Darkest Before Dawn (KGI series) (34 page)

“Thank you,” she whispered in a husky voice. “I’ll never forget this night. Or you.”

CHAPTER 28

HONOR lay nestled in Hancock’s arms, her cheek resting on his chest, his chin atop her head. They lay in silence, Honor’s arm wrapped tightly around Hancock’s waist, wanting to keep him here, next to her, for as long as possible. Every minute that went by was another minute closer to dawn and the end of their night together.

He stroked his fingers through her hair, over and over. Just caressing, absently almost, as if he were pondering something important.

She loved him.

Agony seared through her body, worse than any pain she’d ever experienced. All the injuries, the battering she’d taken in the attack, the bullet she’d taken for Conrad, Bristow’s two attacks on her. Nothing hurt worse than loving this man and knowing that in another day’s time he would turn her over to Maksimov and she’d never see him again.

It was the hardest thing, and it mustered every ounce of her self-control not to weep for all that was lost. But she refused to give in. Because Hancock was hurting too. She knew it. He was quiet. He hadn’t said a single word since he’d gently kissed her forehead after she’d thanked him and had said, “No, my darling Honor. Thank
you
. You are the first time I’ve ever tasted sunshine.”

Then he’d taken her into the bathroom and into a warm shower where he washed every inch of her body, taking special care with her injuries. He’d even shampooed her hair, massaging gently before rinsing the soap from the long strands. After thoroughly drying her, he’d rebandaged what needed bandaging, applying antibiotic cream and a numbing agent to prevent pain. Then he’d finished drying her hair, taken her into the bedroom and pulled her between his legs as he sat with his back propped against the headboard, and he’d combed the tangles.

She was nearly asleep when he eased her down on her uninjured side and simply wrapped himself around her, tucking her head beneath her chin, and held her.

But neither slept, and neither spoke. What was there to say anyway? They both knew what had to be done. What
would
be done. And she had only one regret. Just one. Not the attack on the clinic, not her running in constant fear, not Hancock’s initial betrayal, not even Bristow’s attack. Because it had all led to this one beautiful night. No, her only regret was that she
only
had this one night.

He’d given her the most beautiful night of her life, but he’d also shown her what she would never have, and she craved it as she’d never craved anything in her life. Being with Hancock? Having his dominance, his caring, protection, his utter devotion to doing whatever it took to make her happy?

She wanted to weep because as much as she’d wanted this night, she almost wished she’d never gotten a taste of what was now forbidden fruit. You couldn’t mourn what you never had.

Hancock was tense, agitated. She could feel his body vibrating, how tightly he held her. His grip was almost bruising and it was painful at times, but she never said a word, not wanting to lose his touch. If he thought he was hurting her, he would immediately put distance between them, and that she couldn’t bear. A little pain was a small price to pay to lie in his arms for the few short hours they had left together.

She’d asked him for
tonight
. Only tonight. But would he make love to her again tomorrow night? Knowing that it truly
would be their last night together? That the following morning they’d leave for him to turn her over to Maksimov?

Or would he spend that night hardening himself, turning back into the Hancock everyone but her saw? The machine. The emotionless mercenary who thought nothing of turning a woman over to a man if it accomplished his goal.

Yes, that was the more likely possibility. He would distance himself from her. He’d wake her with those cold eyes and implacable features. He’d treat her as the prisoner she was. Oh, he wouldn’t hurt her physically. But he would treat her as a thing. Dispassionately and as though she were of no importance whatsoever. Because it was the only way he would be able to withstand what he had to do. And she knew it hurt him. No one else would know. But she did and would.

That didn’t hurt her, that he would harden himself and become a shell of his true self. She knew it was the way he endured—had endured—all these years of loneliness. What hurt her was that she’d never see him again. Nothing Maksimov or ANE would do to her could possibly compare to the agony of knowing love for such a short time, of tasting passion that couldn’t possibly be common, of sharing an intimate bond with the real Hancock. The Hancock that only she saw. And would never see again.

Whatever Maksimov and ANE did, she could take. She’d even welcome it because it would give her respite from the very real pain of losing Hancock. And when death came for her, she would welcome it, because then she wouldn’t feel at all.

She closed her eyes, a sense of peace enveloping her. Her life hadn’t been for nothing. For one magical night, she’d experienced love. She’d loved and been loved in return. This night was worth
everything
that had come before and all that would come after. Because it gave her this. And this was worth dying for.

“I can’t let you go.”

Hancock’s words, guttural with agony and despair, startled her, breaking the heavy silence and the thoughts she’d been lost in.

His hold on her tightened until she could no longer contain the wince. He didn’t even notice.

“I can’t do it, Honor. I can’t. I
won’t
. Goddamn it, I
won’t
do it!”

He was seething, his entire body tense, his muscles rippling with rage. His face, if she didn’t know the man beneath, would terrify her. He looked like what he’d been labeled his entire life. A ruthless, merciless killer.

She gently pried herself away from him, just enough that she could lean up and face him fully, her puzzlement not disguised.

“Hancock?” she whispered tentatively.

She had no idea what he meant. What he was saying. She was utterly confused.

His face was a wreath of torment. Agony blazed in his eyes and he looked as though he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Had this been what he’d been thinking of so intently the last hours as they’d lain in silence, him holding on to her as if afraid she’d simply disappear? Had he been planning this all the while, or had he simply made an impulse decision? An irrational bid to hold on to the night as much as she wanted to hold on.

He reached up to touch her cheek and she couldn’t help herself. She nuzzled into his palm and turned to kiss it but then returned her gaze to his, questioning. Not understanding what was happening here. Whatever it was . . . it was huge. And it made her very afraid. Not for herself. But for
him
.

“I need you to listen to me, Honor. And I need you to understand. I will
not
give you up,” he said fiercely. “There isn’t a force strong enough in this world to
ever
make me give you up. Do you understand?”

Her brow furrowed. “But Maksimov . . .”

“
Fuck
Maksimov,” he said savagely. “And fuck the goddamn
greater good
. I’ve been an instrument for the greater good my entire life and I’ve never,
never
asked for one goddamn thing for myself. I’ve never
expected
something for myself. I’ve never had one thing that’s all my
own
. Only mine. But I have
you
, Honor. And I will
not
give you up.
Ever.
”

Fear was sharp and bitter in her mouth. She stared at Hancock, allowing every ounce of that fear to show. She
was terrified. For him. And for what she thought he was telling her.

“But Hancock, if you don’t give Maksimov what he wants . . . You’ve told me who and what he is. He’ll
kill
you. He’ll hunt you down like some animal. From what you told me about him, about the kind of man he is, I can well imagine that time means nothing to him. That he’ll wait months, years, however long it takes, but he’ll kill you. No matter how long it takes to exact revenge. He’ll wait and he’ll strike. I can’t, I
won’t
let that happen, Hancock. You constantly tell me that I matter. Goddamn it, Hancock,
you
matter,” she raged. “
You matter!
You matter to this world. The world needs you. You matter to
me!
You said my sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain, that it served the greater good. Then don’t let my sacrifice be wasted! I would
never
trade my life for yours.
Never!
”

“And you think you don’t matter to
me
?” he roared. “Do you think I’m going to just hand you over to him and walk away knowing that he’ll repeatedly rape you, that his men will rape you? Whomever he wishes to reward will rape you. He’ll torture you just because he enjoys it. And then he’ll turn you over to ANE and every imaginable horror you can possibly imagine, they will do them all to you. When and only when you are so near death that you can no longer withstand their constant brutality, they’ll kill you, but it won’t be merciful and it will
not
be swift. They’ll drag you into the middle of whatever village they occupy and they’ll inflict as many wounds as possible so that you die a slow, horrific death, and then they’ll leave your corpse to rot and decompose and no one will move you for fear they’ll be killed for interfering.”

She shuddered at the very real images he invoked. Tears ran down her cheeks. Theirs was an impossible situation and she knew it, even if he didn’t admit to knowing the same. They were doomed. They could never be together. If she didn’t die, then Hancock would.

“I will
not
trade my life for yours,” she repeated, horrible rage building and swelling until it was an inferno. “You are a good man. I don’t care what or who you think you are. I see you, Hancock.
I see you.
The world
needs
you.”

“And I need
you
,” he seethed. “You are the
one
thing I want—need—above all else. I
need
you, Honor. What kind of man would I be if I led you to your rape, torture and eventual slaughter? Do you honestly think I could continue on like nothing had ever happened? Do you think I would survive it? That I could continue on, fighting the good fight, fighting for the greater good when
you
are the greater good and
I
killed you.
I
murdered you.
I
let you be raped and tortured. Do you think I’d sleep at night imagining you in their hands? Do you think the world would be a better place with me in it? I’d turn into a monster unlike this world has ever seen, and I wouldn’t give a fuck about the greater good because
my
greater good was destroyed by
me
.”

She leaned her forehead to his, her tears dripping onto his face. “What are we going to do?” she whispered brokenly.

“We’re going to make the exchange.”

Honor looked at him in shock.

“We’re going to set it up so that it looks exactly as it should. And then my men and I are going to take out Maksimov. I will not give you to him, Honor. Do you understand that? Do you trust me?
I will not give you to him.
”

She swallowed, the beginnings of hope blossoming, and she tried, oh how she tried, to tamp them down because hope was such a dangerous and delicate thing. So easily broken and yet so easily nurtured.

“I trust you,” she said without hesitation.

He leaned in and kissed her.

“Then trust me to do this. I have to go now. I want you to rest. Really rest. And Honor, if you don’t, I
will
have Conrad sedate you. I have to get with my men because we now only have a little over twenty-four hours to come up with a completely different plan.”

She smiled ruefully. “After the bombshell you just dropped on me, you better go ahead and go get Conrad, because there is no way I’ll sleep. I’ll just stay up and worry . . .”—her voice trailed off to a whisper, as if by saying the last too loudly she’d somehow jinx them—“. . . and hope. I’m afraid to hope, Hancock.”

“My name is Guy,” he said quietly, surprising her with
the abruptness in the change of topic. “No one but my family calls me that. Well, really only Eden, my sister. Foster sister if you will. My foster father and my two foster brothers mostly call me Hancock. I’d like you to call me by my name, but only when we’re alone.”

“Guy,” she said, testing the sound on her lips. “Guy,” she said again. “It suits you. I like it far more than Hancock.” She paused a moment before staring at him, locking gazes with him, allowing everything she felt into her eyes, hoping he could see.

He swallowed visibly, mirroring emotion simmering in his own expression.

“I like it far more because you shared it with
me
,” she added quietly.

She caressed his jaw, staring at him with the love she felt and hoped he saw it, because she couldn’t—wouldn’t—say it. Not now. It reeked of emotional manipulation and they weren’t out of the woods. Things could go terribly wrong. She would do nothing to make things worse.

He kissed her again even as he was rising to pull on a pair of jeans. “I won’t let you down,” he said fiercely. “I’ve let you down time and time again, Honor. But not this time. Not ever again. I know I’m asking a lot when I ask you to trust me. I’ve betrayed that trust. I don’t deserve it from you, but I’m asking anyway. It matters to me. It matters a lot.”

She gave him the words, unreservedly, her eyes never leaving his, the words directly from her heart. She might as well have said
I love you
for the way she gave the words. And judging by the fierceness that entered his eyes, she thought he heard the echo of that
I love you
when she told him she trusted him.

And for her, trust was love. Love was trust. They were one and the same for her.

CHAPTER 29