Broken Honor

by Burrows, Tonya

  A shot rang out.

  Liam laughed. “Not anymore.”

  Mara’s heart dropped. She covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh, God. Seth?”

  Travis leaped to his feet and was out the door before she could stop him. She hesitated a second, then chased after him, but he stopped her in the kitchen alcove just short of the patio and pushed her down beside the hand-crank well. “Stay here. Stay hidden.”

  “So our mate Garcia flipped sides again, did he?” Liam continued, amusement threading through his voice. “He’s slippery, that one. Good thing I never trusted him. Let me guess, he told you he’s on his way to take Gabe to a hospital? You really believe that, Quinn? He’s not exactly the all-for-one, one-for-all type. My bet, he dumped Gabe off in the snow somewhere and is on his way to Fiji as we speak.”

  No, that couldn’t be true—their pilot couldn’t be that heartless. But one look at Travis’s darkening expression told her he believed it was very possible. He didn’t trust Jace Garcia any more than he trusted Liam.

  “Speaking of Gabe,” Liam continued. “How is that spunky wife of his? Audrey?”

  Travis squeezed his eyes shut as if the words were a knife flaying open his heart.

  “Last I heard, she was on the beach with her easel painting a gorgeous sunset. No, wait. She’s going inside that gorgeous house of theirs now. Should I tell my man to pop in and say hello for you? No, I don’t think so. He won’t leave anything left of her for me, and I plan to hop the first flight to Costa Rica as soon as we’re done here and spend some quality time with that little bitch—oh! Look, there’s your medic running across the courtyard. I should say hello.”

  Another shot.

  “Jesse!” Heart hammering, Mara lurched toward the patio. Later she’d realize how stupid the move was, but in that moment, she was only reacting, panicking for her cousin, and not thinking rationally.

  Liam laughed again. “Now who’s that pretty woman there with you, Quinn?”

  “Fuck!” Travis grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back inside. He slammed the double doors shut and ushered her behind the concrete column of the kitchen’s soba. “Stay here.”

  Liam’s voice chased after them. “Mean something to you, does she? That’s brilliant. I’ll be sure to cut out her heart and lay it on Rachael’s grave. You remember my wife, Rachael, don’t you?”

  Travis’s hands curled into fists at his sides, and she caught his arm. “Don’t! He’s trying to make you angry.”

  “It’s working.”

  “Exactly why you shouldn’t respond!”

  His lips thinned into a hard line.

  She tightened her grasp. “Please, Travis. Don’t let him bait you.”

  “No snappy comeback?” Liam tsked. “Stubborn as a mule, you are. Here’s how it’ll be, then. You have until midnight tonight to turn yourself over to me. If you don’t, I’ll raze the house and kill everything with a heartbeat. Oh, and you might not want to leave that building. Anyone else sets foot in the courtyard, they’re dead.”

  …

  “This is a waste of time.”

  “I don’t think so.” Liam Miller turned and handed the loudspeaker to Captain Cold. He walked back toward the warmth of his vehicle, parked on the pitted road outside the Belyakov farm. “Why the hurry? They won’t be going anywhere.”

  Captain Cold followed at his heels. “I want this over with. I want the threat Quinn poses to us neutralized.”

  “If you hadn’t been so sloppy in the first place, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

  Cold grabbed him by the front of his jacket and shoved him against the car door. “Listen, you prick. You’re only here because my father doesn’t know how to say no to you.”

  Liam leaned in until he could smell the stink of the captain’s breath and lowered his voice. “The only reason you and your father haven’t been tried for treason is because I took the fall for all of you. I lost everything to keep this operation functioning, including my wife. You fucking owe me this.”

  After a tense second, the captain backed off. “I’m telling you, waiting is a mistake. We should go in now.”

  Liam tugged on his coat to straighten it. “Ah, but that’s not as much fun, is it?”

  “This isn’t about fun.”

  “Of course it is. That’s why men like us, we never retire. We keep at it until someone eventually gets the better of us.”

  Like Quinn had gotten the better of Rachael.

  His wife had been his match in every way, with her killer body and touch-me-and-I’ll-kill-you attitude. Just as heartless and bloodthirsty, always hungry for more. More action, more money, more sex.

  Jesus, the sex.

  It had always been a war. She’d play it like she didn’t want him, then flaunt around in her skimpy outfits, flashing a tit or her pussy at him until he was wound so tight he couldn’t concentrate on anything but her. Then she’d fight him, drawing blood with her nails and teeth. But, in the end, she always submitted.

  He missed it. Missed her more than he thought he could miss anything.

  Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could still see the expression of shock on her face in the moment before Quinn’s bullet burrowed into her skull.

  Fucking Quinn.

  He wanted nothing more than to wipe that tosser and his team from the planet, but until that moment came, Liam wanted them all to sweat.

  He again pictured the pretty Hispanic woman he’d gotten a glimpse of through his binoculars. Quinn had pulled her out of range fast, but the way he handled her…

  Something there.

  “Who was that woman with him?” he asked.

  Cold’s lips tightened under his snow mask. “Her name’s Marisol Escareno. She’s the stepdaughter of Senator Ramon Escareno, Republican, Texas. Big oil family, lots of money, very conservative. Recent intel suggests she may have been quietly disowned in all but name for fucking around with a man her stepfather didn’t approve of.”

  And now she was here. With Quinn.

  Interesting.

  Liam climbed into his vehicle, then rolled down the window. “Shoot into the courtyard every once in a while. Keep them on their toes, huh? I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  He needed more information about this Marisol Escareno. Because as per the big man in charge, he was off his leash and had permission to do whatever he wanted to Quinn. Overrunning the house and flat-out killing everyone they found inside wasn’t enough. He wanted Quinn to suffer the gut-wrenching heartbreak he had suffered, and he had a good feeling that Marisol was the just the key he needed to make that happen.

  As Liam drove away, he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Captain Cold give him the finger. He laughed. He’d have to do something about that cocksucker and his band of not-so-merry SEALs.

  If they didn’t appreciate his sacrifice, he’d just have to sacrifice them.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “What are we going to do?”

  Travis stopped pacing and dragged his hands over his head. “I don’t know.”

  “We can’t stay here.”

  “You want to try walking across that courtyard?” he snapped.

  “No.” Her voice wobbled, and she hated herself for it. Wasn’t she stronger than that now? She straightened her shoulders and matched his snappishness with her own. “Don’t yell at me. This isn’t my fault.”

  To her surprise, he actually flinched as if she’d struck him. “Yeah. It isn’t your fault.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  Dang it. Now she felt bad. “Travis…”

  He held up a hand. “No, don’t. I get it. We’re both stressed out. It’s fine. Just…let me think, okay?”

  She nodded, and he began pacing back and forth across the room again. For a long time, the only sound was his boots on the floor, the thunk thunk thunk of his steps muffled by the throw rug.

  But wait. He wasn’t moving anymore.

  Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

  So where was the sound comi
ng from?

  The floor moved under Mara’s feet, and she let out a startled cry before she could stop herself. Was someone down there? She hadn’t even realized there was a down there under the house, but she definitely wasn’t imagining the sound she’d heard.

  Another thunk. It vibrated through the floor and up her legs, and she clamped a hand to her mouth to keep from making any more noise in case it was the SEALs. Travis whirled around to face her, a question in his eyes. She pointed to the floor.

  “Someone’s down there,” she mouthed.

  His brow wrinkled in confusion, but he still drew his weapon and waved her back. Moving like a cat, he crept forward and pulled back the throw rug she’d been standing on.

  A door. Under the rug.

  It was latched shut, and someone was definitely trying to get through from the other side.

  Mara wanted to tell him not to open it. Going to the basement never ended well for people in horror movies. But she kept her hand clamped over her mouth and watched as he slid the latch free from the metal loop keeping it secured. He flung the door open…

  And Jean-Luc popped through like a Whac-a-Mole. The instant rush of relief was so overwhelming a bubble of hysterical laughter worked up from Mara’s chest and burst free.

  “Whoa. Friendly,” Jean-Luc said.

  Travis lowered his gun. “Christ. Who are you, Tunnel Rat?”

  Jean-Luc grinned and called behind him, “Harvard! Quinn just cracked a G.I. Joe joke.”

  “G.I. Joe was before my time,” Harvard’s voice called. “Are you all set? I’m going back down to help Ian.”

  “Yeah, we good up here.” Jean-Luc made a face. “Fuck me, I’m getting old. Marcus would have thought that was funny.”

  “What’s down there?” Travis asked.

  Jean-Luc hoisted himself up and dusted off his clothes. “Rustam makes wine for a living. Ya think he wouldn’t also have a wine cellar?”

  “Honestly?” Travis said with a note of surprise in his tone. “I didn’t know he was a winemaker.”

  “I tell ya, or what? Russians know how to swear and how to drink. Hey, Mara, what’s so funny?”

  She gave up trying to smother her giggles behind her hand. “Whac-a-Mole.”

  “What?” Jean-Luc and Travis said at the same time.

  “Nothing.” Reining in the rising sense of hysteria took more effort than she thought she possessed but, eventually, she managed tamp down the giggle fit and smooth her features to appear at least somewhat sane again. She didn’t feel sane—her nerves were paper-thin and headed for a shredder—but that was a problem to deal with later.

  She slid a cautious step forward and peeked into the cellar. The ladder didn’t look at all sturdy, and it was dark beyond. “Is everyone else down there?”

  “Yup. When Liam’s men started firing, Rustam told me about the cellar, how it was connected to most of the buildings on the property. He led the way and we started collecting people.”

  “What about Jesse?”

  Jean-Luc’s features softened. “No worries, cher. They shot at him but missed.”

  “And Seth?” Travis asked.

  “Same deal. Shot and missed. Mais, they wouldn’t have missed, but he lost his footing on a patch of ice and slid off the roof just as they took the shot. They probably think they did hit him, and he is a bit banged up from the fall, but he’s alive.” He motioned to the cellar door with a flourish. “See for yourselves.”

  Travis went first but paused at the bottom to help her down the last few rungs of the ladder. It was pitch-dark until Jean-Luc joined them with a flashlight, and the bright white beam illuminated a tunnel wide enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder and tall enough for Jean-Luc to stand up straight, and he was a big man. It was only a dozen or so feet long and let out into a larger tunnel lined with barrels stacked three high.

  “Is this all wine?” Mara asked.

  Jean-Luc nodded. “Russia has been trying to destabilize this region by putting bans on Moldovan wine, which is one of their biggest exports. So all these people are making wine and there’s nowhere for it to go.”

  She ran a finger over one dust-covered barrel. “But they keep making it?”

  “What else are they going to do? It’s all they know.”

  “That’s sad.”

  Travis walked ahead of them. “And nothing we need to be concerned with. Where’s the rest of the team?”

  Mara scowled at his back. He might not need a distraction, but she did, and wine was a much better topic than death and destruction. “Too bad I can’t drink right now. I could sure use a glass.”

  “F’true.” Jean-Luc gave her a conspiratorial wink. “There’s another room just up ahead,” he told Travis. “You’ll see a door. Team’s inside.”

  Travis found the door and ducked through. “Move it, you two. We need a new plan.”

  “God.” She threw her hands up in disgust. “Can’t he just give me a moment to catch my breath?”

  Jean-Luc held open the door for her. “He has only one setting, cher, and it’s warrior. But that’s what we love about him.”

  On the other side was a large, square room with several floor-to-ceiling racks of bottled wine. Travis and the rest of the team had gathered around a scarred workbench and Ian was showing them all how to mix fertilizer into bombs. Lanie glanced up when Mara entered, gave a quick nod of hello, then went back to helping Ian. Jesse also checked on her, his gaze warm and assessing and like a balm to her frayed nerves. But all too soon, he returned his attention to the work at hand.

  They all seemed to have a warrior mode, even the affable Jean-Luc.

  Everyone except her.

  The hysteria was creeping back, and she needed an escape before she completely lost it. She looked around, hoping to spot Valentina and Nadejda, but they weren’t in the room. For that matter, neither was Rustam. “Where are the Belyakovs?”

  Jean-Luc pointed upward. “In their section of the house.”

  “Is it safe for them to stay up there?”

  “Just as safe as down here. We’re not hidden, Mara. If Liam’s men stormed the house right now, they’d find the wine cellar without problem. So Rustam thought keeping Nadejda in her room, among the familiar, was best.”

  “Oh.” She glanced around again. She had thought the cellar offered them a safe haven, and to have that pretty illusion shattered completely deflated her. It was just one blow after another and she couldn’t take it anymore. She just wasn’t as strong as the rest of them.

  She swayed on her feet, and Jean-Luc caught her arm. “Hey. Whoa. Medic!”

  In the space of a heartbeat, she had Jesse on one side and Travis on the other, and they led her over to a chair Lanie pulled out by the workbench.

  Jesse squatted in front of her. “Mara? Hey, Marisol, look at me. Are you havin’ any pain? Any blood?”

  Oh, God. This was embarrassing. “No, I’m fine. No pain. No blood. I was just…overwhelmed.”

  “She needs a place to sit,” Jesse said. “And someone needs to go up to the well, get her some water.”

  “I’ll go,” Travis said.

  “Put on a vest,” Jesse said, but his focus was still 100 percent on her.

  “Stop it.” She waved them all away and stood to prove she was fine, but Travis had already gone. She called after him and got no response. “Jesse, I’m okay now. Call him back. Nobody has to risk their life to go out to the well.”

  “He’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you. Are you sure you’re not havin’ any pain?”

  “I swear I’m fine. Nauseous and tired, but those are my defaults anymore. If I had even an inkling that something was wrong, I’d tell you.”

  “Okay,” Jesse said after a moment and stroked a hand over her hair. “I believe you, but I still insist you take it easy until things start rollin’. Put your feet up. Eat somethin’, drink some water. Try to relax. I know under the circumstances that’s damn near impossible—”

  “Unde
rstatement.”

  “But you’ve been through a lot of trauma lately, and we don’t want to risk your or the baby’s health.”

  He was right. Mara knew it, even though it bothered her that she was more of a burden than a help. But she didn’t have any usable skills in this situation, so it’d be better for everyone if she just stayed away for a while.

  Seth threw blankets down in the far corner of the cellar to make a comfortable spot, and she allowed Jesse to lead her over. On the way, they ran into Valentina coming downstairs. The older woman made a big fuss over her and insisted she’d make something warm for everyone to drink.

  At Jesse’s urging, Mara sat down and put her feet up on the pillow Harvard had retrieved from one of the bedrooms. Valentina reappeared, and Jesse rushed to help her with the tray she carried. Valentina fussed around Mara some more, covering her with a blanket, finding more pillows to prop behind her back, urging her to drink a fragrant tea. Eventually, and despite the language barrier, Jesse convinced the woman that everything was okay and she should go back to her own family.

  Mara watched her go. The Belyakovs were such gracious hosts, even when under siege. And she feared the only thing they would receive in return for their endless hospitality was, at best, a destroyed home. At worst…

  No. She couldn’t consider the worst-case scenario. It was too terrifying.

  “I hate this. I’m doing nothing but distracting everyone. I feel so useless.”

  “I know, buttercup.” Jesse sat down beside her and lightly bumped his shoulder to hers. “How you holdin’ up?”

  “I’m…” She couldn’t find the right word and stalled by lifting the mug of tea to her mouth, but her stomach was too tied up in nervous knots to drink. She set it aside. “Tired. Just so tired of all this. What if—”

  “No, don’t. There are no what ifs, okay?” He tugged on a strand of her hair. “We will get you home, Mara.”

  She scoffed. “All I have at home is a dwindling bank account and a duplex I can’t possibly afford now that Ramon’s cut me off.”