Darkest Before Dawn

P.J. was not a woman to allow herself to seem weak or in need of protection or comfort in front of others. She was a fucking fierce warrior. Honor was every bit as fierce, just in a different way.

“I would be the logical choice,” Skylar said calmly.

The entire cabin exploded with a chorus that ranged from Hell no to Over my dead body! Edge stood, the big man seeming to take up the entire space of the already cramped cabin, his eyes glittering with rage.

“You will not do this, Sky.”

“You aren’t my team leader, Zane,” Skylar said gently, using his real name.

The two roomed together and were close friends. Best friends. There was nothing romantic to their relationship. It was more one of close siblings. But that didn’t mean Edge wasn’t fiercely protective of her.

“No, but we are,” Nathan said in a hard voice, thumbing his chest and then in Joe’s direction. “And we aren’t risking you as fucking bait. Never again will we put someone in the position P.J. was forced into. She paid the ultimate price and we damn near lost her. We will not lose you. And that’s an order.”

Skylar sent them all an exasperated look. She and P.J. exchanged quick looks of sisterhood and the equivalent of a mental eye roll. They were highly trained, lethal weapons, equal to their male counterparts in the KGI organization, but above all, KGI cherished and protected their women. All of them. Wives, sisters, mothers. And even their teammates.

“If we needed a male to use as bait, would any of you even hesitate to volunteer?” Skylar challenged. “I distinctly remember Nathan taking the place of the pilot of the plane that was going to fly Maren and Caldwell to wherever the fuck he was taking her. No one made any bones about risking him.”

The KGI men exchanged uneasy looks because they were well and truly fucked. If they insisted on not risking Skylar, it sent the wrong message. That she wasn’t an equal when she was in every possible way. That they didn’t trust her to be able to take care of herself and do her job.

“Just listen to me before you hand down your decree from on high,” Skylar said with heavy sarcasm.

“Honor is small. We’re almost exactly the same height. She’s thinner than me, but she’s been through hell so that’s to be expected. But we’re both blond and I don’t have to get up close and personal for them to get a detailed look. They just need to see who they think is Honor trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey about to be delivered to ANE.

“We bruise me up. Not literally,” she added hastily when every single expression in the plane blackened to rage. “Makeup is a useful tool. We make me appear as she was when we found her. And I’ll pretend unconsciousness, which they would expect since they seem to have a predilection for drugged women,” she added in disgust.

“The point is, me being Honor gets us in. The rest is up to us, Resnick’s teams and whoever the hell else Uncle Sam decides to send. You know it’s a damn good plan and if you’d set aside your manly thirteenth-century egos for two seconds, you’d recognize that it’s the only way we achieve our objective.”

“Well fuck,” Garrett muttered.

Edge didn’t look any happier than he had in the beginning, but he pressed his lips together, obviously refusing to give voice to the torrent of objections he wanted to launch.

“She’s right,” Sam said quietly. “Goddamn it, I don’t have to like it—I don’t like it. I fucking hate it—but she’s right. But I want her covered at all times.”

P.J. reached over and squeezed Skylar’s hand. “Thank you. I didn’t intend for you to do it. I wasn’t setting you up to be the bait. I would have done it, dyed my hair, whatever. But . . .”

She looked embarrassed and vulnerable, enough so for Cole to slide his hand around her nape and squeeze gently in comfort and support.

“I’m not sure I could have done it,” P.J. admitted. “I don’t know if I could trust myself not to freak out, and that shames me, especially since I’m relieved that you’ll be doing it and not me. It makes me a fucking coward,” she added in disgust, emotion glittering brightly in eyes that were usually unreadable.

Hancock had had enough of this brave woman browbeating herself when she was one of the fiercest women he’d ever known. He stalked over to her, ignoring the fact that Cole immediately bristled and tried to maneuver P.J. behind him.

Hancock stopped in front of P.J. and knelt so he was on eye level with her.

“Don’t you ever call yourself a fucking coward,” he said, allowing every bit of his pissed-off tone to be heard. “You have the heart of a warrior and you are one of the bravest people—that’s right, people, not women—I’ve ever known. I have no doubt you could take down every single one of your team members in a fight and they know it. We all know it. What you did, what you went through was the most selfless act I’ve ever witnessed. Until Honor . . .”

He trailed off as sorrow filled his voice.

Cole looked stunned by Hancock’s impassioned defense of P.J. Respect glimmered in his eyes as he and Hancock exchanged a look of understanding. The rest of KGI didn’t look any less astonished. Except Rio, who looked as though he would have expected nothing less.

Hancock collected himself, because he wasn’t finished. He abruptly got up and then went to where Skylar sat, and as he had with P.J., he knelt and took both her hands in his, making sure his touch was gentle and not bruising because of the seething rage imprinted in his bones.