“Ms. Beranek.” The proprietor, a man with white hair and an engaging smile, had the knack of remembering every face he’d seen in his life. That might be a problem.
“Hello.” Aryn put her purse on the counter and checked to see if Cade was watching her. He was.
He was her bodyguard, what had she expected? Aryn moved the purse slightly out of his field of vision and smiled at the proprietor with what she hoped was a fetching look.
“Can you keep a confidence, sir?”
“Of course, Ms. Beranek.”
“Have you heard of Jessrain?” It was the newest fad in New Arizona City, a game with famously complicated rules. Aryn knew of at least three wives and seven husbands who had been beggared, and the proprietor’s smile said he knew of a great deal more.
“I’m familiar with it. Ms. Beranek…”
“I’m sure I need to say no more.” Aryn gave him a rueful smile and pushed the purse toward him. “Could I get an appraisal on these? And please, if there was any way I could make certain—”
“Not a word will pass my lips,” he assured her, and he was gone with the jewels in the next moment.
Aryn jumped as Cade appeared at her side.
“Yes? Can I help you?” She looked up at him with an expression that forbade him to ask questions.
He didn’t take the hint.
“You’ve never gambled in your life.” His voice was absolutely certain.
“How do you know that?”
“You grew up poor.” He did not look over at her. “You never shun food—or at least you didn’t until this morning—you hang up your clothes yourself, and you rarely wear jewelry. You would never gamble.”
Aryn looked down at the counter. If he could see this…
“You don’t know me very well, Mr. Williams.” Her voice came out harder than she expected.
For a moment, she thought he would argue. Then he nodded.
“Of course not.” He stepped back, and Aryn clenched her hands under the cape.
It was better this way. Soon she’d have the cash, and she could purchase the weapons. Her contact had been only too eager to arrange the transaction. She shaped his name in her mouth, silently rolling the syllables over her tongue.
Talon Rift. Where had she heard that name before?
Chapter 13
Aryn was swimming, an event Cade would classify as a unique and innovative form of torture. On a professional level, he was impressed with the craftsmanship of the torment: seemingly innocuous, subtle, and insidious. On a personal level, however, he was beginning to wish that Talon had left him out in the cold to die. Aryn’s body cut through the water cleanly, her strokes perfect, her movements slightly too graceful to be precise. The woman would make a terrible soldier.
Cade had taken to listing her faults to keep himself sane, and so far he had only come up with the fact that she didn’t like peaches—who didn’t like peaches?—that she didn’t look very good in green, and the aforementioned issue of being terrible in the military. Of course, there was also the fact that she might be a consummate liar, and that she was almost certainly hiding something from both him and her husband, but all of that seemed to fade into the background when Aryn was present.
As the days passed and there were no more incidents with Ellian, Cade had expected his protectiveness to wane. But he could hardly be in the same room as Ellian now. He spent dinners in a misery, calming himself as best as he could while his heart raced.
“Cade?” Her voice called him back to reality, and he looked down to see her, swim cap in hand, treading water by the edge of the pool.
“Yes?”
“You’re blocking the ladder,” she said, almost apologetically.
“My apologies.” He backed up.
Without any thought at all, his hand came up to help her as she climbed, and even as he realized what he was doing and moved to pull his hand back, hers came down to rest in it. She flashed him a grateful smile.
He had stopped disbelieving the servants when they told him that Aryn was kind. Eyes open now, he watched her with them. He saw her little smiles. She knew the names of their spouses and children. She kept her room tidy so that Emala would not have to clean as much. Aryn, Cade’s grandmother would have said, had been raised properly. Indeed, Aryn had even begun to thaw toward Cade himself—her smile said as much.
But only begun. As he watched, the warmth died from her face, and she stepped back, swallowing. She would have plunged back into the pool if he had not caught her, and what should have been an amusing moment was instead marked by sudden, unmistakable heat as Cade’s arm curved around her waist and Aryn’s wet hands grabbed at his shoulders. For one moment, their bodies were pressed together—
And then Cade swung her abruptly to the side, hardly caring that he’d picked her up and set her down like a sack of flour, and Aryn turned away without a word to pick up her towel.
They walked back to her rooms in silence, Aryn’s back very straight and Cade trying not to think about how charming she looked when she was resolute about something. This was how it started, he knew. He was not a fool. But Aryn was very clearly untouchable, and even if she could have any man she wanted… Cade’s heart twisted. She deserved better than a killer. He held open the door to her rooms, and she stopped, ducking her head rather than look at him.
“You don’t have to follow me in again, you know.”
The problem with her was that he could never tell whether her factual statements were expressions of hope, or the desire not to be a trouble to anyone. And in any event, Cade reminded himself, it did not matter. He looked down at Aryn with a half smile.
“Mr. Pallas believes there might be a threat,” he said simply.
Aryn only shot him a look.
Why Ellian should insist there was a threat in Aryn’s bedroom, of all places, was a mystery to Cade. He had been over the place seven times in the past day and a half, sending robots down the air vents and pulling each article of clothing out of the drawers and off the hangers while Aryn gathered them up with what seemed to be amusement. Cade had contractors lift the bathtub, remove the counters, and take off the headboard. He had tried anything and everything he could think of, and there was not a single thing he could find that was wrong with the room.
And he might as well not have gone to the trouble at all, because Ellian was still convinced, and he had asked Cade to sleep at the foot of Aryn’s bed. Was the man trying to drive him mad?
As Aryn changed and showered, Cade stood staring out at the city. Aryn had the best view in the penthouse: not the financial district glittering in the foreground, but the faraway haze of the western mountains. They were, Cade knew, remarkably dangerous terrain, but the idea of climbing the side of the mountain with pick-axes appealed to him…and it seemed simpler, somehow, than the struggle to survive in the city.
As he turned, shaking his head, his gaze caught something poking from beneath the couch. His heart seemed to stand still. Kicking the couch over in one fast movement, a roar erupting from his chest, he drew his gun and pointed it at…
A book.
Aryn was at the door of her dressing room, hand at her throat—and, a moment later, her lips pressed shut to hold back a smile. She met Cade’s gaze with impressive aplomb.
“Thank you for acting quickly,” she managed, and she whisked back into the dressing room before a smile could break across her face.
Cade replaced his weapon, resisting the urge to sink his head into his hands. A brief radio call to Ellian assured the man that all was well. He righted the couche, hoping no one would notice he’d knocked one of the arms askew, and sat down to examine the book. His bemusement only grew from there.
“You’re studying interplanetary piloting?” he asked when Aryn came back into the room.
“Yes.” She looked like she was holding something back.
“Because…” he prompted.
To his surprise, she threw up her hands.
“I like it.�
�� She shrugged and sat in one of the chairs nearby, frowning at him. “Emala was telling me about it because her husband is a pilot, and it got me thinking. So I ordered the book.”
“And you like it?” Cade squinted at the equations. He’d been put through a course to learn piloting, as every Dragon was, but even his natural talent in Physics had been put to the test. The calculations needed for a correct jump were surprisingly delicate.
Was this what she had been hiding?
“I know it’s boring.” Aryn let out her breath in a sigh and stared out the window. The sun was beginning to set over the mountains, and her face was lit gold. She pulled her knees up to her chest, lost in thought. “It just all makes sense somehow. I’ve only been in space once, but I loved it.”
He might have quit a hundred times in these first two weeks, but it was these moments that held him, and the growing knowledge that this wasn’t an act. Aryn might be made of false smiles, might not love her husband—a fact Cade was still trying to decide whether or not Ellian knew—but there was a side of her that nothing on New Arizona or Ymir had warped. So when she looked back, Cade smiled.
“This is impressive.” He held up the book. “Truly. Do you know ships sit in port for weeks sometimes for lack of qualified pilots?” He was about to add that they made a fortune, then stopped himself. Clearly, Aryn did not need money.
As he was putting the book back on the table, however, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground.
“Give me that.” Aryn was on her feet in a moment.
The gesture was involuntary. Cade flipped it over—and sucked in his breath. What lay in his hands were weapons schematics, and not just for anything. For the AK-354. The gun was cheap, durable, and used almost exclusively by the underground.
So it had indeed all been an act. Nothing could have prepared him for the disappointment he felt roiling in his stomach. He had begun to trust her, really trust her.
“Ms. Beranek.” His voice was steady. Cade put the piece of paper down, his hand shaking. “I believe I will take my leave.”
“No.” Her voice was panicked.
“What?” He turned, frowning.
“Don’t…” Her breath came in a jerk. “Please.” She was shaking all through, her eyes wide. “You can’t tell Ellian. Please don’t tell Ellian.”
That brought him up short. He turned.
“I beg your pardon?”
“He doesn’t know,” Aryn whispered. She was trying to keep her voice steady, but tears were forming in her eyes. “I know he hired you. I know you’re his man before you’re mine, but please.”
“I’m not his man.” He had never spoken truer words in his life.
“You have to be.” Her voice was flat. “And I’ve tried not to show you anything you’d have to tell him about. But now that you know, I beg you—Cade, I am begging you not to tell him.”
“So this isn’t…” He couldn’t even begin to process this. “So you’re not working with him?”
She stopped, jolted out of her fear.
“What?”
“So, you’re telling me you don’t have these because you’re working with Ellian?”
Too late, he remembered Ellian’s words: you and I have done very bad things. Sometimes…I think Aryn suspects. But she hadn’t, and Cade got to be the one who watched her figure it out.
“He traffics in weapons?” she asked finally. Her voice was lost, and Cade felt relief wash over him. She truly hadn’t known what her husband did. She was, in some ways, exactly the woman Ellian thought.
There was one thing, however, that Cade had not counted on.
“So when he was on Ymir…” Aryn was shaking again. She looked like she was going to laugh. “He was supplying weapons.” She swallowed hard. “To the Warlord.”
Oh, no. Cade closed his eyes.
And then, in horror, he understood at last.
You bastard. His lips moved on the words, and nothing came out. What was it Talon had said? That the Warlord did not yet have a weapon that could kill his workers—but that he would soon? And how had Cade never thought to ask why Talon would know that Ellian, of all people, was searching for a bodyguard?
You bastard, Talon. You knew I’d find out.
“Cade?” Aryn’s voice was very small. “Tell me it’s not true. It’s not true, is it?”
“Aryn—Ms. Beranek—”
Aryn turned, her hand over her mouth, and then she doubled over and retched on the carpet.
Chapter 14
“Aryn.” There was pity in Cade’s voice.
She didn’t want pity. She pushed herself up and ran, slamming the door to the dressing room in his face and sliding down the back of it, her arms wrapped around herself, lips pressed together to keep in the sound. They had all known. All of them. Samara, Cade, Emala—everyone except Aryn. She hadn’t made a good marriage, gotten herself off Ymir, kept her family safe, traded true love for kindness. Ellian wasn’t a good man. She might as well have married the Warlord himself.
And everyone else had made sure she did not know what she was doing. In a moment, the litany of anger changed to fury. She did not think, only hauled herself up and ripped open the door, startling when she saw that Cade had not moved. His grey-green eyes looked down at her and she felt the flash of heat between them and did not care.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He turned away, running his hands through the short hair and the back of his head. It was an unexpectedly boyish gesture. For the first time she had seen him, he looked unsure of himself.
“I thought you knew.” He did not look back at her.
“How could you…” But she remembered now. She had seen his hatred when she gave him her society wife smile. He thought she was profiting off the deaths of millions. She closed her mouth and looked down, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him look back at her.
“What is it?” he asked her, his voice low.
“No wonder you hated me,” Aryn said softly. She looked up at him.
“Aryn, even within a few days—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” She was shivering now.
Purpose came in a rush and she went to the evening gowns, looking for one that would convey suitable seriousness.
“What are you doing?”
“I have to talk to Ellian.”
Cade was at her side so quickly she hardly saw him move. She looked up, moving slightly so that they would not touch; it had taken only a few lessons to make her careful about that.
“That is not a good idea.” Cade looked down into her face.
“I’ve been a fool, but I will not continue to play the part.”
“That is exactly what you will do.” He heard the order come out of his mouth and closed his eyes briefly as if searching for words. “Aryn, your husband gave me to you to keep you safe, and I will do whatever it takes, teach you whatever skills you need, to fulfill that promise.” His lips twitched in an attempt at a smile. “I nearly shot a book for you a few minutes ago.”
Her laugh came out wild, and something inside Aryn broke. She reached out and took a handful of his shirt, leaning her head against his chest and feeling the tears trickle out of her eyes. It was too much all at once. Tentatively, his arms came around her—not wrapped around her back as she would like, but with his hands resting awkwardly on her shoulders as if he would pat her on the head and tell her not to cry. He was cautious, and utterly at a loss, and Aryn could hear his breath coming shallow. She took a moment before straightening up.
“And you have protected me—even knowing what Ellian was.”
“Because of what Ellian was,” he corrected her. “And I will continue to do so, Aryn. So, now, please, trust me. Just like I would tell you not to walk down a dark alleyway at night, I am telling you not to confront your husband.”
Aryn did not bother to contradict him. She shrugged off her robe, aware of Cade turning away quickly so as not to look at her nakedness, and she pulled a dress o
n, presenting her back to him and sweeping her hair out of the way.
“I need you to zip this.” There was a pause, and she knew he was considering the fact that she wouldn’t go through the halls half-naked. “If you don’t do it, I’ll call Emala,” she warned him.
He swore softly and slid the zipper up, but he blocked her path.
“What can I say to convince you?”
“Nothing,” Aryn said flatly.
“Trust me on this—”
“But I can’t trust you.” The words came out before she could stop herself, and even seeing the hurt on his face, she couldn’t stop herself. “For two years, I have lived with the man who supplied weapons to the Warlord. Two weeks ago, the day you came to meet me, I asked Ellian to speak to the Warlord and stop him from bombing the outlying villages. Do you understand, Cade? I asked my husband to stop the Warlord from using the very weapons he provided, and he looked me in the eyes and he said that he would. Four days ago, I told my friend, a woman who is living in a bunker, that I would look through Ellian’s contacts to see if I could find anyone he knew who could get weapons for the resistance. And she told me not to, and do you know why?”
He swallowed before answering.
“Because she knew,” he said finally. His voice was quiet.
“Because she knew!” Aryn threw it back in his face. She was keeping her words so low that the scanners couldn’t hear them, but she knew her control was slipping. She was choking on the tears now. “Everyone knew except me! Everyone I knew lied to my face about it. So now you ask me to trust you, Mr. Williams, and I don’t think I can. I think trusting anyone right now would be the biggest mistake I could make.”
“Yes,” he said savagely. He was at her side in a moment, pressing her up against the wall in the curve of the hallway; he, too, knew where the cameras were. His face hovered close to hers, and his voice was so low that even she could hardly hear it.
Her breath caught in her chest at the feel of him against her, holding her. Awareness flared, and a deep heat, but she could not look away from his eyes.
“Then don’t trust me,” he said, his voice low. “You could, Aryn. But….” He looked away, then back, his jaw clenched. “Don’t trust me. Trust no one. But do you see that if you go to Ellian now, if you confront him with this, then you are trusting him to be kind to you?”
Dragon's Honor (The Dragon Corps Series Book 1) Page 8
