True Honor

  Their drinks arrived. He signed the slip, putting them on his room tab.

  She sipped hers. “Thanks. I love these fruit things.”

  “My pleasure. The only place where you can get a better one is in Hawaii.”

  “Really? Have you been there often?”

  He nodded. “With work. They’re beautiful islands.”

  “I’ll have to go someday. I want to see the fish along the coral reefs, the lush greenery that goes forever. I hear it’s good honeymoon country.” She lifted an eyebrow.

  “They went to the Caribbean on a cruise. Tom and I are Navy buddies. He married a sweetheart in Jill.”

  She tilted her head. “Did you send them off with a walk under raised swords?”

  She had some knowledge of military life; he tucked that observation away to come back to later, even as he smiled. “Our team of SEALs did the honors.” The last man had slapped Jill’s behind with the flat of his sword in the best tradition of Navy weddings.

  “She’ll have great wedding pictures.”

  “I hope so. The photographer certainly took enough of them.”

  She laughed and the sound was rich, warm, and bubbled. When she spoke he heard a trace of the West and home. He wished he had met her years before. “I’m Sam by the way. Chief Petty Officer Sam Houston.” He offered his hand, belatedly realizing the oversight.

  “Darcy St. James.”

  He was careful as he took her hand. His bore rough rope burns from the work he did and had the strength to crush the bones in hers. He found her hand had an unexpected strength. “Pretty name.”

  She smiled and let the compliment pass, not breaking eye contact but merely not reacting beyond that slight smile.

  That simple fact had him slow to release her hand. Those eyes were the unfathomable kind, as clear and deep a pool of blue as the ocean when it both welcomed and yet hid its treasures. He had never been one to miss a treasure hunt. “Listen, would you like to get a piece of wedding cake? There’s plenty left.”

  “Actually I’ve been waiting for someone, but he’s running late.”

  That was either a gentle not interested or a simple statement of fact. He held her gaze and what he saw convinced him it was worth taking the optimistic view. Besides, he admired the loyalty and patience she showed in waiting for her date. Too many people in life were impatient, and he’d long ago learned that the best things in life often involved an indefinite wait. “Have a number you could try?”

  “I wish I did.”

  “Then while you wait, let me bring the cake to you.” He got to his feet. “White or chocolate? A lot of icing or a little?”

  Her hesitation was so slight as to be barely noticeable. “White with lots of icing.”

  “I guessed that.”

  She grinned and he got the feeling he’d just made an unexpected friend. Sam walked back toward the ballroom to get the cake, intrigued with her and that tantalizing hint of the West in her voice. If her date didn’t show up, he’d enjoy an hour of conversation with her. And if she was interested in learning to dive . . . her company would be welcome. He could hang with the guys anytime; Darcy would be much more interesting.

  * * *

  Darcy watched Sam walk away, leaning forward in her chair to catch a last glimpse of him as he disappeared around the decorative planters, his purposeful stride and posture signaling soldier even in his tux. She wished she weren’t working at the moment. She’d enjoy walking into the reception with him for a piece of that wedding cake and a chance to meet his friends. If there were a few SEALs still walking around in their dress uniforms carrying their swords . . . She shook her head and forced herself to lean back and not follow the thought.

  Sergey was late. She could continue to sit here alone and read with her light, but she would be noticed and remembered by passing guests. Sam was her solution. A couple didn’t attract a second glance. And if one of them was remembered, it would more likely be him.

  Sergey hadn’t lost his tradecraft skills. A wedding was beautiful cover. She’d bought her dress in New York the day before and it fit her profile of a guest at this hotel: expensive, elegant blue, cut in classic lines. Sergey would appreciate it.

  She shifted the leather portfolio in her lap and reopened her book. It wasn’t like Sergey to be late, but she could give him another fifteen minutes. She had contingency plans and a bolt-hole arranged. The contrast of a wedding and the possible danger she was in just sitting here was stark. She didn’t want someone making an attempt to collect that bounty while she was focused on her meeting with Sergey. She made herself relax. She’d said yes to this mission, and she was committed to seeing it through.

  Was Sam short for Samuel? Maybe she would get a chance to find out. She always appreciated a man who could focus. And he’d focused on her, a pretty nice fact all the way around. The man had wasted no time making a casual scan of her left hand looking for a ring. He wore a unique one with the SEAL emblem at the center and a cross etched into the side. The cross was an unexpected surprise—it was nice to have an early clue as to what he valued.

  She’d surprised him. When she interrupted his reverie, there had been just a beat of a pause as he decided how to react before he moved to join her. He hadn’t been sure if he knew her but curiosity had him coming over. There were calluses on his hand when he took hers, and she’d picked up the faint smell of peppermint.

  He made an impression all right. She had a feeling she would be dreaming about the man and that smile tonight. And those eyes . . . He had a fascinating face. Not a pretty or overly handsome one, but compelling with blue eyes that reflected his laughter and a smile that was quick to appear.

  Midthirties, six-foot even, fit and tough, he looked well able to take care of himself. Given the amount of trouble in the world SEALs got sent to quiet down, she doubted Sam spent much time in the States. They were Special Operations Forces trained to work covertly from Sea, Air, and Land, and only a few thousand were on active duty. She met SEALs overseas during extractions of spies and occasionally at embassy dinners where just their presence created a layer of security.

  Next time choose the couple from New York, she told herself, turning pages in the book. They had been seated to her left until a few minutes before Sam appeared, and she could have easily started a conversation with them about the current Broadway plays. Instead she chose Sam and wiped out her concentration.

  There weren’t many strangers to bump into out in Shelton, North Dakota; a fact that was great for her security but detrimental to her social life. Maybe this meeting with Sergey would fall through, maybe Sam would be around for a few hours . . . And if she didn’t stop thinking about him, she was going to end up where most distracted agents did when they were working—in trouble.

  * * *

  Sam walked into the ballroom. Guests had regrouped around a few tables in the center of the room. Someone in the center of that mass of people was about to do something stupid; Sam could hear through the shouts of laughter someone calling off a count. If he didn’t know for a fact Wolf was away on his honeymoon, Sam would have predicted his partner would be the SEAL on the spot. He considered wandering over to see, but there were priorities in life and then there were priorities. A lady with brilliant blue eyes didn’t smile at him that often.

  Special Operations was a small community. He’d trained or worked with most of the men here. Years of sweat equity had earned him a place in this group where respect was earned, not given, and it felt good. The guys had brought their wives and girlfriends. He’d make another effort to talk Darcy into joining him. He’d seen the way her eyes lit up at that idea of walking below raised swords. He wasn’t opposed to using the trappings of his career to tip the balance in his favor.

  A piece of white cake with lots of icing. Sam studied the table and chose the one with the biggest rose. He picked up a chocolate piece for himself. The evening felt a lot like icing atop an already great day.

  “Chief.”

  Sa
m turned at the call from his boss. His instinct was to snap to attention but he overrode it. Lieutenant Joe “Bear” Baker was still in dress uniform from the wedding. “Yes, sir. Is Kelly settled for the night?” Bear’s wife was five months pregnant, and since she had asked him to be the child’s godfather, Sam tried to stay current on the details.

  “Asleep, although she wouldn’t admit she was tired.” Bear nodded to the two pieces of cake. “Found some company?”

  Sam heard the curiosity of a friend as well as the care of an attentive CO and smiled. “Yes.”

  “Then I won’t keep you. I want to pass on an invitation from Kelly. If you don’t end up with plans for lunch tomorrow, feel free to join us.”

  “Thank you, sir.” It was a night for optimism. “I’m hoping for the plans.”

  Bear laughed. “Then I wish you luck.”

  Sam walked back to the pool area, still smiling. Bear was the right kind of boss; it was a 24-7 commitment. The man was responsible for the lives of sixteen men. Keeping an eye out for complications on the home front went with the job. Distractions got people killed. He had smoothed out more relationships with a well-placed word than Sam could count. Even if the advice occasionally came with a bit of a growl for which he was famous—Joe was a grizzly bear early in the morning.

  A small pebble bounced down the steps as a couple came up from the beach arm in arm. Darcy looked up from her book and made more than a casual inspection of everyone in sight. She was still expecting her company to arrive. Whatever had held the man up, Sam hoped he appreciated the fact that Darcy was waiting for him.

  He walked over to join her. “Here you go.” He offered her the slice of white cake.

  She turned in her seat toward him and waited until he sat down and had sampled his cake before tasting hers. She waved her fork. “Delicious as I knew it would be.” She ate another bite, edging her way around the rose to leave it for last. “You said you are a Navy SEAL?”

  “For over a decade now.” He waited for the follow-up on what it was like to be a soldier.

  Instead she studied him over her fork. “What do they call you?”

  It wasn’t a question he had expected. Sam grinned. “My friends call me a lot of things. Cougar normally. Chief when they’re razzing me about my recent promotion.”

  “There’s a story behind that name Cougar.”

  He inclined his head. A complicated, slightly unbelievable, but true story. “A long one.”

  She lifted the sugary rose from the cake. “Long stories are by far the best kind.”

  He studied her for a moment while savoring the last of his cake. Darcy wanted him to be the one talking while he was much more interested in hearing about her . . . interesting. Getting beneath the layers of this lady would not be easy. “A cat bit me.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I won’t ask you where.”

  He wanted to laugh. Darcy excelled at subtle expressions. Her humor he could come to enjoy as much as her laughter. He pointed to her cake. “Eat.”

  She glanced past him and her entire expression stilled and then relaxed. “Sam, my late guest just arrived. I need to go. Thanks for your company and the cake.”

  He took the plate she offered and then turned to see who it was who had kept her waiting, curious to at least meet him, for Darcy was in a hurry to leave. There was no one in sight.

  Darcy collected her book and notepad. “Would you give your friends my good wishes when you talk to them next? Weddings are such wonderful events.”

  “I’ll be glad to.” He took a chance. “Join me for lunch tomorrow?”

  She paused. “I’m leaving tonight.” Her hand brushed his arm and she offered a breathtaking smile. “But it was very nice that you asked.”

  Sam watched her walk past the steps going down to the beach, pause to pick up the champagne flute someone had left on the low wall, and disappear toward the hotel restaurant.

  Well, that was a bummer. He’d just seen the last of Darcy St. James. He sat pondering that, looking for any glimmers of optimism to grab hold of and couldn’t find one. He knew her name, but not enough other information to track her down, nor any indication that he should try. Sam rose and picked up his glass, then returned the plates to the reception. It would have been nice, Lord, if You could have held up her date for another hour.

  Rather than call it an evening, he headed down to the beach to take the walk he’d been contemplating earlier. Lunch with Joe and Kelly would be nice, but it would definitely be the consolation prize.

  * * *

  Darcy walked across the patio of the outdoor restaurant, fully attuned to the details of her surroundings, paying attention to the faces of staff and guests alike. She wasn’t as worried about Sergey as she was the person who had put that bounty on her head. Splitting her attention between the two concerns was giving her a headache. Too many hotel employees were walking around for her comfort, and out of deference to Sergey she wasn’t armed.

  “Sergey, it has been a long time.”

  He rose as she joined him at the corner table. “Four years. You are looking as beautiful as always, Darcy.” He kissed one cheek and then the other, the compliment sincere, his smile welcoming.

  In his sixties now, he wore the years in his face and eyes. The man looked more like a thug than a gentleman, even in the elegant suit. But looks had never conveyed the real picture. She respected this man, and her partner Gabriel owed him his life. She answered his smile with one of her own. “Thank you for the champagne.” Neither would drink tonight but appearances mattered.

  “The least I could offer as an apology for my delay.” He held her chair for her. “You should not have waited for me to arrive.” He was genuinely bothered that she had. Staying more than a few moments past an agreed-upon time was a cardinal mistake of tradecraft, and he had always been one of the teachers who understood spies lived to be old spies because they followed the rules.

  “A risk, but a calculated one. One well worth it for a friend. Gabriel sends his regards.”

  “Has he forgiven me yet?”

  She tilted her head, considering. “Within limits. He wouldn’t be so quick to join you at a restaurant.” Sergey had arranged to give Gabe food poisoning so he would miss covering a meeting in Sicily.

  “You are surprised I asked only to see you.”

  “Yes.”

  “It is best,” he replied. “Retirement looks like it agrees with you.” He circled his index finger on his napkin as he lifted his glass with his other hand, holding her gaze.

  The gesture signaled that he assumed they might have unwanted company listening in. His? Hers? She wouldn’t put it past either agency. She hadn’t seen anyone, and she knew he’d have chosen the table at random. She wasn’t too worried about it, for at least spies doing their jobs were not likely to shoot her in the back. “I was about to say the same about you.”

  “I am a grandfather now. My granddaughter will be one year old next month.”

  She lifted the champagne flute in a toast. “Congratulations, my friend.”

  From his pocket he offered a picture. Darcy had seen photos of his family in his file, but this one of his daughter and granddaughter was recent. She studied it and then returned it with a smile.

  Sergey’s expression turned grave. He gestured toward the hotel gardens. “Let us walk a bit.”

  With a nod she rose to join him, surprised at the speed he chose to get down to business but also relieved to be away from the flow of hotel staff through the restaurant. Meetings with Sergey had a rhythm, and the time spent reestablishing the relationship was rarely shortened. They strolled through the hotel gardens and eventually back around to the deserted pool area. The deep end of the pool afforded privacy and he paused there.

  “How may I help you, Sergey?”

  “I have been asked to convey a message to your director.”

  “I can have it in his hands within hours.” A military flight at Eglin Air Force Base was waiting to take her back to
Washington, D.C., tonight.

  He removed an envelope from his inside pocket.

  Darcy slid her thumbnail across the edge of the back cover of her book, opening a hidden slot. The note slid inside. She resealed the edge with a firm touch. “Would you like me to bring you a reply?”

  “None should be needed. But if you do need to get in touch, a request sent through the embassy will reach me.”

  The message in hand, Darcy felt an urgency to be on her way but also reluctance. It might be years before she saw him again. “How is Kendra?” she asked, turning to look back as she heard footsteps.

  “My wife is not well.” She glanced back at him concerned at the unexpected words and saw Sergey’s hand come out from his jacket. “I am sorry, Darcy.”

  She caught a glint of a blade and reacted to the threat before she understood it, her weight shifting back and her arm swinging the portfolio and book in a sweeping arc to strike it away. The knife caught her. She got out of the way the only way she could. She moved back and was falling. Water closed over her.

  Two

  * * *

  Sam had his shoes off and was shaking out sand from his walk on the beach when he heard the splash. Someone was using the hotel pool. He waited for the laughter of guests to match the late night dunking or for the sound of solitary strokes as someone began swimming. The silence had him slipping on his shoes and changing destinations. With the number of children at the reception, one could have slipped away from a parent and gotten too near the pool.

  The pool area was empty. No one was swimming and there was only sloshing water to confirm what he had heard. Then he realized the water at the deep end was stirring. A woman’s hand and then Darcy’s head appeared, water streaming from her hair and face.

  What the . . . He shoved aside chairs in his way and knelt at the poolside to offer her a hand. He liked water, spent most of his life working in it, but one glance told him this lady did not know how to swim. “Darcy, give me your hand.” She was almost back to the side of the pool. “What happened? Did you lose your footing?”