outlet for his desire or the need for destruction that filled him. Byron felt as if his skin was nothing more than an organic casing for rage that could erupt at any time.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEY HAD TO PLAY at being in love, and he couldn’t even stand to touch her.

  Damara knew he was angry. Angry at Renner, angry at whatever had happened to him in Uganda, but he was angry at her, as well.

  She probably deserved it because she could have complained more loudly, more vociferously. After all, their plan couldn’t work without her compliance. But after further consideration, she knew Renner was right. This was the best way.

  She remembered the story of the princess and the marine. She’d watched the movie, and, at first, she’d been so grateful she had a father who would let her marry whoever she loved. After his death, she’d thought about how nice it would be to have someone save her from Abele.

  Even though Byron had saved her in a sense, her purpose was to save her people. This wasn’t about some fantasy. Even though she’d played it that way in her head just a little bit.

  They were going to be trapped together on the plane for another three hours. She didn’t want to spend it in brooding silence or pretending to read books she didn’t care about.

  “If I find a way out of this, will you take it?” His voice startled her.

  Maybe she did want to spend it in silence, after all. “I don’t see any other way, but yes. If you find a reasonable way out of this that will still protect my people, I will take it.”

  “I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I already told you, you’re not responsible for me. I’m responsible for myself.”

  “If you don’t need me to be responsible for you, then why am I here?”

  “Because you’re bigger, stronger and you might be faster. Oh, and you have more guns. But I’m not helpless, Byron. And, frankly, it’s offensive that you think I am. Needing help doesn’t mean I’m helpless.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you did.” She watched his expression. “You do. Every time you say that something is your fault, or I’m going to get hurt because of something you did or didn’t do, you’re intimating I can’t make my own choices and I’m not responsible for them. I am. I’m responsible for a nation.” She sounded much more confident than she felt.

  “You don’t understand. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

  “I’m not letting you off here. You talked about your purpose in the world and how you justify it? Walking away from me and this mission would be failure.”

  He reared forward so his face was inches from hers. “Shut your mouth about things you don’t understand, Princess.”

  The growl was back.

  A prickle of awareness skittered down her back. They were being watched. She looked over her shoulder to see a pack of paparazzi watching from the gate area as they headed toward the plane. She hadn’t expected to have to face them so soon, but Mr. Renner must have wanted them to get ahead of the buzz before her brother could influence the media.

  Rather than be intimidated by his anger, she leaned into him. “We’re on.” She smashed her lips into his. His fingers dug harshly into her waist, but she didn’t care.

  She couldn’t. It didn’t matter what this cost either of them. It was the only way.

  Instead, she focused on what it felt like to kiss him. She didn’t know his anger could have a taste, but it did. It was like salt, but still it was good. Still lit a fire only he could extinguish.

  Damara broke the kiss and waved up at the crowd before reboarding the plane behind him.

  If she’d thought their heated kiss would have soothed him, it had only cranked him higher.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” he snarled.

  “Then do your job,” she volleyed, unaffected by his warning.

  “Is that what you want? You want to be just a job to me? What happened to your earlier wish?”

  His barb struck home. “Wish in one hand, Hawkins, and goat crap in the other.”

  “You’re going to be sorry for this, Damara. Mark my words.”

  She narrowed her eyes. She knew in her bones that Byron wasn’t threatening her. So she called him on it. “You’d never hurt me,” Damara whispered, drawing the sting out of their interaction.

  He looked at her, eyes haunted. “Oh, but I will. I won’t mean to, but I will.”

  “Byron.” His name was a plea, and she reached out to cup his face, the scruff of his unshaven chin rough on her hands. “You won’t.” She shook her head. “I won’t let you.”

  “I don’t want your pity.”

  “Of course you don’t. Who would? Pity is a form of snobbery and condescension. I won’t say I understand your pain. I don’t know what you’ve been through because you won’t tell me. But I will say I understand pain itself. Loss. Guilt. Those aren’t unique to you. You’re not alone in your suffering.”

  “I should be,” he answered darkly.

  “But you’re not. We’re in this together, Byron, whether we want to be or not.”

  “When this blows up in your face, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Damara supposed it was wrong on some level that all she wanted to do now was kiss him again. As if that could siphon off his pain and replace it with only good things. She knew she was deluding herself. She couldn’t fix whatever was broken in him, but she wanted to shelter him until he could mend himse
lf.

  She slid over into the seat next to him, offering him comfort. Damara made him look at her, her fingers on his chin the same as he’d done to her.

  “I won’t. I promise.” She nodded to emphasize her point.

  “Don’t depend on me.” He said it like a warning even as his arm slipped around her shoulders.

  “I won’t. I’ll depend on myself.” She already did depend on him. She needed his presence. She felt stronger, more confident just knowing he was near, but she’d never make the mistake of telling him that.

  Damara decided that she found this seat next to him much more comfortable than the other one she’d chosen and she stayed there, close to him in the cocoon of quiet acceptance they’d wrought until they landed at Kansas City International.

  She wasn’t naive enough to think that all his rage and resentment would go away, but for now, in this moment, there was acceptance and peace. Damara had learned that it was those moments she had to choose to live in, whatever happened.

  As soon as they walked up the jet bridge, they were met by a woman dressed sharply in white. “I’m Sonja White, and I’m your PR liaison. There is a starving pack of paparazzi waiting to meet you. For now, you are to say you have no comment, but they will be invited to a press junket in Glory. Got it?” She flashed Damara a smile.

  Damara decided the woman had too many teeth, like a piranha. That smile wasn’t honest and, as her father would say, it wasn’t going to launch any ships. Something about her put Damara off, but she nodded.

  She knew what she was doing with the press. She’d trained for this all her life.

  Sonja wasn’t kidding. They were mobbed by cameras and lights, microphones shoved in their faces. When a cameraman got a little too close, Byron immediately placed himself between her and the man, the intent to do violence written plainly on his face.

  Sonja had already lost control of the group.

  Damara flashed her best princess smile. She crept out from behind Byron and put a hand on his chest to stay him, and he eased back.