Protect Me (9 page)

Hope
had no such qualms. She saw her face reflected in his eyes, calm as an
untouched pool of water. There were times that she felt that way on the inside,
too. But she was starting to forget that feeling. She hadn’t felt that way
since she’d stepped onto that boat and come face to face with Rick Stone.

“What
is it?” she asked, her voice deliberately even. His fingers were hot around her
arm, like he was searing a brand into it. She didn’t shift or look down,
though. It was too much and yet she didn’t want his touch gone.

Rick
stared at her for a moment and then blinked; pulled his hand away. Hope tried
not to regret the loss.

He
stumbled backward and shoved his hand in his hair, raking it up so it looked as
windswept as it had out on the water.

“Is
that it?” he demanded. “You have nothing else to say?”

Hope
cocked her head to the side, still distracted by his closeness. “What do you
want to hear?” she asked, honestly curious.

Rick
barked out a laugh and stopped moving. His hands dropped to his sides and he
just looked at her.

“I feel
like I have to fight for every word out of your mouth,” he said, frustration
layering thickly over his voice. The furrow in his forehead didn’t look angry,
though. It was honest without being threatening. “All I want is to know what
you’re thinking, and I can’t - you don’t give anything away. It’s maddening.”

For
some inexplicable reason Hope’s breath caught. He cares because he’s used to
getting what he wants without question, she reminded herself. “Sorry?” she
offered.

Rick
shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, tell me something. Anything.”

By
unspoken agreement they started to walk out of the lab and back into that dark
tunnel. Rick shrugged off his lab coat and hung it on the back of a chair. Hope
measured her footsteps automatically and tried to think if she actually had
anything to say.

They
were at the mouth of the tunnel when she pulled up short and turned to Rick. He
stared at her eagerly, expectantly.

“It’s
just… this. You can risk your own life," she told him, her voice deadly
quiet and serious in a way you could only use once or twice. "And I can risk
mine. That's every person's right. Sometimes life is – well, sometimes things
just happen. And sometimes you give up your life as a gift. Sometimtes that’s
just how it goes."

She
drew in a deep breath, aware of Rick's eyes on her.

"But
you do not ever try to trick someone else into gambling with your life."
It came out so steely cold that Rick flinched. "I get that you have more
money than God and think you can pay somebody else to take responsibility for
your life, but you can't. And..." her voice dropped into something softer
so that it hurt her chest trying to get the words past her throat. "And
Jesus, I have to believe that you never thought this through. Because if you
would willingly force another person to take that responsibility, then..."

Horror
clawed at her lungs and stole the breath for the rest of the sentence right
away from her. All she could do was stare at Rick, miserable, and pray that she
was right.

He
looked stricken. But so did so many people who meant every crime they'd
committed. 

"I'm
sorry," Rick said, stepping closer and raising his hands, but backing away
when she shook her head at him. "It wasn’t – I guess it just wasn’t real
for me. Not the way it is for you. I’d never want to make you responsible for
someone else’s life."

Not
just someone else's
, Hope wanted to say.
Yours.
But she
didn't. 

"It
would be easier if I didn't want to believe you," Hope whispered, so low
she wasn't sure Rick heard her, and plunged into the darkness of the tunnel
alone.

CHAPTER SIX

A loud
knock on the door woke Hope up the next morning.

She
salt bolt upright in bed and grabbed the sheets to her chest in an instinctive
gesture - it had been a very long time since she’d slept in anything she couldn’t
run outside in.

Caught
between sleep and waking, Hope wondered dazedly if yesterday was just a dream.
Or if it was real, if it was something that could be set aside. If Rick was
calling her to breakfast and she’d throw open the door to find him waiting
outside with a grin and sparks heating his gaze.

Hope
wasn’t sure she wanted to forget last night. But she pushed herself out of bed
anyway and stumbled to the door, working off the instincts of a kid who went
looking for the monsters under her bed instead of hiding under the covers.

In the
middle of another hard knock she yanked open the door. And blinked.

“Oh,”
she said in confusion.

“Good
morning to you too, Princess,” Trinity said with a smirk. She swept right past
Hope and deposited a tray of what looked like breakfast on what appeared to be
a coffee table. Hope wasn’t really sure what the purpose of a coffee table in a
bedroom was. She suspected it was to take up space; the room was about five
times larger than necessary.

“Breakfast?”
Hope asked as she trailed Trinity over to the table. The other woman looked
rested and together. She’d clearly been up and doing for a while. Whereas Hope…
she stole a glance at the clock and winced. Well, she only really needed to
keep her client’s hours. Rising at dawn wasn’t a necessity.

Clinging
to false routine was a dangerous way to live, Hope reminded herself, shoving
back at the uneasy feeling that clung to her shoulders.

Since
Trinity hadn’t bothered to answer an admittedly stupid question, Hope moved to
the sink and asked, “Are you staying to share?”

“Why
not?” Hope caught a glimpse of a pleased smile before Trinity dropped into one
of the chairs and started picking at bacon.

Her
morning routine was simple, just the basics and the short amount of time it
took to braid her hair. In the mirror Hope saw Trinity peeking over curiously
and hid a smile. She was just like any other woman, no more or less capable,
only more trained. But she’d found there was no easy way to tell people that.

“So did
you decide on this yourself, or…”

Trinity
shook her head. “No, Rick asked me to bring you some breakfast. Said he was
busy.” She shrugged, clearly unconcerned.

Hope’s
reflection paused in her movements for the tiniest fraction of a second before
resuming braiding. She glared at the mirror and instructed her shoulders not to
slump.

No
matter how casually Trinity took it, this was a message, not breakfast. Rick was
saying
this is the new normal
. And maybe Hope could push back if she
wanted, but…

Absolutely
not, she tamped that thought down immediately. That wasn’t her goal. It wasn’t
her place. Wasn’t her life.

She
finished with her hair and wandered back over to sit across from Trinity. Hope
grabbed the only thing on the tray she wanted, the coffee.

“Breakfast
is the most important meal of the day,” Trinity admonished her.

“So
I’ve heard.” Hope sipped. The roast tasted like good Turkish coffee; strong
enough to take the roof off your mouth. Lovely. One of the men she’d worked
with in Africa would have loved it. It was astonishing to Hope how far away
that time suddenly seemed.

Across
the table Trinity poured herself a cup of tea and then fiddled with it. She
added milk, and then a packet of sugar, and then more milk. She stirred it.
Sipped it. Set it down. Picked it up.

Hope
raised her eyebrows. “Something on your mind?” she asked mildly.

Trinity
whipped her head up, too quickly for her to have been really taken off-guard.
She looked abashed, almost guilty.

“I…
no?” The other woman stared at her for a second and then set the cup down
firmly. She folded her hands in her lap and sighed. “Well, yes, actually. A
bit.”

Hope
tried the silent thing out for a while until it became clear that she’d have to
use her words. She suppressed a sigh. She hated it when that happened.

“Want
to talk about it?” she offered.

“Well,
it’s just, I…” Trinity glanced up from beneath long eyelashes, her expression a
little desperate. “Seeing you here, it worries me. No offense, honey, I think
you’re wonderful, but, you’re so together and professional, like you’re really
going to fight off somebody, and it… scares me.”

She
didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. Immediately Hope
softened. The ramrod line of her spine eased and she tried her best at a
sympathetic smile. It wasn’t often that somebody was honest enough for her to
actually have the chance to help.

“Thank
you for telling me,” she said, and meant it. “Based on knowledge I’m
unfortunately not able to share, I don’t think that Rick’s staff - including
you - should be in a disproportionate amount of danger. But of course I can’t
guarantee anything. If you wanted to take a vacation, I’m sure that…”

“No,
no!” Trinity shook her head vehemently, and then gazed up at her steady, fierce
eyes. “I want to stay. It just makes me feel so… helpless, you know? It makes
me wish I was like you. That I knew how to fight. But…” she opened her hands,
palm-up, and stared at them, “I don’t think I could hurt anybody. Not really.”

She
sounded guilty about it, and it made Hope’s heart ache. Hope paused, measuring
her response.

Eventually
she said, “People who choose not to carry weapons can still be killed by them.
You can’t run from every threat. I decided a long time ago that I wanted to
know when to run and when to fight, and how to do both.”

Trinity’s
eyes were downcast. Lightly Hope laid a hand on her shoulder and crouched down
to look her in the face.

“But
that’s why I do this. So good people - people like you - don’t have to. There
are people who prey on the defenseless, people who defend the defenseless, and
people who have higher callings than either of those. Being able to fight
doesn’t make you a goddess of war. It’s just another way to shape yourself.”

The two
of them were silent together for a few moments after that. Hope didn’t know
what to think of her burst of eloquence. She groped for her coffee and blindly
sucked down a too-hot mouthful. She just hoped she’d said the right things.

“Wow,”
Trinity said after a while. She peeked up at Hope and gave her a tiny grin. “I
feel like I could move mountains after that. Maybe you missed your calling.
Should be giving inspirational speeches instead of hitting folks over the
head.”

Hope grinned
without holding anything back for once, giddy with the knowledge that she’d
actually done it, she’d managed to say the right things.

“I
don’t think so,” she said drily. “There’s one of those in me per year. Possibly
for decade. Think I’m done for a while now.”

Trinity
laughed and got up from her chair. She moved toward the door and Hope let
herself keep smiling.

“You
should be flattered, you know,” Trinity said, pausing at the door with a small
but honest smile on her lips. It should have scared Hope that she already
recognized it as familiar. She shouldn’t have been so attached to this place,
to these people already, but… She put the thought aside.

“Flattered?”
Hope asked, scrunching up her forehead in confusion.

Trinity’s
smile deepened. “The way Mr. Stone listens to you. He never listens to
anybody.” Then she disappeared around the corner before Hope could get out a
word.

As Hope
had never particularly noticed Rick listening to her, either, she didn’t quite
know what to make of that.

The
next day there was another extraordinarily boring yacht outing where even Rick
pretty much failed at looking interested. The four men and three women on board
with them had dinner-plate sunglasses and smiles that could swallow you whole.
Hope was extremely grateful that nobody expected her to smile. Nobody seemed to
notice her much at all except for Rick, who kept giving her sidelong looks when
he thought she wasn’t watching.

She was
always watching.

Hope
was focusing so hard on her employer that she almost missed it when a tall,
olive-skinned man walked up beside her and reached out.

She was
halfway through a smooth move-out-of-reach-and-turn-to-glare when recognition
struck.

“
Boran
?”

The
burly man grinned at her. He was dressed formally in a black suit and tie that
looked tailored to fit his muscled bulk. There was an expensive silver watch
buckled around one wrist and his shoes were expertly shined.