Guard of Honor by Tracie Delaney

Chapter Sixteen

“You remember the day you arrived?”Honor asked.

Mack shot her a wry grin. “How could I forget?”

She pulled a face at him. “Funny. Anyway, I heard you talking with my father. You’re not just here as my bodyguard, are you?”

A nerve beat in his jaw. He kept his attention on the road ahead. A few seconds scraped by. She let the question linger in the air. If he refused to answer, she’d press harder. She deserved to know the truth.

He expressed a noisy breath through his nose. “Your father asked Loris if he had anyone on the payroll who might be more useful than simply guarding you.” His left shoulder hitched up. “And here I am.”

“He sent you because of what happened in Syria?”

“Yeah.” He side-eyed her. “The brief I got was to keep you safe, but also to see if I could get you to shift your arse and stop fucking hiding from life.”

“Nice phrasing.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You should know me by now, Red. Cajoling isn’t my style.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You have your moments.”

“And if you tell anyone that, I’ll shoot you myself.” He squeezed her knee. “You pissed off?”

“No.” And she realized it was true. “I’ve come so far, and I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t pushed me.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Honor dozed off again. She awoke to find them surrounded by huge trees on either side of a single-lane road and dappled sunshine as it cut through the leaves blowing in the breeze.

“Where are we?”

“Almost there,” Mack replied, glancing at the instrument panel on the dashboard in front of him. “Satnav says five minutes.”

“You mean GPS.” She grinned.“Where’s ‘there’?”

“Lake Placid.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “That’s… remote.”

Sensing the onset of fear, Mack brought her hand onto his lap and held it. “This place is Loris’s. It’s a safe house, which means it’s loaded with security. Gates, perimeter alarms, cameras, panic buttons that go directly to local law enforcement. But best of all, it’s got me.” He fired her a grin. “You’ll be safe here. I promise you.”

He turned off the main road and stopped outside a set of wooden gates at least eight feet in height. He rolled down the window and entered a code into a keypad. The gates opened and he drove through. Honor twisted to watch out the back window as the gates closed behind them.

The house was nothing short of stunning. Stone steps led up to an enormous two-story building made out of wood, which Honor would bet was locally sourced. Like the gates at the entrance, the house was accessed via keypad entry, and as they walked inside, an alarm sounded. Mack opened a panel right inside the door and entered the code. The noise stopped.

“Wow, this place.”

The front door led into a great room with a vaulted ceiling, wrought iron chandeliers hanging from the wooden beams, and a huge granite fireplace. French doors opened onto an enormous screened-in porch with comfortable seating and a log-burning stove. The rear of the house overlooked the lake with steps leading down to an outbuilding. As they moved from room to room, each one a delight, the fear of being so remote lifted, and excitement took its place.

“He’s rich, then—your boss?” Honor asked after they’d explored every inch of the house.

“He makes your father look like a pauper.”

“How? I can’t imagine that running a security firm is this lucrative.”

“Ah, Loris comes from old money, as we say in Britain. He’s an earl, although he doesn’t use the title.”

“An earl? Like, part of the royal family?”

Mack chuckled. “Not exactly, but there’s likely to be some ancestral connection somewhere. He’s probably hundredth in line to the throne or something.”

“And he used to be in the military?” She wrinkled her nose. “Odd career choice for an aristocrat.”

“His father thought the same thing, apparently. But if you met Loris, it’d make sense. We have a saying in Britain. ‘Built like a brick shithouse,’ which basically means he’s the size of a tank. He also has nerves of steel and, to most people who don’t know him, is a scary motherfucker.”

“The perfect soldier,” she mused.

“Royal Marine,” Mack corrected. “In the UK, Royal Marines are the equivalent of your Navy SEALs. I owe him my life.”

She inclined her head, studying his face. “Were you scared? When they took you?”

“Hell yeah. I was fucking terrified. My training helped me to a certain extent, but knowing one of the most brutal regimes in modern times had me… well, let’s just say I didn’t expect to make it through.” He stared off into the distance, across the lake, his eyes glazing over almost as if his memories had dragged him off to a different place, one far from here. “Many didn’t.”

“Why do you think they didn’t kill you?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve no idea. I doubt I’ll ever know. I’m just thankful that they didn’t, which gave Loris and his team time to find me and then plan an extraction.” He shook his head, possibly to dispel the painful thoughts. “I’ll go fetch the bags.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Those ice-blue eyes of his ran over her. “You’re fine here. You’re safe. Use it as an opportunity to get used to being on your own. I’ll be less than a minute.”

He didn’t give her the chance to argue, scampering down the steps and over to the car parked right outside. Panic surged, and she closed her eyes, fisted her hands to ground herself. Chanted a little bit.

You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.

“Jesus Christ, I swear these are heavier than when we left Manhattan.”

Mack dropped two of her three suitcases with a thud, then returned for the third and his own gear. His familiar grouchy self chased away the fingers of darkness, beating the fear into retreat. By the time he set the last of her cases next to the others, she’d gotten a hold of herself.

“Stop complaining. Big strapping man like you can handle a few suitcases just fine.” She flashed him a wide grin. “Won’t take long to run them upstairs now, will it?”

“Still got a mouth on you out here, I see.”

He picked up the first two cases and set off up the beautifully carved staircase that was perfectly in keeping with the rest of the lodge. She followed him up. At the top, he paused.

“Four bedrooms to choose from. You get first pick.”

An unwelcome surprise hit her squarely in the center of her chest. “I-I thought… well, I thought we’d… sleep in the same room.”

He froze. “I sleep alone.”

“Even when you’re… when you’ve…”

“Fucked someone?” His jaw flexed. “Yeah, even then. Especially then.”

“Why especially?”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “I have my reasons, and they’re personal. For now, let’s go with ‘I like to sprawl,’ if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t, as it happens.”

He shrugged. “I can’t help that.”

She fixed her mouth in a thin line. Why was he being like this? She’d just assumed… well, more fool her. But something was off. She thought about pushing it, then changed her mind and opened the first door she came to. “This will do.”

Mack set his eyes on her, then pulled his lips to one side in a “suit yourself” fashion. With ease, he flung the cases onto the bed and, without a word, set off downstairs. He was back less than thirty seconds later with her third case, his measly-sized bag slung over his shoulder. He dropped the last case beside the other two.

“I’ll leave you to unpack. I’ll be in the room next to this one.”

He made a point of closing the door behind him, but he didn’t slam it. Not like she might have. Would have. She perched on the edge of the bed and stared out the window. This room had a view to the front of the property, whereas she imagined one or two of the others might have a view of the lake. If only she hadn’t thrown a snit at Mack’s refusal to share a room, she might have made a better choice. Too late to change her mind now, not without losing face, anyway.

Honor opened the first suitcase. She’d packed her clothes neatly, so it didn’t take very long to empty it. She opened the second.

Her knees buckled, and she braced a hand on the bed to steady her. Oh God.

Bubsy, a bear she’d had since childhood, was sitting on top of her clothes. Except his head was missing, and the stuffing had spilled into her suitcase. Reaching out with a hand that wouldn’t quit shaking, she picked him up. She wouldn’t… would she? Squeezing her eyes closed, she tried to recall each step when she’d packed last night. It was all such a blur—the shock when Mack had sprung on her that they were going away, the resistance and finally acceptance that this was a good idea. The twinge of excitement that had bloomed in the pit of her stomach as she picked out which lingerie she’d pack and what Mack’s reaction would be when she wore it. But destroying Bubsy, ripping his head clean off his body with brute force, and then packing his remains? She had no recollection of that. None at all.

She stumbled next door into Mack’s room without knocking. Mack’s bag lay carelessly on the bed, but the room was empty.

“Mack!”

She ran downstairs calling his name, dropping Bubsy halfway down. Mack emerged from the direction of the kitchen. She launched herself at him.

“Hey.” His arms came around her. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh God. Oh God.”

He unwound her arms from around his neck. “Honor. Calm down.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” She gasped for breath, her gaze wildly swinging from Mack’s puzzled expression to Bubsy lying at the foot of the stairs. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay, gut up.” Mack gripped her upper arms tightly. “You’re not going to be sick. Look at me. Take a deep breath through your nose. Let it out nice and slow. Repeat. That’s it.”

She followed his instructions. The nausea churning through her stomach receded, and her lungs started functioning again.

“Right. Now, start at the beginning.”

“My bear,” she whispered, pointing behind her. “He’s… I’ve… I don’t remember doing that.”

Mack released her and picked up Bubsy. He studied it, then her, and then it again.

“You think you did this?”

“Who else could it be?” She grabbed a clump of her hair. “I just don’t remember.”

“Where did you find it?”

“In one of my suitcases, lying there on the top.”

Mack frowned, and his eyes shifted up and to the left.

“What are you thinking?”

He returned his gaze to her. “I’m thinking that you should forget this for now and focus on the purpose of our visit here—namely, to give you some space and time to work on your recovery.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Worrying about this isn’t going to change anything. You’re in new surroundings, and this is a new start. Think you can do that?”

She nibbled the corner of her lip and then nodded. “I’ll try.”

“It’s all any of us can do, Red.” He kissed her forehead. “And please, for the love of God, can you help me work out the damned coffee machine? I can’t get it to spit out a drop of coffee.” He rolled his eyes. “Trust Loris to over-egg it. Don’t know what’s wrong with good old instant.”

“Over-egg?” She frowned. “No wonder you’re not getting coffee if you’re using eggs in the coffee machine.”

Mack laughed. “Over-egg means to go overboard. He could have put in a kettle and a jar of instant. Instead, he goes with this ridiculous machine.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” She shook her head. “And instant coffee is a crime against coffee lovers the world over.”

Mack arched an eyebrow. “Then prove it, Red.”

His distraction technique worked—for now. She sashayed over to the machine and glanced behind her with a cocky grin. “Watch and learn.”

In less than a minute, the machine was purring away, filling the kitchen with the smell of fresh-ground coffee. She turned, curtsied, and gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm.

“Easy as pie.”

“Yeah, for you,” he groused. “How’d you learn to do that?”

“Papa has one very similar. They need gentle persuasion, not brute force.”

“Then ensuring a free-flowing supply of freshly brewed coffee is your job while we’re here.”

“I can live with that.” She searched through the kitchen cabinets, found the coffee mugs, and grabbed two. “I don’t suppose this place has any fresh stuff, like cream. We should have stopped on the way here.” She surprised herself by not wincing at the thought of a crowded grocery store.

Mack strolled over to the fridge and pulled it open. It was crammed with fresh produce. He removed a carton of cream and set it on the counter.

“How…?”

“Loris arranged for the place to be stocked. We should be able to get by for a week.”

“Do you think we’ll still be here in a week?”

“Might be here a lot longer than that. Depends how it goes.”

She topped off the coffee with the cream and pushed a mug over to Mack. “I’m sorry.”

“ ’Bout what?”

“Where you choose to sleep is your business.”

“Damn straight.” He quirked his lips and opened his arms. “Come here.”

She tucked herself against his massive frame and turned her face to rest her cheek on his broad chest. “I just presumed…” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Relax, Honor. I get it. Really, I do, but while we’re here, I want you to just allow shit to happen. Forget all the crap that happened back in Manhattan, and what you found in your suitcase. Allow your mind to wander, smell the fresh air, dangle your feet in the lake. Loris has a boat. We should take it out one day. Just let yourself be. Let yourself breathe.”

She lowered her eyes and thoroughly considered his words. She could do that. Put everything behind her, including the mess with Bubsy, and just… be.

“And what about us?”

“By ‘us,’ do you mean sex?”

“I guess.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Like I said, just let shit happen.”