Page 2 of Concerto of Crows and Cowards

“He’s gone, Jade.” His voice cracked, and he had to swallow a couple of times before he could go on. “I’ve spent the last three hours trying to cut through red tape and lies to get the answers I needed. Let me get this out,” he said. “You know I have to say the words.”

She shook her head, but it didn’t stop him from speaking. “I’m sorry for your loss. Donovan Jax was killed in the line of duty.”

“I said no!” she screamed. Her fist connected with the side of his face before she could control it, as if someone else had taken over her body. She scrambled away, knocking over one of the folding chairs she had against the wall. Her hip hit the corner of her desk, but the pain didn’t penetrate.

“Get out, get out!” Tears clouded her vision, but she grabbed the first thing she saw—the plant in the ceramic pot—and threw it at his head. Max dodged and got to his feet, but he didn’t try to stop the storm brewing inside of her. The look of sympathy on his face only made the tears fall faster. God, she never cried. Not when she’d been shuffled from one foster home to the next and not when a bullet had pierced her flesh.

The door to her office opened and worried faces peeked in.

“Get out,” Max said, and they closed the door with a snap.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but he was still and silent, letting her rage around him until there was nothing left inside of her but despair. Her breath heaved in and out of her lungs and she let her arms hang down at her side as a sudden weakness seemed to overtake her. Her head dropped down and a chill settled over her skin, making her shiver uncontrollably.

“I want to see him,” she said, her voice breaking. “I need to see him.”

“Oh, baby,” Max said, coming toward her. She let him gather her close, so her head rested on his shoulder. He was grieving too. She could feel the fine tremors coursing through his body. Max and Donovan had been close—as close as most brothers. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Don’t play games with me, Max. I don’t care about the red tape or expense reports. I want his body brought back here. I need to see him.”

His arms wrapped tight around her and he buried his head against her shoulder. She felt the heat of his tears against her neck, and she tightened her own hold around him, trying to comfort the both of them.

“I can’t, Jade.” He paused for a few seconds. “There’s nothing left of him to bring home.”

Something broke inside of her—an agony that started in her womb and ripped and clawed its way through her body. She would have doubled over if Max hadn’t been holding her upright. Liquid rushed between her thighs and the coppery scent of blood filled the air.

She tried to scream, but the pain had taken control of her body, rendering her useless.

“Jade!” Max cried out, catching her as her knees gave out and she crumpled to the floor.

She’d lived through unspeakable tragedy in her life—the death of her parents when she was a child, the loss of friends she’d worked and served with, wounds, betrayal, and the loss of her husband—a man she’d loved with everything she’d had to give. But she’d never wanted to die before—not until she lost the only piece of Donovan she had left—the child she’d already imagined to have Donovan’s wide grin and her green eyes.

Now there was nothing but blackness as the pain lessened and a cold numbness filled her body. In the back of her mind she thought she heard Max yelling something, calling her name, but she ignored it and embraced the cold. A smile touched her lips when she saw Donovan’s face—one last time.

Six Months Later…

His body hurt. Everywhere.

It felt like his brain was caught in quicksand—his every thought disappearing into darkness just when he thought he finally had a good hold. He remembered being in Mexico with the team, on the search and rescue for an American hostage. And he remembered looking into the black eyes of Alexander Ramos just before Ramos pulled the trigger and hit Max in the leg as he dived to the side. The bullet had burned like fire, and he’d felt the crack of bone as the bullet lodged in his thigh. The last thing Max remembered was Ramos’s arm around the hostage’s throat and the gun in his hand pointed right at Max’s head. He hadn’t even had time to pray before everything went dark.

But, God, had there been pain. Pain that pulsed and tore inside his body and sat heavy on his chest like cinder blocks so he could only scream in his head. His arms and legs were mired in the quicksand and the pain built and burned inside him until he wondered if he was in hell.

He didn’t know how long he spent there—days—weeks—eternity. But he yearned for the one person who soothed his pain like a balm. When she came, her voice cut through the fire in his head, and her touch eased the confusion and fear that crept up on him when the darkness came again. He’d latch on to her words, though he couldn’t always understand her, and he’d hold out hope that he’d one day get to see her again.

It was foolish, really. Jade Jax didn’t belong to him. She’d never belonged to him. But a man who’d experienced death could be nothing if not honest with himself. He’d loved her from the first moment she and Donovan had been transferred to his team, and he’d been envious of the obvious love between the two of them. He would have hated Donovan just on principle if he hadn’t been such a good guy. So he’d been a friend to them both and kept his feelings to himself. It was all he could do.

And then when Donovan died, he hadn’t given the job of breaking the news to Jade to someone else. To another female agent or to a doctor or the chaplain. He’d felt he’d needed to do it himself, and his need to be the one to comfort her had cost her everything. She had every right to hate him. But she kept coming back to soothe his pain just when he started to lose hope again.

Then one day the quicksand around his limbs wasn’t so heavy and the fire in his head died down to a simmer. And she was there again. Only this time her words were clear.

“Don’t die on me, Max,” she said, rubbing soothing circles in his palm with her thumb. “You’re the best partner I’ve ever had. Though I wouldn’t admit it to Donovan if he were still alive. You know how he liked to try and protect me instead of letting me do my job.”

He couldn’t say he blamed Donovan for being overly protective. He’d do the same thing in Donovan’s position. Warmth covered him like a blanket at the sincerity in her words. She didn’t hate him. She wanted him to live. He wanted to squeeze her hand, but his hand wasn’t obeying what his mind was telling it. But it was close—so close.

“You’re going to miss out on the fun stuff if you stay in here too long. Atticus has big plans for all of us. There are changes coming.”

Interesting. And cryptic. Did that mean Atticus had gotten the backing he’d petitioned for? Only a select few of them knew of Atticus Cameron’s plan to open his own security agency and fulfill off-the-books government contracts.

Her hand brushed his hair back from his face, and he wanted to nuzzle against her, to soak in the warmth she brought everywhere she went.

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