Darkest Before Dawn Page 11

  “Injury?” Conrad demanded. “What injury?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Hancock said calmly.

  Conrad let loose with a string of obscenities and continued to mutter and curse under his breath as he opened the vehicle and hastily arranged a comfortable place for Honor to lie. Then he stood back as Hancock positioned her carefully on the blankets Conrad had spread out. But Conrad didn’t budge. In fact he pressed in close, touching elbows with Hancock, a grim expression on his face.

  Hancock didn’t reprimand his man. Beneath the fury, Hancock could see . . . worry. And guilt. Conrad assumed she’d taken a bullet meant for him, and it would eat him alive. Hancock and his men, every single last one of them, were protectors. Yes, they didn’t always protect the good and innocent. Sometimes it took becoming the very thing they hunted so relentlessly in order to take out evil in the world. So that the innocent would prevail.

  Only this innocent he couldn’t save. Her fate had already been decided and written. Unchangeable. It would have been far more merciful for her if she had died in the clinic bombing. Because the short future she faced wouldn’t go by quickly. It wouldn’t be merciful. In fact, it would tear her down to her soul, and in the end, that would fade too, leaving only a hollow shell of the fierce woman she used to be. She would welcome death. Pray for it. And it would only make her captors all the more determined to prolong her hour-to-hour agony.

  And he was responsible. He would have done that to her. Make it possible for her to be treated with less regard than an animal. And for what? The greater good? It was the philosophy Titan had always held as their creed, even when Rio led Titan. The man who’d taught Hancock everything he knew.

  Hancock had always believed in that motto. He understood it. He lived it, breathed it, risked his life to uphold it. But for the first time, the idea of Honor’s sacrifice being responsible for Maksimov, Bristow and ANE going down and saving hundreds of thousands of innocent people in the process made him . . . sick. It disgusted him.

  Maybe it was time to hang it up. Disappear somewhere and start a new life where he would be known to no one and not relentlessly hunted. Somewhere he could be alone, never having to deal with the oblivious people he’d lost his soul for in order for them to continue their ignorant, happy existence.

  But no. He had family. By love, not blood. They were the only people in the world he felt . . . anything . . . for. Affection. Love. Unwavering loyalty. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for any of them.

  He couldn’t simply walk out of their lives and never return. They deserved better of him after all they’d done for him. They’d saved him. They’d given him purpose and a place in the world, even if it was a place so steeped in shadows and sins that he doubted he’d ever see the light again.

  He’d long ago made peace with the fact that he wasn’t a good man. He’d never be a good man. But for his family, he could and would be that man even if it was all a lie. Big Eddie, his foster father. And his brothers—Raid, a policeman, and Ryker, a former military man who went into personal security after his discharge. He’d heard from Eden that KGI was considering taking Ryker on. But he’d last spoken to her months before and only then to let her know he’d be out of touch for an indefinite period of time.

  Eden. His baby sister who meant the world to him. She was everything good. Everything he wasn’t. He wasn’t a man who scared easily, or at all for that matter. He was calm in the face of adversity, his mind always calculating like a computer his options and possibilities. And he kept all his missions impersonal. Never forming any attachment or bond with anyone.

  But nearly losing Eden—losing her for several hours when she endured horrific torture—had unhinged him. He’d been terrified. Out of control. Shaking. Emotional. All the things he considered weaknesses in his work.

  Even as he considered that if he had no family he’d never face those very uncomfortable emotions and reactions, he knew that he loved the Sinclairs when he loved no one else. They were his only anchor in the dark world he was being absorbed into more and more with every passing day.

  Shaking himself back to the task at hand, he glanced up at Honor to see if she was still conscious. She was, but her eyes were glazed with pain, though not a single sound passed her tightly closed lips. No betraying quiver in her body. The only evidence of her strain was her tightly curled fists on either side of her.

  “I’ll be careful,” he said in an attempt to reassure her.

  And then he didn’t understand why he felt the need to say anything at all. If she hadn’t put herself in the line of fire, she wouldn’t be hurt and bleeding. He ought to still be pissed, but lying to himself did no good. He hadn’t been pissed because she hadn’t followed orders. He’d been pissed because when he’d witnessed what she did, his heart had plummeted into his stomach and unholy . . . fear . . . assailed him that she would be killed. And it had nothing to do with the fact that if she died his mission would be FUBAR.

  Shut it off. All of it. His stupid thoughts and feelings. He began to roll the heavy material of her burka up her legs. When he got to her thighs he gave silent thanks that she’d worn athletic shorts and a sports bra underneath. The last thing he needed was to start fantasizing about what had to be a gorgeous naked body. He had enough issues to deal with without adding completely inappropriate lustful thoughts. He already had too many recently discovered weaknesses, and he had no wish to add to that list. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt lust or experienced sexual urges. His missions were his mistress, the only thing he gave unwavering fidelity to. Getting off was something he had neither the time nor the desire for when so many lives depended on him.

  There was blood smeared down her right side even past her hip, but he hadn’t yet gotten to the source of the blood.

  Finally he simply tugged the burka all the way over her head and tossed it aside. When he looked back, he sucked in his breath. Beside him, Conrad swore viciously again.

  Right between her bottom rib and her hip was a still-bleeding crease at least six inches long.

  “At least it’s just a graze,” Conrad muttered, but anger was still vibrating in his voice.

  Hancock carefully palpated the area, forcing himself not to jerk away when she flinched.

  “No sign of a bullet lodged in the muscle or tissue. It bled a lot, but it’s not serious.”

  He glanced up at Honor to gauge her reaction to his assessment and saw relief simmering in her deep brown eyes.

  “It needs stitches,” Conrad said with a frown.

  Hancock stifled a smile at how concerned he was for Honor’s well-being despite the image he projected of being an angry, ungrateful asshole.

  “Yeah, she does. I can get it done, but I’m not as good at it as you are, and you have far more medic training.”

  “I’ll do it,” Conrad said, pushing past Hancock, a med kit in his hand.

  Alarm instantly registered in Honor’s eyes, the first sign of fear in this entire fucked-up situation that she’d allowed anyone to see. Then she glanced at Conrad, who was crawling into the back with her, and unease billowed off her in tangible waves.

  “I’ll be right here,” Hancock said in a soothing tone.

  She didn’t look at all relieved. Her eyes never once left Conrad, and every time he pulled something from the med kit and placed it beside her, her panic intensified.

  Fuck. She was scared shitless of his man and was even more wary after Conrad had yelled at her and given her a scorching dressing-down.

  “Can’t you or Mojo do it?” Honor asked with quivering lips.

  CHAPTER 13

  TO Honor’s astonishment, Conrad grimaced and actual regret flickered in his eyes. She was even more shocked when he curled his rough hand around her much smaller one and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “You aren’t wrong about me,” Conrad said. “I’m an unfeeling asshole. But you deserved more than what you got from us all when you saved my life. I was pissed, yes. But not for the r
eason you likely believe. I was pissed because it was my job to protect you. Not the other way around. And if I’d done my job right, you would have never taken a bullet for me.”

  Honor opened her mouth to argue, but Conrad silenced her with a black look.

  “I also understand why you don’t want me to stitch you. You don’t trust me as much as you do Hancock and Mojo. You shouldn’t. I’m not a good man. But I can make you at least one promise. I will do this and it will be done right and I’ll do my best to keep the pain at a minimum.”

  “O-okay,” she said shakily. “Let’s just get it over with so we can get out of here.”

  Hancock sent her a look of regret. “We’re leaving now. Conrad is going to stitch you on the road. It’s our only chance. We can’t stay out in the open for a prolonged time.”

  “I’ll numb it,” Conrad said in as soft a voice she’d ever come out of his mouth. “And I’ll give you an injection for pain before I set the first stitch. You won’t feel it. I promise.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, finally relaxing and accepting Conrad’s honesty and also the fact he wouldn’t hurt her any more than possible.

  Conrad’s features became a storm cloud once more and she shrank back against the covers, quickly rethinking her decision to allow him to stitch her wound.

  “You have nothing to thank me for,” Conrad said fiercely. “It is I who owe you a debt of gratitude I can’t possibly ever hope to repay. And Hancock and his men are equally grateful to you no matter that they posture and act like angry assholes. You scared us all.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “You’re a courageous woman, Honor. I’ve worked and fought with allies and against foes. And no one has ever put their body in front of mine so I didn’t get shot and killed. So yeah, if you want the truth, we’re definitely pissed. But we were pissed because you could have been gunned down and we would have failed and not honored our promise to get you far beyond ANE’s reach.”

  Heat suffused her cheeks and she forced herself to look away, not wanting the betraying tears blurring her vision.

  “I won’t hurt you, Honor,” Conrad said in a gentle tone she would have never imagined coming from his mouth. It was all she could do to go back to an earlier assessment that they weren’t unfeeling bastards with no conscience.

  She lifted her gaze to Conrad’s for the first time, seeking and searching for all this man had endured. He met her stare, unflinching, but the remnants of regret and guilt still lingered in his.

  She lifted her hand weakly and slid her fingers over Conrad’s. He reacted as if he’d been shot and started to yank his hand away, but then he halted his retreat, allowing her fingers to lace through his.

  “You think you’re a bad man. Why? The things you do are extraordinary. I only see a group of men who will die before they let A New Era find and kidnap me. I only see the good, Conrad,” she said in a gentle voice. “Whether you want people to see it or not. But I see it and I see you, so you can drop the belligerent attitude and stop being a dick around me. You save people at great risk to your lives. Who does that?”

  “It’s what we do,” Hancock said. “This is our calling, if you choose to look at it that way. But it’s always been who I am—who we are. To rid the world of evil so no innocents suffer as they have in the past. And that’s worldwide. I owe the American government absolutely nothing.”

  His tone had suddenly gone so icy that she shivered.

  “They turned their backs on us and then attempted to hunt us to ground and eliminate every member of my team. My efforts aren’t just constrained to U.S. interests or threats. Evil exists all over the world, and that is what we want to stop.”

  “And yet you consider yourselves bad men. That’s a bunch of bullshit. Saving innocent lives is the epitome of good and courageous. Not many would devote their lives to ridding the world of evil.”

  A hint of a smile flirted with his lips, which made her mouth drop open. None of his men ever smiled. She wasn’t even sure they had any emotions, bad or good. Their lives were decided for them, and in their job they couldn’t afford emotions.

  “Hancock, get a syringe with predrawn pain medication. I want her to have that first so she’ll be relaxed and not in pain while I stitch her wound.”

  The pain medication took the edge off, but the pain was still there, though she braced herself, determined not to let anyone see her wimp out. She locked herself in a deep void where she floated free of her immediate surroundings.

  But she was unable to hold back the flinch when Conrad got to the middle where the skin was more tender.

  Conrad cursed and muttered an apology.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t stop. Just get it done with. I can take it.”

  Conrad shook his head, respect flashing in his eyes. But he did as she said and meticulously set the stitches but not before instructing Hancock to administer another injection of pain medication.

  After the second dose, she no longer had to force herself into a deep, dark hole. Her surroundings fuzzed and she drifted with the wind, feeling no pain or anxiety. Before she knew it, Conrad had finished and efficiently bandaged the wound after thoroughly cleaning it.

  “We have a long drive. You should sleep,” Conrad said gruffly. “The pain meds will help and you won’t be aware of the bumpy terrain, nor will it cause you undue pain.”

  She nodded slowly, her reflexes dulled. And then fear took hold and her eyes flew open when she had just about drifted into oblivion.

  “I’m helpless like this,” she said in a panicked voice. “What if we run into trouble? I’ll be completely useless. I’ll get us all killed.”

  It was the same argument she’d used before when she’d been heavily medicated, only this time no amusement glimmered in Hancock’s eyes as it had the first time she’d said nearly those exact words. In fact, utter seriousness was etched into his expression. Gravity and promise glittered brightly in his eyes and she drew comfort from the wordless exchange between them. Sometimes a single look said a thousand words.

  Hancock put his hand to her forehead and wiped her hair back from her brow.

  “You don’t worry about that. You’ll be of no use to us if you don’t rest and recover. We will protect you. Now go to sleep, Honor. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

  She frowned, but the pull of the medication was making her swimmy and she could no longer fight its effects.

  Summoning her last moments of coherency, she gripped Conrad’s hand, thinking he would be more willing to listen to her demand than Hancock.

  “Promise me,” she said, shocked at how difficult it was to get the words past her lips. “Promise me that if I hinder you in any way, you’ll leave me and save yourselves. I’ve cheated death multiple times already. It’s only a matter of time before death wins, and I refuse to allow you to die trying to prevent the inevitable.”

  Conrad’s response was explosive. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

  But she had already slipped under, fading away under the spell of the medication.

  Conrad turned his furious gaze on his team leader, who didn’t look any happier over Honor’s demand.

  “Jesus Christ,” Conrad muttered. “Is she for real?”

  “Yes, she is,” Hancock said quietly. “Which makes our betrayal of her all the more reprehensible.”

  Conrad’s lips formed a tight white line, anger and helpless rage flashing in his eyes.

  “There has to be another way, Hancock. One that doesn’t involve fucking over an innocent woman.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve weighed all the options?” Hancock snapped, his carefully constructed control fraying precariously. He was displaying uncharacteristic emotion. But then so too were his men. “Don’t you think if I had any other way to take Maksimov down, I’d do it? Honor is our only means of getting close enough to Maksimov to take him out for good. If there was a way, any other way, I’d jump all over it and send Honor home in a heartbeat, but
goddamn it, she is the only way. We don’t have to like it. We don’t fucking like it. But it doesn’t change what has to be.”

  His words were laced with bitterness. Anger, self-loathing. Regret. Guilt. Things he never allowed himself to feel—things he hadn’t though himself capable of feeling—because to do so was asking for failure. And he would not fail a third time. Too many lives depended on this, his final—and only—remaining shot at taking Maksimov out for good.

  “She doesn’t deserve this from any of us,” Conrad said bitterly.

  Hancock sighed because damn it, this was precisely what he didn’t want to happen. His men respected Honor, admired her courage and resiliency, and where before they’d never suffered a fit of conscience over doing the job, now they were adamantly opposed to handing Honor over to unspeakable torture and eventual death. Hell, it would be kinder if they just shot her and got it over with. But then Maksimov would elude them again. It always came back to that. Maksimov and their relentless pursuit of a monster the likes of which the world had never known. At any cost. Goddamn it. Any cost. Honor. She was the cost of succeeding in their mission and he hated himself for not having any other way. No other choice. He’d have to live with his goddamn conscience for the rest of his life.

  “No, she doesn’t deserve this,” Hancock admitted. “But we have no choice, Conrad. You know that and it’s why you’re so pissed. Maksimov is responsible for countless deaths and endless misery and suffering. He has to be taken down, no matter what it takes. I don’t like it any more than you do, but the mission comes first. As does the greater good.”

  “If I never hear ‘for the greater good’ again it’ll be too soon,” Conrad spat.

  Hancock was just as sick of carrying that flag and adhering to that motto, but he didn’t say as much to his man. If he showed any weakness, any reluctance to carry out the mission they were charged with, his men would revolt. And he couldn’t afford that. They were too close. He could taste victory. Smell it. Could envision Maksimov’s death and the end of a reign of terror unlike any other in the world.

  Conrad’s face was contorted in a scowl, and he packed the supplies back into the med kit and then crawled over the backseat, leaving Hancock with the unconscious Honor.

  Hancock didn’t move for a long time. He merely remained on his knees staring down at a brave woman. The bravest woman he’d ever encountered. The most selfless woman he’d ever met. And he hated himself for what he must do.

  Finally he eased himself down and lay beside her, so his body was flush against hers. Paying heed to her injured side, he tucked one arm beneath her head so it was pillowed and didn’t absorb the hard bumps as they raced across the terrain.

  Then he slid his other arm over her abdomen, holding her gently against him, and then lay his head next to hers, offering comfort even while she slept.

  CHAPTER 14

  “GIVE her a tranquilizer,” Hancock said grimly to Conrad. “I don’t want her to see us getting on the plane. It will give her false hope and I’m not going to lie to her. It’s better if she isn’t aware of what’s going on until we get to Bristow.”

  “Bad mojo,” Mojo muttered, a deep scowl on his battered features.

  Viper, Henderson and Copeland didn’t look any less pissed.

  “Nothing like turning a lamb loose among a pack of wolves,” Copeland said in disgust.

  “Look,” Hancock said, simmering with impatience. “I don’t like it any more than you all do. I’m not a complete heartless bastard.” Even if until recent times he would have argued to the death that he was anything but just that. An unfeeling asshole whose soul was black and his heart long ago gone. He didn’t regret saving Elizabeth, an innocent twelve-year-old girl. He didn’t regret saving Grace, Rio’s wife. And he damn sure didn’t regret letting Maksimov slip through his fingers again to save Maren, a woman who was good to her toes and had a heart as big as China. But this time, he couldn’t allow guilt, conscience or anything else to deter him from his mission. “But Maksimov has to be taken down. I let emotion cloud my judgment, not once, but twice when I was this close to taking Maksimov out. We won’t get another opportunity. This is our last and only chance. Do I like what we have to do? Hell no. But can you live with your conscience if we save one woman at the expense of hundreds of thousands? Because Maksimov grows bolder and more powerful by the day. If he isn’t stopped, many will suffer. If we stop him, only one suffers. Honor.”

  “And that’s supposed to make us feel better?” Henderson muttered, shocking Hancock by expressing that he felt anything at all. For that matter, all of his men had turned into men Hancock no longer recognized. They were all unfeeling bastards. It was what made them efficient killers.

  “There has to be another way,” Conrad said stubbornly. “Can’t we fake it? Send pictures of Honor and arrange a meet-up for the exchange and then take his ass out without Honor ever being at risk?”

  “You know we can’t do that,” Hancock said in a low voice. “You’re forgetting Bristow. We’re bringing her to Bristow because Honor is a way for Bristow to get in tight with Maksimov, and for Maksimov, Honor is the ultimate bargaining chip with ANE. He won’t take anything at face value. He’s too smart to fall for a trick. He will know if we even try to fuck him over.”

  A round of vicious curses rent the air. Hancock echoed every one of them in his mind, but damn it, they didn’t have a choice. Sometimes the greater good sucked balls. He was tired of deciding what the greater good even was. He wasn’t judge and executioner, even if that was precisely what he’d been for the last decade. But years of being judge and jury and being an instrument of justice was weighing heavily on him, and he was tired. Tired of the deception. Tired of aligning his loyalty with the enemy so he could become the very thing he despised above all else. He just wanted . . . peace. To be able to sleep at night without the nightmares of his past replaying over and over in his tortured mind. He was a damned fool for ever thinking that was even a possibility. He knew that now, when before he’d been able to lie to himself and think it would all be okay once he stepped down. Because Honor would torture not only his dreams, but every waking moment. He’d never have peace. He didn’t deserve it.