So much regret surged through his body, heart, mind and soul. For a moment he simply gathered her in his arms and held on, burying his face in her soft neck. He inhaled deeply, wanting to savor this one moment in time when there were no impossible barriers between them to breach.
He grieved silently, holding the woman who’d forever changed the course of his fate—his destiny—the very direction of his entire future. And then he once more reached for and embraced the familiar, icy chill of indifference. He made the transition from a man with humanity, a soul, to an emotionless killer. A machine programmed to carry out the mission at all cost. Or die trying.
Without a word, he bent and carefully gathered her in his arms before rising with her. He strode to the door and into the hall where his men waited, having shed any remaining vestiges of his deep connection to Honor, refusing to contemplate that he could very well be taking her to her death.
They all had grim expressions, having no more liking for the task than Hancock did. But they had no choice. It was their only chance to save Honor. And finally take down Maksimov. God help them all if they failed.
God help the world if Honor was lost and Hancock survived. Because no one would be able to stop him. Not even the devil himself.
CHAPTER 31
THE members of Titan crept silently through the brush, circumventing the route Maksimov had outlined so they’d surround him and come in behind him where he thought he would be safe. They’d spent countless hours, considering every angle, every possibility, preparing for the worst-case scenario and the easiest. After all, sometimes the path of least resistance was . . . just that.
For the first time, Hancock didn’t lead his men as he always did, placing himself between him and his team. His team—their safety—was his responsibility, but today Honor was his sole objective.
The others encircled him and Honor, forming a protective barrier around him and the unconscious woman he held so carefully in his arms. He’d ensured that the drug he’d given her was strong so there was no chance she’d regain consciousness until it was all over with and she’d awaken in his arms, safe with the knowledge that it was over. That Maksimov was no longer a threat and she was finally safe. Beyond the reach of ANE.
And well, a few planted seeds, leaks to the right media outlets, and a sensational story would spread like wildfire that Honor Cambridge had died at the hands of ANE. It would save face for them and appease their sense of dishonor. Their public image was everything and as long as Honor kept a low profile, she would be safe within the confines of the United States.
But they were going to have a serious come-to-Jesus meeting about her vow not to let ANE disrupt her work. She was never going back to her old job. Over his dead body would she put herself in that kind of jeopardy again, and he knew he’d have allies with her family.
She’d told him that they had desperately tried to dissuade her from going but that in the end, they’d supported her decision. When they knew the truth—and they would know the full truth, minus the gory details that did them no good to dream about at night—they would ally themselves with him and be just as determined to keep her out of harm’s way.
A prickle of alarm, a shift in the air, brought unease knotting Hancock’s gut. And he always listened to his gut. Even as he shifted Honor from the cradling position he held her in to carefully place her in a fireman’s hold so he could free the hand that already gripped the stock of his pistol, he heard Mojo’s muttered “Bad mojo.”
A sentiment shared by his other teammates as they stopped and sniffed the air like predators on the hunt. Or prey, measuring their opponent.