To Die for... Honor

EIGHTEEN-1

EIGHTEEN

EIGHT DAYS WENT BY. Eight days of rising and going through the motions. Seeing the city, exploring, learning her base. Like Daire said, expanding her contacts. Okay, so her super-agent skills weren’t up to much, but faces in the coffeeshop and mailbox store were becoming familiar.

A drop-in community learning hub was part of her daily routine. Among other things, they taught computer skills. Fighting her mother’s instinct, she embraced it, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to know the basics. Olympus was holding her; everyone knew where she was. The jig was up. The need to hide wasn’t top of the priority list anymore.

Learning the digital systems killed some time and provided her the opportunity to get to know people interested in helping others. Maybe she’d never need them, but maybe she would.

The highlight of her London trip had come that day. Daire wrote back. He’d received her letter and written back.

Damn, baby, you always find a way. Your strength still gets me. I don’t know how you do it. How you keep on going always so strong.

I told you what I’d do to get to you. I’m ready. I was from the second the sun sank in the sky and you weren’t at your post. Weren’t where I could see you. The only way you’ll be safe is in my eyeline. You were right.

I’m waiting for the word.

Give me an objective. They put you in the middle of this war. I didn’t see it, truly understand it until… I’d never known rage, not until they took you away from me. But it’s not all on them. I know that. I failed. Apologizing isn’t enough. I failed in my primary mission. I’m no good with failure. Never was. But it never felt like this. Failing you… there are no words.

Maybe I’d feel better if you needed me. If you called me to your side. The world would go to s**t and the whole campaign would implode, but I’d be with you. I’m not sure anything else matters.

It’s certain no one touches the mail here until I give the go ahead. If anyone touched anything from your hands meant for mine, I’d slice both off and gut him. But you’re right, you have to be careful.

If you give me the word, I’ll be there, as fast as humanly possible, but I can’t be there in a heartbeat. If you get in trouble, if you’re scared or under threat, don’t write, call me, give me a signal on the video. Anything. I’ll be there.

Truth be told, I’m fighting not to take it out of your hands. When H said Z had you, when we were waiting for that call… I can’t do nothing. I can’t wait and hope, not when it comes to you.

Don’t ask me to be patient, Temptress. Give me the word. Please.

I told you it was too late, LR. Goddamnit, baby, it’s too late.

They had a line of communication. As soon as she’d absorbed his reply, she wrote a response.

Of all the times you’ve thrilled me, baby, today was the most exciting. Just getting your letter, knowing we have a link, it means everything to me.

I can’t deny that I liked reading Mr. Infinite Patience is struggling to sit still. I’m sorry, baby. I know you’d feel better if I asked you to be here, to change things, but you can’t. We can’t. You know why.

It’s difficult to tell you everything. You know how I got here and if P traced that call as Z said then you know where I am.

All he’ll tell me is he wants to put it back together. It seems like a long shot that they could trust each other again. But I listen for you. Because I know you want your home back.

He likes to talk, I’m not sure he listens. You know I don’t like to be ignored, that I tend to be too headstrong. Being civil isn’t always easy. The only reason I try is for you.

You like it when I’m stubborn. You don’t say it, but you don’t have to, I know my… f**k, why do I flirt with you even when you’re thousands of miles away? It’s against the rules. Against my bravery. I should keep this professional. I’m your asset. Your gal on the inside. Pandora. Nothing else.

The apartment building has security, nothing you couldn’t handle if necessary. We have guys in uniforms who do whatever Z tells them. They’re like valets and servants and grunts all rolled into one. Not one of them would stand up to a threat. I’m telling you these things in case, survival, you know?

I don’t want you here. Don’t want you in harm’s way. Never. Not for me.

We’re going to get your home back. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. Give me a signal. I’m not good with subtle, but I’ll try. I want you to have your happiness. You belong to Olympus and I will do everything in my power to put you where you’re supposed to be.

We know the truth, Your Heart.

Keeping things professional wasn’t easy. Especially when she was so excited to read his words. Flirting with him, craving him, those were her default. Being restrained was more difficult. It would get easier to keep her emotional distance in time… wouldn’t it?

In under an hour, she was due back in Zeus’s apartment for dinner. After mailing her letter, she was in no rush to imprison herself in his walls while her mood was so high. Not that she ever was.

Instead of going back, she got another coffee and returned to her favorite bench in the park to ponder how long it might take the letter to reach Daire’s hands. In her hurry to mail it, had she written anything revealing? Being explicit could be dangerous.

In his correspondence, he was eager, desperate, to be at her side. He’d asked for a signal, stating he’d leave everything to come to her. She’d put it to him straight in her reply that she didn’t want him in Europe. If he rushed to her, their feelings wouldn’t stay a secret for long.

For her own selfish reasons, she wanted him in London. But it wasn’t what was best for him or for Olympus, so she’d told him to stay in Vegas.

Someone sat on the other end of her bench. In all the times she’d sat there, no one had joined her for more than a minute or two. Despite the brief duration, it always perturbed her. There were dozens of benches, probably hundreds in London, maybe thousands. Why did anyone have to encroach on the happiest place she’d found in the foreign city?

“You know, I was thinking, you could be like my mother.”

That was… was he talking to her? She glanced his way, then fixed her attention straight ahead. The sun was still up, apparently the crazies didn’t wait for dark in Europe.

“Thing about her?” he spoke again. “She’s just never satisfied.”

Maybe she was judging him too quickly. How did she extricate herself from this without offending him? “Uh…” she started, “excuse me?”

She didn’t turn, even when he shifted his body to face hers. “Why is it that we scream at each other?”

This guy was certifiable. If she got up and ran away, he might chase her. She was discreet about dropping her coffee cup in the trash and sliding to the front of the bench, intending to make her escape slowly.

“The world’s so cold…” he continued. “Are you gonna leave me standing alone?”

The loon was still talking. His tone plain and simple, conversational. Except… those words…Something about them was familiar.

She paused, still perched on the bench, the edges of her jacket clasped in one fist. With narrow eyes, Tess looked over her shoulder at him, trying to figure out why the words rang bells. Beyond the hood and the stubble, he wasn’t bad to look at. He was hot even. Fit. Clean. He didn’t look like a crazy street person or like he was strung out on drugs. If he was trying to pick her up, he definitely got the award for originality.

“You think I’m like my father?” he asked at a lower volume, his voice a fraction deeper.

Shit. Words. No. Lyrics. It snapped into place. Maybe he wasn’t so crazy after all.

“Too…” she said, “bold?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “You have a lot to learn, Pandora.”

“And you have a lot of explaining to do, Prince,” she said, sliding back in the seat again. “Who are you?”

Whoever he was, he scanned their environment. Even when his head didn’t move, his eyes did. Remaining alert, his vigilance screamed Olympus.

“You should vary your routine,” he said. “Vary your routes. Tracking you is way too easy. I don’t even have to follow you; I just wait for you to show up.”

“Who are you?” she asked again as he righted himself to put his spine against the backrest and check in the other direction. “If you don’t start talking, I’m leaving.”

“Why?” he asked. “You’ve got nowhere to be. Nowhere you want to be. You spend all your time walking or sitting here… or writing to my brother.” He brought his focus to her. “That is who you’re writing to, right?”

If anyone else asked that, she’d get up and go. Get up and run.

The word “brother” stunned her still. “Styx?”

“Listen…” he said. “I don’t know if I can trust you and we don’t have a lot of time for me to figure it out.”

“A lot of time for—”

“We don’t need time. You’re H’s daughter, so I’m taking the chance. Pay attention. Ask Z to take you out to dinner. Alone.”

“Why would I—”

“Next Saturday, ask him to take you to his favorite restaurant. Tell him you want to walk home after.”

“Why would—” she stopped, expecting him to cut her off again. When he didn’t, she waited a beat then kept going. “Why would I ask him to dinner? Why would he want us to go out alone?”

“He might be smart and more than three decades older than you, but he’s got an ego. Not many guys his age would refuse a chance with a woman in her twenties, and you’ve got the Lady’s look. Helen’s eyes. Hades says they were his downfall. Those eyes could make him do anything.”

The suggestion sickened her. “You want me to seduce Z?”

He scoffed out a laugh. “Tell him you wanna walk home. Through the park.”

The deliberate words were supposed to convey something, maybe, probably. It didn’t matter, she didn’t want to ask Zeus out or on a romantic walk through the park on the way back to his apartment… to his bed.

“I won’t let him touch me.”

Even if it was for the good of Olympus. Geez, Daire would go postal.

“You won’t have to,” he said. “He won’t be touching anyone after I break his neck… or drown him, I haven’t decided.”

Shocked, she didn’t blink. All she could do was sit there and absorb. The casual posture of the relaxed man at her side didn’t even hint he’d be capable of murder. Except if he was Styx, the man she’d heard Daire and Harry talk about, he was definitely capable of it. He’d killed his own father.

Rather than lead with what could be a divisive hot button, she put it to him to prove his identity.

“How do I know you’re him?” she asked in a quiet rush. “How do I know you are who you say you are?”

He smiled again. “Suspicious? Good. There’s hope.” His head went back, so he could explore the sky. “How do I prove my relationship to two men you barely know?”

Tess had an idea. “How old were you when you completed your first successful joint mission?”

“Fifteen.”

“What month was it?

“July,” he said, still watching the clouds.

“How old was he?”

“Sixteen. There’s three months between us,” he said, casting his focus her way for a brief moment. “Anyone could know that.”

“How did you celebrate completing that mission?”

“Strip joint.”

“Anything significant about the place? Weird?”

With a curious edge, his attention drifted to her. “The tables were triangular, H didn’t like ‘em. D put two together, always a pleaser—he told you about that?”

She shrugged, then showed her resolve with another challenge. “How does your brother know you’re not dead?”

That brought a half-smile, glowing with feral satisfaction, to his lips. “Because I haven’t killed him yet.”

“Oh my God,” she exhaled, accepting he was Daire’s brother. “What the hell are you doing in London?”