by Kaylea Cross
Her senses remained on high alert, but it gave her the chance to sharpen her awareness after months of being isolated from the outside world. The sun was out, and Stow’s main square was packed with cars and busloads of tourists. A lot of them were Asian, so at least she didn’t feel like she stood out too much, or that anyone was staring at her as she walked past the old stone shops and businesses.
Kiyomi counted the number of people she saw. Assessed them for threat level, watching for any sign of a weapon, or heightened interest in her.
Just off the main square she spotted the fabled Huffkins bakery and teahouse she’d heard so much about from the others, and popped in to order treats for everyone. With fifteen minutes to kill before her order was ready, she decided to satisfy her curiosity and take a look around the rest of the town.
Walking around here in broad daylight was a self-imposed test she needed to pass in order to feel hopeful about any sort of a future after their mission was over. Since her arrival at Laidlaw Hall she’d kept strictly to the manor and its ground. She’d wanted to come alone on her first visit to town, so she could get her bearings on her own and prove to herself she wasn’t so damaged that she couldn’t be out in a public place anymore without having a panic attack.
Crowds would always bother her now. Rahman had taken her captive at a party with more than a hundred people watching. None of them had lifted a finger to help her. Given her training and experience, she’d thought she was invincible. That she was the one controlling the situation. He’d shown her just how wrong she’d been, and a lesson like that was never forgotten.
The ring of nearby church bells pulled her from her thoughts, the magical sound beckoning her closer. She walked up the sidewalk and took a sharp turn into a narrow alley that led toward the churchyard. St. Edward’s Church stood proud in the center of it, a famous Norman church dating back to the eleventh Century, built of the same honey-toned Cotswold limestone as the rest of the town.
She paused on the leaf-strewn pathway to stop where a group of Mandarin-speaking tourists were posing for pictures. On either side of the arched, wooden door, ancient yew trees flanked the north entrance. She continued on the path that led around the west side of the church, pausing to read the gravestones. Near the end of the path, she stopped in front of a headstone when her eye caught on the names.
William Laidlaw and his wife, Elizabeth. Born in the early 1700s, and buried here before the turn of the century. Two of Marcus’s ancestors. And there was also a stone memorial to the final battle of the English Civil War fought at Stow.
Venturing off the path, she examined some of the other headstones. There were quite a few Laidlaws buried here, but many more stones were illegible, the names and dates chiseled into the slabs long since worn away by the elements over the centuries.
How incredible, for him to own Laidlaw Hall and live where his ancestors had for hundreds of years before him. She’d never had roots of any kind, never been able to stay in one place long enough to form a connection. But here…she felt a bone-deep connection somehow. To this place, and especially Laidlaw Hall and its enigmatic owner.
It was the nearest thing to a home she’d ever known. Knowing she had to leave soon dimmed her mood considerably.
When it was time to pick up her order at Huffkins she chose a quieter path out of the churchyard and back along the alley toward the square. The smell of the baked goods reached her from the sidewalk.
She’d never been one to eat sweets, since they were all fat and sugar and she’d always been calorie conscious to maintain a certain look with her figure because her body was her lure as well as her weapon.
But now that she was trying to move forward, she could eat whatever she damn well pleased. Since arriving at Laidlaw Hall she’d put on a good ten pounds, and for the first time ever, she wasn’t stressing about her weight or body.
The counseling and conversations with Trinity were a godsend. Over the past few months she’d come a long way in terms of body image and self-worth, but it hadn’t been easy and she still had a long way to go because Rahman had robbed her of something she was determined to reclaim.
She was more than her face and body. She had value as a person, outside of her looks and skillset.
Getting to know the real Kiyomi Tanaka was both exciting and terrifying. Every day she discovered something new about herself, and it made her even more resolved never to give her hard-won autonomy up.
The nightmares kept coming, however, all borne from the terrible sense of helplessness she’d experienced as a captive. She fantasized about killing Rahman, about the look on his face when he realized he was about to die. It was cathartic.
At this point he was still their best link to finding out the Architect’s identity. As soon as Amber had a solid lock on his location, they could plan an op to capture him.
Although capturing him wasn’t enough for Kiyomi. He had to die, and she had to be the one to kill him.
Raised voices caught her attention as she stepped out of Huffkins and faced the main square. She stopped when she spotted Marcus standing in front of his Land Rover a stone’s throw away…being confronted by two men.
An instant surge of protectiveness shot through her. She set her bags down and moved slowly toward them, watching the men’s hands. One of them held a cricket bat.
“I did not attack your sons last night,” she heard Marcus say in a low voice. He was calm, but standing his ground.
“It had to be you,” the shorter man with the bat said. “It was right off your property, and everyone knows you’re a nutter, holing up in your mansion with your PTSD or whatever the fuck is wrong with you.”
Kiyomi wanted to garrote the bastard for speaking to Marcus that way but she held herself back, staying far enough away not to distract Marcus but close enough to intervene if necessary. People were watching in the square now, having figured out something was wrong.
Marcus’s jaw flexed, his eyes boring a hole into the shorter man’s face. “I never touched your sons. I could never have done what they claim I did.” He shifted the base of his handcrafted wooden cane on the ground, driving his point home.
“If it wasn’t you, then you had someone do it for you,” the taller one snapped.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Marcus said coldly. “I came into town to take my dog to the vet. Would you like t’see the burns on her leg that your sons gave her? Because I can undo the bandages if you want. Or better yet, I can show you the video footage of them throwing the banger at her in the first place.”
The shorter man bristled and stepped forward, raising the bat.
Kiyomi took a lunging step forward, but she’d barely moved before Marcus swiveled and brought his cane up to block it. A loud clack of wood on wood sounded.
With a single, expert twist of his cane, in the blink of an eye Marcus disarmed the bastard and shoved him to the ground on his ass, using just enough force necessary and then stopping, when he could easily have killed or maimed the man with a single blow if he’d wanted to.
The taller man backed up with his palms out, eyes wide as he gaped at Marcus. “Whoa, pal. Whoa.”
Marcus turned his gaze on the one he’d just put on the ground, his bearing intimidating but not threatening as he towered over the piece of shit. “I give you my word that I had nothing to do with what happened to your sons. Now get outta here and leave me alone.” He turned away, giving them his back as he reached for the door of his vehicle.
Kiyomi grabbed her bags and hurried up the sidewalk just as the taller man bent to help his friend up. She stuck her foot out as she walked past, knocking them both off balance. She pretended to stumble as they hit the ground, whirling to face them as she babbled an apology to them in Japanese.
The men scowled, dismissed her and hurried away, muttering to each other and casting dark looks at Marcus. Assholes.
When she looked up, Marcus was staring at her through the windshield. She smiled at him, lowered her sunglasses to g
ive him a wink, then pushed them back up the bridge of her nose and sauntered past his vehicle in case the men were still watching.
She continued down the sidewalk with all her bags. In the shop windows she followed Marcus’s progress as he drove toward her. When they were a block away from the main square, he pulled up to the curb and she angled across to meet him.
He leaned over to open her door for her, took the bags and set them on the seat. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, his expression tight.
“Nothing to apologize for. I know you couldn’t in public, but man, I’d have loved to see you lay that guy out instead of just bruising his ego.”
The side of his mouth pulled upward as he drove down the cobbled street. The town was so damn quaint, like something from a postcard. “So bloodthirsty.”
“Only when it comes to assholes.”
He was quiet a moment as they stopped in traffic to let some pedestrians cross the street. The narrow streets caused a lot of congestion with all the tourists flooding the town. “Sorry I didn’t get to show you around.”
“It’s fine. Maybe another time.”
He glanced over at her, the impact of his dark gaze like a touch. “After all this, it’s not safe here for all of you anymore.”
“I know.” It made her heart heavy. She’d become attached to Marcus and the others, and didn’t want to leave without forging certain memories for her to carry with her through whatever came next.
“So what did the vet say?” she asked to change the subject, swiveling in her seat to pet Karas, who had her snoot shoved between the front seats.
“She’ll be all right. Just needs a few days to heal up, and take her antibiotics.”
“You’re a good dog dad, Marcus.”
He aimed a grin at her that almost stopped her heart. “It’s my pleasure. She’s a good lass.”
The urge to lean across the seat and kiss him was so overwhelming she had to look away.
Pleasure.
That word, spoken in his deep voice, caused another frisson of warmth low in her belly. He was a reserved, disciplined man with high expectations of himself. But there was fire in him, hidden away beneath that calm exterior.
What was he like in bed? From what she’d seen he liked control, and she bet that extended into sex as well.
That gave her pause. She’d never let herself go and enjoyed sex with anyone before—only doing it as an act, always remaining physically and emotionally detached, her mind clear—yet the idea of doing it with Marcus was more and more tantalizing. He would never hurt or degrade her. And she got the sense that he would be an attentive, maybe even generous lover.
Combining all that with his quiet intensity, her mind had conjured up several fantasies about it lately. Her pulse beat faster, a flush of heat sweeping through her body as images of them together swirled in her head.
They drove back to the manor without speaking again. A large, intricate wrought iron gate bearing the Laidlaw coat of arms marked the entrance to the estate, the stone gatehouse sat at the end of the long, crushed gravel driveway.
At the other end of it, Laidlaw Hall stood perched on a rise in the middle of a small valley nestled between the surrounding rolling hills, a three-story mansion built of Cotswold limestone that glowed in the sun. Lush green lawn sloped away from it, the front of the house bordered by neatly trimmed boxwood and yew hedges, and the trees clustered around the house and on the deep green hillsides were afire with a gorgeous flush of scarlet, orange and gold.
While Kiyomi’s heart sang at the sight of it, she wound tighter and tighter inside. She didn’t want to leave Marcus yet. She wanted more time with him, time to explore what was between them. But it would hurt more when she left.
What’s a little more pain after what you’ve been through?
Marcus carried Karas back into the study and placed her on her bed in front of the fire, then took the bags from Kiyomi in the entry hall and continued on to the kitchen. The voices coming from there grew louder as they neared it.
“Is there a party going on in here, or what?” she asked, coming in behind Marcus.
Everyone was gathered around the island in the center of the room, drinking out of champagne glasses. “Here, have a mimosa,” Megan said, thrusting a flute at her and Marcus.
“What are we celebrating?” she asked, looking around. The atmosphere was downright festive.
With a slow grin, Jesse wrapped an arm around Amber’s shoulders and tugged her into his side. “We just got hitched.”
Kiyomi’s eyes widened. “What?”
Amber flushed a little as she smiled. “Yep. He wore me down, but neither of us wanted the hassle of a wedding, so we eloped instead.”
“That’s why you guys weren’t here this morning,” she said, looking to Megan.
“Yep. Ty and I were their witnesses. And so now that we’re all here… To my sister and Jesse.” She smiled at the newlyweds. “May you have a long, happy life together.” She raised her glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” everyone chorused.
Hugs and handshakes were doled out. Kiyomi embraced Amber, then Chloe engulfed them both in a hug and shouted, “Group hug!”
Eden and Trinity joined in too. Chloe bounced up and down a little, always a ball of restless energy about to explode, and crowed, “Bitchilantes ride or die!”
Everyone laughed and once they all let go, Kiyomi stepped back to smile at Amber. “I’m so happy for you.”
Amber smiled back, looking happier and more relaxed than Kiyomi had ever seen her. “Thanks.”
Kiyomi moved out of the way as Trinity came to hug the bride, her gaze moving to Marcus. He stood on the other side of the island next to Heath, nodding at something the other man was saying. He met her gaze, and there was something weary and almost sad in his eyes as he put on a smile for her.
A bittersweet pain lanced her chest. Surrounded by this group of people she’d come to love like family and celebrating a new marriage, she’d never been so keenly aware of how alone she was. Of how emotionally broken she was.
When she left Laidlaw Hall soon, she would lose any chance of being with Marcus. And once this mission was over, all her Valkyrie sisters would move on with their partners. But she and Marcus would both be alone once more.
****
“Where was this taken?” Fayez demanded as he strode to his office with his head of security. He’d just been alerted that they might have a sighting on Kiyomi.
“Barcelona. This morning.”
Fayez hurried to his desk and typed in his password to his computer, heart thudding as he clicked on the video in question and waited for it to load. The scene showed a busy street in the heart of the old town center, the camera mounted on the exterior of a bank.
“Where is she?” he demanded, impatience eating at him. Months without even so much as a single sighting of her.
“In about five seconds she’ll walk out of this building.” The man pointed to another bank across the street. “There. Watch.”
Fayez held his breath, pulse drumming in his ears as a woman exited the bank. Definitely Asian. Right build and height, a large hat shading her face and dark sunglasses covering her eyes.
“Her face is obscured, but the recognition software said it’s an eighty-five-percent—” He stopped abruptly when Fayez raised a hand to silence him.
On screen the woman crossed the street, walking directly toward the camera. In three seconds he had his answer.
“It’s not her,” he growled, disappointment and frustration punching him hard in the chest.
“Are you sure?” His head bodyguard leaned closer, peering at the woman.
“Of course I’m sure,” he snapped, growing irritated. “She doesn’t move like Kiyomi moves.”
“What? How can you know that? She might have changed her posture or gait, or—”
“No. It’s not her.” This woman might resemble Kiyomi in some ways, but to him the difference was obvious. This woman didn’
t have half the grace or poise that Kiyomi did. No one did.
He shoved back his chair and stood, abruptly turning for the door. “Keep searching. And don’t ask me to look at anything else unless it’s a near-perfect match.”
Because he couldn’t take any more disappointments where she was concerned.
Chapter Six
She’d been dreading this moment for a long time now.
Confronting the empty chair before her the next morning, Kiyomi tamped down the urge to fidget or shift in her seat. Of all the things she’d done in therapy so far, this empty chair exercise was the hardest by far.
She’d done it twice already using different scenarios, and each time the emotional toll was greater. Though she’d been dreading this particular session for weeks, it was necessary if she ever wanted a chance at healing the wounds inside her so she could have a somewhat “normal” life after this was all over.
Today’s session was going to either make her or break her.
She was conscious of Trinity sitting off to the side of the room situated above the stables, watching silently. Kiyomi had asked her to be here for this. No one else could understand what was about to happen better than Trin, and if Kiyomi’s fears came true and she lost it, at least Trin would be there to cushion the fall.
“Are you comfortable?” the female therapist asked on screen via the secure video chat they used for these sessions. She had worked with Trinity for the past few years, her credentials were impeccable and she was a retired Air Force colonel. Trinity had sworn by her and her discretion, so Kiyomi had agreed to give it a try.
“Yes.” She might seem composed on the outside, but inside she was a giant freaking knot of nerves, afraid of what would happen when she cracked open the vault she’d sealed all of this shit inside years ago and subsequently just kept stuffing more into it.
“All right. You know what this involves. Last time we talked about what eight-year-old Kiyomi was feeling after her mother died and she was placed into foster care and then into the Program. Today we’re moving forward in time.”