The Honorable Warrior

by Kimberly Krey

  When no response came, she sat up, stretching her arms over her head while taking the chance to observe him. One foot hung off the edge where it’d broken free from the sheets. And while his foot jutted into the shadows of the loft she could see his muscled calf too. A twisted blanket covered half of his body, mainly just the remainder of his legs and torso. He’d removed his sleeveless undershirt in the night, somehow landing it halfway across the room where it sat in a heap on the carpeted floor.

  The sun’s glow illuminated the glorious proportions of his chest, shoulders, and arms. Each well-defined muscle cast an impressive shadow of its own. A long, purplish scar ran along his ribs, something she hadn’t noticed during his morning workouts. But like the scar through his eyebrow, it didn’t surprise her. The man was sure to have battle wounds after all. Some, visible on the surface of his skin. Some that most would never see. Or at least, never detect for what they were: effects from seeing what he’d seen. Doing what he’d sworn to do.

  Just picturing Blayze in harm’s way caused Sophia’s heart to race. Blayze was no longer serving overseas, and for that she was relieved. But he was still risking his life. Her heart kicked into an anxious rhythm as she considered what she’d tried to keep in her mind’s shadow, away from the spotlight of her thoughts: That drone. The latest package. Boom!

  And just like that, the wretched cocktail of emotions came pouring in—the main ingredient, something she hated to admit—was fear. Anger was there too, a close second, while a deep sense of sorrow clanked around like cubes in a glass. Sorrow for losing her mom. For the fact that it wasn’t a mere accident, like she’d thought. Sorrow for seeing hostiles and fear and ugly, vicious threats win. Call it unhealthy, but Blayze was her one distraction right now. Her one happy place where her troubles didn’t seem so big.

  Before the drone made its appearance, their evening had been perfect. Blayze Brockton, aka: the strong, silent type, had opened up to her; something she’d tuck into that corner of her heart, right where all cherished memories went.

  And their time spent together on the couch… it was the last thing she’d thought of before falling asleep. And boy had it successfully taken her mind off of every unpleasant thought. She could swear those lips of his held some sort of power. Each move, taste, and touch like trained perfection.

  She’d dated men who rushed in for sloppy kisses, paying no mind to the intimacy they could nurture in those moments, too fixed on what lay ahead. As if any warm body would do. Sophia had left them to go find any other warm body but hers. She wasn’t looking for that. She was waiting for something real.

  And Blayze… heat swirled around her heart like a calming drug. Blayze had taken his time, murmured her name, and touched her face. He’d kissed her like no other woman could take her spot, and she liked that. Of course, she hadn’t known him long, she’d admit that. And it was unlike her to become so smitten in such a short time. How many movies had she watched where she wanted to yell at the screen, ‘Stupid girl, why are you falling for him so fast?’ Or ‘Foolish boy, you’re going to get your heart broken’? Yet, here she was, caught up in a fairytale love of her own. Well, minus the death threats, she thought wryly.

  The truth was, she didn’t know what was developing between them. But the good news was, she didn’t have to define it.

  Sophia had dangled her legs over the edge of the bed, readied herself to get up and prepare a few notes for Michelle Marshall, the woman who’d agreed to replace her at tonight’s event. Yet, just as her toes grazed the carpeted floor, a chill swept in, making her want to get under the covers instead. She glanced over at Blayze, still sound asleep where he lay. Roman hadn’t stirred yet either.

  Why not take a cue from them?

  The thought had her stretching her arms out to either side, pulling in a deep breath, then falling back onto the mattress with a great swoosh. Later she could call Michelle and discuss some of the key points for tonight’s speech. Later she could consider just how long she was willing to stay at the cabin and what else she’d be willing to miss. But for now, Sophia would let herself enjoy sleeping in. Something she hadn’t done in a long time.

  Sophia focused in on the hand Blayze had hovered over the knight. It was the third chess piece he’d considered during this turn alone.

  “I didn’t picture you being so indecisive when it came to chess,” she razzed.

  Blayze took his eyes off the board and shot her a look. “Maybe I’m distracted.”

  Sophia wanted to take credit for that, but she knew there was too much on his mind to make assumptions. Heck, not two minutes went by where she wasn’t reminding herself she’d have to miss the event tonight. “I wonder if Roman will catch any fish out there,” she said.

  Blayze’s eyes stayed fixed on the same spot. “Yeah.”

  From the sight of the pantry, they wouldn’t go hungry if he didn’t. The large assortment of pasta, rice, and soups could feed a family for weeks. She rested her chin in her hands and sighed. Dang, Blayze was handsome. If she relayed that fact to him in Spanish, would he know? “What are you thinking about, Mr. Guapo?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking that…” His face turned hard, nearly tortured.

  She watched him as the moment lapsed on, somehow knowing exactly what he would say: That becoming romantically involved was a mistake. It’d been written on his face all day. Since they met, actually. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

  A hot flash of panic sparked in her chest. “Strike that,” she blurted. “Tell me about your father. Your parents divorced when you were young. And unlike your mom, he remarried, right?”

  His brow smoothed, the distraction seeming to do its job. Tension melted from his brow and chin. He moved the knight he held and leaned back into the chair. “My dad was partly my incentive to go into the Navy, but…” a rueful smile pulled at one corner of his lips, “not in a good way. I lost respect for him after he cheated on my mom. I’m sure the guy had—or has— a lot of good traits. In fact, I know he does. But the one thing that stood out most, the one thing I hated, was the weakness I saw.”

  Sophia draped an elbow over her lifted knee, watching as Blayze shook his head, his blue eyes thoughtful. She felt herself lean in, anxious to receive another morsel of who he was. Of what’d shaped a man like him.

  “He’d made a promise to my mom. And she was an amazing woman. I mean, she had her faults like the rest of us, but… she was closer to perfect than anyone I’ve known.” Moisture welled up in his eyes. The slightest glisten. When he blinked, it was already gone. “I couldn’t respect a man who was so weak in the flesh like he was. Chasing one woman after the next. Mainly, his secretaries. It turned me off to white-collared living and made me want to do something with my life that… proved I was strong. Strong enough to do anything I set my mind to.”

  Sophia wouldn’t admit it then, but she’d researched this BUD/S training she’d heard everyone talk about. In fact, the physical and mental requirements to become a SEAL were so rigorous, of those tough enough to attempt it, less than ten percent achieved it. She dropped her eyes to the board, looking blindly over the pieces as another question came to mind. “Do you think your dad’s faithful to his wife now?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I think he’s realized he’s lucky to have Barbara. She’s good to him. They seem happy from what I can tell. I’m just glad Jazmin didn’t choose a man like that. I’d have had to kick his trash.”

  She laughed, sensing he was only half joking about that.

  “I get the impression that your parents had a good relationship,” he said.

  Sophia nodded, smiled. “The best. He used to march into the kitchen after work, whisk her away from the stovetop to dance. He’d twirl her around the island, bring a hand to her back, then dip her low and kiss her.” Now she was the one tearing up. “They were very much in love.” She sensed the upset coming back to her now. That sick knot in her gut that grew horns each time she considered the senselessness of her death.


  “I’m sorry this happened to you and your father,” Blayze said. His jaw tightened as he held her gaze. “We’re going to stop this guy before he can do any more harm, I can promise you that.”

  But could he? Could Blayze actually make a promise so bold?

  He cleared his throat and motioned to the board. “Looks like someone is stalling,” he teased.

  She dropped her gaze. “I’m not very good at this game. I get too impatient. I hate having to think so many steps ahead.”

  Blayze nodded. “Yeah, but it’s the only way to win. And you can’t just be thinking about what gets you ahead. That’s a fatal error in war. You’ve got to figure out what gets the other guy ahead. See things from their perspective. If you’re only focused on your own game, you’re bound to get blindsided.”

  She shivered, checking the wall clock as a knock came to the back patio door. The iPad resting beside the chess board showed the footage captured by each camera spread throughout the property. One look at the back porch said it was Roman out there. A fishing pole erect in one hand, a bucket gripped in the other.

  Blayze hurried over to the door to open it.

  “We’re eating fish tonight,” Roman announced proudly. “I got some real beauties.”

  Blayze helped Roman find his way around the kitchen while Sophia considered the event she was missing. In twenty-five minutes on the dot, Michelle would step up to the pulpit and deliver a speech in Sophia’s stead. No worries, she assured herself. Michelle would do an excellent job. And hopefully soon, all of this would be over.

  When she couldn’t imagine what an end would look like, Sophia forced her eyes on something higher. Sometimes, only God knew how to set things right. The truth of that struck her, had her nodding her head in acceptance. And with that, Sophia closed her eyes and offered the few words she could muster in her heart. Please help us get through this.

  Chapter 13

  Blayze wasn’t sure how he’d managed, but the entire day had gone by, and he’d avoided a confrontation with Sophia. Last night, when he’d realized what a bad idea it’d be to get involved with her romantically, Blayze had worried there might be an ugly exchange ahead.

  But after a peaceful day of playing chess, frying fish, and even walking around the pond (a compromise he’d made for keeping her trapped the rest of the day), Blayze settled into his bed in the loft without so much as an incident. Aside from his activities with Sophia, he’d kept an eye on the surveillance, collected reports about fraud crimes that crossed the District Attorney’s desk before his wife’s death, and organized a team to cross check the names with the guest list from the Maraddo Motel. There had to be an overlap somewhere.

  Blayze had worried there’d be an incident of some sort at tonight’s event. Some act of violence to further deter Sophia from showing her face. And while they didn’t have exact details of how the evening went—something Sophia was anxiously awaiting—they’d received confirmation that the event had been incident free.

  Blayze's mind drifted back to matters between him and Sophia. It wasn’t that Blayze wasn’t interested in her. Heck, if anything, he was protecting their chance at a relationship when all of this was through. An act that took strength. Discipline. And a firm hope that they could truly have something special.

  They’d shared a lot that day. More parts from their past. Ideas about their future. And more than ever, he found himself yearning to be part of hers. But there seemed to be an unspoken understanding; the romantic side of things should remain on hold.

  The soft rustle of blankets from Sophia’s side of the room caused Blayze’s eyes to pop open in alert. There wasn’t a bathroom on this level of the cabin, and if she were heading down to the restroom he’d want to be aware. But as he watched her tip-toing across the floor, moonlight spilling over her silky pajamas, it was evident that Sophia wasn’t heading toward the stairs at all; she was moving toward him.

  Blayze clenched his eyes shut as two, distinct reactions battled within him. A thrilling heat low in his belly, and an opposing resolve to keep things platonic. A resolve that—at the familiar, tropical scent of her—was growing sliver thin.

  The footsteps slowed as she neared, then stopped altogether. The gentle weight of her came at the edge of his bed, telling him she’d taken a seat there. Her silky hand slid up his shoulder, curled around his bicep, just before he felt the warmth of her nearing.

  Heart pounding, mind honing in on the sensations, Blayze held still, paralyzed as the tips of her velvety hair fell over his neck. Heaven help him, she was so close. So tempting.

  The bed creaked as she leaned further, and suddenly her lips were on his cheek. Gently teasing his face with a kiss. Thunder—that’s what his heart would sound like in the moment. Loud, thunderous claps that heightened the feel of her heated breath as it trailed to the corner of his mouth. Would she believe he was sleeping with breaths as jagged as his had become?

  At once she pressed a kiss, full and firm to his lips.

  Yes.

  And then he was kissing her back. Pulling her into the bed with him like a helpless slave. With a near pleading groan, Blayze savored the slick heat of her mouth, the incredible warmth of her body, and the need her closeness caused. He moved a flattened hand up the length of her back, the weight of her against him igniting a fire low in his belly.

  Selfish thoughts fed into him. Mine. She’d come to his bed after all. Revealed precious, vulnerabilities he couldn’t ignore. And now… now…

  He needed to stop things, if he knew what was best.

  Another groan sounded from his throat. This one from regret. Dread at what he had to do. Blayze wouldn’t be like his father, taking advantage of a woman in a moment of weakness. He could wait until the timing was right. He could.

  “Sophia,” he rasped, dropping his head. He cradled her elbows, working to compose his thoughts. “We need to… this wouldn’t be right.” His breaths came labored and rushed as he lifted his chin. “I really care about you…” The words got lost as Sophia turned rigid in his arms.

  “But not in that way? If that’s what you’re going to say I already know it’s a lie.” She pushed herself up where she sat on the edge of his bed. Enough light crept into the room to see that she’d folded her arms.

  “No, I could never deny that. It’s definitely in that way, of course. I just think that… with everything that’s going on, we can’t be sure that what you’re feeling isn’t just some—”

  “Oh, so it’s what I’m feeling that you don’t trust. Since I’m just an emotional girl I need to have my feelings put in check by Mr. Calm and Collected.”

  Blayze tilted his head, working to sift through what she’d said. “You’re saying that I don’t trust your feelings, which means I really didn’t communicate well. That’s not what I was saying—”

  “Just stop,” Sophia snapped, climbing off the bed. “You did it, okay? You proved how strong and focused and disciplined you are. Bravo.” She stomped to the stairs and hurried down the spiral case.

  Blayze kicked the covers at his feet and climbed off as well, but he stopped once he got close to the staircase. If he went down there, things would only escalate. Sophia wanted her space, and he’d give it to her. He might not get any sleep, trying to keep track of her in some other area of the home, but at least this way things would be put on hold. He just hoped that—when all this was over—she’d be able to see the events more clearly. Perhaps they both would.

  He keyed in to the sound of her footsteps, mentally following as she went into the master bedroom. Despite her reaction, Blayze knew he’d done the right thing. He was glad about that. But that didn’t stop regret from stabbing into him like shrapnel. And the truth was, if he could go back, he’d take a different course.

  The fact was enough to sober him in a blink. He sighed, walked over to the nightstand, and flicked on the lamp. He’d shut their personal cell phones down before heading to the cabin, even Roman’s, and activated a few disposable phones he’d h
ad on hand. He doubted the hostile was sophisticated enough to track them through cellular pings, he’d had him pegged as more of an amateur, really. But the thing with the drone had thrown him off. It would take a certain level of skill to pinpoint the window to an exact room. Which gave way to another thought. Just how would the hostile know when to trigger that bomb in time? Perhaps there had been another drone close by, a set of watching eyes.

  Blayze pulled the phone from the drawer to check that he hadn’t missed anything. He was sure the screen would be blank, but as he moved to put it back in its place, he realized there was something there after all. A message from Nicolas:

  Please don’t tell Sophia, but…

  Blayze groaned and rolled his eyes. Any message that started like that was one he’d rather do without. He shook his head and forced his gaze back on the message.

  …but I’ve lost my lead in the campaign. Thoughts of the bomb threat got the best of Michelle Marshall. She had a panic attack before going on today, and had to ask Shantell McJenski, Sophia’s second choice, to do it for her. I think it’s best if Sophia stays off the internet while you’re there. With me losing my lead, she may do something foolish, further putting herself at risk. I’m sure things will sway back in my favor before we’re through. Thank you for your discretion.

  “Great,” he hissed under his breath. “Thank you for putting me in a no-win situation with her.” Moments ago, Sophia had accused Blayze of distrusting her feelings. If he obeyed her father’s wishes, he’d do so in the name of that very thing: assuming her feelings would drive her to do something irrational. But if he considered things further, Nicolas wasn’t asking a whole lot. Had he asked him to hide something from Sophia regarding her safety, he wouldn’t do it. He’d show Sophia the respect she had asked him for. But this, knowing what her father’s numbers were, it wasn’t exactly classified information.