Honor Reclaimed (HORNET #2)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

“Oh, this one. Now there’s an interesting story behind this one…”

Phoebe shoved another photo into his hand, but Seth couldn’t tear his eyes from her to spare it more than the briefest of glances. And, frankly, he didn’t want to. Now that he wasn’t chasing her down like a criminal and holding her prisoner—which he would never forgive himself for—she was so…vibrant. Animated. Full of joy and laughter.

His exact opposite in every way.

Her eyes sparkled as she talked about her photos and the stories behind them. A marriage ceremony in India. A Saudi woman in a burqa and high heels. A tiny girl from Nepal decked out in a red dress for her betrothal ceremony. She recalled the details of each photo with such vivid precision that he felt like he had been there with her, watching the events unfold.

“This one,” she said and handed him another print. It showed the silhouette of a man tying a dog to a rusted-out tank. The setting sun lit the village behind him in a splash of pinks and oranges. “I took it right before we met Tehani. That’s her village there.”

“It’s…” He couldn’t find the right word to describe the photo. “Breathtaking.”

Her eyes lit up. “You think so? It’s my favorite so far.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s an amazing picture. You’re very talented.” And she had such a unique way of seeing the world, finding beauty and hope where there should be none. But that didn’t mean she needed to go back up into those mountains.

He returned the photo to her. “You should stay behind.”

She shook her head. “Not happening, so you can forget about trying to convince me. Tehani asked me to check on her family while we’re there and I have no plans of disappointing her. Maybe I can even convince her sister-in-law to return to the shelter.”

So much hope in her voice. How can one person contain that much optimism? Especially in a place as dark as this shithole of a country?

“Besides,” she added. “It’s not like I’m going all the way to the compound with you. I’ll be safe in the village.”

Movement at the door caught his attention, and his muscles instantly tightened out of pure reflex. He couldn’t even recall the last time he didn’t tense up at unexpected movement. Probably sometime before he’d left Bagram Airfield with his old team on his last fubar mission. A lifetime and a half ago, at least.

Gabe limped into the room, Quinn trailing in his wake. Shortly after, the rest of the team filed in, Harvard bringing up the rear with his ever-present laptop—the thing was like an extension of his body. He shut the door behind him, and claustrophobia folded its clammy hands around Seth.

“Breathe,” Phoebe reminded him softly.

Releasing the breath caught in his lungs, he pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt. He felt the guys’ eyes on him, and, shit, did they all know he used the hood like a security blanket? The back of his neck warmed. He pulled the hood off again and vowed to burn the sweatshirt at his first opportunity. From here on out, it was T-shirts and jackets. No more hoods to hide behind.

He wasn’t a toddler in need of comfort, for fuck’s sake.

Gabe broke the silence. “All right, gentlemen. Listen up. Here’s how this op is going to work.” He unfolded a large map and taped it up on the wall. “Phoebe, do you want to get us started with our itinerary?”

“Sure thing.” She stood and uncapped the highlighter Harvard handed her as she walked toward the map. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll drive as far as Asadabad in Kunar Province.” She circled the city. “And that, unfortunately, is the end of paved the road. My fixer?—”

“Fixer?” Marcus interrupted. “Sorry, but that sounds slightly illegal.”

“Leave it to the former Fed,” Ian muttered.

“Hey, lay off him,” Jesse snapped. “At least he’s got a conscience and not a black pit for a soul.”

“Not illegal at all,” Phoebe said, raising her voice only the slightest bit above the arguing. She handled them all with the grace and patience of a school teacher bringing an unruly class to order, and a sudden burst of pride caught Seth completely off guard.

“Fixer,” she continued once she had silence again, “is journalist-speak for a local person who helps lubricate relations with the locals. I’ve already contacted my fixer in Asadabad, and he’s set up a place for us to spend the night in Akhgar Village, which is seven-ish miles into the valley…” She pointed to the map. “Here. We’ll have to take horses because there are no roads. From Akhgar, it’s another ten, fifteen miles into the mountains to Niazi Village.”

Gabe and Quinn shared a glance and a whole conversation seemed to pass between them in that instant. Quinn swore softly.

With a grim nod of agreement, Gabe returned to the front of the room and stood next to Phoebe. “Gentlemen, this is serious shit. Quinn and I know this area. We’ve lost a lot of SEALs here, and it is still very much under Taliban control.” His gaze slid to Phoebe. “I can’t believe you and Zina went up there with only a police escort. Jesus Christ, woman. You should have gone up with a cavalry.”

She blew out a breath, her frustration clear. “No, you’re missing the point. We made it because we went up lightly. If we’d taken a cavalry, they wouldn’t have thought twice about shooting at us. Instead, we looked like modest Muslim women traveling with our husbands, and they left us alone. Which is why I suggest some of you wear a chadari.” She left the room and returned seconds later with a handful of blue material. “The rest of you should wear local male clothing. We need to look as non-threatening as possible. We go in with guns blazing, we’re probably not going to make it out.”

“You want us to dress like women?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Is that a problem for you?”

He grinned and took the veil she handed him. “Nah, mon cher, I’m always up for a little kink. Though I gotta say, gender swapping’s a new one.”

She laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

“That’s what Marcus’s mama said last night.”

The joke slammed into Seth like a punch to the gut, and he watched through a haze as Marcus reached over and smacked Jean-Luc on the head. Except he didn’t see Marcus and Jean-Luc. Rather, two of his former teammates, Aaron “Bowie” Bowman and Omar Cordero, ragging on each other in the chow hall at Bagram. The two of them never managed to run out of yo mama jokes, despite their ongoing war to one-up each other.

“Hey, Cordero. Yo mama so dirty her bath water’s considered a chemical weapon.”

“Yo, Bowie! Yo mama so white, she make the Pillsbury Doughboy look Cuban.”

Soft fingers brushed his cheek, jarring him back to the present. Not Cordero and Bowie. Marcus and Jean-Luc. He blinked and stared up into Phoebe’s worried eyes. She’d finished passing out the veils, leaving one for herself, and had returned to her spot at his side to set her veil down on top of her bag.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t draw attention to his mental slip in any way. She just smiled and tilted her head, indicating Gabe, who still stood by the map.

Right. Gabe was going over the details of the op again.

He made himself pay attention and commit every word to memory. He wouldn’t be going up into those mountains unprepared a second time.

Phoebe sat down beside him and, to his utter surprise, entwined her fingers through his. It was…comforting. More so than his hood ever was. Her skin felt soft against his scar-roughened flesh and caused all kinds of short-circuiting in his higher functions. What would it feel like to have those hands on his chest? And then sliding lower…

Gabe’s team briefing became nothing but background noise as every cell in his being focused on the feel of Phoebe’s hand, so small in his. Seemingly fragile, but he knew better. She was strong, probably even stronger than him. Nothing could break her, and with that knowledge came a strange sense of peace. There was no way he could damage this woman or corrupt her with his darkness. And maybe…

Was it possible the unbreakable had the ability to fix the broken?

Christ, with the way a simple touch from her lit him up, he almost believed it. She’d make him whole again and then?—

No. Fuck, no. He shook his head and pulled his hand free from her grasp. Thinking like that was ridiculous. Dangerous.

Wrong.

And he needed to focus on the goddamn briefing.