Broken Honor (22 page)

“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.”

“No way.”

“Mara, think about it. Once you’re home, I can’t guarantee Liam or any of my enemies won’t come after you both to get to me.”

Mara’s chin jutted stubbornly. “Let me rephrase that in a way you’ll understand. No fucking way. And I should slap you for even mentioning it.”

He grinned. Couldn’t help it. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a quick, hard kiss. She melted into him, clinging to his shoulders with both hands as her tongue met his. His body stirred, and he wished he had time for a longer good-bye.

Breathing hard, she drew away a fraction of an inch. “Promise me something. If it’s ever safe, you’ll come back to us. Even—” She stopped short, cleared her throat. “Even if you can’t stay.”

A promise he couldn’t possibly keep. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed. “I’d like to.”

“But?”

“But I don’t know if it will ever be safe.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A panicked shout from outside startled Mara, and she looked toward the door that led to the courtyard. Travis’s muscles tensed underneath her hands.

“It’s Rustam,” she said. “Are we too late?”

“Christ, I hope not.” Travis let go of her and slung his pack over one shoulder. “Can you make out what he’s saying?”

Mara focused on the words Rustam kept shouting. She wasn’t sure, but it sounded like…

Oh, no. She knew that word. “Help. He’s shouting for help.”

Travis leaned down and kissed her hard. “Stay here. Hide in the corner behind the
soba
. The concrete should stop any bullets.”

“What are you going to do? You’re not armed.”

“I’ll do what I’ve been trained to do. I’ll improvise.” He bared his teeth in what might have passed for a smile—if he was a shark. She watched him go, and the hair stood at attention along her arms. He enjoyed the prospect of facing down impossible odds.

How on earth could he enjoy it?

For all of her newfound strength, her heart pounded a conga beat against her ribs, and she wanted nothing more than to do exactly what he said: hide. While he faced down a well-equipped, well-trained enemy by himself, she wanted to hide. Disgust rolled through her, sweeping away the most ragged edges of her fear. Oh, yes, she was still afraid, but she wasn’t going to let the crazy man get himself killed for her. She also wasn’t stupid enough to think she stood a chance against his enemies. Still, she could help by getting the Belyakovs out of the house and to safety. Without the added weight of worrying about all of them, Travis would be able to focus on…doing whatever he had to do.

Mara tiptoed across the room and peeked out the crack where the two halves of the wooden double doors didn’t sit together quite right. In the courtyard, a group of soldiers stood around Travis in a loose circle. Surrounded.

Her heart turned a somersault in her chest. They had the father of her child surrounded, and all of them appeared to be armed with huge guns. The Belyakovs huddled together in the alcove by the kitchen, Rustam with one arm around his wife and the other protectively holding his granddaughter against his barrel chest.

This wasn’t fair to them. The Belyakovs had been nothing but friendly, welcoming two strangers into their home with open arms and warm hearts, and now they were in terrible danger. She and Travis never should have stayed here.

Weighing her options, she glanced back at the group of soldiers. They stood far enough up the narrow courtyard, near the main gate by the road, that she might just be able to stay out of their line of sight if she clung to the deeper shadows alongside the building. If she could sneak across to the Belyakovs without being spotted, she might be able to lead them through the chicken coops into the garden behind the house. Jumping over the fence around the property would be difficult for her, but she wasn’t planning this escape for herself—she was staying with Travis. No matter what. But if the Belyakovs could get over the fence, they could run to a neighbor and be safe. At the very least, they deserved that much from her.

Mara drew a steadying breath and pushed one half of the door open several centimeters. The creak of the wood sounded like nails on a chalkboard to her ears, but nobody else seemed to notice. Except Rustam. He met her stare across the courtyard and shook his head once. She pretended not to see and pushed the door open another couple centimeters, wincing at every squeak of metal hinges and groan of old wood. It seemed to take forever to open it wide enough that she could slip out. Then she was out in the cold, pressed against the side of the building, silently gulping in air to make up for the oxygen deprivation from holding her breath too long.

She made it halfway to the Belyakovs before Travis’s head lifted and turned in her direction like a predator scenting its prey. He cursed viciously and shoved between two of the soldiers.

No! Was he trying to get them all killed? Why was he drawing attention to her? Now the soldiers knew—

Except they didn’t shoot him or try to stop him in any way.

He caught her by the arms and yanked her against him in a tight hug. “I told you to stay inside, you insane woman.”

Mara stared over Travis’s shoulder at the soldiers. They didn’t attack when his back was turned. Gasping, she pushed on his chest until he let her go. As she walked toward the group, she didn’t dare to hope. Not yet. She studied each of the faces in turn. Harvard. Jean-Luc…

Poor Jean-Luc. She lightly touched his cheek underneath one hideous-looking black eye. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,
cher
,” he said, lifting her knuckles to his lips. “Nothing I haven’t had before.”

“Laying it on thick there, Cajun,” someone muttered from across the circle. She looked over at the owner of the voice.

“Ian! Oh, and Seth. You have no idea how happy I am to see you guys! I was afraid—”

“What ’bout me?” a familiar voice demanded. She spun and threw her arms around Jesse. He all but lifted her off her feet.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered in her ear and hugged her tighter. “I’m so happy you’re safe.”

“Okay, enough.” Travis pulled her out of Jesse’s arms, and she experienced the pure thrill of feminine power. Travis was jealous. Of Jesse. Her cousin, of all people. It was laughable, but she couldn’t help herself for enjoying the moment. Travis wouldn’t be jealous if he didn’t care.

She smiled at Jesse, expecting to see him smile back like they were sharing an inside joke. Instead, he glared at Travis with an equal amount of anger, and that feminine thrill morphed into alarm. No. Uh-uh. It wasn’t happening. She was not going to let two of the most important men in her life ruin their friendship because of some testosterone pissing match.

She shoved between them. “Oh, my God. Really? You two are idiots. Jesse, stop being an overprotective jackass. This”—she motioned to her belly—“is just as much my doing as it is his. And Travis…” She couldn’t think of an appropriate scolding for him, so she decided to show him exactly how she felt instead. She pinched his earlobe and pulled his lips down to hers, ending the hard kiss with a punishing nip to his lower lip. “Okay?”

He smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Roger that.”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed, and he acted like he wanted to protest, but after a tense moment he nodded and backed away. “Is he treating you right?” he asked in his rusty version of Spanish, knowing full well Travis couldn’t speak the language.

“He’s still learning,” she replied, also in Spanish. “But he’s a smart man. Give me time and I’ll have him trained.”

Jean-Luc burst out laughing. Of course. Given all the languages he was fluent in, he probably spoke Spanish. Her cheeks heated up, but then she surprised herself by shrugging off the embarrassment. There was no point to it. It wasn’t like they all didn’t already know she and Travis had been intimate.

“She’s a spitfire,” Jean-Luc said when he caught his breath. “I like her.”

“You like all women, Cajun,” the group chorused, but one female voice stood out from the drone of baritones. Lanie.

Mara took a step in her direction, but hesitated. Lanie had never been the hugging type, and at the moment, she looked as if she’d gone a round with a heavyweight boxer.

Lanie gave a soft laugh and held out her arms. “Aw, come here.”

Mara buried her face in her best friend’s coat and told herself she wasn’t going to cry. Again. Dammit, she’d spilled enough tears already. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Girl, you think I wouldn’t? Hey.” She pushed Mara back at arm’s length and smiled. “I’m a ornery, overbearing bitch on my best days, and there aren’t many people who put up with me, not their mention call me their friend. I won’t risk losing one of them.”

Mara looked around the group of men and smiled when she realized Jesse was hovering close to Lanie—like, possessively close, and she didn’t think his proximity had anything to do with his familial need to protect her. “Looks like you have a few more friends than you think.”

Lanie followed her gaze, but noticeably skipped over the area where Jesse was standing. “Eh, they’re not a bad bunch. I might keep them.”

Uh-huh
, Mara thought and had to fight to control her grin. Lanie had always had a thing for Jesse, and he obviously had a thing for her and…oh, yes. Mara would be doing some serious matchmaking when they got home. Why hadn’t this dawned on her before now? Her cousin and her best friend. The two of them were cast from the same mold. Perfect for each other.

Completely unlike her and Travis.

She met his gaze, and her amusement faded to concern. He’d slammed the shutters down over his expression again, letting nothing of his thoughts show through. But somehow, she knew. Part of him had hoped Gabe would be here with the rest of the team, alive and okay.

He cleared his throat and asked the team, “How did you find us?”

“Same way we found Gabe in Colombia,” Jesse said. “Harvard’s encrypted GPS system on your phone. Lucky for you Harvard’s a genius or else the SEALs would have found you long before Mara made that phone call to her mother.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Mara said, shame heating up her face. “I had no idea they could track us like that.”

Travis soothed a hand down her back, then returned his attention to Jesse. “Sitrep?”

Jesse gave him a quick rundown of everything that had happened to the team in the past twenty-four hours. Being held captive inside their own plane. Their traitor of a pilot suddenly growing a heart and letting them go before taking off for Romania with Gabe—still alive, but just barely—on board the jet.

“Can we trust him?” Travis asked.

“Hell, no,” Jesse said. “He’s a loose cannon. But under the circumstances, we didn’t have much other choice. Gabe needed hospital care, and Garcia was the only person who could get him to one.”

“And I had to leave my dog with him again,” Ian grumbled. “Tank wouldn’t leave Gabe’s side. I swear if my boy comes back with so much as a fucking flea bite, Garcia’s a dead man.”

Jesse nodded. “For once, Reinhardt, we are in full agreement.” He returned his attention to Travis. “The bad guys aren’t here yet—”

“Because they don’t have the boy genius at their disposal,” Jean-Luc said and scrubbed his knuckles over Harvard’s head.

“Right,” Jesse said. “But they are zeroed in on this area. They will be coming in hot, and we’re black on ammo.”

“So basically, we’re fucked,” Travis said.

“Yup,” Jesse agreed. “About sums it up. What is it you SEALs say? No easy day, right?”

“Hooyah.” Travis reached out, bumped his fist to Jesse’s, and just like that, whatever had been broken between them was fixed. They both seemed to relax, as if accepting that they each played an important role in her life.

Mara opened her mouth to ask how on earth a fist bump suddenly made everything all better, but Lanie set a hand on her shoulder and whispered next to her ear, “Don’t even try understanding the dumber sex. Just be happy they’re getting along now and not punching each other’s lights out.”

Mara groaned. “Please tell me they didn’t get into a fistfight.”

“They sure did. Jesse KO’d Quinn a few days ago. Like I said, just be glad they’re getting along.”

“All right, guys,” Travis said and faced the team. “We need to get gone. Jean-Luc, explain the situation to the Belyakovs and tell them to pack their bags. It won’t be safe for them to stay here…” He glanced toward the front gate and trailed off.

“Travis?” Mara whispered, following his gaze. She didn’t see anything beyond the gate but the pitted street.

“Are we out of time?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah. Fuck!” He whirled and grabbed Mara’s hand, dragging her toward the house. “Inside! Now!”