Guardian Knight

by Aarti V Raman

  Not to mention the one bullet he’d taken on his right shoulder, right near the vertebra, that he’d neglected to tell anyone about until he’d simply collapsed at the Hilton entrance when he’d returned with Sebastian.

  Akira gleaned all this in the long vigil that she kept.

  Shanaya was playing in the hotel room with Murad to keep her company. Ariana periodically called up on her to check up, but she sounded as okay as she could be, given the circumstances.

  With the easy blurring of memory that childhood afforded, the little girl had been able to put the bad incident behind her, just like she had her mother’s death and her dad’s abandonment.

  Akira promised herself that the child would never again know the terror and pain that came with loss.

  As she held Brandon’s head and looked at his pale, colorless face, his personality leached out of him until only a shell remained, she promised herself a lot of things.

  She leaned over him now, directly near his ear, and whispered, “Wake up, Brand. I need you to wake up.”

  He didn’t.

  She closed her eyes, as her tenuous hold on self-control slipped even further. She was holding herself together with grit and exhaustion. One good push and she’d topple over, but she couldn’t fall apart yet.

  “Please, Brandon. Come back to me. You promised you would. You promised you’d take me to see your parents in Australia.”

  Sebastian opened the door quietly, hearing her soft, desperate, almost wordless murmur.

  “Come back to me, Brandon. I love you. I love you, so much. Please, come back.”

  He closed the door and stood staring at it for a long time.

  Fifty-One

  Akira found Sebastian two hours later in the hospital cafeteria. His cigarette sent out spirals of smoke in an empty coffee cup. His guards were a discreet three feet away. Markham Legrand was among them.

  She sat down and he pushed a cold glass of water towards her.

  “How’s he?”

  “Stable. Breathing. At least, I hope so.” God, I hope so.

  “He’ll pull through,” Sebastian said simply.

  She looked drained, sitting in the white plastic chair issued at hospitals around the world. Toying with the sandwich that someone, one of his guards, had been kind enough to keep in front of her the minute she sat down. She still wore the same clothes that she’d come to the hospital in.

  Akira looked almost as bad as the man fighting for his life in the hospital room.

  “He’ll pull through, Akira,” Sebastian said again, placing a firm hand around her wrist.

  It startled her enough to look at him. And he saw that her devastated eyes spilled all the love out. All the love he’d heard her whisper to the man he considered friend.

  “How? How do you know that?” she asked him without any real interest.

  “He’ll pull through,” Sebastian replied. “For you.”

  And Akira wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so much.

  Wanted to believe that she mattered to Brand, more than his guilt, more than his death wish. More than his need to do what was right and pay for his sins. She wanted to, but she couldn’t be sure.

  After all, how much could she mean to him if he’d led her on for two months straight? While she’d sat in that sterile, cold room willing Brand to wake up she’d put a few more pieces of this conspiracy puzzle together. And the one fact that jumped out clearly was: Brandon Rice knew, had always known, that Sebastian Delgado was alive.

  And he’d never divulged it to her. He’d never trusted her.

  “If you say so, Sebastian. You people are good at coming back from the dead, aren’t you?” She had some bite in her voice, some color in her cheeks.

  Sebastian flinched. “Touché.”

  “So, are you ever going to tell me what’s been going on? Or do I have to put up with more lies and evasions?”

  “I’ll tell you anything you want if you eat that sandwich.”

  Deliberately, even though her stomach rebelled at the thought of allowing food to pass through it, Akira took a deep bite of the salami and rye sandwich. The bite threatened to come back out in a nauseous rush, but the cold water helped. And after the second bite, she discovered she was ravenous.

  As she finished on one triangle of the tasteless sandwich and started on the next, Sebastian started to talk.

  He didn’t stop talking for an hour straight.

  ~~~~~

  “So the attack on your yacht, the yacht itself, was part of Brand’s plan? You wanted to draw your enemies out. Give them an open target,” she concluded at the end of the interview.

  Sebastian nodded. “Yes, Brand figured, and correctly, that the attacks on me and my ministers were too coordinated and chaotic at the same time for it to be just random acts of violence by rebels. Someone had to be controlling something somewhere. And we wanted to find out who.”

  “But you got shot.”

  “Yes, I got shot. This was an unexpected twist, and I played it to our advantage. If the people who wanted me dead, thought that I was dead, then they’d have to come out in the open. If only to claim their prize.” Delgado smiled faintly in the end, his beard stretching his face into unseen creases.

  “The prize being the oil floating in your country’s mountain.” Akira supplied for him.

  “Yes, but it didn’t happen that way. Within twenty-four hours of my death, Tony Romero had been chosen, because San Magellan couldn’t go leaderless in such a tumultuous time. And after you came awake, demanding to know where the hell I was… I’ll tell you, Brandon was pissed at your persistence and sheer disbelief of all the facts.”

  Akira tried to smile at that.

  It was easy to picture a furious Brandon trying to make sure that she was blocked and away from the scene of the crime before anything else happened. Either to her, or because of her.

  He wasn’t picky that way.

  “And I was the perfect tool because I wouldn’t give up.” Akira took up the narrative, quietly. “You knew that… he knew that. And you used that to get what you wanted. Because Brandon wouldn’t get to go back to San Magellan because he was persona non grata. And I wasn’t supposed to have been shot on the Sea Princess.”

  “Yes.” It was a reluctant admission.

  “But even you didn’t anticipate the sheer magnitude of your enemy, did you? His plan was ingenious. And you weren’t sure who all from your ministry was involved.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Admiration and regret coated Sebastian’s voice. “You connected the dots perfectly, Akira.”

  “Yes, so when your adventures in San Magellan ended up in a trek through the Santa Boronias and Brand’s house, we both knew we were on the right track and that you were in terrible danger.”

  “Brand’s house?”

  Sebastian cursed under his breath. “Yes. The house at Guajira belongs to Brandon.” Sebastian gave a thin smile. “Technically, both Henry and Brandon co-own it and use it as a safe house of sorts for their South American operations.”

  Akira felt a stab of pain. “Of course. Henry would know everything, wouldn’t he?”

  “He was the one Brand called when he wanted Miguel to help him. To rescue you two. As a back-up plan.”

  “I see.” Her voice was a monotone now.

  “Then you figured it all out, largely because of your cleverness and persistence, and came here to Monaco. And the rest… you know the rest.” Delgado shrugged, almost apologetically.

  “Do you think we all pay for our mistakes, Sebastian? Even the ones we make with the best intentions?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I do. We do. I am paying right fucking now.” Akira regarded him steadily, hands folded at her chest. There was no condemnation in her, no curiosity; she’d just made a statement.

  “He cares for you, Akira,” Sebastian said gently. “He always has. He was vehemently opposed to involving you at all in this mess. I insisted on it. I basically ordered him
to take your help if you were interested in giving it. Because I knew that you’d be tenacious and you wouldn’t rest until you’d figured it all out. Only you’d think nothing of committing international espionage and breaking into my country’s political seat to get evidence.” Delgado smiled appreciatively at that.

  “So you both used me, my professional ethics and my personal integrity. You used my feelings against me and got what you wanted.”

  Sebastian looked sad. “You wanted it too, Akira. You wanted the story of your career. We just…facilitated it.”

  Akira felt the blood rush to her face at his true, condemning words. “That’s just peachy, Sebastian. That’s just peachy perfect.” She wanted to be bitter, livid. She could barely manage sarcastic.

  Exhaustion coupled with betrayal on top of a breaking heart was taking its toll on her.

  Suddenly, a horrible thought struck her.

  “At the Hall of Records. When they came for us, they weren’t coming for me, were they? They wanted him.”

  “Yes, their leader, Cameron Castle, wasn’t absolutely sure of my death. He figured he could torture the answer out of Brandon. Or worse, torture you till he broke, which he would have.” Sebastian added. “Brandon would have given me up without a moment’s pause if they’d harmed you.”

  Akira thought about her battered cheek. And the way Brand had whispered, you’re hurt while they waited for a couple of helicopters to rescue them.

  “I don’t think so, Sebastian. But if it makes you feel better to think so, then please.”

  “He’s not a bad man, Akira. Or even a liar. He just...”

  “He was doing his job. Like I was doing mine. Don’t worry, Sebastian. I know the score with Brandon Rice. I’ve always known it.” Now the sludge of bitterness leaked through.

  “Then why are you still here?” Sebastian asked her quickly.

  Akira stared at him for a long moment. “You have your crosses, Sebastian. I have mine. Let’s leave it at that. Besides, I owe him, several times over. And I always like to pay my debts.”

  “If you say so.” He sounded unconvinced.

  “I do. So what now?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What does all this mean? For you? The country? Murad? Geraldo? Is Tony going to abdicate in your favor? And where does the oil issue stand?”

  “Geraldo was deported back yesterday. He’s going to be tried in the speediest trail possible. And Murad was sent back to his father. He’ll be dealt with over there. The Bedouins have their ways, I can't interfere with that. And I don’t want to.” Sebastian barely suppressed a shudder.

  “And you? What about you? Your country is either going to brand you the world’s biggest liar or hail you as their greatest hero.” There was no doubt as to which part she preferred.

  “Well.” There was a faraway, yearning look in his eyes. “I find myself bored with politics. I think I’ll take up the law again. There’s an exciting new case which is going to shake the foundations of the government of my country, you see.” He grinned earnestly, for real this time.

  Akira shook her head. “You really have it all, don’t you?”

  Sebastian Delgao gave her an unfathomable look. “No, I don’t.”

  She raised her brow but couldn’t comment further because Lucas was running into the cafeteria.

  Akira stood up, knocking the chair over, her head swimming dizzyingly. Nothing could have happened to Brand. She would have known. In her heart, she would have known.

  It would have stopped.

  “Luke?” She forced his name out through bloodless lips.

  Lucas came and grabbed her, before kissing her soundly on the lips. She was too surprised to do anything, but hold onto him.

  “He’s awake. Brandon’s awake. He’s mad as hell, and cussing at the pain, but he’s awake.”

  Lucas was swinging her around and Seb was grinning. And then she couldn’t see anything.

  Akira didn’t realize it was because of the tears flowing down her cheeks in silent rivers until Sebastian took her in his arms and held her till her fear and relief ran out of her. In great, shuddering torrents.

  ~~~~~~

  Two hours later, when Brandon asked about her, it was Sebastian who answered apologetically.

  Akira was gone.

  She’d left with Shanaya and her parents as soon as she’d been assured that he was out of any real danger.

  And for the first time in his life, Brandon understood the real, searing pain of being abandoned right when you needed somebody more than anything in the world.

  Fifty-Two

  “You’re an idiot.” Sebastian observed.

  Brand was doing pushups in the home gym at his place in Guajira. The one where he slept on the couch because the bed held her memory and where he dreamed dreams that terrified him in their loneliness.

  He’d not said a word about Akira’s departure six weeks ago and nobody else had dared to either. He’d concentrated on getting well and brooding from the wheelchair before the walking had started.

  Then he’d brooded on his long walks. Before progressing to the gym… where he brooded as he worked out.

  Sebastian smoked his customary cigar and unflappably returned the glare Brand gave him.

  “Screw you.” Brand gritted out.

  “I didn’t know I was your type.”

  “Get the fuck out.”

  “Brandon, all this working out? It’s not going to win the woman back.” Sebastian pointed out reasonably.

  There was a small hitch in Brand’s breathing when he said that, but apart from that tiny tell, he continued as before.

  Henry came in too now. Dressed in khakhi shorts and a blue shirt, unbuttoned. He looked tan and healthy. Fit as a fucking fiddle with a bow. As he should be, since he had Rumi safe and sound.

  There with him.

  Brand felt like limp spaghetti in front of him, and he was doubly angry and resentful of Henry.

  “Is it time?” Henry asked Sebastian.

  “What time?” Brand grunted out.

  “To badger you until you quit your stupid silence and admit that you love Princess Akira.” Henry spoke so authoritatively that Brand was afraid he’d babbled something during his short-lived coma.

  But of course not. If he had, she would have heard him, since she’d not left his side for the hours he’d been floating in dreamland. And then she’d taken off.

  And he couldn’t have stopped her if his life depended on it.

  He’d lost her.

  It came down to that one single fact.

  He’d never had her and he’d lost her.

  All the training and physical therapy in the world wasn’t helping him. He grieved like he’d never grieved.

  Every night, Brand counted the number of times he could have told her the truth, told her how much he needed her, more than any job, more than anything, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t even known how much he needed her until she was gone.

  If he’d beaten himself up over what had happened to his brother then what he’d done to Akira was killing him. Knowing how he felt about her, how much he missed her made things worse.

  But what was worst was that he saw her everywhere. In his mind when he tried to sleep. At his side, like a phantom, a ghost, his dearest dream, while he tried to eat and sleep and just breathe.

  It wasn’t working.

  But he wasn’t sure what would work.

  “I --” Brand stopped.

  “You know, it’s like pulling off a plaster. Or a knife. Or a bullet. Quick and painful, hurts like a mother.” Sebastian smiled wolfishly. “But, in the end, it saves your life.”

  Brand cursed at him, and clambered from the bar. He stalked over to the treadmill and cranked it up. He was flat-out running and his vision hazed just before Henry powered it down.

  “Stop being an idiot. Go get her,” he advised Brandon, who was now using the handles to balance himself.

  His knees were like rubber. “Why?”

&nbs
p; “Brandon.” Henry sighed. “You know needing someone isn’t that bad.”

  Brandon wanted to retort back. Something biting and nasty, but he stopped. It’s not like he needed her every minute of every day. Okay, he missed her like he missed his living heart. But that didn’t mean he needed her that way.