Chapter 16

Rafe stayed in the dark. Away from candles. Away from cops with flashlights. Away from Nate. Rafe had come in ready to throw Nate into one of the stained-glass windows and then rip him from balls to neck.

But Rafe had stopped himself. First, he wasn’t sure if what Balthasar said was true. Balthasar was a master manipulator. Yet Kells Torridan was a cold-blooded Special Forces commander devoid of emotion who gave no quarter. It would be like Kells to mentally torture a defenseless woman in the name of protecting his men. While Nate would pay for what he’d done, the real blame lay at Torridan’s boots.

Second, Nate’s problems were connected to Juliet, so until that mess was figured out, Nate had to stay alive. At least Rafe now understood her reactions.

Juliet stood in the north transept with Father Quinn. She’d changed into yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Her braided hair was twisted into a knot that hung low against her neck. Rafe remembered the weight of her hair, the sensation of the strands dragging across his naked chest, the scorching heat left behind.

He ached to go to her. Instead, he focused on every sound: footsteps, male conversations, Juliet’s softer voice.

Nate came up next to him, pocketing his phone. They’d had a brief conversation when he’d arrived, but Rafe had tabled the real issue of Nate’s evisceration. The one good thing Rafe had learned from the Fianna? Extreme self-control.

“I don’t get it,” Nate said. “Why defile a church?”

“Balthasar didn’t defile.” Rafe caught the candlelight glinting off the silver combs in Juliet’s hair. She rubbed her neck and passed the altar. Had she looked at him? “Balthasar desecrated.”

“There’s a difference?”

“A desecration ruins the sacred, like a consecrated cathedral. Or a marriage.” She moved closer. His heartbeat kicked up, and he crossed his arms so he wouldn’t reach for her.

“Hey.” Nate nudged his shoulder. “You with me?”

“A defilement ruins the profane. The real world.”

“Our world.” Nate’s voice scraped gravel. “You’re sure—”

“Positive.” Rafe would recognize Balthasar’s work anywhere. Although Rafe wasn’t sure which angered him more: the desecration, what Nate had done, or the fact that Juliet might have walked here alone in the dark.

A text hummed. Nate pulled out his burner phone and showed it to him. “What does this mean?”

For never was a story of more woe.

The caller ID was blocked, but Rafe knew who’d sent it. “Balthasar’s idea of a joke.”

“That freak has my cell phone number? Fabuuuulouuuus. We’re supposed to be staying below the fucking radar.”

“Balthasar knows I have to win her trust. So he’s making her not trust me.”

“Is this The Dating Game? We have work to do, except I have a Fianna warrior on my phone and a detective on my ass. We can’t keep up this parole thing.” Nate held out his cell. “Pete left a message. Garza requested info about you from every military organization around. It won’t take long for him to put this together. Or Colonel Torridan. And when Kells finds out I’m working with you, I’m back in prison.”

Rafe dragged his attention from his wife and planted it on Nate’s scrunched-up face. Rafe was moments away from going primitive. “Cut the self-pity or I walk.”

“What are you—”

“I don’t give a shit about Torridan or what he wants. I don’t care about you or Pete.”

Nate blinked. “You agreed to help us.”

“That was before I spoke to Balthasar.”

Rafe’s eyes must’ve shot fire because Nate sank into a pew and scrubbed his face with his palms. “I was under orders.”

“I don’t care.”

“I wish…I’m sorry, alright? We got your letter, for fuck’s sake. You’d gone AWOL. Betrayed us. Betrayed your country. What the hell were we supposed to do?”

Rafe gripped the pew and got in Nate’s face. Rafe spoke slowly and carefully so Nate would realize how close he was to being annihilated. “Not emotionally torture a defenseless woman with enhanced interrogation.”

Nate stood. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, and the irony is that what you did eight years ago may have destroyed your chances of succeeding now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You humiliated her and stripped her of power. A person doesn’t just get over that kind of interrogation. Abuse like that forms scar tissue preventing them from trusting others. You and Torridan may have ruined the woman you need to save your men.”

Nate ran his hands over his head. “I’m fucked.”

“We’re both fucked.”

“Does that mean you’re still helping us?”

“I’m helping myself. I have a week to do something for the Prince. In order to do that, I have to win back my wife’s trust, which will be harder now that she knows I’m helping you.”

“Where does that leave me and Pete?”

“Not sure. Don’t care. The only reason you’re not dead is because killing you would condemn your men to prison for something they didn’t do. But when this is over, there will be a reckoning. In the meantime, stay away from Juliet.”

“My operation is connected to your wife.”

“Connected to her lily.”

Nate sighed like a teenager. “I’d give anything to know what a stupid fucking flower has to do with a Special Forces operation on the other side of the stupid fucking world.”

“Right. Divert blame to the fucking flower.”

“What are you doing here?” Juliet’s voice came from behind him.

Rafe turned slowly, taking half breaths along the way. Her face glowed without all the heavy makeup she’d worn earlier. But her eyes seemed heavier, the circles beneath darker. And the bruise on her cheek made him want to beat Deke again. “I heard about the break-in. I was worried.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist and sent Nate a glare that could strip paint off a bumper.

Nate held up both hands. “I’ll wait for you outside, bro.”

Once Nate left, Rafe said, “Let me take you home. We can talk there.”

Detective Garza appeared. “Why are you here, Mr. Montfort?”

To save my wife. “To protect Juliet.”

Garza’s eyes narrowed tighter than a gun spring. “Miss Capel is safe. I guarantee it.”

“How can you when you’ve no idea what’s right in front of you? This vandalism isn’t random.” Rafe pointed to the broken pottery. “Calum told me that over the past nine months, pots decorated with Juliet’s lily were broken and her store windows were destroyed. Is that true?”

“Yes,” she said.

“So?” Garza asked.

“One thing is being destroyed. Every image of Juliet’s lily.”

She covered her mouth with her hand.

Garza rubbed his chin with his fist and focused on Juliet. “The pots. The windows. They all had your logo?”

She nodded and sank into a pew.

Her shoulders shook, and Rafe wanted to sit down and wrap his arms around her. Instead, he said, “Tonight’s different. Things have escalated. Not only was your logo destroyed, whoever did this sent you a message.”

Garza’s phone rang, and he answered. A moment later, he covered the speaker and said to Juliet, “I have to take this. Officer Holmes is waiting outside to take you home.”

Since Rafe needed to see Nate first, he gently touched her shoulder. From his height, he could see the engravings in her silver hair combs. Eight-petaled lilies. “Can you go with Officer Holmes? I’ll meet you back at your place soon.”

“It’s late—”

“I know. But we’re running out of time.”

After a moment, she nodded, and he led her outside. Across the street in a garden square, Nate stood with his arms crossed.

Rafe opened her car door.

As she got in, she said, “Nate is Colonel Torridan’s lying puppet.”

Rafe shut the door and double-tapped the roof, and the car sped away.

Then he made his way across the street. Nate had no idea how lucky he was to be alive.

* * *

Nate waited for Rafe with his arms crossed. He wasn’t sure which worried him most: Rafe working for the Prince or the fact that Rafe knew about what Nate had done to Juliet.

Rafe’s self-control would only last so long. A judgment was coming that would make Deke’s beating look like a handshake. But the fact that Nate was still standing meant one thing: Rafe needed him.

Nate wasn’t surprised Rafe had heard so quickly. The surprise had been that Nate hadn’t figured out Rafe was still working for the Prince. Then again, considering the headspace Nate occupied right now, he wasn’t up on his game. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he knew what game they were playing.

He closed his eyes and clasped his hands behind his neck. Colors flew behind his eyelids, and his larger muscle groups felt like they’d been tased. He couldn’t afford to faint, and he had another hour before he could take his next pill. His last pill. Because without Deke, no more Z-pam. Shit.

“As much as I want to kill you right now,” Rafe said in a rough voice, “you’ve got to chill. You can’t help your men if you lose it.”

Nate opened his eyes. “You’re still going to help us? Despite what I did?”

Rafe shoved his hands in his coat pockets. Probably where he kept his gun. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because your men are innocent. When this ends—”

“I did the deed. I’ll take the punishment.”

Rafe nodded.

The tic above Nate’s left eye kicked in. “This clusterfuck we’re in? It’s epic.”

“It’s always epic.” Rafe glanced at the cathedral with its flickering lights through the stained-glass windows. “Does Torridan have any idea who set you up? Any idea who has money and motivation to take down two A-teams?”

“Besides the Prince?” Rafe shifted his attention back to Nate. “There’s a list of arms dealers, drug kingpins, and tribal warlords. You probably know most of them personally.”

Rafe frowned. “This attack on your team took cunning, a ton of money, and a load of logistics. But the fact that you weren’t all killed sounds like it was personal.”

“Again, the Prince comes to mind.”

“The Prince doesn’t act on emotions. Everything is logically thought out, every action considered. The Fianna is all about self-control and obeying orders.”

Nate raised an eyebrow.

“I never said I was a great warrior, Nate. The Prince threw me in prison because I got tired of the bullshit and wanted out.”

“I’m feeling sorry for the Prince and Colonel Torridan.”

Rafe crossed his arms and stared at his boots. “The Fianna has this rule. Once you tithe, you belong to them forever. Three years into the gig, I walked away and went rogue. Except I got caught.”

“That must’ve sucked.”

Rafe shrugged. “Pete told me you don’t remember much from the night you were ambushed or the POW camp. That you’re not sure if you saw a man bow.”

“Hell.” Nate was going to murder Pete. “I don’t know. Maybe. We were dug down in a trench, it was dusk, and when I did a perimeter check, I saw…something.”

“Details count.”

“A man in the distance, in a combo of tribal dress and desert fatigues, sword strapped to his back. He stood there, eerie as shit, backlit by the dropping sun. Then he bowed.”

“Halfway? Or all the way to the ground?”

“To the ground.”

Rafe’s gaze narrowed. “You’re marked for execution.”

“Then why am I still here?”

“Because you were captured, and when you came home, you were convicted and sentenced. Fianna assassins only take care of things when traditional justice looks away.”

Nate threw himself onto an iron bench in the shadows. “If I’d been freed after the rescue—”

Rafe sat next to him. “You’d be dead.”

“And now that I’m out?”

“The Prince probably wants to know what you’re looking for.”

Nate squeezed the bridge of his nose. He had to remember to breathe. It helped keep the seizures at bay. “If I don’t succeed, I go back to prison for a lifetime. If I do succeed and get our convictions overthrown, I’ll spend the rest of my life running from a Fianna assassin.”

“Yep.”

“I’m screwed either way.”

Rafe clapped Nate on the back. “Welcome to the Screwed Every Which Way Club.”

Nate ran his hands over his head. “I have to try, Rafe. I’d rather be dead than responsible for my men spending their lives in prison. I’m working the mission.”

“While I’m more selfish than you are, I get it.”

“And your deal with the Prince?” Nate glanced at Rafe, who’d crossed his ankles and was staring at the candlelit cathedral. “What about that?”

“I have to find something from the seventeenth century. The only clue is Anne Capel.”

“The same Anne Capel I’m looking for? The dead one?”

“Yes.”

“And this Anne Capel is your wife’s ancestor? Which is why you have to woo Juliet?”

Rafe nodded.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” No way was this going to end well.

Voices came from the cathedral and Garza ran down the steps, jumped into his car, and tires screeched on the pull-out.

“That can’t be good,” Nate said.

Rafe stood. “You okay dealing with Deke?”

“Pete and I can handle it.” Nate got up too. As tired as he was, he still had work to do. “What about this nonexistent plan to save our asses? If it depends on you making nice with Juliet, we’re doomed.”

“After I talk to her, we’ll figure it out. In the meantime, stay away from men who bow.”

“You sound like Torridan.”

“I hate to say this, but sometimes Torridan is right. Now get some sleep. You gotta keep those seizures under control.”

Hooah.

Rafe walked away, and Nate unlocked his bike. Seizures were a bitch, but even more so when they meant you couldn’t drive. His cell buzzed with a message from Pete, which left Nate wishing his heart would give up and stop beating. Deke is gone.

Nate dialed Pete. “What happened?”

“I was in the locker room with Samantha, and when I got back to the control room, Deke was gone. Except for the part of his ear he left behind. He must’ve pulled free.”

“Any idea—”

“Fuck no. And I’m stuck here until closing.”

“Deke’s apartment is nearby. I’ll check it out. I doubt he’d go to the cops or a hospital.” Maybe Nate would find Deke’s Z-pam.

“Deke had help. Someone knew the code and let him out.”

“I’ll be careful. And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Nate shoved his phone in his back pocket and hopped on his bike. His head started with the fuzzies that told him the drugs were wearing off. And now he was about to break and enter. Yeah. He was a hell of a hero.

A half hour later, Nate left Deke’s apartment. Deke hadn’t gone home, and there’d been no Z-pam.

On his way to his bike, Nate stopped. Someone was behind him. He’d left his weapons at the club, worried he’d be patted down in the church. He turned as a man drifted closer. Dark pants. Black hooded jacket covering his face and thighs. Steel-toed boots. The man stopped yards away.

The man hit his chest with his fist and bowed his head. “I am Balthasar.”

Shit. Sweat dripped down Nate’s neck.

Balthasar moved closer with the same weird Rafe-walk. “I’m here to make thee an offer. Join me, and all past sins will be forgiven. I can give you your heart’s desire.”

“You don’t know shit about my heart.”

“It weeps for your men, for what once was, for what you’ve become. If you join me, I’ll give you the information to free your men.”

“I thought I was marked for…you know, the other.”

“If you join me, you’ll be the one to mete out justice and punishment.”

Nate scoffed. “What do you get out of this deal?”

Balthasar stopped inches away. “The vial.”

Did Balthasar not understand the concept of personal space?

Nate took a step back. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Balthasar advanced. “Your leader knows. As does our brother Romeo. Maybe you should ask them.”

“If I had this information and joined you, what about my men?”

Balthasar clasped Nate’s shoulder. “Their freedom depends on a fickle justice.”

“No.”

Balthasar’s fist hit like a concrete block. Pain exploded in Nate’s chest, forcing him to expel every last breath. He fell to the ground and rolled, blocking a punch with his arms. But he wasn’t fast enough and the second hit slammed into his jaw, sending his head into cobblestones. Everything went starry, then black, and then the bright lights of a massive migraine sent him into a seizure. Balthasar kicked him in the ribs. Nate rolled into a ball, and the last thing he saw was a boot aiming for his face.