Talon: Combat Tracking Team (A Breed Apart) (54 page)

“You never smile.”

Cardinal sat back with a thump against the pew. Aspen’s soft words played over in his mind, tormenting him. If he could get her back—alive—he’d smile for her every day of the year. She’d be the reason for those smiles.

Which was why he had to do this. Why he had to accept that the fisher/beggar man, whoever—or whatever—he was, had delivered a message.

Much like the one who had lured him into his current profession.

Sitting in this very cathedral, agony the only warmth in life during the hard, bitter winter that defined his life. It’d been ten winters since his mother’s burial. And that’s all—a burial. Outside a small church. No service. The colonel had refused. To do anything, including acknowledge that she had been his mistress. That she had given birth to his son.

Thanks to the man on the beach, Cardinal realized his inaction regarding Aspen mirrored that of his father’s. Refusing to dip his baton into the cauldron he’d stirred. Refusing to accept responsibility for the mistress he’d used and the son he’d fathered.

The only reason Aspen got snatched was because of Cardinal.

No.

Not Cardinal. That moniker belonged to the man sitting here now. A man who’d built his life with strategic moves, building block upon block. Creating a fortress between himself and the past. The pain. The shame. The very name…Nikol.

Just hearing the name internally whipped him. Made him feel like he lay on the stripped mattress in the dark, icy room. Punishment came in forms of deprivation. No heat in his room. No bedding. No dinner. Things mattered little to him when he could conjure up images of his mom.
Or Kalyna
.

His father could rape his mind, but he would never touch Kalyna. That thought seed had dug deep roots, enabled him to endure just about everything. Especially after their mother died. But then, he’d had to stop visiting Kalyna. Things got dangerous. For her. For him. It was the greatest coup he pulled on the colonel, hiding her existence. A great victory his mother took to her grave.

He’d lost her…lost Kalyna in the years, in the distance that grew between them. Both physical and emotional.

He peeked up through his brows at the colorful glass sparkling in the high walls and the brilliant frescoes stretching across the domes…straight to the one that held his heart. The angel.

Then the angel flew
.

Angel…his mom…Aspen…

Cardinal blew out a breath and closed his eyes. “I’m here…” Was he really talking to God? He’d never cemented his stance on that existence of the deity. Sitting in cathedral after cathedral soothed his soul. Used the time to think. To sort out whatever problem or situation he’d found himself in. But he’d stopped, every time, short of acknowledging God.

“But You didn’t do that to me, did You?”

Thoughts flitted from the moment Burnett put Aspen in his path, knowing full well that had Cardinal known she was a woman, the mission would’ve ended before it started. Then seeing Aspen for the first time. Sunlight filtering through her halolike curls. Then he’d crumbled beneath the fear, the frantic possibility of losing control and hurting Aspen. Her finding him at St. Mary’s in Austin. Then Burnett “marrying” them. Then Aspen’s declaration of love. Something Cardinal didn’t deserve. And at the time shunned her and the thought, though everything in him wanted to seize it. Then to the beggar. Who fed him. Not just fish but courage. Purpose. Fuel to the fire that simmered in his gut.

Acknowledge God
.

He avoided that—out of fear. Afraid of being vulnerable. Afraid of letting go…Because then, what did he have to fuel him? Drive him? Keep him focused?

He wasn’t sitting here because he was trying to talk himself out of this. He knew what he had to do. That was just it. Confronting the colonel—
general now
…

He sloughed his palms together, wishing he could slough off the past. Wished the lethal and cunning precision he’d exerted in his profession could bleed into this situation. But the terror that suffocated his character as a teen surged to the front of his mind. That man…nobody held power over him the way the colonel did.

The kid inside him, the one who never had a childhood but a strict, militaristic, authoritarian upbringing, screamed to run. Flee Mother Russia before the general could do something.

“God…he…I can’t…” Cardinal pushed back and pressed his spine against the wood of the pew. Weak. Weak. Weak. Thirty-three years old and still as petrified as at ten.

Pathetic
.

Weak
.

“You sit in cathedrals longing for something you think you can never have because you’re too afraid to reach for it.”

He hung his head. Aspen was right. But there’d been no condemnation in her voice. Only hurt—for him.
She believes in me
.

Like my mother
.

His eyes traced the stained glass, the relics that held symbolic power. “Like You.” Something inside him heated. “You believed in me, didn’t You? Drew me here, to Yourself?”

The thought solidified. Gave him purpose. “God, I’m not going to let Aspen down.” He swallowed the swell of panic. Felt the acid roiling through his gut. “I ask nothing for myself—save this one guilty pleasure: Help me save her.”

Knowing he could save her, knowing he could thwart the colonel one last time…Facing Vasily Tselekova. Confronting him. Bringing all Cardinal was and knew to bear on this man…He nodded. Yes, he would die in peace.

Resolve hardened in his chest. He glanced to the cross over the altar. “Help me do this. Please. If she lives, I can die in peace. I am willing to do that. For her.” Conviction, a familiar yet entirely new agony boomed through him with adrenaline. “Please.”

And that’s exactly what would happen.

Cardinal pushed up from the pew and strode out the side door. Greedy sunlight rushed into him, momentarily blinded him. A soft, wet nose nudged his hand. A smile threatened his stiff composure. He paused and knelt.

Talon stepped in closer and sat.

Arms wrapped around the Lab’s chest, Cardinal ran a hand across the broad skull. “Thank you, boy. For your trust. For your cooperation.” Incredible that he didn’t feel odd talking to a dog. “She loves you, and I know you love her. We’ll find her soon. Just…” His gaze drifted over the stone sentries peppering the grounds. “Give me a minute.” He patted Talon then stood.

Squinting against the sun, he strode down the bricked main path. Turned right then strolled down the square stone path. Trees loomed overhead, wooden guardians of the granite coffins, sarcophagi, grave sites fenced in wrought iron…

Cardinal walked on, feeling the chill of that day. The terrible time of aloneness that engulfed him. Mother was in a better place, where she would be loved and treasured as she should have been on this earth. His father was a different, crueler man from that day forward.

Could it be possible…had the colonel loved her?

Or was he simply furious that he’d been pushed beyond the bounds of his self-control?

Cardinal turned down a narrow alley, noting the vines snaking around the iron and soapstone crosses, angels, and plain headstones. At the pauper’s section, he wove a few more rows down then slowed.

Warmth flooded him as the past assaulted his mind.

Beneath his boots snow crunched loud and obnoxious. As if heralding his presence
.

Nikol pressed himself against the bare-limbed tree, holding the bark as if it could save him from this nightmare. As if it gave him hope
.

The earth, not too hard for burial, mounded to the left. Concealing the hole. Two men dressed in old trousers, jackets, and hats wielded shovels with such skill, Nikol knew they’d performed the soulless tasks of burial many times
.

But he hadn’t. And the thought of trespassing over the bodies of those who’d walked these places before him poked at his courage
.

He should be ashamed! To stand here when she…

Something tickled his cheek. He scratched it, his fingers cold and hurting
.
Wet. Tears?
The colonel will kill me!
He scrubbed his face—

Thunk! Thunk-thunk.

Nikol stilled. Stepped out from behind the tree
.

Laughter carried on the icy wind as more thunks and thuds joined the voices. Taunting
.

He punched his way across the snow. No, they couldn’t bury her yet! He hadn’t said good-bye
. “Podozhdite.”
Oh, please wait. “Stop!”

One glanced over his shoulder, surprise etched in his face when his gaze hit Nikol. The man straightened
.

“Podozhdite. Pozhaluǐsta.”
Please, he begged again. By the time he reached the mound, the sight on the other side of the large rectangle they’d dug, Nikol couldn’t move. The box…so thin. So little to protect her. Heat and water ran down his cheeks. “Mama…” Seeing that coffin, that box…things became real. Hellish. He was alone. No strength, no hope to light his day
,
anxious to see her once more when his father felt “weak.”

She was gone. Gone! No no no no! He launched over the mound, sliding over the dirt. He dropped to his knees next to the flimsy coffin. He threw himself over the top. Sobbing
. “Nyet, ne ostavlyaǐ menya.” No, please, please don’t leave me.

But, of course, she had. Not of her own choice. She died in her attempt to free him. Irony at its best—worst?—she ultimately freed herself. Completely.

“You are predictable.”

The soft, feminine voice drew Cardinal up. Around. He stumbled back. Blinked. Heart careening at the image before him. Waves of amber hair. Wide mahogany eyes.
Mama?
No, no it was impossible.

She smirked as two men joined her. “Predictable,” she said, her words thickened by her Russian accent. “Just as he predicted.”

Cardinal glanced back to the headstone. To the name engraved: Элиана Маркоски. The Cyrllic lettering that spelled E
LIANA
M
ARKOSKI
. Checked the dates. Yes, she died.
Shake it off
. This girl, this young girl, whoever she was…

Her gaze skidded from his to the headstone. Blue eyes seemed to absorb the information on the plain stone. Something blinked in her eyes. Flashed through her expression as she slowly dragged her attention back to him. Her mouth parted.

He flashed back more than nearly two decades. To the young girl in the woods, watching him. Calling after him. Cardinal hauled in a breath and let it out with her name. “Kalyna?”

    Forty-One