Darkest Before Dawn

“You drive, Mom,” Mandie said firmly. “I’ll sit in the back with Honor.”

Honor squeezed Mandie’s hand when she slid into the backseat with Honor and offered her a silent thank-you that she knew held unshed tears.

Mandie squeezed back and then whispered as their mother started the engine, “Whatever it is, Honor, we’re behind you. We’ll get through it together. Don’t worry. You’re home now and you’re never going to be away from us again.”

Honor leaned into her sister, surprising her with her need for comfort. Honor had been distant with all her family, only giving them the affection they seemed to need but never seeking it out for herself.

Mandie hugged her tightly, meeting her mother’s worried gaze in the rearview mirror. Cynthia, always a careful driver, broke every traffic law in her bid to get her daughter home as quickly as possible.

Her father and brothers would be waiting. While Cynthia had banned them from going, they’d been firm when they said they’d all be there when she returned. How could she face them with what she had to tell them? What she’d never told them. Now, they would have to know every shameful aspect of her ordeal.

They pulled into the drive and Honor quickly extricated herself from her sister’s fierce hold and hurried inside. As she’d known, her father and brothers were in the living room, doing little to disguise their impatience and worry.

Mandie and her mother came in behind her, and her father and brothers looked expectantly at her. It was simply too much.

She burst into tears, to the horror of her brothers, especially Brad, and then she rushed by them, yanking open the door to the back deck. She fell back into the swing she’d always found comfort in growing up, and the tears flowed.

“What the hell is wrong, Cynthia?” Mike demanded, his gaze even now staring in the direction of where Honor had disappeared.

“I don’t know,” Cynthia said in frustration. “She didn’t say anything. She looked like a ghost when she came back into the waiting room, and when I asked her what was wrong, she said, ‘Not here.’ She begged me not to talk about it there. She said she’d tell us when we got home.”

“Let me go talk to her,” Brad said in a low voice.

Brad had always had a close relationship with his youngest sister. He’d known from a very young age that she was special. Different. Tenderhearted and good. Never having a bad thing to say about anyone, and she would do anything for anyone in need.

He’d been the strongest objector to her going to the Middle East, but he’d also understood her drive. But he hadn’t wanted her there. He wanted her here where he could protect her. Where no harm could come to her. And the very thing he’d feared the worst had come to pass.

But she was alive. She was their miracle. But now she was hurting and had retreated even from her family when she’d never been anything but honest and open. Whatever was wrong was worse than what she’d already confided in him, and that terrified him. What could possibly be worse than what she’d endured? He faced horrific circumstances in his job as a cop, but he was always able to shake fear’s hold on him. Now? Fear gripped him, paralyzing him. It choked him until he could barely breathe.

Not waiting for anyone to object, he turned and followed Honor’s path to the back porch, and when he stepped out, hearing and seeing her sobbing as if her heart were breaking—had already broken—emotion knotted his throat and he struggled to keep his own tears at bay. Because Honor needed his strength. Now more than ever.

Quietly so as not to startle her, he eased into the swing beside her and tucked her fragile body against his side.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” he asked in a gentle tone. “You know you can talk to me about anything. Whatever is wrong, we’ll fix it.”

“I can’t fix this,” she said, sorrow thick in her voice. “No one can. I’m pregnant, Brad. Oh God, I’m pregnant.”

He sucked in his breath, his expression stricken at first and then murderous. “You didn’t tell us . . . I mean, you didn’t tell us much at all. Just the pain and torture. You didn’t say you’d been raped.”

Grief simmered in his eyes and he leaned over, pulling her into his arms, holding her and rocking her back and forth, his body trembling with sorrow.

She burrowed into his arms, soaking up his strength and love. Always her big brother and protector.

“I wasn’t raped,” she whispered. “Some tried but the man . . . the man who is the father of my child protected me. He made sure they didn’t rape me. But . . . he betrayed me. I trusted him. He told me he was taking me home, that I would be safe and that he would be with me all the way. But then he drugged me and turned me over to Maksimov and I don’t understand why. Why deceive me? Why make me think he cared? Why seduce me and tell me he would get me back to my family and then drug me? I woke up a prisoner of a man who tried to rape me twice. And then he turned me over to a man who tortured me. Shocked me. Beat me. He wanted to break me, but I was already broken. Hancock did that. No one else.

“Until then I was strong. I refused to give up. I fought, and I wasn’t going down without a fight. But when he betrayed me, I gave up. I no longer had anything to fight for. I didn’t care. I had nothing to live for, and I never wanted my family to see me so weak and shattered.”

“Oh, honey,” her brother said in an aching voice muffled by her hair. “I’m so sorry for all you went through. Are still going through,” he amended. He kissed the top of her head and simply held her for several long moments, allowing silence to descend as her sobbing quieted. He gave the swing a gentle push with his foot every now and again, soothing her. Not pressuring her to say more than she was willing. Just waiting for her to talk to him in her own time. Though secretly he wanted to track down the damn Marine that had returned Honor and grill him about this Hancock guy. In particular, where Brad could find him. And then he wanted to exact some old school justice that would forever ban him from a law enforcement career.