Page 41 of D-Day

Well aware that going anywhere near D-Day had been a risky move, Helen hadn’t been able to stop herself from reacting to that look on his face.

She’d entered the room with a fresh set of clothes, set them on the bed, and gone to him, simply saying his name.

D-Day’s words had a thread of steel in them when he said, “What are you doing in here? If Lando catches us, he’ll?—”

“Screw him. If that happens, I’ll figure something out.” Taking a deep breath, she caught his head between her hands, her chest so full she could barely breathe. The muscles in his jaw contracted as he tried to swallow, and she tightened her hold on him, willing him to look at her. Finally, he met her gaze, the rawness in his eyes going straight to her heart. “I saw your face when you passed Taer’s room. If you think I can handle not being here for you…I just can’t,” she whispered vehemently, maybe not as strong as she thought she could be. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Twisting his face away from her touch, he caught her hand, then laced his fingers through hers with a crushing grip. His expression scored with a range of emotions, he closed his eyes and pressed her hand against his mouth, his voice hoarse. “Ican’t. I’ve got shit to figure out before I can be straight with you about…”

“About?” She was suspended, wanting to know what was eating at him all this time. What was really keeping him from fully trusting her, from fully embracing what was strong between them? “Drew, please.”

“Everything. But now is not the time for this. We have to focus on the mission and getting our asses out of here once we get those triggers.”

She took a hard breath, fighting against the swell of tears. She tore her hand free and slipped her arms around his neck, a soft sob wrenching loose when he gathered her up in a hard, tight embrace. He roughly cupped the back of her head, a tremor shuddering through him, and Helen yielded to the pressure of his arms, tears of a deep, terrible ache slipping from beneath her lashes. Despite where they were, what they had to do, and all that had gone wrong, this was right. “You’re everything to me, Drew,” she whispered. “You’ve got to know that. So, there isn’t anything you can tell me that will change how I feel about you.”

He drew a deep, uneven breath, his voice raw with emotion. “Are you sure about that?” Moved by the depth of feeling in those hoarsely spoken words, Helen shifted her head, her mouth connecting with his in a kiss that was filled with so much emotion, with such deep, unconditional commitment, that it drove every conscious thought out of her mind. Rising on tiptoe, she molded herself tightly against him as he shifted his hold, bringing her fully against him from shoulder to thigh. She held nothing back in that kiss—nothing, opening her heart and embracing all the emotions that crowded there to be released. And she absorbed the fire in him—the wonderful, hot, all-consuming fire that emanated from his very soul. He was the most overpowering, thrilling, complex man she’d ever met.

He released her, dragging his mouth away, his breathing uneven, his hold almost savage, as he bowed his head. “We all have something we regret,” she whispered softly, but we’re all human, and we all make mistakes or get caught up in terrible things.” Helen wasn’t sure whose heart was pounding harder, but if he let her go, her legs would be like spaghetti. “I had no idea that you were going to change my life. All these emotions I’ve tried so hard to keep at bay for the sake of my sanity, for the sake of the people I need to help seem to be overloading me now.” Her forehead resting against the angle of his jaw, Helen weakly closed her eyes, trying to catch both her breath and her balance, unable to hold in the words she so desperately wanted him to hear. “I’m in lo?—”

D-Day sucked in a deep breath, interrupting her, then dragged his hand up her back, surrounding her in a protective hold, his face contorting with raw emotion. “No, Helen, don’t.” Grinding out a guttural denial, his eyes flashed. “Goddammit, don’t.” Through the heat of his anger, she saw the shimmer of moisture in his eyes. “Nothere.” His voice caught and broke. “Notnowin thisfuckingplace.” He grabbed her by the upper arms and dragged her against him.

It was one of the hardest things Helen had ever had to do, to keep those words locked up inside her when she wanted to shout them into his handsome face. Her gut was quivery, a huge load of anxiety working at the last vestiges of her control. She wanted all of this behind them. First, she wanted to get out from under the threat of nuclear detonation, but she wanted more than that, too. Much more. She wanted time alone with D-Day, uninterrupted time. They desperately needed a chance to talk, to sort things out. D-Day might have acknowledged all this trapped intensity, but it was clear he was warring with himself over what he just couldn’t seem to tell her. And the only way they were ever going to get to the meat of the problem was to have time toexplore their feelings, to talk about all the things they had stored away between them and all the issues each of them was facing individually. And that was all more than a little frightening.

There was a rattle of the doorknob, then pounding.

“Go,” she said, shoving him inside the bathroom. “Quickly, turn on the shower.” As soon as she heard the water go on, her heart aching for the way they were interrupted, she snatched the clothes off the bed and opened the door.

Lando stood outside, his eyes narrowed slits, his face contorted in rage. “What are you doing in there?”

She lifted her chin, so annoyed by his intrusion. “I had planned to take a shower, but apparently, it’s being used.” He looked around the door, then his lips compressed. She took that opportunity to shove by him. “I’ll feed your brother some broth instead and use it once it’s free.”

He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back against his hard chest, his voice low and vehement. “Your life is measured by the beats of my brother’s heart. It’s in your best interest to attend to him.” He shoved her away, her scalp burning.

She whirled on him, her mouth curling into a subtle sneer. “How did you lose your soul when Taer kept his? I don’t know, but you are an empty, ugly shell of man with no compassion for anyone. I’d feel sorry for you, but I don’t have any pity for monsters!”

He slapped her so hard, she saw stars, her cheek scalding like live ash. It snapped her head back and her bottom lip split, instantly filling her mouth with the sharp, thick taste of her own blood. Lando had no idea that Buck had taught her how to defend herself, and he’d taught her the most down-and-dirty tricks to get away, to fight, if necessary, to incapacitate when there was no alternative and all she wanted to do right at this moment was to show him every punishing move.

She suffered through his cocky smirk and his dominating eyes, gritting her teeth to keep silent, refusing to let him break her in any way that mattered. She couldn’t fight right now. But when the shackles were off her, she would show him that an American badass midwestern girl from Wyoming knew how to throw down.

She had a job to do for her country and patriotism won over her own sick fury and heartfelt sorrow. She choked down the knot in her throat.

His glittering eyes, as dark as the depth of hell, flashed with triumph as she backed down. “There is most definitely a difference between instant death and being made to beg for death. Your cooperation and my brother’s survival will make all the difference for your fate.”

She turned away without a word, knowing that she could barely hold back thefuck youthat was on her tongue. Antagonizing him any further was going to be unproductive, but as she sucked on her stinging lip, it would be so damn satisfying.

She went and asked the sweet woman for some broth. The woman nodded and smiled, and Helen went back to Taer’s room and went back to sit beside his bed. He opened his eyes.

“Helen,” he whispered, “Taer told me just minutes ago that he has the triggers here inside our home. The NPA will be here soon, but he refused to tell me where they are. I’m sorry that I failed you and failed my country.” His voice, anguished and desperate, he expelled air, fought for another breath. Oh, God, she knew the signs. He was dying, and in his last moments. Sharp disappointment for the inability of him to get the answers they needed twisted her heart. There would have to be another way. She swore as Taer’s breath fluttered, his eyes going dazed and glassy, no hope left in them, nothing but resignation. “Fight him with all you have. He will not handle…my death well, and please, save my country, my people.”

His last exhalation slipped out of his mouth, and she swore again, but more softly, much, much more softly.

For the first time in her life, she just sat there, unable to put two thoughts together in her head. She covered her eyes, unable to look at Taer’s face anymore. Dropping her hands, she stared numbly into space, another rush of panic stirring in her middle. This had come too soon—and she wasn’t ready for it. She needed more time.

Her insides churning, Helen clenched her jaw, the panic climbing higher. All her life she had hidden herself in her ability not to react. It’s what made her an excellent nurse. But Taer’s death was pushing them into the next, highly dangerous part of this mission. Their plan of getting the whereabouts of the triggers, stealing them, and then running for it, was gone. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes. Reality had just jerked the rug out from under them.

Suddenly, the door opened, and the woman came in with the broth. Helen got up quickly and took the mug from her as the woman’s eyes darted to the bed. “He’s sleeping, but I’ll get some of this into him.” She lied so smoothly, even her voice sounded normal. Thank God. This would buy her some time until she could speak to D-Day and let him know that Taer was dead without any way to get at the triggers.

“Yes, missy,” the woman said and backed out of the door.

---