After the second dose, she no longer had to force herself into a deep, dark hole. Her surroundings fuzzed and she drifted with the wind, feeling no pain or anxiety. Before she knew it, Conrad had finished and efficiently bandaged the wound after thoroughly cleaning it.

“We have a long drive. You should sleep,” Conrad said gruffly. “The pain meds will help and you won’t be aware of the bumpy terrain, nor will it cause you undue pain.”

She nodded slowly, her reflexes dulled. And then fear took hold and her eyes flew open when she had just about drifted into oblivion.

“I’m helpless like this,” she said in a panicked voice. “What if we run into trouble? I’ll be completely useless. I’ll get us all killed.”

It was the same argument she’d used before when she’d been heavily medicated, only this time no amusement glimmered in Hancock’s eyes as it had the first time she’d said nearly those exact words. In fact, utter seriousness was etched into his expression. Gravity and promise glittered brightly in his eyes and she drew comfort from the wordless exchange between them. Sometimes a single look said a thousand words.

Hancock put his hand to her forehead and wiped her hair back from her brow.

“You don’t worry about that. You’ll be of no use to us if you don’t rest and recover. We will protect you. Now go to sleep, Honor. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

She frowned, but the pull of the medication was making her swimmy and she could no longer fight its effects.

Summoning her last moments of coherency, she gripped Conrad’s hand, thinking he would be more willing to listen to her demand than Hancock.

“Promise me,” she said, shocked at how difficult it was to get the words past her lips. “Promise me that if I hinder you in any way, you’ll leave me and save yourselves. I’ve cheated death multiple times already. It’s only a matter of time before death wins, and I refuse to allow you to die trying to prevent the inevitable.”

Conrad’s response was explosive. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

But she had already slipped under, fading away under the spell of the medication.

Conrad turned his furious gaze on his team leader, who didn’t look any happier over Honor’s demand.

“Jesus Christ,” Conrad muttered. “Is she for real?”

“Yes, she is,” Hancock said quietly. “Which makes our betrayal of her all the more reprehensible.”

Conrad’s lips formed a tight white line, anger and helpless rage flashing in his eyes.

“There has to be another way, Hancock. One that doesn’t involve fucking over an innocent woman.”

“Don’t you think I’ve weighed all the options?” Hancock snapped, his carefully constructed control fraying precariously. He was displaying uncharacteristic emotion. But then so too were his men. “Don’t you think if I had any other way to take Maksimov down, I’d do it? Honor is our only means of getting close enough to Maksimov to take him out for good. If there was a way, any other way, I’d jump all over it and send Honor home in a heartbeat, but goddamn it, she is the only way. We don’t have to like it. We don’t fucking like it. But it doesn’t change what has to be.”

His words were laced with bitterness. Anger, self-loathing. Regret. Guilt. Things he never allowed himself to feel—things he hadn’t though himself capable of feeling—because to do so was asking for failure. And he would not fail a third time. Too many lives depended on this, his final—and only—remaining shot at taking Maksimov out for good.

“She doesn’t deserve this from any of us,” Conrad said bitterly.

Hancock sighed because damn it, this was precisely what he didn’t want to happen. His men respected Honor, admired her courage and resiliency, and where before they’d never suffered a fit of conscience over doing the job, now they were adamantly opposed to handing Honor over to unspeakable torture and eventual death. Hell, it would be kinder if they just shot her and got it over with. But then Maksimov would elude them again. It always came back to that. Maksimov and their relentless pursuit of a monster the likes of which the world had never known. At any cost. Goddamn it. Any cost. Honor. She was the cost of succeeding in their mission and he hated himself for not having any other way. No other choice. He’d have to live with his goddamn conscience for the rest of his life.

“No, she doesn’t deserve this,” Hancock admitted. “But we have no choice, Conrad. You know that and it’s why you’re so pissed. Maksimov is responsible for countless deaths and endless misery and suffering. He has to be taken down, no matter what it takes. I don’t like it any more than you do, but the mission comes first. As does the greater good.”

“If I never hear ‘for the greater good’ again it’ll be too soon,” Conrad spat.

Hancock was just as sick of carrying that flag and adhering to that motto, but he didn’t say as much to his man. If he showed any weakness, any reluctance to carry out the mission they were charged with, his men would revolt. And he couldn’t afford that. They were too close. He could taste victory. Smell it. Could envision Maksimov’s death and the end of a reign of terror unlike any other in the world.

Conrad’s face was contorted in a scowl, and he packed the supplies back into the med kit and then crawled over the backseat, leaving Hancock with the unconscious Honor.

Hancock didn’t move for a long time. He merely remained on his knees staring down at a brave woman. The bravest woman he’d ever encountered. The most selfless woman he’d ever met. And he hated himself for what he must do.

Finally he eased himself down and lay beside her, so his body was flush against hers. Paying heed to her injured side, he tucked one arm beneath her head so it was pillowed and didn’t absorb the hard bumps as they raced across the terrain.

Then he slid his other arm over her abdomen, holding her gently against him, and then lay his head next to hers, offering comfort even while she slept.

CHAPTER 14

“GIVE her a tranquilizer,” Hancock said grimly to Conrad. “I don’t want her to see us getting on the plane. It will give her false hope and I’m not going to lie to her. It’s better if she isn’t aware of what’s going on until we get to Bristow.”

“Bad mojo,” Mojo muttered, a deep scowl on his battered features.

Viper, Henderson and Copeland didn’t look any less pissed.

“Nothing like turning a lamb loose among a pack of wolves,” Copeland said in disgust.

“Look,” Hancock said, simmering with impatience. “I don’t like it any more than you all do. I’m not a complete heartless bastard.” Even if until recent times he would have argued to the death that he was anything but just that. An unfeeling asshole whose soul was black and his heart long ago gone. He didn’t regret saving Elizabeth, an innocent twelve-year-old girl. He didn’t regret saving Grace, Rio’s wife. And he damn sure didn’t regret letting Maksimov slip through his fingers again to save Maren, a woman who was good to her toes and had a heart as big as China. But this time, he couldn’t allow guilt, conscience or anything else to deter him from his mission. “But Maksimov has to be taken down. I let emotion cloud my judgment, not once, but twice when I was this close to taking Maksimov out. We won’t get another opportunity. This is our last and only chance. Do I like what we have to do? Hell no. But can you live with your conscience if we save one woman at the expense of hundreds of thousands? Because Maksimov grows bolder and more powerful by the day. If he isn’t stopped, many will suffer. If we stop him, only one suffers. Honor.”