The Crimson Dagger - Vatican Knights Series 23 (2020) Rick Jones (ebook reader play store txt) 📖

his boxer shorts. He was a heavily muscled man with biceps that were as large as most men’s thighs, his body entirely bulked up. But the hardships of his near disasters and ultimate pain had been memorialized upon his flesh. There were pock marks from bullets wounds. Lateral scars from knife slashes. And severe burns that had left deep scars after he had been engulfed by flames, with his skin having melted like the tallow of wax before cooling and scarring. Despite all his markings from a number of conflicts, Kimball Hayden was never so beautiful in the eyes of Shari Cohen.

Kimball crossed the room and took position before the window. The lake had a thin layer of fog settling just above the surface, a wispy blanket. Yet he could clearly see the vivid colors of the mallards that swam along the water. Stepping back, he noted the photos on the bombe and the medallions that hung from the corners of the picture frames.

“I know you miss them,” he told her in a light and sorrowful way.

Shari reached up, grabbed his hand, and enclosed both of hers over his. Then she brought his hand to her cheek to feel its warmth. “They were a part of me as you are.”

But Kimball had his shrine, too, of photos lined up along the mantel of the fireplace in the bedroom. They were the photos of the Vatican Knights—of Isaiah and Leviticus, his top two lieutenants, along with Bonasero Vessucci, the force’s founder and eventual pontiff. But with the progression of time also brought the eventual loss of good friends. Bonasero Vessucci and Leviticus were gone, both passing into the Light. Isaiah, however, continued to be a major component of the unit.

“I know you miss them, too,” she added.

Kimball nodded.

“The question is: how much do you miss them?”

“You’re not keeping me away, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he told her.

“Truthfully?” When Kimball didn’t respond, she responded for him. “It’s all right to miss those you love. Believe me, I understand.”

“It’s just that they were the only family I had until you. You’re family now.”

“But deep down you feel as though you abandoned them.”

Kimball sighed. “In a way,” he answered. “I feel as though I left them when they needed me most.”

“You’re not responsible for the corruption of Pope Clement.”

“No. But I am responsible for leaving the unit rudderless. Isaiah is capable of managing the team. But he’s not capable of contesting the pope in questionable situations, even if Isaiah realizes the high-end improbability of the mission. He operates on blind faith. I never did.”

“You want to go back, don’t you?”

“Not if it means leaving your side for any length of time.”

Shari looked at Kimball who continued to stare out the window. “I’m a big girl,” she told him. “But more importantly, I want you to be happy.” After a beat, she continued. “Kimball, it’s all right to be a part of something you love. You need to be what you were meant to be. I’m not here to take away from that. If I did, I’d be just as miserable knowing that deep down you were miserable.”

He turned to her. “Maybe a visit—to see how they’re doing.”

Her smile made its way into a one-sided grin, and then she said, “And perhaps put on the uniform to see if it still fits? Or maybe don the collar to see if it still looks good around your neck? Or maybe to see if the beret still looks good on you when tilted a certain way?”

After a brief pause, Kimball replied, “I miss them. I fought beside them. They’re my brothers.”

“And you need them as much as they need you.”

“I would like to think so.”

“I know so.” Shari stood up, embraced Kimball, and placed her head against his chest. His heartbeat was strong and measured. She also knew that it was the seat of Kimball’s feelings and the trigger that often forced him to wear his emotions on his sleeve. At times he could be kind and caring, and at others he could be brutal and savage. There was no doubt in her mind that Kimball Hayden would always be at war with himself as Darkness and Light consistently fought for the bounty of his treasured soul.

“Go,” she finally told him. “And do so knowing that I love you. And do so knowing that I’ll be here waiting for you.”

“What about you? You make a decision yet?”

Shari knew what he was talking about. She had been working for the CIA as a field agent, until her position became compromised enough to assure that she could never serve in the field again. So, Langley offered her a position as a lead principal who would train operatives at Camp Peary, better known as the Farm, which she balked at. Like Kimball, she wanted to get her hands dirty. And it was because of this shared understanding with Kimball to get engaged rather than to sit along the sidelines, that she appreciated his desire to work within certain theaters of operation. It was for the white-knuckle draw of stemming conflict.

“The Bureau wants me back . . . I’m considering the possibility of resigning my post at Langley and returning to the Bureau.”

Kimball smiled. “Good for you.” And then: “I’ll be gone for a couple of days. A week at the most. Just enough to pop in and out.”

“Kimball, please, do what you have to do. I won’t hold you back.”

As they kissed while framed by the window with the lake and forest in the background, Shari pulled away and winced, then grimaced. She immediately placed a hand to her side in an attempt to quell a sharp and stabbing pain. It was something akin to having a hot knitting needle driven deep into her abdomen.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her.

After taking a few deep breaths, the pain appeared to be subsiding with Shari’s pinched look fading.

“I want you to get that looked at,” he told her. “The pain’s too