The next picture was one that had been taken by Lisa, moments later. Pierce chuckled at the candid shot of Farah in the act of flinging herself at him, and the sight of his own astonishment. He was about to lose his hat, too. Even then, his hair had been salt-and-pepper. Alghenian royalty weren’t supposed to touch commoners, but Farah had never cared about protocol. It was part of her charm, he supposed, that she had no guile at all.
The next picture was a heartbeat later, when he’d caught her and was holding her protectively against his chest. Her eyes were closed and her expression blissful, like she knew she was safe. Pierce saw that his own eyes were closed as well and he remembered the weight of her trust.
Farah had been safe. He would have done anything for her. He’d vowed to lay down his life for her when he entered service to the royal family of Greater Alghenia, and that hadn’t just been talk. He would have done it without hesitation. He’d taken that shot in the ass for her, even before he’d known her, when they’d retrieved her from that kidnapper’s den. He remembered her clutching him in terror as he got them out of there, ignoring the pain and the blood.
He put the trio of pictures aside, then kept going, knowing what he was looking for.
Here was one with the entire team, when they’d initially been hired in Greater Alghenia. It had been a hot day and they were in dress uniform to be officially welcomed, but they were a good-looking crew. Pierce slid his finger over the image, naming each of them silently, remembering their strengths, specialties and quirks.
Lisa MacAvoy.
Jimmy Wong. Best tech support and troubleshooter ever. It had been great to see him again.
Bart Kincaid. Regan Winslow. Noah Jefferson and Jared Peters.
There was another picture of Jimmy with a tree frog they’d found in their quarters. It hadn’t wanted to leave and each time Jimmy evicted it, it found its way back in. It had become their mascot, out of sheer force of will. Pierce flicked through the pictures, remembering.
There were a number with Farah as well. She was about ten in the next one he picked up, dressed in pink tights and a T-shirt with a Disney princess. Belle. Her long hair was tied back in a braid and she was facing Pierce, intent on whatever he was telling her. They were in the palace courtyard and he was crouched down, one hand braced on the ground. Her pose perfectly mirrored his.
Lisa had written Exit Strategy across the back. This must have been before the official ceremony, recognizing her as being in line for the throne. The royal family of Greater Alghenia did this with each heir at ten years of age and it had been the first time for a female to be so honored. There’d been threats, of course, but Farah had trained diligently and the ceremony had been flawless. Pierce had been so proud of her.
Here she was at twelve. The royals of an adjacent kingdom, Mauscoria, had brought their son, the crown prince, on an official visit, testing the waters for an arranged marriage between him and Farah. She’d been dead set against it and so had her mother, but the Mauscorians had arrived anyway. The families had celebrated mass together in the cathedral, the potential couple standing beside each other in all their finery. It was clear that Farah was going to be a beauty by this point, and she was starting to get some curves. Her dress had been worth a fortune.
The photographer had captured the moment that the visiting prince made a comment to her. The prince looked smug. Farah looked furious, her eyes filled with familiar fire. Pierce remembered that moment well. He hadn’t even had time to think about breaking rank before Farah pivoted and punched the crown prince. Pierce had heard the royal nose crack from twenty feet away, and there had been a lot of blood. There’d been a kerfuffle, of course, but it had been a beautiful punch and he’d told her so. Farah had retreated proudly, surrounded by her guard, and had refused to join the visiting party afterward.
Pierce had always wondered what the kid had said to her.
Ah, here was one of Farah’s parents, dancing together at an official event. The prince was dark and elegant: his wife was blond and beautiful. They’d been a striking couple, even without all the gems and finery. But there was something more that had caught Pierce’s attention—they were crazy in love with each other, even after two kids and who knew how many adventures and challenges. He could see it in this picture, in their absorption with each other. He’d always thought they would be the same way even if they hadn’t had two pennies to rub together. The air sizzled when they were together. He put the picture down gently as if something so precious might be fragile.
Sizzle. He knew that kind of love was rare. His gaze strayed back to the picture and he knew with complete clarity that they’d had what he wanted.
He recognized the same spark with Jacquie, but she had to want it, too.
Pierce moved on, knowing that the order of images would be roughly chronological.
He smiled at the image of himself and Simon Ferguson, playing poker on the transport on their first deployment. Simon always had cards. A big handsome kid, tough, ethical and blunt. He’d quickly earned the nickname Troll. He’d
