Aequitas - Hope Anika (i like reading books txt) 📗

“I know it’s a risk, and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to take it, but I would like you here.”

Honor turned away from the stream of humanity clogging the Charles de Gaulle airport, an undulating mass that moved in thick, churning waves, luggage dragged behind them like reluctant children.

She hated crowds. Flying. People.

Her hand tightened on her cell phone, and she scowled. “Maybe.”

“At least think about it.”

She had. She wanted nothing more than to share the day Sam got married; that’s what family did. But now there was this—Hannah—and she didn’t know what was going to happen. She couldn’t make a promise she might not be able to keep; she wouldn’t.

And she couldn’t tell him the truth. Because he’d get on a plane and come. She knew that. Hannah was personal for him, too.

“It’ll be private, small, here at my place. Just us and a few close friends.” Sam paused. “Lucia would like to meet you.”

An unexpected swell of emotion pulsed in Honor’s chest. Sam and Lucia. A relationship forged from blood and pain and loss. One she’d watched blossom from afar and approved of wholeheartedly. One she envied.

Lucia Sanchez was a good woman. Strong, brave, willing to do what was right, no matter the price. Not unlike Honor. She was a good match for Sam, and Honor was glad he’d found someone, because he deserved to be happy. He’d spent years making countless sacrifices for others—for her—and it was time he put himself first.

“I’ll try,” Honor told him. “I promise.”

Sam sighed. “You’re safe here. You know that, right?”

She knew. He’d always protected her; that’s what Sam did. He sheltered and defended. And he’d saved her, in more ways than he knew. When her belief had been destroyed, he’d given her faith. More, he’d given her life. Opportunity. Purpose.

So many things, and perhaps one day she would tell him. But not today.

Today would be hard enough.

Time to trust me.

When she didn’t trust anyone. Sam, as much as she was capable. But no one else. She didn’t want to. And part of her regretted reaching out, feared the repercussions, because there would be repercussions.

There always were.

The possibility that Lazarus might betray her to those who hunted her; that this might be just a game to him. That he wasn’t who he appeared, but someone else entirely. Another monster, because the world was full of monsters. But beyond those grim possibilities lay the slim prospect of success.

And hope, no matter how foolish.

“You okay, kid?”

No. Not in any way, shape or form.

“Yes,” she lied. Because everyone lied.

Do you?

All the time.

Not to me.

Never to me.

Asshole.

“Liar,” Sam muttered.

And something within her clenched, because he knew her so well and accepted her anyway.

“I’m happy for you,” she said.

“Then come to my wedding.”

“I’ll try,” she said again. “I don’t want to miss it.”

“Then don’t.”

Her jaw clenched. “I have to go.”

In the background, a child suddenly squealed, and Sam said, “Why are you naked?”

Giggling, another squeal. A dog barking. A stream of Spanish—Lucia—and Honor listened carefully, her heart pounding hard. Love. That’s what love sounded like. Family. Home and hearth and normal.

Something she would never have.

For her, normal was forever out of reach. Still, she was glad it existed, if only in her periphery. The warmth, the light, like sunshine no matter the intractable shadow she stood within.

“I have to go,” she repeated.

The hair at her nape suddenly bristled, and goose bumps washed across her skin in a chilling wave.

Watched.

She turned and looked at the crowd, and her brain fired, as if inhaling hungrily. People were catalogued, positions, body language, and mood categorized accordingly. Sounds were discerned, scents identified. Every detail, every breath. And while none of it made her happy, there was nothing to fear.

Except Lazarus. Because he was there.

Somewhere.

The hair on her arms stood on end. Her skin prickled.

“Please come,” Sam said into her ear, his voice serious, and that painful swell of emotion returned.

“If I can,” she whispered.

“You be careful,” he ordered.

I love you, too.

“Always,” she replied.

And then he was gone. The weight in her chest grew heavier; her heart fluttered. So many secrets. But that was her world. The life she’d built would permit no less.

Something she’d accepted long ago.

“Honor.”

The voice startled her, low, rough, shaped by a lilting Irish accent. It came from behind her, too close, accompanied by the scent of the sea and a simmering heat that made her spine stiffen.

She froze, and her heart lunged to painful life. How long had it been since she’d heard that name spoken aloud?

Years.

Further proof that no matter what she told herself, she’d been found. And only one person had managed to get that close.

Lazarus.

Panic flared through her, followed immediately by something wild and daring and very, very dangerous: exhilaration.

“Turn around, a rứnsearc,” he said softly, the endearment almost like song.

Her blood roared in her ears. She didn’t want to turn around.

She wanted to run.

But she had done this, brought them together. She had a mission, and it didn’t matter what she wanted. Or what she feared. There was no escaping this, not if she wanted to find Hannah.

This must be done.

So she took a deep breath and made herself turn to face him.

No matter how hard she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to conjure him in her head, but nothing she’d imagined prepared her for the reality.

He was…terrifying.

And not because of his size—broad, tall, long bones wrapped in sinew and thick ropes of muscle—or because of the rough, craggy nature of his features, all harsh lines and blunt planes. Not his gaze—rich, warm hazel, speared by odd bits of blue and green and dark, chocolate brown—or the shimmer of something she couldn’t interpret that moved across that gaze as he stared down at her.

No, it was her own immediate response to him that scared the bejesus out of her.

Because every fiber of her being went on high alert. Her skin flushed; a visceral, almost primal awareness washed over her, and the blood in her