Noble Brit

by P. T. Michelle

  Chuckling, Den tapped the bird. As it spun in circles between us, he said, “No matter where you are, I’ll always be with you.”

  The sentiment behind the bracelet melted my heart. It was such a sweet gift, I had to swallow a couple of times to hold my tears back. Leaning over, I kissed his jaw and whispered, “Thank you so much, Den.”

  Coming back to the present, I glance up to see him staring at me. My cheeks flame with embarrassment to be caught mooning over Den’s gift, but I can’t help myself. I absolutely adore the little chubby bird, and the big man with the heart of a lion who gave it to me. I hope he appreciates my gift just as much.

  Den smirks at the heat in my face, but doesn’t get a chance to tease me before my daughter’s small hands flatten on his cheeks and turn his head back to her drawing. As she prattles on, so happy to have his full attention once more, I admire his handsome face, appreciating his amazing support as my mind jumps back to my mother’s burial earlier today.

  * * *

  “Is it bad that I didn’t add a date?” I said as I numbly stared at the headstone that simply read: Isabel. After all, she’d already died once. I knew my internal thoughts sounded bitter, but I couldn’t help the way I felt about all the misery she caused.

  Den stood beside me, his presence giving me the strength to get through her burial in my own way. “You gave her your heart the first time you buried her. It’s understandable to feel betrayed, hurt, and all the other emotions you’re experiencing, Mina.” He slid his gaze my way, the morning sun turning his golden eyes into warm rays that settle my warring heart. “In the whole scheme of things, a headstone is just a marker.”

  “Then why am I even here?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

  “Closure, Little Willow.” Glancing away, he stared off in the distance. “After my wife and daughter died, I went through the motions for everyone else: family, friends, co-workers, but I didn’t speak at their funerals. I couldn’t.” His attention returned to me, regret swirling. “I’ve been away from London long enough to wish I had given them a proper goodbye.”

  “You weren’t ready, Den.” I understood his emotions more than he would ever know. “Now you are. When you decide to go, I’ll stand beside you if you’d like.” The frigid wind whipped around us, stirring the clouds in the overcast sky. It was perfect weather leading up to Halloween. I shivered in my long overcoat and stared at the newly packed dirt around my mother’s grave, trying to come up with the right words.

  “There are so many things I want to say to you, Mom.” My voice cracked, but I pushed onward, needing to get the words out. “I’m furious at everything you did: the lies, the deception, your new life without us. And while I will never understand it, I know in your own warped way, you loved our family. I’m sorry for what happened to you. No one deserves to die the way you did. I just wish you could have trusted what the rest of us have always known…that the Blakes will always have each other’s backs. No matter what.” Tears tracked down my cheeks and Den wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close to his warmth as I finished, “I hope you can rest in peace now.”

  Josi’s voice draws me out of my musings. She’s pointing at me, a wide grin on her face. “I draw like Mama.”

  Den nods, then gently palms the top of her head to turn her gaze back to his. “Why don’t you go get ready for your granddad? He’ll be here soon to take you to dinner before trick-or-treating.”

  “Going tricky-tweatin’!” Squealing her excitement, she jumps down and tears out of the room.

  When she comes barreling into the living room carrying a black dress with flowing sleeves, her pointed witch’s hat perched on her blond curls, and a plastic pumpkin swinging on her arm, Den smiles and adjusts the strap under her chin, righting the crooked hat on her head. After he helps her step into the dress, he ties the back, then lifts the drawing up beside her and looks at me. “This masterpiece shall be called: Life imitating art, imitating life.”

  As I smile my agreement and Josi claps her hands, the doorbell rings. “It’s Granddad!”

  I intervene before she can open the door. “Always let me answer it, sweetie. Hey, Dad,” I say, opening the door for my father.

  “Look at my witchy dinner companion.” Walking into the foyer, he nods to acknowledge Den, then winks at me as he takes Josi’s hand and spins her around to see her costume. “I’m going to feel a bit underdressed at dinner tonight,” he says, glancing down at his dark jeans and cashmere sweater. “Are you sure you want to go out with me?”

  “Helena too?” Josi looks up at him, her green eyes full of hope.

  “But of course. She’s dressed as a fairy and waiting for you.” Dad’s blue eyes sparkle with amusement. “Why don’t you go get your overnight bag and we’ll head out for the evening?”

  “Cannnnnndy!” Josi calls out and speeds back to her room.

  While Den steps over near the windows to answer his phone, I raise my eyebrows at my father. “Please check her candy.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll inspect every piece, and she’ll only get two or three pieces for the evening. The rest will be put away…after we sort each type into their respective piles for trading, of course.”

  I grin, surprised he remembers us kids doing that. “Thank you so much for offering to take her tonight. It might be a day early, but our old neighborhood always had the best trick-or-treating. But please don’t take her to too many houses. We still have to take her around my neighborhood tomorrow.”

  “You’ve had a long week.” He pauses and I see the unspoken appreciation in his gaze. “The least I can do is give you an evening all to yourself,” he says as Josi stumbles into the foyer, juggling her overnight bag and the pumpkin still draped on her arm.

  My father hasn’t spoken my mother’s name since he learned what she did. And I know he never will. She died the moment she betrayed our family, but he’s human, so in his own way, he’s letting me know he’s thankful that I took care of her burial.

  I step close and wrap him in a tight hug, whispering in his ear, “I love you, Daddy.”

  He squeezes me tighter than he ever has, then kisses me on the cheek. “Love you more, Princess.” Before he releases me, he whispers in my ear, “Have you told Sebastian about Den yet?”

  I give him a surprised look. “There’s nothing to tell.” Between work, Mom’s funeral stuff, and Den working on BLACK Security cases, I haven’t seen him for any real length of time except for the funeral today. Casting my gaze Den’s way, I murmur, “And, even if there was, it’s none of Seb’s business.”

  “Mmm, hmmm,” he says, giving me a knowing look. “I know you want to take Josi trick-or-treating tomorrow night, but I’m happy to keep her on Sunday if you like—”

  “Come on, Granddad.” Josi tugs hard on his hand.

  Happy that my father approves of Den, I call after them before I shut the door, “I’ll touch base later to say goodnight.”

  Den’s warm hands land on my shoulders, massaging gently. “Are you okay?”

  “Today was the closure I needed.” I take a breath and turn to face him. The moment we lock gazes, it hits me just how much I truly love this man. Den doesn’t let me run all over him. He’s his own man, yet he’s also someone who listens, even to my crazy ramblings about my dead mother. I guess, sometimes it takes losing yourself to find the right person to put you back together. Den has done that for me in so many ways. “Thank you for coming with me today, and well…for everything. I don’t know if I could’ve done it without you.”

  “You’re stronger than you think, but I would’ve never let you do that alone.” His mouth tilts in a smile. “Would you like to go out to dinner?”

  “Can we go to your place and order something instead?” I glance around my apartment and shrug. “I’d rather not be here without Josi.”

  “Then you’d better pack,” he says, sliding his thumb along my jawline. “I’m not bringing you back here until I absolutely have to.”

  Stomac
h fluttering, I press a soft kiss to his palm, then force myself to walk calmly to my bedroom. The moment I enter, I glance back at the doorway to make sure he can’t see me before I pull the duffle bag I’ve already packed out from under my bed. My heart might be doing summersaults, but I don’t want to appear too eager, so I force myself to unzip the bag and slowly flip through the contents to confirm I have all my overnight stuff. Change of clothes, sleep tee and shorts, toothbrush, face soap, lotion, hairbrush, make up, and birth control. Nodding that I have it all, I re-zip my bag. Keep your cool, Mina. Don’t overthink it. He likes your sexy self, remember? Lifting my bag onto my shoulder, I walk out and grab my purse from the counter, saying, “Let’s go, Noble Brit.”

  On the drive over to his place, Den and I debate our dinner choices, but it’s not until we pull into the garage that I finally convince him the Thai place on Columbus has the very best food. “Unfortunately, they don’t deliver,” I say, scrunching my nose.

  “Now she tells me.” He shakes his head and starts to push the button to open the garage door once more, but I quickly open the car door and hop out with my purse and bag.

  “While you’re getting the food, I’ll set the table and be ready to go once you get back, okay?”

  My stomach tenses when Den hesitates, but then he pushes a button on his phone to disarm the house system. “The door’s unlocked now. I’ll be back in just a bit.”

  I wait until he backs out and the garage door closes before I run upstairs as fast as I can. I have very little time to put his gift together and set the table before he gets back.

  Sliding the bag out of my oversized purse, I retrieve the custom picture frame and smile as I run my fingers along the smooth, colorful glass pieces in blue, white, black, green, orange and red. Every color of his family is represented in the thin, braided border a half-inch inside the edge of the honey-colored wood frame. Pleased with how the custom frame turned out, I walk over to the cabinet in Den’s living room, retrieve the picture of his family and the bracelet, then lay them on the island so I can take the back off the frame.

  Setting the custom cut mat against the glass, I carefully arrange Den’s well-loved braided bracelet inside the special rectangular cut out just below where the main braided border will frame the picture, then set Den’s family portrait on top before I replace the frame’s back to hold it all together.

  When I turn the frame around, my gaze mists as I stare at his beautiful family. “I’m so sorry, Den.” Sniffing back unshed tears, I walk over to the mantle and set the frame just below his mother’s beautiful artwork. I slide the picture frame to the left a bit, then walk back and smile at the end result. “I hope he loves it as much as I do,” I murmur just as a phone rings.

  Startled by the unfamiliar sound, I turn around in the room, looking everywhere for the source. When I finally find an old-style phone tucked inside the bookshelf next to the kitchen, I follow my instincts and lift the handset.

  “Hello?”

  “May I please speak with Sir Barasa?” a man asks in a formal British accent.

  “Sir Barasa?” I say, my voice pitching.

  “That is how knights are addressed, yes,” he says in a slight condescending tone.

  Oh my God, Den’s a freaking knight? Has he been inwardly smirking every time I call him Noble Brit? Beyond speechless, I manage to reply, “He isn’t home at the moment. I would be happy to give him a message.”

  “Please tell, Sir Barasa…” The man pauses and clears his throat. “That his Queen requests his presence. It’s time for him to come home.”

  Come home? My stomach drops and my heart stutters, but I manage to answer. “I’ll be sure to relay your request.”

  “Thank you. Is this Lady Barasa?” he asks, sounding suddenly curious.

  “No, I’m just a friend.” Who would love an invite to the Palace! “Thank you for your call.” I set the phone back in its cradle and my heart feels heavy as my gaze strays to my bracelet. Will Den go back for good? I know he wants closure with his family, but what if the Queen’s request means his return home will be a permanent one? I can’t lose him now.

  The doorbell rings, jerking me from my angsty musings, and I automatically move to answer it. Does Den’s neighborhood celebrate Halloween a day early too? Grabbing the bowl of candy Den had prepared—Really? What was he thinking with such a small bowl?—I open the door to a man of medium height in a custom suit with perfectly groomed dark hair and smooth, aristocratic features.

  “Hello, are you Mina?” he says in a polite tone. When I nod, my brow furrowing, a somber look crosses his face. “I wish I came with better news, but there has been an accident.”

  “Is Den okay? Was there a wreck?” Panic sets in as I quickly set the bowl down on the table next to the door and retrieve my purse, reaching blindly for my phone.

  He nods. “I saw the whole thing. Den gave me his address and asked me to let you know that they’ve taken him to hospital. If you don’t have a ride, I’ll be happy to take you to Presbyterian.”

  Worry grips me as my fingers brush the glasses I forgot to return to Elijah. Something feels off. I can’t imagine Den sending a stranger to his home, yet he does know that I’m here waiting for him. I search my mind for a reason why I feel tense when something the guy said sets alarm bells off in my head. He might sound American, yet he dropped the before hospital, like Den does every so often when he’s talking fast. Heart racing, I quickly grab the glasses and put them on my face, pretending to adjust them. “Thanks for letting me know, but I’ve got a ride.” Please let that button I just pushed activate a bat signal, or at the very least send Elijah a screenshot of this guy’s face and not of my own eyeballs. Glancing down, I reach for the door and start to pull it closed when my body suddenly seizes and a massive Charlie horse takes over every single muscle at once.

  Sharp pain radiates everywhere, and the guy quickly pulls a Taser back in time to capture me before I hit the floor. “Come along,” he says cheerfully. “That’s a good girl.” Lifting me as if I weigh nothing, he carries my still shuddering body to a waiting limo and stuffs me into the back seat before he climbs in and shuts the door.

  As my captor digs through my purse, snapping, “Where is her phone?” I stare through half-closed eyes at a man curled up on the bench seat across from us, his arms and legs bound with sturdy rope.

  I try to speak, but nothing comes out. Ever so slowly, feeling starts to return to my body, but it’s like pins and needles everywhere.

  Hitting a button on the console, the guy speaks to the driver. “Alberto is meeting us at the planned location. He’ll take Hugh. Let’s go.”

  Hugh?

  When the guy grabs my floppy arm and uses my thumbprint to open my phone, I curse myself for not using a code instead. Who is the man with the Taser? And what is he planning to do with us? I steal a peak at Hugh, worrying for Den’s friend. I’m pretending to be unconscious, but he’s completely vulnerable in his unconscious state.

  While my captor’s distracted with going through my phone, I try to see past the tinted windows to figure out where we’re going.

  Without lifting my head, I can’t see anything but the thick frames on the glasses.

  I look at Hugh once more, then slowly lift my hand to my face.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Den

  The Thai takeaway smells so good my stomach starts growling the moment I get in the car with it. I reach for my phone to let Mina know I’m on the way back, and a text pops up from Elijah. The last thing I want is to think about work when I finally have Mina all to myself, but I can’t ignore it. I start to read the text when I notice I also have a voicemail from Hugh. When did he leave that? Clicking on Elijah’s text, my brow furrows as I read.

  Edgar Stewart entered the country two days ago on a private plane. His diplomatic immunity made accessing his information a bit more challenging, but now you have it. Do you need me to do any other searches?

  Tension tightens my shoul
ders and I immediately dial Mina’s number. When my call goes straight to voicemail, I try not to worry even as I retrieve my gun from the console, check that it’s ready to go, then text him back.

  Inform Sebastian and Talia that Mina needs her own detail going forward. I will fill them in shortly.

  Before I send Hugh a “heads up” text, I listen to his voicemail.

  “One of my old contacts at the embassy let me know that Edgar is here. Going to do some recon. Will call you with an update later.”

  Frowning, I glance down at the time he left the message. It was hours earlier while my phone was on mute during the funeral. I start to dial his number when Mina calls me back. Relieved to see her name on my Caller ID, I answer before the first ring ends. “Good call on the restaurant. Food smells amazing,” I say, trying to keep the worry out of my tone. I’ll talk to her about added security when I get back. “On my way back with it now.”

  “Such a pity Mina won’t be eating with you, Dennet.”

  The snide British accent knots my chest in fiery anger. It takes every bit of my training not to bellow at him, but I manage a lethal tone pretty damn easily. “You hurt her at all and you will find out why I’m the fucking best, Edgar. There will be nowhere you can hide and no end to the many ways I will rip you apart before I destroy you.” I put him on speaker and quickly type a text to Sebastian.

  Mina’s been taken. On the phone with the kidnapper right now. Trace her phone.

  “It’s a shame we didn’t get to play the ‘guess who this is’ game? That would’ve been fun, but alas, since you know who this is, your old colleague Hugh must’ve filled you in on my last conversation with him. I really enjoyed that one.”

  If he knows Hugh is alive, that can’t be good. “You will pay for what you did to my family, to all of our families, you disgusting piece of shit.”

  “See, this is exactly why I’m here, Den.” He sighs dramatically. “It’s my heart’s desire to give you a second chance, a do-over as it were, so you can make the right choice this time around.”