Fatal Honor: Shadow Force International (36 page)

“Did she give up the location of her father’s hideout?”

“Wasn’t necessary. Your Romanian relatives, the Gypsies? One of them contacted Miles a few hours ago to let him know they had tracked down Blackwater’s camp. Apparently, you shared with them your search for the terrorist and after you left, they started their own search in order to assist your efforts. Miles was already on the plane back to the States, but I was able to alert the proper authorities. There’s a SEAL team on their way to the camp as we speak.”

Renalda had come through for her. Madeena had not had to give up her father. Two plusses out of so many negatives. “You said Miles was headed back. From where? You sent him on a mission that soon after he nearly died in Romania?”

“There was an issue with Nicolae Bourean. Miles insisted on taking care of it himself.”

“Issue?” Charlotte struggled to sit upright, felt a fresh dagger of pain rip through her thigh. “What issue?”

Beatrice pushed a button on the remote lying next to Charlotte’s arm and lifted the head of the bed. “SIS didn’t make it out of Romania with him. I suspect Norris had a hand in notifying the Romanian government about what was going down at the compound and they stopped the extraction at the border. Your government and the Romanians butted heads over jurisdiction and SIS was forced to turn Bourean over to the Romanian authorities. Within hours, he escaped, most likely because of a bribe or threat of some kind towards his captors.”

Nico was on the loose again. Blackwater was still free—hopefully not for long, but the man hadn’t stayed under the radar all of these years by being careless. “So all of that, everything we went through, was for nothing.”

“You saved the girl.”

True. Maybe that was enough. “Madeena is in danger if her father and Nico are still running loose.”

“Nicolae Bourean will never hurt anyone again, I assure you.” Beatrice’s blue eyes were sharp, calculating. “Miles and one of my other men, one you met who happens to be the best assassin the United States military ever had, found Bourean with no trouble. They extracted swift but necessary justice for you and Madeena. Miles told me he couldn’t rest until he knew Bourean had paid for his crimes against you. You need not worry about the Romanian crime lord ever again.”

Swift but necessary justice
. Charlotte shivered under the blankets, the scent of laundry detergent and bleach reaching her nose. “I wouldn’t blame Miles if he never wanted to see me again. I’ve caused him so much trouble.”

Beatrice waddled over to the table under the TV in the corner. A large, black bag sat on the tabletop. She rifled through it and returned with a book. “He said to give you this. You would know what it meant.”

Charlotte’s heart did a funny cartwheel. She rubbed a hand over the dust jacket and brought the book to her chest, hugging it.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
. He’d remembered her favorite book.

“He said there’s a message inside,” Beatrice said, lifting the bag and slinging the straps over her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to read it.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte said. “For everything.”

“Some day I’ll ask for a favor in return. An operative of your caliber could be useful to me and my team.” Beatrice pointed to a cell phone lying on the side table next to the bed. “If you need anything, my number is the first speed dial button. You can reach Miles with the second. I’ll alert the nurses you’re awake.”

“Beatrice?”

She stopped at the door.

“If I want to adopt Madeena, do you think that’s possible?”

The woman’s hand went to her belly. “I have friends involved in a similar situation in San Diego with a drug lord’s sister they wish to adopt. A weird dynamic, but I think Sophie and Nelson are going to pull it off. I’ll give them your contact info, Agent Carstons. They may be of assistance.”

“Please, call me Charlie. All my friends do.”

“Good bye, Charlie.”

“
Kushti bok
, Beatrice.” At the woman’s curious look, she explained. “It means good luck. Gypsies never say goodbye.”

Beatrice smiled. The door closed quietly behind her.

Charlotte let out a breath, hopes and plans colliding in her brain.

Then she opened the book to find the message Miles had left inside.

Chapter Twenty-five

_____________________

______________________________________________________

H
E’D
W
AITED
F
OR
Charlotte to call but she hadn’t. Beatrice insisted she’d left Charlotte a cell phone, his number on speed dial.

No calls. No texts. No nothing.

Service was spotty in the Carpathians, he’d told himself. Even on board the Shadow Force International jet back home, he’d hoped it was simply lack of service that kept Charlotte from getting through to him.

Of course, Beatrice hadn’t found it difficult. She’d kept him updated on Charlotte’s condition, on the status of the MI6 investigation, and warned him he would be called on to answer a bevy of questions regarding his assistance in taking down one of MI6’s most decorated operatives, regardless that the man was an asshat who’d broken as many laws as he had commendations in his folder.

Beatrice suspected MI6 and the Queen would sweep most of Norris’ deeds under the carpet in order not to expose the holes in their spy service.

Miles suspected Beatrice had told the Queen to leave him alone or she would personally make sure the BBC aired all their dirt.

Maybe the book had been a stupid idea. Charlotte had almost died, for God’s sake. Maybe the message—the way he’d left it—brought back memories best left forgotten.

But Miles knew in his gut why Charlotte hadn’t called him.

He’d betrayed her.

CB Norris had spilled the information about Miles and his SEAL team’s mission. How they’d been part of the group hunting for Charlotte. He knew he should have told her a hundred times over, but he hadn’t. His time in the cabin with her had been a surreal experience. He’d known she was the MI6 operative the SIS boys had been looking for, the one Andy had warned him about. But he’d had no proof, and he hadn’t wanted to believe it anyway. When Charlotte had shown up on his door step a week ago, Miles had thought it no longer mattered.

Sunrise painted the horizon in pale peaches. Miles shaded his eyes as he disembarked from the plane, Trace Hunter on his heels.

They were both jet lagged and worn out. At least Miles was. Hunter looked like he was ready to take on another crime lord-terrorist pairing as he jogged toward a black SUV waiting for them on the tarmac. “Sure you don’t want to swing by SFI and clean up?” Hunter called over his shoulder. “You smell like a goat, man.”

Miles sniffed at his shirt. Hunter was right. “I’ll wash what I can here in the lavatory. I need to get to the hospital.”

Hunter stopped and waved a hand at the terminal. “Go. Wash up. I’ll wait for you. I can drop you there on the way.”

The hospital was not on the way, but Miles appreciated the taxi service. He jogged inside and did a quick wash off with paper towels and liquid soap.

At the hospital twenty minutes later, Hunter pulled into the west lot and parked.

“You don’t have to go in with me,” Miles said. “I know you have someone waiting for you.”

He also knew Hunter hated hospitals. The last time he’d been here, his fiancee had been fighting for her life. Luckily, she’d made it. They were planning a big wedding next summer.

“Are you kidding?” Hunter grinned. Not something that happened all that much. It was sort of menacing, like the rest of the guy. “And pass up the chance to hit their infamous Vendo-land?”

Hunter knew Charlotte hadn’t called Miles. He feared Miles was about to get his heart stomped on.

That made two of them.

Miles appreciated the backup. “If you’re going to be my wingman, I need M&Ms.”

“I’m on it.”

They bailed from the truck and Miles noticed the snow was melting. Spring was weeks away, but the preview was nice. He itched to get back to San Diego and some sunshine.

But sunshine and warm temps would mean nothing if Charlotte wasn’t by his side.

Hunter turned off for the first floor vending machines. Miles headed to the elevator. Charlotte had been moved to the third floor after an overnight stay in intensive care. Beatrice had told him Charlotte’s doctor was pleased with her progress after such a severe injury.

Miles was pleased, too, but not surprised. Charlotte was one of the toughest women he knew. She put some of the men he’d been in the field with to shame with her willpower and steadfast courage.

Upstairs, he passed the nurse’s station and found her room. Taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair, he hesitated a moment at the closed door. Why hadn’t she called him? Why hadn’t she responded to his message?

Nerves twisted his stomach in knots. Slowly, he eased open the heavy door and peeked inside. “Charlotte?”

No answer. Balloons floated in the sunlight streaming through the window. The TV was off; the room silent.

Miles stepped in. The bed was made, the copy of the book he’d given her lying on the pillow. A sticky note was stuck to the top with his name in bold, black letters scrawled across it.

His heart sunk.

With leaden feet, he crossed the tiled floor and ran his fingers over the edges of the book.

Charlotte had bulldozed into his life twice, knocking him sideways. Now, here he was, holding nothing once more, because even with her injuries, she’d managed to run off.

He punched the pillow, the book flying off to hit the floor.

The front cover popped open on impact. A beam of sunlight cut across the title page.

Gutted, Miles leaned over to pick up the book when he saw pencil marks on the page.

It took him a second to follow the circled letters. Understanding nearly made him drop to his knees.

Snatching up the book, he ran out the door to the nurse’s station. A plump redhead was sorting files and startled when he slapped the countertop with his palm. “Charlotte Carstons, room 338. She’s not in her room. Do you know where she is? Is she having tests or something?”

The nurse’s eyes did a once over, and even though he looked like hell and still smelled like he’d slept with goats, she smiled. “Let me have a look, sugar, and we’ll see.”

A door at the end of the hall swung open and Hunter popped his head in. “Hey, man, she’s in physical therapy. I just saw her.”

Miles banged on the counter. “Thanks, anyway,” he said and took off down the corridor at a run.

Hunter led him down the stairs to the first floor, past the entrance and to a separate wing of the hospital.

“What’s she doing in PT already?” Miles asked, not expecting Hunter to know. “She had major surgery two days ago.”

“I don’t know.” He pushed through a double door that had Physical Therapy spelled out over it. “But that’s where I saw her when I was wandering.”

Sure enough, as Miles came to a standstill looking out over the open PT area, he spotted Charlotte sitting on a table talking to a therapist.

Arguing might be more like it. Charlotte was talking, but the gal in white listening had her arms crossed and was shaking her head.

Charlotte’s left leg was in a partial cast, her right ankle wrapped. A padded and bandaged arm stuck out from under her hospital gown sleeve. Her hair was up and he could see the stitches at the base of her skull. She looked like she’d gone three rounds with a bear.

To him, she’d never looked better.

Miles skirted through some elderly patients lifting small hand weights and others pedaling bikes.

“But I have to,” Charlotte was saying to the therapist. “It’s the most important day of my life.”

The woman’s ponytail bobbed from side to side as she shook her head. “I’m all for starting as soon as you can, but this is ridiculous. The doctor hasn’t okayed it. You can barely sit upright. You still have a cast on.”

Miles chuckled to himself. Nothing and no one could stop Charlotte once she put her mind to something. “I wouldn’t waste your breath arguing with her,” Miles said, approaching the table. “Besides, she’s a glutton for punishment.”

Charlotte’s eyes swung to Miles, widening in surprise. “You’re back!”

She hoisted herself off the table, nearly toppling into the therapist as her casted leg refused to bend while the good leg did. For half a second, she was suspended in mid-fall before Miles caught her.

The book crashed to the floor once more.

Several patients nearby stopped what they were doing to watch. Charlotte threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I got your message.”

He’d painstakingly gone through the first chapter and circled the letters to spell out
I-l-o-v-e-y-o-u-w-i-l-l-y-o-u-m-a-r-r-y-m-e?
“I got yours too.”

Three little letters. She’d found all three on the title page, not even bothering to string them out so he had to actually look for them.

Y.

E.