And that was just enough. “No. We’re going to sit right here and . . . and . . . just give it to me straight, Ry. I get it if kids are a deal breaker for you, but at the very least, you could have a conversation with me—”
His green eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you giving me the silent treatment for nearly two months!”
“I’m not . . . you’re giving me the silent treatment! You told me that you’d marry me after we talked. But we never talked. You never said a word—”
“Have you lost your mind? Do you not remember anything from Italy? I told you I loved you. I told you about the abortion. I told you that I couldn’t have kids. And you just—”
“You had an abortion?”
It was the way he said it that made her stop. Made her throat fill. A hint of horror, of disbelief—
She looked away, out the window in the darkness. Nodded.
His hand lay on top of hers. “Jenny. I’m so sorry. I didn’t . . . You told me this in Italy?”
“Yes, during the attack.”
“During the—babe, I was completely freaking out because I’d been practically disabled right in front of you, and you were negotiating with a man who was going to kill us, and I . . . I didn’t hear any of that.”
She looked over at him. “None of it?”
He shook his head. “Why on earth would you pick then to tell me?”
She stiffened. “Because I was scared! You were lying there, hurt, and I thought we were going to die—”
“Because I couldn’t protect you.”
She stilled. “What?”
He looked away from her. “I should have protected you.” His voice tightened. “For the past two months all I could think about was how I nearly let you get killed while I lay there like a stuffed ham. I was sick . . .” He exhaled, then looked at her. His eyes glistened. “Babe. You had an abortion?”
She took in a breath.
“How old were you?”
“Nineteen.”
“You must have been terrified.”
Oh.
His eyes were wet. “And so sad. I’m so sorry.”
She just looked at him, her own eyes filling. “I was sad. And scared. I didn’t know what to do. And I . . .” She shook her head. “I’ve always just tried to move forward. But suddenly, you were proposing and the past reached out and caught me.”
“Maybe because you weren’t supposed to move forward without me,” he said softly. “We’re in this together, Jen. I love you.” Then he reached out and pulled her to himself, his coat crunching in the cold as his arms went around her. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She had nothing. And then she had everything, his arms holding her, the beat of his heart against hers. “I thought you were disgusted and angry with me.”
He leaned away. “I’m angry at the guy who put you in that position.”
“Brendan was young and scared too. He gave me money and walked out of my life.”
Orion’s lips pinched tight.
“The thing is, something went wrong. I bled a lot, and they told me that getting pregnant again might be dangerous. I . . . I’m not sure I can have kids.”
Orion said nothing.
“Ry?”
“And?”
“Don’t you want kids? You love kids—”
“Of course I want kids, Jen.” His eyes gleamed, almost fierce. “But I want you more. You are my future. And remember, we told God he could be in charge, right? We’ll leave it in his hands.”
She closed her eyes. Nodded.
He nudged her chin up and kissed her. His lips were cold, his chin unshaven, but she grabbed his jacket and clung to him, kissing him back.
This was how it was supposed to be. Together, safe, warm, while the world stormed around them.
Orion. She leaned away. “You really were embarrassed you couldn’t overpower two massive Russian thugs?”
He nodded.
“Oh, for cryin’ in the sink—”
“I just can’t let anything like that happen again, Jen. First Roy, then you—I can’t feel that helpless again. I can’t watch someone hurt you, ever again.”
“It’s not a bad thing to be helpless when you’re on a team. And, I’m not completely helpless. I did train for self-defense in the CIA. I just . . . I panicked in Italy. I saw you go down and—”
“And that’s what I’m talking about. You have to trust me, babe.”
“And you have to trust me. That’s what marriage is about, right? A team. You and me? When you’re weak, I’m strong. You said it—we’re in this together.”
His gaze searched hers. “Are you still willing to marry me?”
“You need to ask? Of course—”
His mouth closed on hers. Again. And okay, the man was anything but helpless. He kissed her like he had on the rooftop in Italy, as if he’d found something he’d been searching for. Thought he’d lost forever.
Or maybe she was the one doing that because she held on, digging her hands into his coat lapels.
Never letting him go again.
In fact, she could stay stuck here with him until they found them next spring.
Merry Christmas.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HAM SHOULD SIMPLY STOP WORRYING. Because everyone was safe, and it was the dawn of a new season.
Mourning over. Joy ahead.
Overhead, the bright blue DC skies agreed, hardly a cloud for today’s inauguration on the Mall. Chilly, to be sure, with the temperatures hovering in the midthirties. He and Signe and the rest of the team had arrived early enough to grab spaces near the front. Signe had slid her hand into his, into the pocket of his wool dress coat, holding tight as first Jackson was sworn in as VP, then White as president.
The Mormon Tabernacle choir sang “Amazing Grace,” the US Marine Band played the national anthem, country music star Benjamin King sang “America the Beautiful,” and the entire event swept a patriotism through Ham he’d thought he’d forgotten.
The home of the brave and the land of the free. He felt it in his bones.
He’d also stopped feeling his fingers long about hour four and now tried to work heat back into them as he sat at a coffee shop near their hotel just a few blocks off the Mall. The parade had long ago streamed by, and now a crowd pressed into the warmth of the shop.
Steam spiraled up from the cups on the table as Jake and Aria, Orion and Jenny—finally holding hands again—and even Scarlett and Ford, who had flown in for the event, chatted about the ceremony. North had opted to stay home, with Selah about to leave on another overseas trip. Ham felt for him.
Signe seemed singularly upbeat, something about her demeanor loosening over the past few weeks, since Christmas.
Since he’d given her the ring. No, since he’d confirmed for her that Tsarnaev was dead.
No longer able to terrorize her.
Yes, sometimes he still woke and had to prowl the house, praying, fighting the darkness that wanted to consume him at the cost of her patriotism.
Not today. Today the good guys won.
Signe’s fuzzy white mittens sat on the table, so he found her bare hand and wove his fingers through hers. Felt the ring, cool on her finger.
“Last time we were here we did search-and-rescue training with Dani Masterson and a couple of her dogs,” Scarlett was saying. “They had this cool device they put in the dog’s eye—a contact that functioned like a camera. So they could see everything the dogs saw.”
“Really?” Signe said as Ham took a sip of his macchiato. “How?”
“Through a cell phone connection, I think. They couldn’t hear anything, of course, but it did have a GPS, so they could track it as well. Dani said they used it for urban SAR, as well as for some military applications.”
“We used a dog on our team,” Jake was saying. “He saved our hides more than once by alerting to a bomb or some other kind of danger.”
“I used to have a dog,”
Signe said. “Named Caesar. Ham and I found him together.” She looked at him. “We should get another dog.”
His heart nearly flipped inside him, but he managed to nod.
A dog.
Which meant a future.
See, he could stop worrying. He should start believing in the happy ending he was living.
“We should get back to the hotel and change,” Jenny said. She looked at Orion. “I bought a dress.”
Orion’s eyebrows went up, and he smiled. “I can’t wait.”
Ham didn’t know what had happened to repair the gaping canyon between them, but something had been put right.
He’d booked rooms at the Patriot Hotel again, the location of the private Patriot Ball, a tribute to search-and-rescue personnel, the Red Cross, and other organizations. After they returned from the coffee shop, and after he’d emerged from his shower, Signe locked herself in the bathroom for a good hour.
Now, he could hear her singing.
Singing.
She had her phone on, but still, her words drowned it out as she sang about them being just kids when they fell in love.
An Ed Sheeran song. Ham hummed along, the words exactly right. He’d found a woman, a love bigger than he ever dreamed. He stood at the window, dressed in his tux, staring down at the snow-covered streets, the whitened spires of the elm trees that stood sentry over the Mall, the frozen ice of the reflection pond.
Only three months since he’d gone after the woman he’d never forgotten.
The door opened behind him and he turned.
“Wow.”
Signe emerged from the bathroom, coiffed and so beautiful his heart nearly punched through his chest. The strapless black ball gown had a sweetheart neckline, a pleated satin skirt with a slit up the side, mid-thigh. She wore a simple silver necklace, her blonde hair down, curled, and falling over her shoulders, and open-toed black stilettos.
He clenched his fists at his side, fighting the urge to touch her, trace his fingers down her arms, muss her golden hair.
“Just a little black dress? That’s how you described it,” he said, almost with a growl. “You’re so beautiful, I can hardly breathe.”
She laughed, those perfect lips curving into a smile. “You don’t look too terrible yourself there, hero.”
“I feel like a bum next to you.”
She walked over to him. Oh, and she smelled good. “I love you, Hamilton Jones.”
He heard a cracking, deep inside, all his rules, his self-designated control breaking away. Now wasn’t the time to— “Signe, we’d better go.”
Instead, she put her hands on his lapels. Lifted her face to his. “I was thinking that tonight, after the ball . . .” She raised an eyebrow.
His eyes widened. “Really?”
She nodded. “It’s something Jenny said—that God brought us back to the beginning, maybe so that I could take another look at what he has for me. Us. I know what I have. And I’m not scared anymore that I’m going to lose it.”
He nodded, his hands cupping her face. When he kissed her, sweetly, careful of her lipstick, he ignored the part of his brain that worked overtime to scare him, and again told himself to stop worrying.
They descended in the elevator and met the others in the lobby. Orion and Jake both wore tuxes. Jenny wore a dark navy dress with a boatneck collar and a frilled slit just above her knee, silver heels.
Aria wore a silver V-necked sequined dress, her dark hair up. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Ford Marshall had flown into town for the event and wore his dress whites, and Scarlett joined him in a white satin gown with a twisted neckline and cascading ruffles. Her above-the-ankle hemline showed off a pair of gold shoes.
“Apparently, we are way off duty tonight,” Orion said.
Maybe. If Ham could get rid of the burr in his gut.
“Relax, boss,” Jake said, clamping a hand on his shoulder as he pulled out his tickets.
“I’m relaxed.”
“Right. I could play a song off the muscles in your neck. Breathe. The place is surrounded by Secret Service. No one who doesn’t belong is getting in here.”
Maybe. They found the hall, stood in line, and went through two checkpoints before entering the grand ballroom—showing their tickets, their IDs, checking their coats, walking through a scanner, and even being wanded.
He’d never felt so naked, especially when he realized he’d left his cell phone in his coat. But Signe took his arm and they walked into the massive two-story room. A balcony surrounded the room, golden chandeliers sparkled with grandeur, and soaring marble columns cordoned off the center area dance floor. Gold brocade curtains hung at the windows, regal and stately.
Flags lined the stage, and lights that shone on the marble columns illuminated yet more flags hanging from the ceiling around the room.
A giant round thrust extended from the stage, with the presidential seal embedded in the carpet.
A band behind glass near the stage played “I Will Always Love You” by Dolly Parton, and it only made Ham want to pull Signe onto the dance floor.
Lush bouquets of red, white, and blue roses were centered on each table. Guests in tuxes, dresses, and a few uniforms mingled around the room, drinking champagne and other cocktails. Waiters in white gloves strolled with appetizer platters.
It reminded Ham very much of the smaller event in Alaska where a waiter had held Jenny hostage and tried to blow up White with a suicide bomb.
Oh, for Pete’s sake, Jake was right. Breathe. The place was swimming with security.
He noticed that Orion had a tight grip on Jenny’s hand, though.
The music switched to Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA,” and Ham wove them through the crowd to an empty table. “I’ll get us some food,” he said to Signe.
“And some champagne!” She winked and he couldn’t help but give her a kiss on the cheek.
He worked his way toward a table of food, spotting a cake among the offerings.
“Ham! Is that you?”
He turned and stilled as he spotted—his sister, Kelsey. “What are you doing here?”
His little sister, now all grown up, wore a blue dress, cowboy boots, and . . . wait . . . a wedding ring?
She threw her arms around him and he hugged her back. Stepped away. Silver earrings dangled from her ears, her brown hair pulled back, long down the back.
“You look great!” He glanced at her hand. Yep. “Are you married?”
“Oh.” She pressed her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. Yes. Knox Marshall and I eloped a couple months ago.”
He tried not to feel the spear in his heart. But there it was, the constant reminder that she really didn’t want him in her life. And really, who could blame her—he’d been MIA in her life too. So, no, it didn’t make sense, but it still hurt.
He forced a smile. “Congratulations.”
“We didn’t tell anyone, Ham. It was impromptu. Between gigs. Which we have tonight. We’re playing a song for my bandmate’s mother when she comes on stage.”
Ham just blinked at her.
“Reba Jackson. The new VP?”
Oh. “Wow. I didn’t . . . really?”
“Her daughter, Glo, plays in our band. We’re doing a quick number right before she comes on—something Glo wrote for the inauguration. We’re going with her to all the events tonight, singing it.” She lifted a shoulder like it might not be a big deal. “We’re just here for a few minutes, then we’re headed to the Liberty Ball. I think we’re doing ten balls in total tonight.”
“That’s fantastic, Kelsey,” Ham said. He had the sudden urge to tell her about Signe, a weird sort of See, I put my life back together, also comment, but he let it pass.
“When will you be in Minnesota next?”
“I don’t know . . .”
“I’ve never met Knox face-to-face, although I met Tate and Ford and Wyatt and Ruby Jane a while back, so—”
“You did?”
&n
bsp; “Yes. Uh . . .” He wasn’t sure what she knew. “Ruby Jane was in Russia . . .”
“Right,” she said, nodding. “Well, we’re glad that’s over. Tate’s been going crazy trying to protect Glo from people who want to take a shot at her mother.”
Ham frowned. “I thought you caught the guy in Seattle.”
“There was another attempt at Glo and Tate’s wedding, although we figured out that the man behind it wasn’t after her—anyway, for a while people were saying Jackson was behind the attacks—crazy, right? But she was cleared by Tate, so . . .”
Huh. “I’m glad to hear that.” Except, Signe had been so sure.
Then again, he’d been convinced to his bones that he’d watched Signe die, so there was that.
“I’d love to see you, Kelsey, if you get a chance.”
“Text me. I’ll be in DC for a few days.”
He made to move past her, but she grabbed his hand. “Ham?”
He turned back.
“Thank you for what you did.”
He just looked at her.
“When you came to New York, after I was mugged. For staying. For reminding me that I wasn’t alone. You were a good brother. We can start over, okay?”
Yes. He didn’t know why those words tightened his throat. Or why, when she lifted up to give him a kiss on the cheek, he couldn’t speak. But he just nodded, smiled.
And then she was gone.
Huh.
Cake. Yes. And champagne.
He scored both and returned to the table.
Signe was gone. He set down his spoils and looked around. Spotted Orion and Jenny on the dance floor.
Ford was talking with someone who looked like him—wait. Tate Marshall. Yes, he recognized the former spec ops soldier. Probably here with the band.
But no Signe. Maybe she went to the restroom.
“Ham.”
The voice turned him and he found Logan Thorne standing behind him. “Hey, Logan.”
Logan wasn’t smiling. “Where’s your wife?”
It was the tone, more than the question, that had the little hairs on his neck rising. “Why?”
“Because we think she’s in trouble. Come with me.”
Ham glanced around, caught Jake’s eye, then turned to follow Logan. He led him out, past the arched entrances, past Secret Service, into a side hallway.
The Price of Valor Page 28
