Squeezing his eyes shut, Liam pushed out a hard exhalation and allowed himself to rest in her arms a while longer, dreading what was coming. Silence settled over them as their breathing returned to normal, an ominous quiet filling the room. Gradually he felt the subtle tension taking hold of her body.
Though it felt like he was peeling his own skin away to pull out of her arms, he made himself roll off her and sit up, his back to her. Honor stayed quiet until he reached for his clothes and began pulling them on, steeling himself for what he was about to do.
“So that’s it?” she asked in a flat kind of resignation that made it feel like his heart was being crushed in an invisible vise.
Knowing he shouldn’t, he risked a glance at her anyway. She was sitting up, wearing his T-shirt again, watching him with desolate blue eyes.
“I gotta go to work,” he muttered, and stood, shaken by the emotional upheaval inside him. He’d tossed his boots at the side of the bed. He put them on, the enveloping silence going from uncomfortable to suffocating in the space of a few seconds. Shit, he didn’t know what to say to make this any easier. After what they’d just shared he was more conflicted than ever about what to do.
“I’ll miss you,” she murmured, and he caught the slight catch in her voice.
Ah, fuck.
He gritted his teeth. It would be so much easier if they could just hate each other. For a moment he considered saying something to make her do exactly that, but couldn’t. Even he wasn’t enough of an asshole to end things that way.
And that look on her face…
Against his better judgment, Liam sat back down on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms with a ragged sigh. Honor went willingly into his embrace, pressing her face to his chest as she hugged him tight in return.
“I’ll miss you too.” His own voice was rough with regret as he rubbed a hand over her back. Dammit, he should never have come here tonight. “I wish it could be different, but I just… I can’t do this anymore.” I’ll always love you but I can’t afford to let you back in again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. She held the power to destroy him, almost had the first time around.
No. Never again.
Except that didn’t seem like a good enough reason to keep his distance anymore. In fact, right now it sounded like a sorry-ass excuse.
Honor sucked in a ragged breath and managed a nod, as though she either understood or had expected his response.
Her bravery in the face of his rejection almost killed him. And dragging this out any longer would just be fucking cruel, to both of them. He had to be strong and do what needed to be done, no matter how hard it was. Even if the fear of going through life without her made him feel cold and empty inside, and even if he was starting to doubt his decision about this.
Releasing her, he stood and headed for the door, his chest full of concrete. He removed the chair from under the knob and paused with his hand on it. When he looked back at her she wiped her face and gave him a brave, wobbly smile that broke his heart all over again. And dammit, as he stood there he could feel himself caving, on the verge of blurting that he wanted to try and make it work again.
Which meant he had to get the hell out of there, because that was stupid fucking knee-jerk emotion talking. He needed time to think things through. Even if he was willing to forgive her and try to trust her again, logistics made a relationship impossible for now.
She was leaving for the other side of the world in two days. He had a war to fight here and he didn’t know when or if he’d be going back stateside.
And, the sad truth was, sometimes love simply wasn’t enough to keep two people together. So he would make this as final and humane as possible, put them both out of their misery this time.
“Take care of yourself,” she told him before he could continue.
He made himself nod once. Go. Leave now before you hurt her more or commit to something you’re not ready for yet. “You too,” he managed.
With nothing left to say, he turned and walked out into the cool night air, aware with every step that he was once again leaving his heart behind with her.
Chapter Thirteen
Safir accepted the hot cup of tea from Behzad with a smile of thanks and settled cross-legged on the rug spread on the dirt floor with his back to the wall. These day he couldn’t relax without having clear lines of sight to all exits in the room—and the only one in here was the narrow, rectangular doorway formed by an outline of rough mud bricks. Anwar was outside along with several of Gulab’s fighters. Qasim sat to Safir’s right, dividing his attention between the door and the meeting.
“I have more men to fight the next battle,” the warlord said to him in Pashto as he sipped at his own tea.
Behzad retreated to the far side of the room, a silent, stoic presence. Offering his home as a meeting place without getting involved in their business or expecting anything in return. Safir had decided he would hire the man to be his eyes and ears in this part of the tribal region in northwestern Pakistan. He could certainly use the money it would bring, and it would give him and his family some much needed security. Maybe even an easier life.
Safir turned his attention to Gulab. “How many?”
“Twenty-nine. Your latest videos have been very helpful so far.”
He seemed surprised about that. “It’s also raised almost a million U.S. dollars since it went live. More than enough to buy the weapons and supplies you wanted and pay for everything else I have going on.”
The man’s battle-hardened features went slack with surprise for a moment. “I did not realize…”
Safir shrugged. “We have many supporters the world over who are willing to help us get what we need. It’s my job to make sure we reach others like them who are sympathetic to our cause.”
His various contacts and other jihadists around the world, along with mainstream media, had made the video of the attack on Bagram go viral within two days. Even now, money from admirers and those who believed in their cause sent a steady stream of funds into the offshore accounts Safir had access to. Buried in a series of shell companies, of course.
Gulab appeared awestruck by the news. Or maybe simply the dollar amount. “You will make more of these videos?”
“Of course. But I have an important project to complete first.”
The man’s expression turned sly and curious. “Such as?”
“Something that will bring the war to the Americans’ doorstep.” He’d been working on this for months with Omar, one of the best hackers money could buy. The operation would blow a hole in U.S. security and strike a devastating psychological blow to the country.
If everything went as planned.
The inside man Safir’s people had secured was on the payroll, and via the Afghan local working on base, had been extremely helpful in providing details for the attack thus far. Safir had made certain that the man wasn’t linked directly to him, and he would continue to monitor the situation with extreme caution from afar.
“God is good,” Gulab murmured.
“Yes,” Safir said for the sake of ease, though he silently disagreed. If God was so good, then why were his people still suffering under the tyranny of the U.S.-led coalition? God would not bring back his dead relatives or heal the warriors injured while fighting in His name.
No, religion was merely a part of this, a tool to unite them against a common enemy. Once a man had nothing left to lose, power and revenge were all that really mattered, the only things worth fighting and risking his life for.
The radio on Qasim’s hip squawked. He rose and exited the house before answering it. Safir continued to listen to Gulab’s plans for operations in the area over the next few weeks, not really caring about any of it. All his focus now was on the upcoming attack in the U.S., involving technology that was way beyond this man’s or any other warlord’s comprehension.