Assassin's Honor (43 page)

           
"What else did your vision show you?"

           
"I saw a large group of men, women, and children hurrying down a steep cliff-side path overlooking a sea. The monk was behind them."

           
"He was chasing them?" Lysander asked.

           
"No." She shook her head.
"Protecting them.
He had two or three men with him. They were bodyguards for the group, but the monk was in charge."

           
"How can you be sure?"

           
"Because he's the one who stayed behind."

           
Lysander stiffened beside her. "What do you mean he stayed behind?"

           
"They were being chased by what looked like Crusaders. His men argued with him, but they eventually followed the others, leaving the monk behind. He must have killed at least five men before one of the knights managed to bring him down. But when he fell, he stretched out his hand, and seconds later a rock slide crashed down on all of them."

           
"Then perhaps this Sicari Lord was carrying the Tyet of Isis."

           
Excitement brightened his green gaze, and she realized he was just as eager to find the artifact as Ares. As if aware he'd shown more emotion than he cared to, he slowly and methodically sealed up the cookies.

           
"You know I overheard your conversation with Ares before I came in here don't you?" His abrupt changing of subjects made her stiffen.

           
"Is there a reason why you're telling me this?" She averted her gaze and stared down at her empty juice glass.

           
"He's a good man, Emma."

           
"That's what everyone keeps telling me." She heaved a sigh. "I know he's your friend, but maybe you don't know the man I know."

           
"No. We both know the same man. Our rules aren't like your world, Emma. It makes a difference in how you should look at things."

           
"I know that all too well."

           
She opened her palm and looked at the scar there. It was a vivid reminder of how she was tied to Ares. A tie that needed to be broken, but one her heart didn't want to break. She looked up to see Lysander watching her closely.

           
"If you love him, you won't break the blood bond between you."

           
The words sucked all the air out of her lungs. He could have hit her and she wouldn't have been any more surprised. When Lysander said he'd overheard her conversation with Ares, he'd meant everything. She drew in a deep breath, frantic to cover anything that might confirm the man's observation.

           
"What makes you think I love him?" she breathed.

           
"Because you looked like your heart was breaking when I came in here in a little while ago." Sympathy was reflected in his gaze as he sent her a steady look. "You need to trust him, Emma."

           
"I did, and he betrayed that trust." Bitterness etched its way through her as she remembered how he'd made love to her knowing what sealing their bond meant. He hadn't given her a choice. A voice in the back of her head asked her what her answer would have been if he had allowed her to choose. She knew the answer, but she didn't want to acknowledge it.

           
"Men make mistakes, Emma. Some of us make bigger ones than others." Lysander stared off into space, his scarred flesh taut with some personal torment. "I've known Ares for a long time. If he broke his trust with you, he's paying the price now. But if you make him break the blood bond between you, he'll pay an even higher price."

           
"I don't see how." She got up from the counter to put her glass in the dishwasher.

           
"Honor is everything to a Sicari," Lysander said quietly. "Breaking a blood bond once it's sealed brings absolute disgrace."

           
The warrior's words made her chest constrict until it was difficult to breathe. She clutched at the sink and shook her head. "I don't know how to stop him."

           
"Tell him the truth."

           
"You make it sound so easy," she bit out angrily and she turned to face him. "But it's not, and you know it."

           
Lysander's expression was a cold facade of stone. Whatever he was feeling was well contained as he slowly rose to his feet. Regret swept through her.

           
"Lysander. I'm sorry."

           
He pinned her with that single-eyed gaze of his for barely an instant before he turned and headed out of the kitchen. He paused at the end of the counter, but didn't turn his head.

           
"You were right, Emma. I did make it sound easy. But it doesn't change anything. You still have a choice to make."

           
With that final remark, Lysander strode out of the kitchen. Left behind, Emma swallowed hard. What the hell was she going to do?

Chapter 18

           
ARES waited for the three clicks in his earpiece signaling the perimeter around Emma's house was secure. It would have been a lot easier to do this in the daytime if she hadn't been with them. He glanced at the rearview mirror to study Emma's features cast in the shadows from a nearby streetlight. Just the way she sat stiff and unmoving in the backseat said she was nervous.

           
Why the hell had he agreed to this?
Because the only other option was to trust her safety to someone else.
Something he wasn't about to do. She was his. How she felt about him changed nothing. He'd do whatever necessary to protect her. Her safety, her happiness, was all that mattered.

           
As if aware of him watching her, she turned her head away from the window and looked into the mirror. The moment their gazes locked, that icy expression she reserved just for him swept over her pale features. Her gaze barely registered his presence before she looked away from him as if he wasn't even in the car. Christus, if she'd wielded a sword, she couldn't have splayed him open any cleaner. He deserved every bit of her scorn, but a small piece of him died every time she looked through him like that.

           
Last night when he'd found her in the kitchen, she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. His first instinct had been to pull her into his arms. Instead, he'd forced himself to grab a beer from
the frig
.
Anything to stop himself from touching her.
And Deus, he'd needed to hold her. No sex, just her warmth against his icy chill.
Her gentleness to ease the tumult inside him.

           
The job he'd finished with Lysander only an hour earlier had left him drained as always. No matter how repulsive the criminal, extracting final justice wasn't an easy thing to do. He didn't enjoy killing, but it was a necessary evil when it came to protecting the innocent. And if the Order's policy for pro bono work hadn't already been in place, he would have done last night's job for free.

           
His income came from the companies and properties that had been handed down through his family for generations. Over the centuries, the Order's investments had made it possible for the Sicari to become a silent, unpaid arm of legal systems around the globe. The Order performed its services for free as a way of helping others avoid the persecution and fear the Sicari had lived with for more than two thousand years.

           
They eliminated the worst criminal elements from society when the system failed due to technicalities or where ideology resulted in the persecution of innocents. The toughest jobs were ones like last night. A Sicari was never allowed to take pleasure in an execution, and last night it had been difficult not to make his target die a slow, excruciating death, let alone enjoy the act itself.

           
The bastardo had murdered two cops. Good cops.
Men who were Vigilavi.
Their forebears were people the Sicari had saved from life or death situations over the centuries. The Vigilavi had become an integral part of the Order, and their services in law enforcement, academics, medicine, and other areas were invaluable. But most important of all, they were family. And family was sacred.

           
Controlling his desire not to enjoy the kill had been exhausting, but there had been a deep feeling of satisfaction knowing justice had been served. The gratification had been fleeting and left him empty inside. But then he'd walked into the kitchen and seen Emma. The mere sight of her had made the night easier to bear. All of his despair had ebbed away, leaving only his love for her. He'd known since that day in the cabin that he loved her.

           
The revelation had hit him hard. It had nearly crushed him when she'd declared her contempt for him. He'd deserved every bit of her scorn, but knowing that hadn't eased his pain. Last night had been the first time he'd seen her since that day at the cottage. He'd deliberately stayed away from her, hoping that time would ease her anger so he could explain things. Make it right between them. He'd been banking everything on the fact that she hadn't spoken with Atia about breaking the blood bond. It had given him
hope
that maybe she was willing to forgive him. He'd been wrong.

           
The only reason she'd kept quiet was because she didn't have the heart to let Atia know what a bastardo he was. It was the truth. Tomorrow when he told his godmother what he'd done, she was going to be livid. But more than that, the Prima Consul was going to feel just as betrayed as Emma had been. Three clicks sounded in his ear and his tension eased slightly. He was still on edge, but the fact that Lysander and Phae had secured the area so quickly said his fears might have been exaggerated. He turned his head to Bastien in the seat next to him.

           
"We're clear. Bastien, the front perimeter is yours. Lysander will be at the back with Phae and Thaddeus serving as backup. You know the signal if you see trouble coming." He looked into the rearview mirror and willed Emma to meet his gaze. "Emma, you do as I say, when I say, or I'll drag you out of there so fast your head will spin.
Understood."

           
Her answer was a simple nod of the head. It was obvious she didn't like being under his control, but he didn't care. This was his domain. All she had to do was follow directions. He exited the SUV and pulled out his Condottiere sheathed in its scabbard. The strap slipped easily over his shoulders to settle snugly against his back. He took comfort in the familiar sensation of the weapon being in easy reach. The car door behind him closed quietly. The sound made him turn his head to see Emma's pale features staring down the street at her old home.

           
Fear had drawn her mouth tight with tension and the pulse at the side of her neck was beating at a frantic pace. She wore the same black the rest of the team had on, but on her, the dark color emphasized her pale face. He ached to pull her into his arms, but settled for capturing her chin with his fingers.

           
"You don't have to do this, Emma."

           
He fully expected her to jerk away from him, but she didn't. Instead, she almost seemed to lean into him as if seeking extra strength. The need to pull her close pulsated through him, and his thumb rubbed against the small indention beneath her mouth.

           
"Yes, I do." Her body trembled and vibrated against his fingers as she shook her head. "I'll be fine. I was just thinking about the last time I was here."

           
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he whispered. "I swear it."

           
"I know," she murmured with a small curve of her lips.

           
The half smile sent a bolt of lightning through him. Christus, had she suddenly had a change of heart about him? Had that look she'd given him earlier in the car simply been her fear? Now wasn't the time to consider the possibility. He needed to focus solely on the task at hand.

           
"Come on, the sooner we get this over with, the better."

           
She didn't try to tug free of his hand, and if anything, he could have sworn her hand tightened around his. It made his heart expand in his chest. At least she trusted him enough to ensure she didn't get hurt. Or maybe she just needed something to hold on to and he was handy. The thought nagged at him, but he pushed it aside. Focus.

           
The street was deserted as they moved quickly down the sidewalk. They cut across the front lawn to skirt the side of the house while Bastien took shelter in the shadows of the front lawn. In less than a minute, they were at the back door, where Phae and Thaddeus waited in the shadows. He couldn't see him, but he knew Lysander stood watch in dark shadows along the thick hedge that separated the backyard from the one next door.