Darkest Before Dawn (KGI #10)(87)

Hancock smiled at her reaction. “He’s a man of many hidden talents.”

“Obviously,” Honor murmured as she drained the juice.

She cut into one of the crepes and took a dainty bite, but she frowned and then quickly tried to cover it up. Hancock pretended not to notice, his heart already sinking.

She toyed with the eggs a moment, speared a forkful and lifted it toward her mouth, but then slipped her free hand over her stomach and let the fork drop with a loud clatter.

“Hancock, I feel sick. I haven’t eaten hardly anything. But I feel . . .”

She swayed, her face paling as she pressed her palm harder into her stomach. He saw her throat working as if she were trying not to vomit. He immediately reached forward to rub her back in an effort to soothe her and hopefully settle her stomach.

She flinched and then looked up at him with so much horror and hurt in her eyes that it was like a knife to the heart.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in a stricken voice. “What did you do to me?”

He cupped her face firmly when she resisted, and he pulled her into a gentle kiss, pouring out all the emotion he’d never allowed himself to feel until her.

He tasted her hot tears. Felt her keen sense of betrayal as if it had been done to him, and it only made him hate himself more for what he knew he had to do.

Kissing her again, he whispered against her lips, “Trust me, Honor. Don’t fight it. Just go to sleep now. Just go to sleep.”

“Am I dying?” she asked in a choked voice, tears silently streaking down her cheeks. “Kiss me,” she whispered, eyes bright with those heart-wrenching tears. “Kiss me one last time before I go. Pretend this once, for me.”

It broke his heart that she thought he’d pretended passion with her. That he’d used her, manipulated her emotions and tricked her into trusting him. Believing in him.

But he gave her what she wanted—what he wanted, savoring the sweetness of her mouth one last time before they had to go. Then he drew away, gazing intently into her eyes so she would know he was sincere.

“No, baby,” he said tenderly, stroking a hand through her silky hair. “Just trust me. Just this once. Trust me. Death doesn’t come to the innocent this day.”

But her eyes had already closed and had he not had his hand against her head, stroking her hair, she would have listed to the side, already unconscious. He swore violently, tears burning his own eyelids. She’d slipped under not only thinking she was breathing her last breath, but that he had been the one to poison her. His final betrayal when she’d offered him her trust time and time again, only for him to break it over and over.

So much regret surged through his body, heart, mind and soul. For a moment he simply gathered her in his arms and held on, burying his face in her soft neck. He inhaled deeply, wanting to savor this one moment in time when there were no impossible barriers between them to breach.

He grieved silently, holding the woman who’d forever changed the course of his fate—his destiny—the very direction of his entire future. And then he once more reached for and embraced the familiar, icy chill of indifference. He made the transition from a man with humanity, a soul, to an emotionless killer. A machine programmed to carry out the mission at all cost. Or die trying.

Without a word, he bent and carefully gathered her in his arms before rising with her. He strode to the door and into the hall where his men waited, having shed any remaining vestiges of his deep connection to Honor, refusing to contemplate that he could very well be taking her to her death.

They all had grim expressions, having no more liking for the task than Hancock did. But they had no choice. It was their only chance to save Honor. And finally take down Maksimov. God help them all if they failed.

God help the world if Honor was lost and Hancock survived. Because no one would be able to stop him. Not even the devil himself.

CHAPTER 31

THE members of Titan crept silently through the brush, circumventing the route Maksimov had outlined so they’d surround him and come in behind him where he thought he would be safe. They’d spent countless hours, considering every angle, every possibility, preparing for the worst-case scenario and the easiest. After all, sometimes the path of least resistance was . . . just that.

For the first time, Hancock didn’t lead his men as he always did, placing himself between him and his team. His team—their safety—was his responsibility, but today Honor was his sole objective.

The others encircled him and Honor, forming a protective barrier around him and the unconscious woman he held so carefully in his arms. He’d ensured that the drug he’d given her was strong so there was no chance she’d regain consciousness until it was all over with and she’d awaken in his arms, safe with the knowledge that it was over. That Maksimov was no longer a threat and she was finally safe. Beyond the reach of ANE.

And well, a few planted seeds, leaks to the right media outlets, and a sensational story would spread like wildfire that Honor Cambridge had died at the hands of ANE. It would save face for them and appease their sense of dishonor. Their public image was everything and as long as Honor kept a low profile, she would be safe within the confines of the United States.

But they were going to have a serious come-to-Jesus meeting about her vow not to let ANE disrupt her work. She was never going back to her old job. Over his dead body would she put herself in that kind of jeopardy again, and he knew he’d have allies with her family.