“You have your life back now,” he promised her as he deliberately moved her to the seat beside him. While he held her, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel anything past his need for her.
“Yes,” she announced softly.
“Your job.” He moved in front of her to help remove her harness.
She blinked, her breath hitching as he watched the realization entering her gaze.
She nodded hesitantly. “My job,” she agreed, though that wasn’t true, he remembered. She had no job, because of him, Jafar, and Azir. She’d lost that, but maybe she could be rehired or else she could find another, he told himself. Another job, another apartment if she had to, and at the worst, she could find more friends. But she could only die once.
“Please don’t.” Her fingers lay against his lips as they parted again, her fear of what he might say almost as bad as the fear for her life had been. “If you’re going to walk out of my life then just do it, okay? I don’t want to know.”
Her lips trembled and it broke his heart. But as he nodded slowly and said nothing more, it broke her heart worse. He watched the pain move into her eyes, watched it drain the color from her fhere were simply no promises to give her.
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and stared dismissively over his shoulder. As though she were done with him.
And God help him, he couldn’t blame her.
* * *
ARMY TRANSPORT
FLIGHT TO WASHINGTON, D.C.
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
She was sleeping. Soft lips were parted, innocently belying the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the smudge of tearstains on her soft, pale cheeks.
Tariq simply could not believe his cousin’s stupidity. As if he and every man in the army helicopter hadn’t seen Abram’s gentle though destructive rejection of her.
Sitting in the netted area that posed as the passenger seat, he watched her sleep and wondered what Abram was thinking by walking away from her.
“I have to say, you’re a dumber bastard than I thought you were,” he commented quietly, his voice just loud enough to assure that Abram heard him.
He glanced at his cousin, catching the look that Abram shot the sleeping beauty as well.
There wasn’t a chance in hell that Abram wasn’t regretting any thought of walking away from her.
“I have enough ghosts haunting me.” Abram sighed. “I can’t add to them, Tariq. I don’t have the promises she needs.”
“She’s a woman, not a ghost,” Tariq objected with an edge of disgust. “And I didn’t hear her asking for any damned thing.”
Hell, talking to Abram was like talking to a wall, with the exception that the wall was probably more receptive on occasion.
“Let’s keep it that way,” Abram suggested, his tone caustic as he leaned closer to be heard over the sounds of the plane’s engines.
Tariq sat silently for long moments. He needed to figure this one out, quickly, before his cousin made the dumbest mistake of his life.
“Well, if you’re walking away then you can’t have a problem with me trying a hand at her heart, right?”
The look Abram turned on him promised violence. “Stay the f**k away from her.”
Tariq stared back at him, their gazes locked in a battle of wills that neither were used to.eight="0em">
“Tell me, Abram, do you think every man you give that order to is going to obey? Do you think Jafar considers this battle done in any way? That it’s over?” His brow lifted as he leaned back into the heavy interlocking straps of the cargo seat. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah, here’s a better one,” he suggested. “When you’ve completely f**ked up, figured out where you f**ked up, and convinced yourself you can fix it, do you really believe she’s going to be sitting home alone, just waiting on you?”
Tariq had no doubt that was exactly what Abram thought. His arrogance could only be bested by Khalid’s or Jafar’s.
“Stay the hell away from her,” Abram repeated. “It’s my fault she was placed in danger this time. If it’s your fault the next time, then I’ll have someone’s ass to kick to make me feel better. I can ensure that ass kicking is yours.”