Unfaded Glory

by Sara Arden

  “And this is where you wanted to bring me?” She laughed and looked up at the sky and then down at the patient ducks at her feet. “I guess mine are better mannered.”

  “I should hope so. They heard what I said about drop-kicking.”

  The knot in her chest started to unravel, and she sat in the grass, food in hand.

  “I don’t know if I’d sit down with them. It wouldn’t do for me to return the princess to the palace covered in duck droppings.”

  She laughed. “No, they wouldn’t dare. They don’t want to be drop-kicked.” One bold duck allowed her to stroke her hand over his feathered head. “My father used to take me to feed the swans when matters of state got to be too much for him.”

  “You said they were mean?”

  “Cruel to a point, but they were so beautiful.”

  “He didn’t take Abele?” Byron asked carefully.

  “No. He didn’t like the swans.” She remembered Abele never wanted to go with them. “I miss my father so much.”

  “He’d be proud of you, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not proud of me.”

  His hand flew forward, and she blocked it with her forearm without thinking. He did it again, and she repeated the block, the ducks scattering as they squawked and fought over the flung pellets.

  She hopped to her feet, understanding what he was doing. He was trying to show her that she had skills.

  And she did.

  Damara darted behind him and feinted to the left. He blocked her easily.

  “Again,” he said.

  She could tell he was restraining himself. “Don’t hold back.”

  Byron startled her with a kick, but she caught his leg and sent him sprawling.

  He laughed as he rolled to his feet. “See what I mean? There aren’t many people who can do what you can do.”

  She wanted to say that he was the one who’d just been through something and he shouldn’t be worried about making her feel her own self-worth—he should be focused on his own. But maybe this was what he could do with what he was feeling. He’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it, but Damara couldn’t leave it alone.

  “There aren’t many people who can do what you can do, either.”

  “I used to believe that.”

  “Until Uganda?”

  “There’s more to life than this, hoss.”

  “What?”

  “It’s what Austin Foxworth used to say whenever things got dicey. It was his way of saying it would get better, that we could make it better. But we— I—didn’t.”

  This was as close as he’d come to sharing anything with her.

  “You made it better for me. I never would’ve made it out of Tunisia without you.”

  “You’d have found a way.”

  She was surprised by all the faith he had in her when he had so little in himself. The knot in her chest started to tighten again, and she flung herself back in the grass, looking up at the sky.

  “I’m still looking for a way. I don’t see how I’ve done anything but make it worse.”

  “You’ve shed light on the situation. That goes a long way.”

  “I’m sorry you’re stuck with this—me.”

  “I’ve had worse assignments.”

  That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Don’t demand I love you, too, was what he’d said. That was exactly what she wanted to demand, even though them being able to stay together was a hopeless fantasy.

  “I’m sorry about everything else, too.” Everything he didn’t want to talk about.

  Suddenly, he was on top of her. “What are you doing?”

  “Stay very still,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m going to kiss you and you’re going to reach for one of our phones and you’re going to squeeze the power and sound buttons at the same time. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t, but she’d do as he asked. Damara fought the urge to look around for the threat.

  “I never should have brought you here alone.” His lips brushed her cheek, and it was no chore to push her hands down his sides and reach into his pocket for his phone. “The phone will transmit an emergency signal. No matter what we do, he’s going to shoot. Do you understand what that means?” His voice was so calm, so quiet, as if he were soothing her to sleep rather than asking her to accept he was going to be shot. That he could die protecting her.

  Terror knifed through her.

  “Don’t be afraid, Damara. I won’t let him hurt you. Remember how you pounced to your feet earlier? You’re going to do that again and you’re going to stay behind me. We’re going to run for the car. It’s only about twenty-five feet.” His breath was warm against her ear.

  “No, we’re not.” She choked on the words. Damara wouldn’t let him die for her. She’d known when she’d asked him to help her that it was a possibility, but it seemed fey and misty, something unlikely to actually happen. Yet, here it was unfolding before her in some red-tinged nightmare.

  “Yes, Damara. That’s the only way. You’re going to get in the car and you’re going to follow the nav to Fort Glory. You’re going to tell the exit/entry staff who you are and they’ll get you to a secure location. We have to assume the house has been compromised.” He said this as calmly as if they were still talking about wedding arrangements.

  “I won’t leave you,” she said stubbornly.

  “Yes, you will. The emergency signal will bring the cavalry running.”

  “You’re asking me to let him shoot you. For me.”

  “Did you forget that’s what I’m for?”

  Faced with losing him, she couldn’t. Damara knew in that second it didn’t matter how many safeguards she’d put around her heart. She loved him. She loved him more than herself, more than Castallegna. She wouldn’t trade his life for a thousand. But she’d trade her own.

  “Maybe this is what my people need. Maybe they need a martyr to rally behind and they’ll overthrow Abele.”

  “And maybe you’ve lost your damn mind. We both have a better chance of surviving the farther away he is. If we stay like this much longer, he’ll risk getting closer. If we run, he’ll shoot on my terms.”

  “No.”

  “I won’t let you become another voice screaming in my head, Damara.”

  She was afraid, terrified. She’d hear him saying that forever.... When he jerked her to her feet, she didn’t scream. She ran behind him as instructed and even though she heard a series of pops, she thought they were fine. She thought they’d made it safely and he’d missed.

  But the shooter hadn’t missed.

  Byron stumbled against the car, a smear of his blood thick on the door, but he jammed the keys in the ignition.

  “Drive.”

  Bile rose in the back of her throat, and she froze. She’d never seen so much blood.

  “Fucking drive, Damara.”

  Even though the shooting had stopped, she kept her head down and shoved him in the backseat, his blood staining the pristine interior. “Don’t die, Byron. Please don’t die.”

  “You better hope I do, because I’m going to throttle...” He choked and blood gurgled at the corner of his mouth.

  “I love you,” she blurted.

  “Don’t do that, either.”

  That was when it occurred to Damara that she wasn’t the target at all—it had been Byron all along. The three shots to his chest were all center mass. The shooter hadn’t been aiming anywhere but at Byron. This was Abele’s warning to her. Even if he didn’t kill her, he’d hurt anyone who dared to help her. Or anyone she loved.

  Damara did as he instructed. She put the car in the Drive and typed “Fort Glory” into the GPS.

  She hated the voice on that thing, the silly bitch so calm while Byron ble
d his life out in the backseat of a rental car.

  “Don’t die. You can’t throttle me if you die.” He didn’t make any sound. “Talk to me. Stay with me.”

  “Bossy,” he mumbled.

  “Yeah, that’s me. Tell me all about it.” She had to keep him talking.

  He mumbled something she couldn’t understand.

  “I read a story about a navy SEAL who got shot, and he plugged the wounds with his fingers. Don’t tell me he’s got the drop on you.”

  She was met with utter silence.

  “You promised me in Barcelona that everything was going to be okay. This is not okay, Byron. Do you hear me?” She tried to tether her emotions, to push them down. If she was hysterical, she couldn’t help him, and she definitely wouldn’t be able to drive on the wrong side of the road. She’d probably broken so many laws...but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting Byron help.

  The GPS said they were only three minutes away from the entry gate. She turned into the lane. As soon as they were out of traffic, she opened the door.

  “I’m Damara Hawkins and have Lt. Byron Hawkins. He’s been shot.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  BYRON DREAMED OF Austin Foxworth again. For the first time, he wasn’t on fire. They weren’t in the middle of the jungle, and there was no cacophony of screaming playing like some sick movie score in the background.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” Foxworth said.

  “Me? You’re the one who’s dead. I’m here to save the princess.”

  “You already saved the princess. Now save yourself.”

  Byron shook his head. Every nerve ending in his body hurt, even places he was sure didn’t have nerve endings. Like his eyelashes. He opened his eyes slowly.

  There wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t hurt.

  His chest felt as though there were a hundred-pound brick on it, and there was a bunch of crap in the room making an ungodly racket. Apparently, he was hooked up to all of it. The more the dark sleep world faded, the louder it got.

  A memory of what had happened flooded back. He probably would’ve died if she hadn’t forced him into the backseat.

  It would have been a good death, one he would’ve been content to have. Only there wouldn’t have been anyone to keep her safe. He struggled to turn his head and take in his surroundings. He was in the army hospital; at least she’d followed his instructions and fled to the base.

  It was his fault they’d been in that situation anyway. If he’d been thinking, he wouldn’t have taken her there. He wondered how the shooter knew where to find them. He’d been careful watching for a tail.

  Damara was curled up in a chair in the corner, her feet tucked under her. Her face was drawn and pale, dark circles under her eyes.

  I love you.

  Christ, having that in his head was almost worse. He knew he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t know what to do with it anyway. It was like a bubble she’d handed him and expected him not to break.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and he saw all his failures reflected back at him in her pain.

  She flung herself on the bed and buried her face in his shoulder. “You’re alive.”

  “Unless you kill me,” he mumbled. He wasn’t ready to face what her words meant.

  “I could kill you. If you’d died, I couldn’t live with myself.”

  He managed to raise his arm and stroke her back. “That’s a bit of a contradiction there, don’t you think, Princess?”

  “You promised me in Barcelona it would all be okay. I told you in the car and I’m going to tell you again, this is not okay. This is the farthest from okay that it could ever be.”

  “I told you I’m not so good at keeping my promises.”

  “I swear, I’m going to punch you in your bullet holes.”

  He laughed, and it hurt like a bastard.

  “I couldn’t stand it if you died for me. Because of me.”

  This was leading down that road he didn’t want to follow. “If I’m okay with it, you should be. You’re not the one who has to do the dying.”

  She shuddered against him, and he realized that she was crying. “Hey, don’t cry.” God, his mouth was dry. His lips felt stiff, as if they were ready to crack. “I didn’t die. I’m—” he took stock of himself “—mostly fine.”

  The wounds in his chest smarted, it hurt to laugh, it hurt to breathe and it hurt to have Damara half on top of him. Even with holes in his body, she still made him harder than steel.

  “I’m going home, Byron.”

  “What? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” She couldn’t go home, not yet. Not until he’d killed Abele.

  “I’m going home.”

  “Because of me?” Dear God, don’t let her say it’s because of me.

  “Because of me.” She splayed her small palm on his cheek. “Because I can’t do this. I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.”

  “What about all the people who will be hurt when you go home and there’s no one to show the world what your brother is doing? What then?” The monitors started beeping furiously, an audible censure against raising his blood pressure.

  “I’ll have to find another way. Look at the grouping of the shots. He wasn’t even trying to shoot me, Byron. It was you.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s a piss-poor shot. I’m not dead.”

  “I— No.” She shook her head. “No.”

  “What did you think would happen, Damara?” he said quietly. “This is what men like us do.”

  “You’re nothing like Grisha, Vladimir and certainly not my brother.”

  “I’m just the other side of the coin, Princess.”

  “You don’t know your own worth.”

  He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “That’s you. Do you really think that Renner is going to let you leave just because you want to? Because things got a little dicey and you can’t hack it?”

  “Yes. He doesn’t own me.”

  “Now you’re being naive. All the resources and man-hours he invested in you and this operation? No, Princess. It doesn’t work that way. You set a chain of events in motion and for good or ill, you have to see them through.”

  “You’re telling me I can’t go home?” Her voice was almost childlike.

  “I’m saying you can’t go home without me.” A calmness had settled over him. She’d said she loved him. It had taken root inside of her, and he had to prune it to the quick.

  She sat up and leaned away from him. “And you won’t take me unless you’re going to kill my brother.”

  “However you measure it, Princess, someone’s thread is getting cut. That’s just how this has to end. I made you a promise on the condition that he didn’t try to hurt you. So, I’ll take you home, but I’m going to kill him. Then you’ll be safe.”

  “I’ll never forgive you,” she whispered.

  “I know.” He did know it. Byron was under no illusion that he’d take her back to Castallegna and, once her people were free, she’d forgive him because she realized it had to be done. Damara wasn’t an end-justifies-the-means kind of person. Lucky for her, Byron was.

  “And you don’t care, do you?” Her voice dripped with the acid of the sudden knowledge that she wasn’t going to change his mind.

  He cared, but he couldn’t tell her that. Not now, not like this. “No, I don’t. Your safety is paramount here. After he’s dead, you will be safe.”

  “What about the Bratva?” She was trying to appeal to his logic, to get him to find another course of action.

  “They’ll see their destiny lies elsewhere. They don’t want the world’s attention on their operations. Frankly, I’m surprised Vladimir hasn’t met with an unfortunate accident. It was on his watch that all of this made
international news. He can’t keep his house in line. I don’t have to kill him. His own people will do that.”

  “Please don’t do this.” Her eyes sparkled with tears.

  “I think you should go.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t leave you at the park, and I’m not leaving you here.”

  “You’re not going to change my mind.” He thought that she understood that.

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, I will. Because you’re a good man, with a good heart. But I don’t have to talk about it anymore right now.”

  I love you. In all truth, she might have saved her brother’s life yet again if she hadn’t told Byron that she loved him. It was a two-birds-with-one-stone scenario. It would be the worst thing he could do and the best. She’d be safe, and she wouldn’t be in love with him anymore.

  The thought of it tightened around his heart like a noose. He couldn’t let himself think about what that meant. Byron knew he was doing the right thing because it felt awful and wonderful at the same time.

  The door creaked open and Damara whipped out a 9 mm and pointed it at the door.

  “It’s just me.” Renner held up his hands. “Don’t shoot.”

  “I’m not taking any chances.”

  “Where’d you get that thing, anyway?” Renner closed the door behind him.

  “I’m not telling. But it’s mine.” She practically dared Renner to take it away from her. Byron’s money was on the princess for that round.

  He laughed. “Fair enough.”

  “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. He could have died,” Damara growled, fierce.

  “Yes, he could have. So could you. As soon as Byron can stand, we need to have the ceremony.”

  “I’m not doing this,” Damara said.

  “Pardon me, what?” Renner was like a king cobra who’d just turned all his attention on a baby rabbit.