Reading Online Novel

Seal of Honor(84)



Unlikely. She hadn’t heard a word from him since he called to tell her Bryson was safe.

Sitting up, she rolled her neck around on her shoulders and tried to stretch the crick out of her spine. Goodness, she needed a real bed and about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. Then after a good meal and about a gallon of coffee, then maybe she’d have the strength to face Gabe again.

She wasn’t about to let the stupid man push her away out of some misguided sense of honor. What they had was not a fling—she’d had enough flings in her life to know that for sure—and what she felt for him was not a fluke of the circumstances. It was real and deep and, truthfully, a little bit frightening.

Bryson’s hand shifted in hers. She gazed down at him and her eyes filled with tears yet again. Crap. Hadn’t she cried enough today? First out of relief, then out of sorrow when she finally saw Bryson. With his left eye sealed shut, his lips cracked and bleeding, he looked like he’d gone several rounds with a heavy-weight boxer and lost every one. His skin was papery and so pale his veins stood out in stark contrast on his arms and the backs of his hands.

How could they do this to him, a man who never even raised his voice in anger?

His hand shifted again and she realized he was squeezing her fingers. Was he awake? She studied his face. It was hard to tell with everything so swollen, but his one good eye was definitely open.

“Brys?”

“Hi, sis,” he whispered.

If those weren’t the two most beautiful words anyone had ever said to her. She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They poured down her cheeks, soaking into his hospital johnny as she hugged him as tightly as she dared.

His hand settled on her head. “Don’t cry. Please.”

“Sorry. Can’t…stop.” But she managed to choke back the sobs. “I thought I’d never see you again. I thought I’d never be able to tell you I love you and I’m sorry I’m not the sister you want me to be and—”

“Shh. You are, sweetie. I wouldn’t change you for anything.”

“But the condo and the money and my paintings—”

“Audrey, I was wrong about all that. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“I am.” She thought of Gabe and smiled. “Brys, I’ve met someone. One of the men that rescued you. He’s—well, I love him.”

“The big guy out in the hall?”

She sat up, but the hallway was still empty.

Bryson made a sound that might have been a laugh. “He’s not there now. He left, but he stood there for a long time just staring at you.”

“He…left?” She shook her head, eschewing the doubts before they entered her mind. Gabe probably just went to help his men do whatever they did after a mission. Debriefing or whatever. He’d be back. He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

“Does he love you, too?” Bryson asked.

She smiled. “I think so, but he’s being stubborn about it.”

“Hm.” He closed his eye and was silent for a long time. She almost thought he was asleep, but then he asked softly, “Want me to kick his ass for you?”

Audrey laughed at the absurdity of that mental image. “Thank you, Brys, but how about you relax and work on healing first? The doctors say you’ll be okay enough to travel to a hospital in the States tomorrow. Chloe and the boys will be waiting there.”

“My boys.” A tear trickled from his good eye. “I’ve been such an idiot. I kept thinking I’d never see them again and they wouldn’t even remember me as anything but a—a sperm donor. Do you think they’ll forgive me? I’ve missed so much.”

“That’s the great thing about kids.” She tucked the sheet around her brother’s shoulders and leaned over to kiss his bruised forehead. “They’re remarkably better at forgiving and forgetting than adults.”



Bone-deep tired, his side aching from the hole in it, heart aching because, God, he really did not want to leave Audrey, Gabe hobbled aboard the plane with Quinn to find his team already there. He’d expected a rowdy celebration with lots of noise and possibly alcohol, but the whole lot sat quiet as churchgoers. They must all be as exhausted as he was. He nodded at them and took his seat, leaned his head back, and shut his eyes.

“Bristow,” Ian said in his usual caustic tone. “There’s something I need to say to you. Sir.”

He groaned. “Save it. I’m not in the mood, Reinhardt.”

Clothing rustled behind him, a lot of moving and shifting of bodies. Jesus, what was the guy doing now?

Gabe glanced over his shoulder. Ian stood in the center of the aisle, one arm in a sling, the other raised, his hand forming a blade across his forehead.