Guard of Honor by Tracie Delaney

Chapter Six

Tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Prickles raced across the back of Honor’s neck, and she lay there in the pitch black, heart hammering, sweat coating her skin, her nightgown clinging to her body.

Mack is right across the hall. Go get him!

Except, she couldn’t. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust herself. She didn’t trust anyone. What if she fetched him and the tapping had stopped by the time they returned to her room? He’d think she was crazy, and most days, she thought she was, too. Papa listened to Mack. She’d witnessed the respect he had for the burly Scot with her own eyes every time her father had dropped by to see her.

Three days had passed since Mack had taken over sole responsibility for her protection, and while, after a rocky start, they’d come to a truce of sorts, she barely knew the man. And most definitely not nearly well enough to tell him of the strange phenomenon that woke her every night.

When the tapping refused to let up, Honor climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom. She pressed her back to the cool tile.

You’re safe. You’re okay. Just breathe.

She opened the bathroom cabinet to grab a new tube of toothpaste, and a sudden coldness hit her in the gut. Sitting proudly on the front edge of the cabinet was one of her pebbles. She’d recognize the smooth, white, circular stone anywhere. What was it doing here? Had she put it there? She pressed her fingertips to her temples, desperately trying to remember if she’d removed it for some reason. God, she couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything.

She stumbled backward, half falling, half sitting on the toilet seat. Okay, take it easy. There had to be a logical explanation. Maybe she was mistaken and it wasn’t one of the seventeen. She’d examine what the hell a pebble was doing in her cabinet later. For now, she’d wait for the sun to rise and go check it out. If there were only sixteen—then she’d panic.

Too spooked to attempt trying to go back to sleep, Honor brushed her teeth and went downstairs and into the kitchen.

“Fuck, Lizzie!” She fisted her nightgown, her heart rate, still elevated from the unwelcome discovery of finding the pebble in her bathroom cabinet, pummeling her chest. “What the heck are you doing up so early?”

Lizzie grimaced an apology. “Sorry. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Honor frowned, her eyes narrowing. “Did you hear it, too?” So far, she hadn’t mentioned any of the strange happenings to Lizzie, for the same reasons she’d told no one else: in case they thought she was crazy.

“Hear what?”

“A tapping noise.”

Lizzie pulled her lips to one side. “I didn’t hear anything. What kind of tapping? Like a bird?”

A bird? Could it be?

No, she didn’t think so. What kind of bird would perch on the window ledge and tap on her window? If she had to guess, she’d say it reminded her of the sound a fingernail made against glass.

“I’m not sure.” She gestured dismissively. “Ignore me. It’s early. I was probably dreaming.”

“Do you want some hot milk?”

Lizzie got to her feet without waiting for an affirmative response and grabbed a small pan off the drying rack, then stepped over to the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk. Honor moved to the window and gazed into the darkness. From here, she couldn’t make out the red oak tree, but as soon as the sun rose over the horizon and bathed the yard in a golden glow, she’d investigate.

Please, God, let there still be seventeen pebbles underneath that tree.

“Here you go.”

She gave Lizzie a wan smile. “Thanks.” Sitting down, she brought the cup to her lips and blew across the top. “You don’t have to babysit me, Lizzie. I’m good.”

“That’s not what I’m doing at all.” Lizzie retook her seat on the other side of the table and cast a furtive glance over Honor’s shoulder. “So, what do you think of Mr. Beefcake?”

“Tolerable.”

Lizzie chuckled. “Man does have a nice accent, though. Almost like having Gerard Butler wandering around the place.”

“Hardly,” Honor scoffed. “Gerard is far better looking.”

“I’m hurt,” came a deep, throaty voice from behind her.

Lizzie’s eyes widened, while Honor groaned. She hadn’t heard him come downstairs. Twisting to gawk over her shoulder, she rose to her feet and picked up her milk. Only one way to save the situation and the subsequent embarrassment at being caught gossiping—and not in a complimentary way—about Mack.

Brazen it out.

“I highly doubt it,” she said, barely managing to withhold a shiver of delight as her arm kissed his when she brushed past. “Although, they say the truth hurts. I guess you’ve proved the point.”

He chuckled, apparently unaffected by her acid tongue. Something about the man required an obligatory sarcastic response. Probably because she knew he could take it, and being salty was her defense mechanism. It stopped people from probing too deeply, and she sensed that Mack would probe deeper than anyone else, given half a chance. Yet another reason to keep him at arm’s length. She couldn’t face opening the box and letting her demons run free. It scared her to death what they might do.

Honor wandered upstairs, tentatively opening the door to her bedroom. She listened closely. No tapping. She blew out a slow breath. Another night survived.

After taking a shower and dressing in jeans and a flowery top, she returned downstairs. The sun had come up. She put her right hand in the front pocket of her jeans and ran her thumb over the smooth surface of the pebble. Time to go check under the tree. Her heart rate increased, and her tongue felt thick and uncomfortable. She grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and stepped into the yard.

Oh, great.

Mack was sitting on the wooden bench beneath the kitchen window, a large pad resting on his crossed knee and a pencil in his hand. She wasn’t surprised he’d ignored her instruction to stay out of the yard. He struck her as the kind of man who did what he wanted, when he wanted.

She plunked herself next to him and eyed his drawing pad. Wow. He was good. Better than good. The drawing wasn’t anywhere near finished, but already his talent shone through. He glanced up and caught her gawking, and a wry smile touched his lips.

“Not what you expected?”

“No.” She bit into the apple.

“Drawing soothes me.” He twisted his head, his eyes narrowing. “You look tired. Bad night?”

“No more than usual.”

She fixed her gaze on the red oak, the same thing he’d strangely decided to draw. She couldn’t inspect the peaty earth beneath the tree with Mack out here, not without running the risk of piquing his interest. She’d have to wait until later. But like the pull of gravity, she found it impossible to resist. She had to know, to satisfy herself that she wasn’t going mad.

She stood and wandered over, pretending to inspect the summer flowers on the border. As she circled around the bottom of the garden, she paused by the tree. The second she looked down, she knew. The largest pebble was missing. Well, not missing. It was in her pocket. And even worse, the rest were jumbled up rather than organized by size.

She swallowed past a dry throat, and her skin prickled, almost as if ants were crawling over her flesh. Had she messed them up, or was someone messing with her? She peeked over at Mack, his brow furrowed, the pencil sweeping over the paper. His chin came up, and he stopped drawing.

“You okay?” he called over.

No. I’m far from okay.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her reply came out sharper than she’d intended, and his forehead wrinkled in response.

“Chill, Red. It was just a question.”

She waited for him to start drawing again and then crouched and replaced the missing pebble. She’d put them back in order later, when she was alone. Tears burned the backs of her eyes, and she blinked them away. To most people, these were just stones, but to her, they represented survival. Had she removed one and jumbled up the others without remembering? She rubbed her forehead. God, she was so confused.

Mack cast her another puzzled glance. She walked over and sat beside him again before he thought to question her further.

“Why do you need soothing?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“Before, you said that drawing soothes you. Why does it?”

He kept his attention on the drawing pad, the pencil skimming over the paper, his eyes drifting to the subject from time to time. “Take a wild guess.”

His comment didn’t warrant a further response. The reason was obvious. They’d both suffered, and both survived. Damaged, but alive.

She ate the apple down to the core and allowed silence to descend. Strangely, she found it comforting rather than awkward, and gradually the anxiety over the pebbles and her worries that she was losing her mind faded. She set the core on the arm of the bench, closed her eyes, tilted her face up to the sun, and listened to the birdsong.

“Y’know, you’re not so bad when your mouth is shut.”

Honor’s eyes snapped open, and her lips parted, preparing to spit out a sarcastic retort, but, met with the gleam in his eye and a tilt to his lips, she stuck out her tongue instead.

He laughed. “Hey, I have an idea.”

She stared at him suspiciously. “What?”

“How about you come stand on the front step with me?”

Coldness hit her core, and shivers racked her body. She turned away. “I-I can’t. I just can’t.”

Mack ran a hand down her arm, his touch gentle and surprising. “Hey. Look at me.”

She kept her eyes fixed on the ground.

He growled. “Look at me, Honor.”

His voice, laced with dominance, brought her head around. He set his pad and pencil to one side and held out both of his hands, palms up. She stared at them, then tentatively and unsure why she had, she placed her hands inside his. He closed his fingers, his touch warmer and his skin softer than she’d anticipated. Butterflies swarmed her tummy as his eyes locked on hers. Damn, the man mesmerized her.

“I won’t leave your side. One foot. That’s all I ask.” He tightened his grip. “You can do it. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“What if…” She bit down on her lip until the distinct taste of blood flooded onto her tongue. “What if…”

“He’s not there, Honor. I guarantee you he isn’t.”

She bowed her head. “But he is out there. Somewhere.”

“True. But you’re safe with me. I promise you. This is what I do, and I’m fucking good at it.” He released her hands and clipped her under the chin. “Come on, Red. Otherwise, I might think you don’t believe how awesome I am at this protection shit.”

An authentic laugh burst out of her. “My original assessment of you stands. You are an ass.”

“Can’t deny that.” He stood. “Ready?”

Her knees knocked together. “No.”

“If you wait to be ready, it’ll never happen.”

He grasped her hand and towed her through the house, past the kitchen and the living room and the staircase that led to the upper levels. But as the front door came into view, she skidded to a halt.

“Mack, I can’t. Please don’t make me.”

“Hey.” He clasped her wrists firmly. “I got you.”

With more tenderness than she imagined him capable of, he slipped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her against his hard, powerful chest. His solid frame slowed the rapid beating of her heart, although her feet refused to move from their current spot. He shifted his weight, and then he let her go.

“Stay here. I’m going to open the front door, okay?”

She nodded and wrapped her arms across her stomach. As he unlocked the deadbolts and gripped the door handle, the hair lifted at her nape and along her forearms. She blinked rapidly, adrenaline urging her to flee, to race upstairs and dive underneath the bedcovers. Focusing on Mack’s broad shoulders and muscular arms, she forced herself to take slow breaths, to hold the air down in her lungs and, only when they almost burst, release it.

Mack drew back the door, and the house across the street appeared in her line of sight. She’d seen it many times from the window, but not an unhindered view. Not since before.

Before he’d taken her.

Before he’d ruined her life.

Before she’d lost her sense of self.

Cars zoomed up and down the street—or so it seemed to her—and the smell of smoke from the tailpipes filled her nostrils. A kid rode his bike along the sidewalk and only narrowly avoided running into a woman weighed down with groceries. She yelled something, although Honor couldn’t hear exactly what. She doubted it was complimentary.

“Red?”

Mack’s voice came at her through a dense fog, muffled, as if he’d put his hands over his mouth.

“Deep breath. Take a step for me. A single step.”

Paralyzed, she willed her feet to move. When they refused to obey her, she retreated within herself, to the safe place where the world couldn’t hurt her.

“Honor, move your feet.”

Authority filled his tone, and at his direct order, her right foot slid forward a few inches.

“That’s it. Keep your eyes on the floor. Don’t look up. Don’t think about the destination. Just walk.”

Her left foot moved. “I’m doing it,” she whispered.

“That you are,” he murmured.

She kept going until the lip of the step came into view. Her heart pounded so loudly that the people on the street must have surely been able to hear it.

“I don’t think I can go any farther.”

Mack put his huge body between her and the outside world. “Give me your hands. I’m going to walk backward, and you’re going to follow me. Eyes on me now, Honor. Eyes on me.”

She licked her lips, then gave him her eyes. Almost as if he’d hypnotized her, as he moved, so did she. The sun hit her face, and a mild breeze lifted her hair.

“Oh God.” Her jaw dropped. “Oh God. I did it. I’m outside, aren’t I?”

Mack grinned. “Yeah, you are.” He kissed her on the forehead. “You’re a fucking rock star.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and a monumental sense of achievement hit her squarely in the chest.

“I don’t know how you managed it, but thank you,” she whispered. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”