Page 31 of Covert Vengeance

Hard. That was the first impression he’d had of Megan’s sister when he’d met her during a brief meeting in London some weeks ago, and it still held now. Cold and remote.

But then he saw the way she watched Megan so carefully and relaxed a little. Whatever Amber had done in the past, she clearly cared about her sister. “Welcome. I’m Marcus. Please come in.” Damn, he felt pretentious welcoming them into this great pile of stones left to him by a great uncle he’d barely known.

Megan introduced him to Jesse Cordova before turning her attention to the woman leaning heavily into Amber’s side. An injured Valkyrie Amber and Cordova had rescued. That’s all he knew. “And this is Kiyomi,” Megan said.

The woman straightened slowly and lifted her head. Marcus barely concealed his shock when her black hair fell away to reveal the state of her face. Her name and golden skin tone suggested she was of Japanese descent, but her features were unrecognizable. Whoever had captured her had beaten the shite out of her. Her face was so swollen in areas her skin was shiny, a mass of bruises and cuts. The one eye she had open was fixed on him with utter wariness.

Marcus understood that all too well, and given her condition he didn’t want her on her feet a moment longer than necessary. “Come inside. Your rooms are all ready for you.”

Megan and Amber flanked Kiyomi as they came up the steps, Tyler and Cordova behind them. “Where should we put her?” Megan asked him on the way through the door.

He thought about the remaining rooms. “The Blue Room.”

Decorated by some obscenely rich female aristocrat back in his family tree somewhere, it was feminine and soothing, and it overlooked the back garden with a view of the stables beyond. This young woman had a lot of healing to do in the coming days and weeks. That room would give her the most peace and privacy he could offer.

His cane thumped on the old flagstones as he followed them through the foyer to the staircase, Karas’s nails clicking softly behind him. The sight of the stairs before him had his left hip and thigh aching before he’d even reached the first tread. Since being injured and the subsequent surgeries he’d endured after being evacuated from Syria, stairs had become the bane of his existence.

Only two years ago he’d been a Senior NCO in the SAS, one of the most elite warriors in the British military. He’d been at the top of his career, respected and admired by his peers and the men who served under him.

Now he was a semi-crippled, forty-four-year-old recluse living way out here in the Cotswolds, who’d just had his solitary life upended.

Ahead of him the women moved slowly up the stairs, even more slowly than him. He paused two treads behind them, taking in the way both Amber and Megan were careful not to touch higher than Kiyomi’s waist. The woman was barely moving, all but swaying in place.

“Just a few more stairs,” Megan told Kiyomi softly while urging her onward.

“Want us to carry you?” Amber offered.

Kiyomi shook her head. “No. I can make it.” Her voice was strong and pure American, no trace of a foreign accent. Not a surprise, since the Valkyries were all American citizens.

Though she was clearly in a lot of pain, she kept going, doggedly taking one step at a time up the rest of the stairs and then down the carpeted hallway on the second floor. What had happened to her?

“Right in here,” Megan said, steering her into the Blue Room.

Marcus brushed past them and hurried to turn the covers down, then quickly stepped back to give them room. Kiyomi paused at the side of it to brace both hands on the mattress, a film of sweat coating her face and her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.

“Bet it’ll feel good to lie down again,” Amber murmured, holding Kiyomi’s arm steady as the injured Valkyrie slowly climbed on. A low, almost inaudible groan escaped her as she stretched out gingerly on her stomach, her face turned away from them.

Marcus noted the spots of blood coming through the back of the purple hospital scrub top she wore. “Did she get treatment in Germany?”

“Yes,” Amber answered, easing the back of Kiyomi’s top upward.

Marcus clenched his teeth together to hold back a hiss as she pulled the edge of the bandage away to reveal the welts and rows of stitches marring that soft, golden skin. Lash marks. They’d fucking beaten and whipped her, so savagely that they’d laid her back open. And God knew what else they’d done to her besides that.

His insides twisted, a fierce protectiveness forming toward her as he recognized the fellow survivor before him. They’d both suffered capture and torture in Syria and lived to tell about it. And he could imagine what else she’d endured as a female captive. His heart twisted for her.

After checking the wounds, Amber secured the bandage back in place, tugged the scrub top down and drew the covers up to Kiyomi’s shoulders. “There. Sleep now.” She stroked a gentle hand over the back of Kiyomi’s black hair, the movement oddly gentle for someone he knew to be a lethal assassin. “We’ll bring you something to eat when you wake up.”

She turned to go but Marcus stopped her. “You shouldn’t leave her.”

Amber frowned at him. “She’s still got sedatives and pain meds in her. She won’t even know I’m gone, and I need to brief everyone about what happened.”

“No, you need to make sure you’re here when she wakes up.” After what she’d been through Kiyomi deserved to see a friendly face when she awoke in unfamiliar surroundings, and she’d be less frightened if someone she knew was beside her.

Sometimes a familiar face was the only thing that helped someone hang on to the last thread of humanity and will to live.

Megan had done that for him. Maybe Amber could do the same for Kiyomi.

Chapter Ten

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