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

She started walking again. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

“Go fuck yourself,” she muttered, and he smiled.

He was not a man who’d known joy, but she came close. When he’d first discovered her, he’d known nothing about her, but it hadn’t taken long for him to come to appreciate her skills. To recognize that piercing intelligence. To respect her mission. But it was only when he’d begun watch her unravel her foes that he’d begun to enjoy her.

To want her.

“Don’t be like that,” he murmured. “We’re in this together now, lass.”

She wanted to argue; it was written all over the mulish expression on her gorgeous face. But she couldn’t. Because they were in it together. A deliberate act on his part, and not wholly altruistic.

Because he was a selfish bastard.

“I can pay you,” she said. “Hire you.”

His hands tightened on her. “Not a fucking chance.”

She wiggled again. “I won’t owe you.”

“No, you won’t.” He turned them down the long narrow hall that led to the private boarding gate. “I’m doing this for you, a rứnsearc. No other reason. And I expect nothing in return.”

But he hoped. Oh, how he hoped.

“Bullshit,” she snorted. “What do you really want?”

A chance. But he wasn’t foolish enough to say it. Nay, she was skittish enough. Part of it was simply who she was: hunted by law enforcement far and wide, a moving target of the highest value. But more, it was the energy between them. Vibrant and intense, as palpable as touch.

Like fucking lightening. Even across a thousand miles; even virtually. Real and white hot and something he’d grabbed onto with both hands.

Something he wasn’t willing to let go of.

“Friends don’t expect rewards,” he told her.

“Friends.” She snorted again. “Fat chance.”

So stubborn. So resistant. But he understood. Her entire world had imploded when she was little more than a child, and only one person had stood by her. Helped her. Cian was grateful to the man who’d risked everything to save her, but she needed to understand he wasn’t the only one willing. That Cian was there now, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

She wasn’t alone anymore. Her world had widened, whether she knew it or not. Whether she wanted it or not.

They were inevitable.

“I don’t have friends,” she continued, but she wasn’t fighting him any longer, walking beside him, allowing him to lead.

“Bullshit,” Cian said, throwing the word back at her. “Steele is your friend.”

She halted again at the opening of the hallway, where a handful of people milled, awaiting their private flights. Her eyes flashed. “You leave Sam out of this.”

Fierce and protective; for an instant Cian wondered if he had competition. But he knew better. Sam Steele was engaged to the woman he’d gone on the run with only a handful of months earlier; together they’d saved two children—and countless others—from the hands of a monster. A monster Honor had helped them defeat.

One she’d put down.

No, Sam was her family. He’d risked his badge with the U.S. Marshal’s Office in order to make her disappear after her family was killed, after his own agency failed miserably to protect her. And he’d been watching out over her ever since. But they weren’t together. The love between them wasn’t that of a man and woman.

Thank fucking Christ.

“He’s safe enough,” Cian said and urged her forward. “He doesn’t need you to protect him.”

Honor resisted. “I mean it. You leave him alone.”

Cian leaned down, his hand tightening on her hip. “He’s not the one you need to worry about, a rứnsearc.”

Color flooded her cheeks. She growled a little. “This isn’t going to work.”

“No?” He tilted his head and let his eyes roam over her, tracing her shape, lingering on the soft, wide curve of her mouth. She had a beautiful mouth. “Does that mean you don’t want to know what I’ve learned?”

She froze against him, her eyes dark, searching his. So transparent. Everything she felt flitted across her features; no wonder she worked from behind a thick, impenetrable wall. Her poker face was nonexistent.

“Don’t lie to me,” she whispered.

“Never,” he told her, meaning it. “That’s not what’s to be between us.”

She blinked and shook her head. “What did you find?”

He looked around; no one was paying attention to them, but he wasn’t willing to have the conversation where someone might hear. “Not here.”

She swept a glance around the room and nodded stiffly. Cian urged her forward again, down the narrow entryway to the tarmac. Another security guard stood at the thick steel door that led outside, but when Cian pulled out his key card and ran it through the electronic lock, it turned green, and the man only nodded in acknowledgment as they passed him.

The day was bright with sunlight, but brisk, cold, and when Honor shivered against him, Cian gathered her close. Noise bombarded them; jet engines whirling to life, rumbling as they took off along the long, paved runway. Beeps sounded as luggage carts wound their way through the mass of winged beasts; voices intruded as the sound system announced departures and arrivals.

The plane sat fueled and ready, a sleek, slender Bombardier BD-700. As they approached, Akachi descended the steps, his large form as dark as night in the bright sunlight. Scarred and hard as stone, the huge Sudanese was Cian’s most trusted employee. They’d been together for almost a decade, since the day Cian had strong-armed Akachi out of the child army he’d been stolen into and carried him kicking and screaming out of Sudan.

“Shall we prepare for departure?” Akachi asked, his accent thick, his gaze veiled as it moved over Honor.

“Aye,” Cian said and urged her up the stairs in front of him. “I want to be wheels-up as soon as we have clearance.”

Akachi disappeared into the cockpit; the wind cut through them like a slender blade until they stepped into the lush warmth of the jet. Cian took Honor’s bag before she could protest and pushed her gently down into one of the thick leather seats that dotted the interior.

She scowled at him. “Woof.”

He smiled and leaned down to rub his knuckles over the blade of her cheekbone. “Just making sure you stay.”

She pulled away, her eyes narrowing. She grabbed her bag from him and sat it at her feet. Then she gathered herself as if donning armor.

“I want to know what you found,” she said, sitting back, folding her hands in her lap.

“Patience, lass.” He nodded to Akachi as the other man pulled the door shut and locked it. “Food first.”

“I’m not hungry,” she muttered, watching him.

“Did you eat?”

She only stared at him.

“Then we’re going to eat.” He turned to Akachi. “As soon as we’re up.”

Akachi nodded and disappeared.

“What to drink?” he asked Honor, moving to the mini bar.

“Just stop,” she ordered. “I don’t need a wait staff. I need answers.”

“And you’ll get them,” Cian told her seriously. “But first, I’m going to take care of you.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“Nay, lass. You are a force unto yourself. I ken that.” Cian poured them each a glass of champagne. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need a little pampering now and then.”

“Not from you.”

He turned to look at her. “When was the last time someone took care of you?”

Her hands were clenched in her lap, her knuckles pressing white against her skin. She glared at him.

“That’s what I thought.” He strode over to her, holding out the champagne. “Come, let’s celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” she asked, brows arching. She didn’t take the glass he offered.

“Our partnership.”

“We aren’t partners,” she said. “We aren’t anything.”

Och, that hurt. But he was nothing if not persistent.

“We’re going to get your sister back,” he said and thrust the glass at her. “Don’t you think that’s worth toasting?”

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, grudgingly, “You know everything, don’t you?”

“Just the facts.”

She searched his gaze, her eyes dark.

“Your secrets are safe with me, a rứnsearc,” he promised quietly. “I’ll not betray you.”

“We’ll see,” she said.

Which wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was the best he was going to get.

For now.

She took the glass with a sigh.

“To Hannah,” he said.