Guard of Honor by Tracie Delaney

Chapter Thirteen

“Lizzie,”Honor called out as she mounted the stairs to the second floor. She poked her head into her bedroom, and Mack’s—although he’d made it clear to Lizzie his room was out-of-bounds. She wasn’t in either place. Honor jogged up to the top floor and, after checking the bathroom and guest bed, tapped on Lizzie’s door.

“Lizzie, are you in there?”

A muffled shuffling came from the other side, then Lizzie opened the door, her face tear-stained.

“What on earth’s the matter?” Honor asked.

“It’s nothing.” Lizzie dragged the back of her hand beneath her nose and sniffed. “I’m being silly. That’s all.”

She perched on the edge of her bed. Honor sat beside her.

“If you’re crying, then it’s not nothing. You can talk to me, Lizzie. We’re friends.”

“No, we’re not. Not anymore. Not since he came. Now I’m only the housekeeper.”

“He? You mean Mack?”

She nodded. “You’re different. Since he arrived, you’re not the same as you were.”

“You’re right. I’m not the same.” She squeezed Lizzie’s slim fingers. They were as cold as an icebox. “I’m getting better, Lizzie. And that’s why it feels like everything’s changing. You’ve only properly known me since my…” Honor swallowed. “My abduction. But I wasn’t always like this. I used to be so outgoing and fun-loving. I went clubbing and ate in fancy restaurants. I’d go to the gym with my friends and spend Friday nights on Broadway dreaming of the day when it’d be my name on the posters as director. The man who took me stole that girl, but gradually, I’m finding her again. And yeah, I give Mack a lot of the credit for that. He pushed me when I didn’t think I was capable. He proved that I was stronger than I gave myself credit for. He refused to take my shit.”

Lizzie turned to face the window and sniffed again. “You like him.”

“Yes. I do like him. A lot. Oh, Lizzie, I’ll never forget your companionship. If it weren’t for you coming to live here these last few months, I’d have been so lonely.”

“Glad I could help.” A watery smile accompanied another sniff. “You’re not going to ask me to leave now, are you?”

“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

She shrugged. “Three’s a crowd.”

“It was one kiss, and from someone who you and I both know won’t be here forever. Papa hired him to watch over me, but once I recover—and I know now that I will, eventually—Mack will move on to his next job, but I’ll still be here, and so will you. I hope.”

She suppressed a wince at the thought of Mack protecting someone else. Maybe a woman. A woman whom he might find attractive, whom he’d kiss and touch and take to his bed.

“Are you okay, Honor? You kind of zoned out on me for a second there.”

“Just thinking, that’s all.” Honor pushed her hair out of her eyes and blinked. “Hey, Lizzie, did you break some eggs and throw them in the trash?”

Lizzie frowned. “No. Why?”

Honor pressed her lips together. “I went to get them out of the fridge to make Mack’s cake, and they weren’t there. I’m certain there were a dozen eggs in there yesterday because I specifically checked to make sure I had all the ingredients I needed. Mack found them smashed in the trash can in the kitchen. I have absolutely no recollection of breaking them.”

“I’m sorry, Honor, but it wasn’t me. I’d have told you if I’d broken them. And I’d have gone straight out to the store and replaced them, too.”

“That’s true. You would have.” She rubbed her forehead. “I think I’m going crazy.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“No, I am.” She filled Lizzie in on the other strange occurrences, flopping onto the bed with a deep sigh after she’d finished. “So I guess that means it was me after all.”

“Or him.”

Honor sat up straight. “What do you mean?”

Lizzie pinched the skin at the base of her throat. “I don’t want to speak out of turn.”

“Come on, Lizzie. You’ve started. You might as well finish your thought.”

Lizzie ran her tongue over her lips and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “What do we know about him? I mean, really know? Before he arrived, you didn’t have any problems misplacing things, did you?”

“Not that I recall,” Honor admitted. “Then again, every day blends into another. It could have been happening for longer, but I just didn’t notice, and now I have. Mack thinks it could all be related to my recovery. That my mind is occupied in other directions.”

Lizzie snorted. “Sounds a bit implausible.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

But the tapping started before Mack arrived. That I am sure of.

She opened her mouth to tell Lizzie that, then changed her mind. Until she figured out whether she really was going crazy, it was better to keep some bits of information to herself.

“How do you feel about popping down to the store to grab some more eggs? And flour, too. And then you can help me make this cake. What do you say?”

Lizzie forced a smile. “I can do that.”

* * *

“No more.” Mack laughed as Honor slid another slice of cake onto his plate. “I feel sick.”

“I guess it’ll keep for tomorrow. Or maybe Papa might like some. I’ll give him a call and ask him to come by this evening.” She scanned the kitchen for her phone. “I must have left my cell in the living room. Be right back.”

She left Mack rubbing his stomach and went to fetch her phone. She hadn’t spoken to Papa in a few days as he’d been unexpectedly called to China to deal with a business issue, and knowing how involved he got when things weren’t going to plan, she hadn’t bothered him. That he’d left her alone added further credence to his trust in Mack. She thought back to Lizzie’s comments. She couldn’t see how her concerns about Mack held any believability. What would he have to gain by purposely making Honor think she was losing her mind? No, there had to be a logical explanation—or she really was losing her mind.

Pushing open the door to the living room, she collided with Lizzie on her way out, duster in hand and hauling the vacuum cleaner behind her.

“Sorry, Lizzie. I’m such a klutz.”

The other woman forced a smile. “How was the cake?”

“Delicious.” Honor tilted her head to the side. “You should have stayed and eaten some. After all, you helped make it.”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t want me there.”

Dodging around Honor, she headed for the stairs.

“Hey, Lizzie.”

Lizzie glanced behind her. “Yes?”

“It’ll be okay, you know.”

Her shoulders lifted, and her chest expanded as she took a deep breath. “I know.”

Lizzie make her way upstairs, bumping the vacuum up every step. Honor’s throat tightened. Lizzie might be an employee, but the two women had grown close the last couple of months. And Lizzie was her only friend now. She hated the thought of Lizzie feeling as if she had to tiptoe around the place or knock before entering certain rooms. This was her home, too.

But Mack’s arrival and Honor’s tentative steps to recovery had changed the dynamic. Mack’s larger-than-life presence and obvious dislike of Lizzie—and hers of him—had caused an awkward atmosphere to settle over the house, and tackling it head-on was the only solution. After she’d spoken with Papa, she’d sit them both down and hash this out.

Wow, look at you. Taking control and everything.

She scanned the living room. No sign of her phone. Maybe she’d left it in her bedroom. She darted upstairs. Nope. Wasn’t there either. She heard Lizzie pushing the vacuum cleaner around on the top floor, bumping into the baseboards. Honor jogged up to see her.

“Lizzie,” she shouted over the sound of the machine. “Have you seen my phone?”

Lizzie switched the vacuum off. “What was that?”

“Have you seen my cell phone?”

Lizzie frowned. “I don’t think so.”

“You didn’t move it when you were cleaning the living room?”

“No. Definitely not. Have you checked your bedroom?”

A bite of tension set up in Honor’s stomach. “Yes. It’s not there either.”

“Let me finish this, and I’ll help you search.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Honor returned to the first floor and poked her head into the kitchen. “Mack, have you seen my phone? I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Can’t say I have.” He dug his cell out of his pocket. “I’ll call it.”

He tapped the screen, then held the phone to his ear. “It rang, then went to voicemail. Did you hear it?”

“No.”

“Okay, let’s go from room to room. It has to be here somewhere.”

They systematically went through the house with Mack calling her number. As they approached her bedroom, a clear ringing tone filtered through the closed door.

“It is in my bedroom.”

Honor pushed it open, and the two of them listened as Mack redialed.

“It’s coming from my closet.”

Honor strode across her room and entered her walk-in closet. Mack followed closely behind. He kept ringing her phone each time it cut to voicemail to help make tracking it easier.

“Trust you to have a wardrobe as big as some people’s homes,” Mack grumbled.

Honor smiled thinly, too shook up to manage something brighter. “I’m a woman. Clothes are important.” Or they used to be. These days she lived in jeans or sweats.

“If you say so.”

His continued gentle teasing lifted her lips further, although inside, a horrible feeling stole over her. What the hell was her phone doing in here? She hadn’t brought it in with her when she dressed this morning. Why would she have? She wasn’t that attached to the damn thing, unlike most people her age.

“It’s coming from under that pile of clothes lying on the floor.” Mack pointed.

Honor crouched and shoved the clothes to one side. Sure enough, there was her phone. She picked it up and stared at it.

“I have no memory of putting it in here. And why would it be buried underneath my clothes?”

“Maybe they fell off the rail?” Mack helpfully offered. And then his eyes darkened, and he eased Honor to one side. “What the fuck is my drawing pad doing in here?”

He bent over and picked up the pad, then glared at her. “Have you been going through my things, Honor?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “I’d never go through your private possessions.”

“Then how did it get in here?” he demanded.

Lizzie appeared at the doorway. “Hey, you found it.” Sensing the spiky atmosphere, she frowned. “What’s going on?” Her eyes flashed as she turned them on Mack. “Have you upset her?”

“Butt the fuck out, Lizzie,” Mack growled. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Stop it,” Honor whispered. “Both of you, please.” She dampened her dry lips and gripped Mack’s arm. “I don’t remember, Mack. I can’t remember anything.” Heart racing, her stomach churned with nausea. “It’s me, isn’t it? I’m doing all these things.”

Her knees went out from beneath her. Lizzie gasped and launched forward, but Mack beat her to it, catching Honor just in time. He cursed.

“I’ve got you, Red. Just breathe for me. Slowly now. Try not to pant. Take deep breaths. That’s it. Good girl.”

“I’m losing it, Mack. I thought I was getting better, but I’m not. I’m going to end up in an asylum.”

“Over my fucking dead body.” Mack wrapped his strong arms around her, his hand rubbing her back.

“I’m cold,” she whispered, her entire body shaking. “So cold. I can’t get warm. He’s watching me. I feel his eyes on me. He likes watching me suffer. I want to go home.” A sob broke from her throat. “Please let me go home. I want Papa. Don’t let me die here, please.”

Air brushed her arm, and dampness crawled up her nostrils. And the smell. She heaved. Her tummy hurt. When was the last time he’d fed her? She couldn’t remember. So empty. Pain. Cramps. Please get me out of here!

The walls closed in, crushing her.

I want to see the sun, to hear Papa’s voice. To listen to the birds sing. Gone. It’s all gone. I deserve this. Papa deserves this. Moving. I’m moving. Where to? Am I going home? Oh, please, God, hear me. Save me. Let me go home.

“Honor?”

Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again.

“Hey, Red. That’s it. Open your eyes for me.”

“Mack?” She blinked, then tried to sit up. He pressed her back down. “I’m so tired. What happened?”

“You had a flashback.”

“What?”

She went to sit up again, but a firm hand on her shoulder pressed her back into the mattress.

“Lie there a little longer. Let your body recover.”

“A flashback.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “How long was I out?”

“Ten minutes or so.”

“It felt so real. So real. I was back there, in that hole. And he was watching me, delighting in my pain.”

“Flashbacks are real. For the person experiencing them, they’re as real as the event itself.”

“I haven’t had one before. Even in the beginning when I got out. I had nightmares. I still have nightmares, but never when I’m awake.”

His lips lifted on one side. “Yeah, they’re a fun ride.”

“You suffered from them?”

His gaze rested on her face. A nerve ticked in his jaw, and he had this look in his eyes. She tried to place it. Tortured. He looked as if he were in hell.

“In the beginning, yes. I did.”

“Do you still?”

He lowered his gaze. “No. I have the occasional nightmare, too, but I haven’t had a flashback in over a year.”

She wanted to ask him more about it, but her eyes began to close. So tired. “I’m sorry I took your things. I didn’t mean to.”

Mack kissed her forehead. “Let’s not worry about that right this minute. Get some rest and we’ll talk later.”

“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

He placed his hand over hers. “You got it.”