Cover of Darkness (12 page)

With Ben's arm around her waist, Bryn was numb as she watched them bury her father's casket. His body couldn't be in that glossy, wooden box being lowered into the ground. In life he'd been so powerful and charismatic, he'd seemed to take up an entire room when he entered it. That brightly burning flame couldn't be snuffed out forever. Raising her eyes to the brilliant azure sky, she persuaded herself that he was watching them and allowed herself to imagine what he would think. He would probably shake his head in disgust at the public display in his memory. But maybe, just maybe he would have been proud of the way she was bearing up.

After the ceremony, Ben settled her in her father's armor-plated Range Rover and drove her back to the compound that was now hers. Learning that bit of news at the lawyer's office 110

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when the will was read had come as a shock. She hadn't thought her father would leave her something so substantial, since they weren't really that close. She was his only child, though, and since her twenty-first birthday, he'd apparently planned to make her his sole heir. He'd wanted his wealth passed on to his blood, proving how much he trusted her.

At this point, she wasn't sure what she wanted to do with the place. She certainly didn't want to live in Beirut, but selling it would feel like a betrayal of her father's lifelong work. He hadn't struggled up from the depths of poverty for his daughter to sell his dreams after he'd gone, merely because it was simplest for her. If he'd taught her one thing about life, it was that the right path wasn't always the easiest one.

Ben cleared his throat as he drove, his pale green eyes sweeping over her face. "How you doing, sweets? Want to take a break before going back to the house?"

She smiled at his profile. He'd been uncharacteristically silent, for the last two days, really. "No. I'd better get back."

Her presence was expected, anyhow. The reception was going to be huge, over four hundred people coming.

Politicians—supporters and rivals alike—distant family members and friends. Ben had seen to it that security was tight. Everyone was on high alert after the embassy bombing and the kidnappings, him especially.

He was guilt stricken at what had happened to her and her father. She'd tried to convince him it wasn't his fault, but despite her reassurance, Ben carried the burden of her kidnapping and Jamul's death on his broad shoulders, and she 111

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was at a loss to relieve him of it. Thank God for him, though.

She would never have made it through the past couple of days without him.

When the white stone walls of the compound came into view, Bryn suddenly felt exhausted. The almost-healed stitches in her right arm and ribs pulled every time she took a breath. They didn't hurt so much anymore, just bothered her.

All she wanted was to go upstairs to her room and be alone for a while, but that wasn't going to happen. No, she had to make it through another six or so hours of introductions and forced conversations. The only thing that kept her from losing her mind was knowing Ben would be right next to her. His presence was the sole calming, soothing influence in her life right now. Whatever happened for the rest of her stay here, he had her back covered. It was a nice feeling.

That kind of stalwart protectiveness made her think of Declan, but with the major difference that she didn't feel the least bit sisterly toward Dec. It had meant so much to her, knowing he'd come back to be with her when her father died.

She hadn't heard from him since, not that she'd expected to, but she hoped he was all right. So far she hadn't been able to find out where he was. For all she knew he could be back in the States already.

Despite the chaos she'd had to deal with, he was on her mind constantly. Lying in bed unable to sleep at night, she couldn't help remembering the feel of his arms around her in the hospital, how amazed she'd been that someone so strong and tough could be so gentle. So okay, it wasn't healthy to 112

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obsess about a man she'd probably never see again, but she couldn't get him out of her head.

As Ben parked in front of the stone and stucco Mediterranean-style mansion, he regarded her, jaw clenching and unclenching as he chewed his cinnamon gum—a habit he'd developed when he'd quit smoking the year he'd made the Ranger corps. That was Ben for you. Once he made up his mind to do something he was all steely determination and resolve. With nothing but a pack of Big Red to tide him over, he'd given up the smokes the same day he was accepted.

His pale eyes were kind as he looked at her now. "Ready to do this?"

She sighed and summoned her inner strength. She was going to need it. She gripped the door handle. She was her father's daughter, and she would handle this with as much grace and decorum as possible. "Showtime."

People filled the house—a sea of faces she didn't recognize and didn't really care to meet. She had to, though. Her father would have expected her to fulfill her duties as hostess, even under these circumstances. The staff had laid out food on the long dining table. Platters with crispy grapes and juicy watermelon nestled amongst sandwiches and wedges of cheese. Above the aroma of food, the heavy scent of lilies filled the air, nauseating in their sickly sweetness. Funeral flowers, she thought with a swallow. Funny how scents triggered such powerful memories, in this case her grandmother's open-casket funeral. The perfume saturated the room until she was desperate to escape it.

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She sought refuge in her father's library. As she pushed open the solid wooden door, the smells of old leather and pipe tobacco brought a lump to her throat. The mahogany desk, set against the window overlooking the grounds, sat unused; the high-back tufted leather chair empty, never to be occupied again by her father. She shut the door and stood stiffly at the threshold. The room seemed as cold and lifeless as a tomb without his unending reserve of energy to fill it.

Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea. It hurt to see the hub of her father's home vacant and still. She passed her fingers reverently over the desk's polished surface, as if searching for a connection she hadn't been able to forge while he was alive.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Bryn? It's me," called Ben.

Straightening her spine, she cleared her throat and turned around. "Come in."

He assessed her with a long look. "Need a break?"

"I just grabbed a minute. I'm okay now. The flowers..."

"Yeah. They reek." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, rocked back on his heels. Then he snapped his gum, a sure sign something was on his mind. "I wouldn't have bothered you, but someone asked to speak privately with you."

"Who?"

"He said you'd never met but that you'd recognize him."

She couldn't imagine who he was talking about. Still, she had a role to fulfill. "I guess I could. Sure, send him in."

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He stuck his head out and gestured for their guest to enter.

When the visitor's face appeared she gasped, a hand flying up to her mouth. Ben stiffened in alarm but stayed where he was, watching her carefully. But she wasn't in any danger.

"Hello Bryn," the man said with the hint of a Louisiana drawl.

Her mouth opened. The resemblance was uncanny. He was a little shorter than his son, his hair sprinkled with silver and his eyes chocolate brown instead of greenish-hazel, but otherwise she was staring at her best friend, Rayne Hutchinson, twenty years from now.

She dropped the hand covering her mouth. "You're...are you—?"

"Luke Hutchinson," he said, holding out his hand. Bryn took it politely and shook it. "Rayne's dad."

"Were you on the chopper the other night?"

"Yeah."

"I knew it! I knew I saw Rayne in there...but of course it was you—" She broke off, studying him. "I thought you got out of the SEAL Teams years ago."

"Sure did. I run a private security company out of Baghdad now. Sometimes I do contract work."

Contract work? Well, that was one way to put it. "So why were you on the chopper?"

"I was going after the cell responsible for kidnapping you and your father when the rescue team was sent in. I asked to go along, to help an old friend and his daughter."

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"You look just like him," she breathed, hand on her chest.

"Or rather, he looks just like you."

"Yeah, so everyone tells us."

"I've heard so much about you I feel as though I know you already. Which of course I don't, but..." She was so glad to see him here in the midst of all these strangers. He represented a connection to her life back home, made her feel less alone and almost safe for the first time in a week.

"You knew my father, didn't you?"

Luke nodded. "Met him when I did a tour here back during the civil war. I'm sorry for your loss. He was a good man."

"Thank you. I'm sure you're aware I wasn't that close to him. I only got to spend a couple weeks with him each summer."

"He was proud enough of you, all the same." He indicated the framed pictures of her on the desk and bookshelves.

"Knowing Jamul, he followed everything you did your entire life, even if you didn't know about it. Likely preferred it that way."

Maybe. Her father had been a man with little time for emotion. But he had loved her in his own way. A sad smile curved her lips, but she was comforted by Luke's words. Part of her wondered if he was speaking from personal experience.

"What are the chances of you meeting my father and then me becoming friends with your son on the other side of the world?"

"Yeah, this planet gets smaller every day."

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She missed Rayne and his fiancee. "How is he, by the way? Last I heard he and Christa were still ironing out the wedding details."

"Early May, and they're both doing fine."

It occurred to her he was still standing up. "Please, sit."

She gestured to a wingback chair, seated herself in the other.

"I was so surprised to see you I forgot my manners."

His smile warmed her. "I'm not easily offended, 'specially not by a beautiful woman who's been through what you have this past week."

Bryn hid her grin. Ah, yes, the infamous Hutchinson charm. Must be genetic.

Luke lowered his well-muscled body into the chair, and she had to admire the physical condition he was still in. As his magnetic gaze met hers, an air of authority and power hummed around him. Thirty-odd years of covert warfare and intelligence work lay in the confident set of his shoulders and blazed from the depths of his dark chocolate eyes. He was every bit as dangerous as his reputation made him out to be.

Yet she knew from his wife and son there was a softer, vulnerable side to him. Not that he'd want her—or anyone else—to know anything about that. In fact, somewhere beneath that ultra-strong exterior he might be feeling awkward. She'd been privy to more dirt about him than the tabloids printed about Hollywood celebrities.

Ben cleared his throat.

She glanced over at him, saw him giving her a "what the hell are you doing" look and realized she'd been staring at Luke like he was some sort of fascinating biological specimen.

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More interesting, the whole time he hadn't broken her gaze for an instant during a silence even Ben had found awkward.

She shook her head ruefully at her lack of grace. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. I must be in shock from meeting you face to face."

Something flickered in Luke's eyes. "'S all right. I expected it."

Bryn faltered, sensing he meant that all the things she'd heard about him must be bad. "I'm really glad you came,"

she admitted, unable to keep the smile from her face. "It's almost as good as having Rayne or Emily here."

His eyes warmed a fraction. "I'll take that as a compliment."

She leaned forward. "Are you in Beirut for business, or did you come for the funeral?"

"Both." He stretched out his long legs and crossed his ankles, hands resting on his flat abdomen.

Most men in their thirties didn't have abs as impressive as those.

"I have some important information to share with you, and I wanted Ben to be here when I told you. As head of your father's security team he oughta know about this, but I also thought you'd be more comfortable with him here."

Unease rippled across her skin. What, was she going to need moral support? "That was thoughtful of you, but unnecessary. I feel perfectly comfortable with you." She hoped he believed her. She would hate him to think she was afraid of him and wanted someone around to protect her just in case.

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"What information do you have?" Ben asked with a note of suspicion.

Though his posture seemed relaxed, Bryn knew he remained vigilant, his brain whirring constantly. That mind of his never shut off.

Luke flicked him a glance and then settled his gaze back on her. The intensity of his eyes made her stomach tighten and she mentally braced herself for bad news. "The man responsible for the bombing and your kidnapping is Farouk Tehrazzi."

Her lungs constricted at the mention of his name. "Yes, that's what I was told."

"Obviously, he's still out there. And if he wasn't sure before, after today's media coverage, he knows you survived."

Cold spread over her palms to the tips of her fingers. She laced them together and squeezed tightly. "I see."

"I can tell you he will not let that go unanswered."

She stared at him, the words echoing through her head.

Her lips felt numb, her muscles stiff with apprehension.

Ben snapped his gum once before speaking up. "Meaning what? He's going to come after her again?" His pale eyes glittered with hostility. "You think I wasn't already aware of that?"