She sighed, leaning into him. He wrapped his arms around her and simply held her, knowing that was what she needed most right now.
“You’re right, of course,” she said. “But God, Jackson. It hurt me to see that young woman so defeated and accepting of her fate. I want so badly to cry for her.”
He smiled. “Honey, you are crying. You’ve cried all over me.”
She sniffed. “You weren’t supposed to notice that.”
He took her hand and squeezed. “Let’s go give Hancock a report before he tears the plane apart.”
“I love you,” she said in an aching voice. “I think part of the reason I’m so devastated for Honor is this could have been me.”
Steele hugged her to him, tremors running through his body. The memory of just how close he’d come to losing her never left him. There wasn’t a day he didn’t think of it, that he didn’t remember the moments when he thought he had lost her. Because, God, there had been more than one.
“I love you too,” he said gruffly. “You and Olivia are my life.”
“And it hurts me to see Hancock this way,” she said in a pained voice. “He’s a good man. He’s not the man everyone thinks him to be. He’s not the man he believes himself to be, the man he’s convinced himself he is. He took care of me the entire time I was in captivity. He protected me and he was gentle and caring. He offered me reassurance and comfort when he knew I needed it the most. Never once did he threaten me, and he gave up his mission to save me. And then he saved me again. He was willing to die for me. He doesn’t deserve this, Jackson. Neither of them do.”
He stroked a hand through her hair, knowing full well he owed Hancock a debt he could never possibly hope to repay. Because of Hancock, he had Maren and their precious baby girl. No, Hancock didn’t deserve the pain of losing the woman he loved and he hoped like hell that somehow, someway, things would work themselves out and that two people dying slow deaths could somehow find their way back to one another so they could be whole again.
CHAPTER 40
WHEN the plane landed at the airstrip where the teams would split up, one taking Honor to the safe house and standing guard over her and the others to rendezvous to plan the mission to take Maksimov and ANE down, Hancock insisted on carrying Honor to the jet she and Resnick’s team would fly out on.
He requested a few moments alone before the others boarded, and they granted the request. The mood was grave, and sorrow pervaded the entire group.
Reverently, Hancock laid Honor on the couch, ensuring that she was as comfortable as he could make her. His hands drifted over the torn flesh at her wrists. On top of the sutures from when she’d cut her own wrists, the skin was ripped and raw from the manacles that had dug so deeply into her delicate flesh.
He palmed her forehead, stroking his fingers through her tangled hair, and he simply drank her in before leaning down to press a kiss to her still lips. He inhaled, savoring her smell, her taste, imprinting it into his heart for all time.
Grief bore down on him, so heavy he couldn’t move. Wherever he went in his meaningless life, he would forever carry a piece of her with him. That piece being the best—the only good—part of him.
“I’m so sorry, Honor,” he whispered. “I love you. I’ll always love you. Only you. There’ll never be another I love as I love you. I’m so damn sorry I couldn’t be the man you needed. That I couldn’t be a good man for you. I hope you find happiness. That I haven’t forever destroyed something so very precious. The world needs more people like you, Honor. It needs your kindness, your spirit, fire and courage. And your compassion. All the things I lack, but just for a little while got to experience what those things felt like through you. Be happy, my love. And live. Live.”
Knowing if he didn’t walk away now, he’d never be able to, he reluctantly rose, allowing his fingers to linger in her hair, trailing down to the very end of the tresses until finally they fell away. He felt the loss as keenly as if she’d died.
He’d never touch her again. Never kiss her, hold her, be enveloped by her sweetness, nor would he ever see her radiant smile that rivaled a sunrise.
Closing his eyes, he turned and walked to the front and then down the steps to the paved runway. He knew what he looked like. Why the others refused to look at him. Because what they’d see was something terrifying. Too terrible to look upon. He’d never look in the mirror again, because without Honor, he knew he’d only see a soulless monster who’d robbed an innocent of everything.
“Let’s go,” he said in a voice he didn’t recognize.
CHAPTER 41
HONOR began the slow climb to awareness, signaling she was once again shrugging off the effects of a sedative. She’d been so adamant in the beginning about not being given them, not wanting anything to impair her. She needed sharp reflexes and clear thinking.
Now? It was a welcome respite and it really wasn’t so different from her nondrugged state, so she couldn’t really bring herself to care.
She opened her eyes and discovered she wasn’t on a plane anymore. She was in a bedroom. A nicely furnished bedroom with a really comfortable bed. A hysterical laugh began in her throat, but she stanched it. It reminded her of when she’d awakened in Bristow’s house, thinking she was safe, rescued.
She would never make that same mistake again. Never be so trusting and naïve.
A sound had her slowly turning her head in its direction, disinterest reflected in her movements.