28. Galahad
Galahad
“Then there was the time,” Arthur said, pointing at Merlin, “he drove our convoy into a flock of sheep and?—”
“It wasn’t a flock,” Merlin said. “It was three sheep.”
Arthur laughed, that full-throated kind of laugh that made people love him. “Three sheep that materialized out of nowhere on a mountain road.”
“They were behind a rock.”
“And you didn’t see them because you were?—”
“Checking the map.” Merlin’s eyes rose heavenward. Arthur told this story every time the two of them got into the same room. “The map was wrong, by the way. We would have driven off a cliff if I hadn’t caught it.”
“Would we, though?”
“Yes.”
“He’s been saying that for eight years.” Arthur turned to Grace. “There was no cliff, and he slammed the vehicle into that rock to avoid the hill and the sheep.”
“There was a steep embankment.”
“A hill, Merlin. It was a hill. And you still drove us into that rock.”
Grace had been laughing at the two of them for so long that tears streaked her cheeks.
The hotel restaurant was packed. White tablecloths, candles in glass holders, and the low murmur of other diners enjoying their meals.
The staff had treated us like royalty from the moment Arthur had said we were with Pendragon Security.
His father’s money and reputation carried weight in many places.
Radek and Ale? had positioned themselves near the entrance, close enough to respond if needed, far enough to give us privacy.
Grace leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “So what happened with the vehicle?”
“We told command it was enemy action,” Arthur said.
“Enemy action?”
“The sheep were very aggressive.”
Merlin’s mouth twitched. “One of them did try to eat Arthur’s bootlaces.”
“See?” Arthur pointed at Merlin again. “Hostile.”
Grace shook her head, still grinning. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“That’s the secret to Arthur,” Merlin said. “Nobody can.”
I reached for my water glass, hiding what might have been a smile.
The afternoon had included three hours of mapping out contingencies for tomorrow’s authentication after Grace had left to make her calls.
We’d brought in Tristan and Lance with updates, while Morganna confirmed she hadn’t learned more than she’d already reported.
Grace had stayed in Arthur’s room while the rest of us talked. When I’d checked on her at dinner time, she was curled up on the bed with her phone, reading. She’d looked up at me and smiled, and I’d stood there like an idiot for a full five seconds before remembering why I’d come to find her.
“What about you, Garrett?” Grace turned those green eyes on me. “Do you have any sheep stories?”
“No.”
“No embarrassing convoy incidents? No questionable map-reading?”
“I don’t read maps. That’s what GPS is for.”
“He’s exaggerating,” Arthur said. “Galahad was the best navigator on our Legacy team. He just doesn’t like admitting he’s good at things.”
“I’m adequate.”
“He guided us through a sandstorm once using nothing but a compass and spite.”
Grace raised an eyebrow at me. “Spite?”
“Merlin bet me I couldn’t do it.”
“No, no. I bet him he couldn’t do it blindfolded,” Merlin corrected. “He declined that part.”
“Because it was stupid.”
“It would have been impressive.”
“It would have gotten us killed.”
Grace’s ear-to-ear smile softened. “You guys really are a team, aren’t you? Like, not just coworkers. You’re family.”
The table went quiet for a beat.
“Something like that,” Arthur said.
Merlin raised his Scotch. “To family. The kind you choose.”
As I drank my water, Grace caught my eye over the rim of her wineglass.
She’d redone her makeup before we’d left for the restaurant, doing what she called a smoky eye that she claimed was required for a nice meal at an expensive restaurant.
I’d told her it was just us and the guys, but she’d insisted.
It was fucking sexy. But no more sexy than her with a clean face and her hair tied back when she was getting ready for bed. Hair up or down, makeup or none, pretty blouse or ragged sleep shirt, Grace was?—
Stop it, Garrett. This isn’t your life.
That was the dangerous part. Sitting here with my old teammates, with Grace fitting in as though she’d always been part of the group. She laughed at jokes and asked questions, and the whole thing made me feel like the world was a little less dark. Fuck, it felt like a life I could want.
But wanting things had never ended well for me.
“Jean told me about a dig site in the mountains?” Grace set down her glass. “He said it was one of the harder missions, but it wasn’t his story to tell.”
Arthur put his glass down, and his lips thinned. “It was a rough one.”
“That was one of our first sites, when we still thought we could handle anything,” Merlin said. “Word got out we’d found a cache of gold coins, and some local insurgents got interested.”
They’d probably been following our movements for weeks, hoping we’d find something so they could swoop in and take it. “We lost two of the archaeologists and had to abandon the site.”
Grace’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s fine.” Arthur picked up his fork and speared the last bite of his strudel. “It was a long time ago.”
“That’s the job,” Merlin added. “You do what you can, and sometimes it’s not enough.”
The candle between us flickered.
Dr. Rashid had spent forty years documenting Bactrian burial sites. His assistant, a young woman named Amira, had just finished her PhD. They’d trusted us to protect them, and we’d failed.
You do what you can. Sometimes it’s not enough.
That was the last time we’d failed so horribly. And I wasn’t going to fail again. Not for Grace.
“The coins made it to Kabul,” I said. “They were in the museum’s hands when we left.”
Merlin nodded. “But who knows where they are now. I think the Taliban is still searching for where the Tillya Tepe Bactrian Hoard went.”
Arthur reached for the bottle on the table, changing the topic at the right time. “More wine, anyone?”
The conversation drifted as the evening wore on.
Merlin explained the politics of museum acquisitions—who legally owned artifacts looted during wartime, and whether repatriation was justice or theft.
At Grace’s prodding, Arthur talked about his father’s art collection, their cottage in England, and a recent auction acquisition.
Grace asked questions about everything. What was the oldest thing we’d found? What was the strangest? Had we ever been tempted to keep an item for ourselves?
“Once,” Arthur admitted. “There was this coin. Alexander the Great’s face on one side, an elephant on the other. It fit perfectly in my palm. I thought about it.”
“But you didn’t?” she asked.
“Merlin would have lectured me for the rest of my life.”
“I would have,” Merlin confirmed. “I had a speech prepared.”
“It wasn’t for the gold,” Arthur said, holding out his hand as though the coin were still there, “but because it was Alexander. When I signed up for the military, I knew I’d be part of a longstanding and proud tradition.
But after I left and went to work at Pendragon Security, I was surprised by how much history I was part of, too. ”
I let the conversation wash over me. Let myself watch Grace’s face as she listened, the way she leaned in when something interested her, the way she tilted her head when she was thinking.
By the time we finished eating, the restaurant had mostly emptied. Our server had stopped by twice to ask if we wanted anything else, and twice Arthur had ordered another round of coffee to keep the table.
“We should probably let them close,” Grace said, glancing at the staff.
“Probably.” Arthur signaled for the check. “Caulfield’s supposed to arrive by three, so we’ll muster at eleven for brunch, eat, review our plans, and drive over in two vehicles.”
Arthur charged everything to his room, and we headed upstairs. When we stepped out of the elevator into the long hallway, the Pendragon night shift had already taken position. Radek and Ale? had gone home and would accompany us to Henri’s tomorrow.
We reached Grace’s room first. She stopped at her door and pulled out her keycard.
“I should check it out first,” I said, reaching for the card.
“That’s been taken care of,” said Arthur, gesturing to the men at his door, one of whom was heading our way.
Grace ran her teeth over her bottom lip, and my dick woke up, images of doing that to her lip myself flooding my brain. “Is this what it’s like to be famous?”
Arthur cocked his brow. “Famous?”
“All these…” She waved her hands vaguely at the trio of us, then at the Pendragon men. “I’ve got five bodyguards now, and someone checked my room’s safety when I wasn’t even on the same floor.”
“Four,” Merlin chuckled. “I’m no bodyguard.”
“Still, it’s a trip I won’t forget.” She smiled at Arthur and Merlin. “Thanks for dinner. And the sheep story. And...” She gestured vaguely. “All of it.”
“Get some rest,” Arthur said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
“Goodnight, Grace,” Merlin added.
She smiled at each of us and vanished into her room.
After a week as her shadow, not walking into the room with her felt wrong. As though the gravity between our hands was pulling at my entire body now.
“The Pendragon guys have her covered for the night,” Arthur said, as the second Pendragon operative came to a stop between Grace’s door and mine. “No need for you to camp out in the hallway.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” I wasn’t thinking like a bodyguard anymore. I was thinking like a man who wanted to be on the other side of the door, with her.
“Just making sure.” He clapped my shoulder and steered me along the hallway to the next door. “You have an adjoining room, so if anything happens, you’ll have immediate access to her.”
“I know.”
Arthur stopped in front of my door with me. “You said you haven’t been sleeping much since you took this job?—”
“Not a job.”
“Favor, I get it.” He raised his hands in mock-rebuff. “Either way, get some sleep.”
Merlin snorted. “He’s going to owe you weeks of work to pay for this fucking hotel.”
“I told you, it’s part of our startup marketing budget.” Arthur grinned. “We should schedule a photo shoot for the company website.”
“Photos?” I pulled out my room card and scowled at him. “Fuck off.”
The two men laughed at me and bid me goodnight before heading to their giant suite.
I stood in the hallway for a moment. The Pendragon guys in the hall were at ease, but attentive.
We had professionals watching our backs tonight.
Maybe I could finally get some real sleep.
I let myself into my room and did a sweep out of habit.
Checked the bathroom, the closet, behind the curtains.
Everything was clear. Everything was secure.
So breathe.
Standing in front of my duffel bag on the luggage rack, I did as I’d told myself, and breathed.
Tomorrow’s visit with Henri Dubois and Brandon Caulfield might go as smoothly as today’s visit went.
Or, if Caulfield had tipped off Werner Kessler that we had the egg he wanted, we might finally find out what the hard way would be.
The adjoining door stood six feet away. On the other side, Grace was probably getting ready for bed, washing her face, brushing her teeth, and changing into her pajamas.
She’d worn the same soft pants and oversized T-shirt every night.
Was she already in that? Or when she was truly alone for the night, did she sleep in less?
Was she tucked into her bed, naked, reading her book?
Did she touch herself at night to wind down?
Stop it, Garrett.
I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled out my phone: no new messages. I checked the secure app that linked to the Round Table team’s comms: all green, all clear. Checked my email: nothing urgent. Checked the weather for tomorrow, because apparently I’d run out of things to check.
The adjoining door stood there, waiting.
I wanted to knock. I wanted to knock so fucking badly it made my chest ache. I wanted to see her face when she opened it, wanted to know if she’d been hoping I’d come to her. I wanted to kiss her again, touch her again, drown in her until the rest of the world disappeared.
But I couldn’t. Grace deserved someone who wasn’t carrying the kind of darkness I was. Someone who could give her a life she deserved—bright and warm and full of the joy she gave to everyone else. Not someone like me.
She deserves better. Don’t forget that.
But what would Grace say?
You know the answer. She’d argue with me. She’d tell me I didn’t get to decide what she deserved. She’d look at me with those big green eyes and see something worth wanting, even though I knew she was wrong.
The only way you’ll know is if you ask her.
Christ. She was rubbing off on me. Since when did I think talking was the answer to anything?
I stood up.
Crossed to the adjoining door.
And knocked.