The Honorable Warrior

by Kimberly Krey

  Sophia gasped, touching both hands to her cheeks. “Le croissant.”

  Blayze lifted the champagne glasses off the tray and poured Pepsi into each. He lifted a strawberry by the stem and dangled it over the glass with a lifted brow.

  She grinned. “Why not?”

  At once he released the stem, sending the bright berry into the drink with a plunk. He did the same with his before joining her back on the couch. A bit closer this time.

  “Thank you.”

  “So, tell me how you’re doing, after having just lost your mom,” she said before taking a sip.

  “I guess I’m doing all right. It’s different from the way you lost your mom,” he said. “Since my mother had cancer, we’d known it was coming. Guess that gave me time to grieve before she was even gone. But at least I got to say my goodbyes. All of us did.”

  “Thank you for putting up with my hectic schedule.” She remembered herself once more. “I don’t know why I make comments like that to someone who’s been through what you have. Maybe I need it drilled into my head. Can you tell me about your best day out there? And if you don’t mind, one of your worst? I’d like to get a glimpse of what you guys really do out there on our behalf, so I don’t take it for granted.”

  Blayze set his drink down and lifted a bent leg onto the couch. “Best day, huh? Okay…” His brow furrowed, softened, then lifted. “All right. We were overseas, of course. Me and my Navy SEAL brothers from Team 7 had been choppered into this remote area where eight military officers were being held hostage. We received word they were ready to negotiate, so we went in there, unannounced of course, armed and prepared to use force if necessary.”

  He draped an arm over the top length of the couch as he continued. “We lost connection with our commander, which was terrifying because he was supplying a translator. I’d gone through brief courses on a handful of Middle Eastern languages, but in making negotiations, one misunderstanding can be fatal.”

  Sophia gulped hard. “That makes sense. So, you were supposed to do the negotiations?”

  “Yes,” Blayze said. “That’s what I specialize in. Hostage situations, negotiations.”

  “You seem like you’d be good for that,” she said. “You’re good at staying level headed, from what I can tell.”

  He gave her a soft smile. “It’s a pretty long story, actually. And possibly a boring one with the way I’d tell it. But there was a moment when we huddled together, the sixteen of us. This guy named Cannon, used to be a chaplain, lifted a prayer to the man upstairs asking Him to give me the words to communicate. If there was a word I needed to speak to get our men set free, Cannon asked that it would come to my lips.”

  The memory caused an air of awe in him even then. He licked his lips, lifted his gaze back to Sophia. “Let’s just say those words were heard loud and clear. And with God’s help alone, we were able to free all eight of those hostages.”

  “Wow,” Sophia said. “Sounds like a miracle.”

  Blayze nodded, his eyes turning dim suddenly. “As for the worst… we were working to free a family in the Philippines. Another hostage situation, only this one turned ugly fast. I mean, I’d barely gained communication with the hostiles when gunfire broke out. It had been a set up for an ambush all along.”

  Sophia took in the reverence settling over the room. Sensing the severity of his loss. His pain.

  “We had this kid on our team named Doug. He was the youngest, kind of like our younger brother. We razzed him like big brothers should. Joked that he was inexperienced with women, that he was still going through puberty, the whole nine yards. But we all…” He paused there, cleared his throat. “We all loved him the most too, I think. It was hard not to concern myself with him while we were on a mission. I’d check in with him more than the others, make sure he was safe. But this day… and he’d made it that far. Was just days off from finishing his term. And then that…”

  She already knew what he’d say. Could feel it in the heavy ache in her chest. “He didn’t make it?”

  Blayze had his eyes set blankly on something across the room. He shook his head. “No. It’s no surprise that the sound of gunfire triggers PTSD among vets. I had my share of takedowns. Times where I had to shoot, kill to keep me and my team alive. But what that sound triggers for me is an image of Doug— a kid with more energy than the sun—turned lifeless. Never to live the life he’d hoped to live.”

  Sophia smeared tears from her face and sniffed. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said. “I can’t imagine the heartache you all must go through.” She made a resolution to herself then. “I never want to forget this. I don’t want my future children to take the liberties we have for granted.” She scooted toward him on the couch, reached out and sandwiched one of his hands in hers. She brought it to her lips then pressed a kiss to the knuckle of his thumb. “What you did matters. What Doug did matters. And I truly thank you for it.”

  She loosened her grip on his hand, lowered it onto the small space between them. In the moments that ticked on, the air changed. She’d experienced spurts of chemistry between the two of them before. Moments where the attraction morphed into a life force of its own. It was happening again. Only with the story he’d just shared, the passion she’d sensed in him, that sensation had grown and swelled.

  And that was just it. Men like Blayze Brockton didn’t have to stand up to a pulpit to prove or express their devotion. They’d risked it all. Put themselves on the line. Bled their devotion in the literal sense. Something about the realization made the moment feel all the more right. He was someone worth falling for. Investing in. Maybe losing her heart over.

  She dared herself to lean in, softly, slowly. Testing as she looked up at his lips. She cupped his jaw, released a shaky breath, and brushed her mouth over his, the slightest touch. So good.

  Blayze slipped a hand around her wrist, the contrast in size making her feel delicate—but not weak. He never made her feel weak.

  Slowly, methodically, their lips almost touching once more, he trailed his fingertips up the inside of her arm, causing goosebumps to rise in ripples over her skin. “Sophia.” It came out low, raspy, and loaded with promise.

  He moved in then, pressed a strong and fervent kiss to her mouth. Euphoria was the only word for it. Each extended glance and heated look, every playful tease and flirtatious word, all of it led to this shared moment of connection and need, desire and bliss.

  She couldn’t be sure if a relationship between them would work; they’d only known one another for a few days. But a connection like this was meant to be tested. A mouth like his was meant to be tasted. And a moment like this—though she might be ruined for any future kiss from any other man—was worth the risk.

  Blayze moved his hand up Sophia’s back, her skin hot through the thin layer of silk. He tilted his head, gave in to another succession of lingering kisses, his pulse shooting to rocket speed.

  He pulled back, considered trailing kisses along the hollow of her neck, when a voice kicked in. Not too fast.

  He toyed with her lips once more, reveling in the small whimper sounding from her throat, and then forced himself to speak up. “We should probably stop,” he said in a whisper.

  “You’re right,” she said in that low, playful tone. But then she kissed him again. Bringing things to a slow, tortuous close. “There,” she said. “We stopped.” She snuggled into his chest then, her hands curling around his waist.

  “You know,” she said, her face against his shirt, “we should probably turn on the television if we plan to stay stopped. Because I’m already thinking about starting things back up again.”

  Blayze was right there with her. He chuckled, scanned the small table beside him for the remote.

  “Behind the lamp,” Sophia said without moving.

  “Ah.” Blayze snatched it off the table and handed it over, working to catch his breath as Sophia flipped the stations. She landed on an episode of Seinfeld.

  Two seconds into it
and she was already cracking up. As the show continued, Blayze ran the tips of his fingers over her arms, taking in the comfort and ease between them. He began picturing future nights together, wrapped in each other’s arms. More visions came to mind as the episode wound to an end. Blayze was captivated by this new side of her. A side that knew how to unwind and enjoy herself.

  He remembered then, for the first time since Sophia asked him to join her—that they were expecting a package that day. Yet, with midnight a mere half-hour away, they’d all but made it through the day without the dreaded delivery. No anonymous gift. No brightly colored threat wrapped in ribbon and lace. Nothing. Which wasn’t as comforting as he’d hoped. Waiting for another shoe to drop had never been on the list of things he liked to do.

  Yet, just as the thought crossed his mind, an odd, ticking noise sounded from the far corner. Soft, but unmistakably there.

  Perhaps that other shoe might just drop after all.

  Blayze sat up, tilting his head as he detected the sound once more

  after a spell of audience laughter. “Did you hear that?” he whispered, his pulse pounding in alarm.

  “No.” Sophia shook her head.

  The remote rested on the side table just within reach. Blayze snatched it up quick, tapped the mute button, and leaned toward the back of the penthouse as it waned. More of a hum than a tap. But then it started up again. Tap. Scratch. Tap tap scratch. If he hadn’t known better he’d think Sophia had brought her cat.

  “Stay here.” He gulped, scanned the perimeter of the spacious area. A pale, ghostlike glow poured from the large flat screen, casting shadows on everything beyond its reach. No one could be in that penthouse. He’d done a thorough check of the place when they’d got there. But what about when he’d showered?

  He spun in place, kept his face toward Sophia, and took slow backward steps toward the light switch. Her brown eyes, thick with worry, stared blankly into the shadows at his back. Tick… tick… tick tick tick tick…

  With the jerk of his hand to the light switch, Blayze flicked on all four switches. A burst of light filled the kitchen, dining area, front room and entry. He squinted from the brightness as his eyes adjusted, sensing the direction of the sound. “It’s coming from the window,” he mumbled.

  He risked a glance in that direction, catching nothing more than a reflection of the room. White, glossy floors, tall vases holding floral decor, and a terrified-looking Sophia on the couch. Her face drained of color.

  Blayze hurried back to the switch as the noise scratched on, sounding more like metal on glass now. He palmed the wall blindly, felt the edge of a switch against his pinky and reached to catch them all at once. Black fell upon them, allowing the city view to come alive once more. His eyes followed the ruckus until he saw the source at last. There, hovering beyond the window was a drone. Beating against the glass like a crazed, robotic bird.

  “Duck behind the couch,” he breathed, honing in on the object trapped in the machine’s talon-like claw. An object that erased any doubts as to who sent it to their penthouse.

  A curse slipped from his mouth. A wrapped box.

  The wrapping, a glossy, candy apple red, was accented by white, curly ribbon and a matching tag. The writing on the tag was red too; however, a ribbon curl jiggled and swayed in front of it, blocking part of the single word printed there.

  Eyes squinting, Blayze identified the first two. “B. O…” The drone reared back, sweeping the ribbon out of the way just long enough for him to see the last two. “O. M.” At once the small, hovering device exploded with a barely audible pop.

  Scattered sparks flew, as if mere fireworks had blasted from within. Pale green shreds scattered in a much broader display, hanging in the air for a blink. The distinct corner of a dollar bill drifted against the glass, leaving an ashy smudge. Beyond that mark on the window, scraps of dusty red twirled in confusion. A charred ribbon curl spiraled through the cloud and plummeted beyond sight.

  The specs grew smaller, fewer and further between, until they too, fell from his view. Blayze gulped, that single, printed word coming to mind once more—BOOM! Guaranteed, the explosion to come wouldn’t be so tame.

  Chapter 10

  “I’m not willing to cancel all of my appearances and go hide in some cabin, Blayze.” Sophia folded her arms in defiance as Blayze yanked the shirt he’d worn earlier from the back of a chair and shoved it into his bag.

  “Too bad,” he grumbled, storming to the closet. He tugged a long-sleeved shirt from the hanger and shrugged into it before snatching a pair of folded jeans from the shelf. “I’m about to drop my shorts so I suggest you turn around and get packing your own things.”

  Before Sophia could register what he said, Blayze took hold of the waistband of his gym shorts at either side.

  She jerked away fast, turning to face the open doorway instead. Anger raged within her. “You said you’d be respectful of my choices. That you wouldn’t just make executive decisions with my father and Roman.”

  “I’m not,” he said. “This decision was all mine. You said the one you refused to miss was on November 4th. I’ll get you to that one. But the rest are canceled until further notice.”

  “Tomorrow’s was really important to me too. It’s second on my priority list.”

  “Which is probably why this guy upped the stakes tonight,” he said. “Now get packing unless you want me to do it for you.”

  A vision of Blayze recklessly tossing her makeup into its case was enough to get her moving. They definitely needed to leave the penthouse; there was no arguing that. If she could just do tomorrow’s event, she’d trade it for all the others leading up to the one on November 4th. It was one of the most well attended events of the season.

  Great. Sophia shouldn’t have kissed him. How was he supposed to see her as just a client now that they’d tested the romantic sparks between them? Ignited them was more like it.

  Even among the anger and fear—the sheer chaos of the moment—a secret thrill rumbled deep in her chest. That kiss had been something else. Well, kisses, since they’d shared an exchange that could’ve lasted the entire night long if they’d let it.

  Sophia shook her head and focused on the task at hand. Twisting lids on texture cream and toothpaste. Wrapping cords around the blow dryer and straightener. A rustle sounded from the room, and she stepped back to catch a view from the bathroom to the armoire. Blayze was there, removing her wardrobe bag and laying it flat across the foot of the bed. She turned her attention back to the vanity, listening as he unzipped the bag.

  “I still have to get clothes on, you know?” she hollered.

  “Am I safe to assume you won’t be wearing one of your business suits?”

  “Skirt suits,” she corrected. “And yes, I guess.” Irritation stirred up again. “I’m almost done in here. I’ll be there in a sec to help. Why don’t you…”

  “What?” he snapped.

  “Nothing.” She zipped up her makeup kit, wedged it into the large cosmetic bag, and hiked it over her shoulder. “We knew this was coming,” she said, scurrying through the bedroom to the dresser. “I don’t know what the big surprise is.” She pulled open the bottom drawer where she’d placed a pair of jeans. Bringing them had been more of an afterthought, but she was glad to have them now. She settled on a light-knit sweater and scurried back to the bathroom, closing it enough to give her privacy to change.

  “You’re just going to ignore my last comment?” She stepped into the legs of her jeans and tugged them over her thighs. “Huh?”

  “Sophia, I’m focused on your safety right now. I’m not purposely ignoring you. Can we please put this conversation on hold and we’ll pick up once we’re in the SUV?”

  She shrugged the sweater over her head before threading her arms through the sleeves. “Fine.”

  “Roman just texted me. He’s heading down to the car and wants us to meet him outside the parking elevator.

  Sophia remained quiet, but inwardly she was w
arring with herself. She couldn’t just back down and miss out on two of the most important events on her schedule. Why should they let him win like that? It wasn’t fair.

  Blayze draped the wardrobe bag over his arm, snatched the cosmetic bag she’d rested on the floor, then nodded toward her upright suitcase beside her. The words, I’m letting you carry that were so clear in the action he may as well have spoken them.

  She didn’t argue, only glanced toward the massive wall of windows as she followed him through the penthouse and toward the entryway. A vision of that pretty package came to mind, the way it disintegrated in a flash behind the glass. In her anger, Sophia had silenced the initial fear, but as she let her eyes drift back to their spot on the couch, the untouched bottle sitting in the ice bucket, that fear came back full force. Blayze wasn’t the only one who’d been influenced by their shared time. Because in that moment, the person she feared for most was him. He’d sworn to protect her. To risk his life for her.

  The burden of that promise lay thick as the elevator made its descent, bypassing the main floor and going straight into the underground parking garage. Away from all the normal people experiencing normal things like late-night cocktails at the bar.

  The double doors rolled apart with a heavy whoosh. A wave of cool, musky air rushed into the space. Roman stood on the other side of the doors, his back against the SUV. A whirlwind of opening doors, tossing luggage, and slamming the hatchback ensued, and soon each of them was seated.

  Yellowed light cast shadows over the garage as they wound their way toward the exit. At the mouth of the cave-like structure, Roman took a right onto Concord Street at the edge of San Bernardino.

  “How many men inspected the vehicle?” Blayze asked.

  “Two besides myself,” Roman said. “One who specializes in explosives.”

  The thought hadn’t even occurred to Sophia that the SUV could be rigged. She sucked in a long deep breath, held it while the oxygen fed her brain, then released it slowly. She repeated the action before turning in her seat to face Blayze.