Chapter 88: Zachery

The house phone rang, surprising Zach while he and Angel ate lunch at the cozy table in Monroe's monstrous kitchen. Zach leaned over and hit the speaker button.
"Mr. Zachery," Stephens' voice sounded unnaturally stiff. "There is a man at the front gate requesting to see you and Miss Angel regarding Master Monroe."
Zachery's gut twisted violently when he saw the terror in Angel's eyes. Stephens was a highly trained retired member of the British Army Special Air Service. Whoever wanted to speak to them had credentials, which meant something had gone wrong on Monroe's mission. Zach had reviewed safety procedures with everyone in the household. They all knew what to do, though they'd never prepared for this.
Standing, he took Angel's trembling hand and squeezed. "I love you."
She stared at him like he was her lifeline, as if he could make the man waiting out front disappear.
"Sir?" Stephens questioned.
"Please escort him to the house. We'll meet him in the den." Monroe's den, where he read, played chess, and spent time on the computer answering correspondence. Where... the god of rope acted mortal.
Zach pressed the disconnect button, surprised his hand remained steady.
"No. Please, Sir, may I go to my room?" Panic resonated with each word Angel spoke.
He pulled her in close. "We don't know that this is something bad." But Zach did know. He felt it in every fiber of his being.
"Please?" Tears slid down her cheeks.
He pressed the button that went straight to Marguerite's quarters. "Please come to the kitchen."
"Si, Se駉r," the steady voice came through the speaker.
Kissing the top of Angel's head, he held on as long as he could.
Marguerite walked into the kitchen. "Quiero ser de servicio, Se駉r?"
"We have company. Please take Angel to her room and stay with her. Remember the safety plan," Zach said, looking over the top of Angel's head.
Marguerite's sturdy arms came out and Zach separated himself from Angel. Kissing her on the forehead, he looked into her eyes and whispered once more, "I love you."
"Come, Se駉rita." Marguerite's arms replaced his and she walked her through the side kitchen door to go upstairs by way of the back entrance.
Zach stood still-drawing air into his lungs and gathering courage.
A few minutes later, he made his way to the den.
The man introduced himself as Edward Labough. He was about five foot ten, wore a dark tailored suit, and possessed cold, penetrating eyes similar to Monroe's. Obviously CIA and it surprised Zach that he came alone. "I'm here on Nathanial's behalf."
"Cut the bullshit, please."
Edward's firm lips tilted down, but he no longer hesitated. "I'm sorry. Nathanial asked me to speak with you if something happened to him. It has, and I've brought items he wished given to you and Miss Philips."
"He's dead?" Zach had to hear the precise words.
"Yes, he's dead."
"Have you seen his body?" There had to be some hope.
"It was identified."
"Is his body on U.S. soil?" Why the hell that made a difference, Zach didn't know.
"No, I'm sorry. His body will never be brought home."
Darkness clouded Zach's vision, but he remained standing. "Then how the fuck can you be sure he's dead?"
"I saw the pictures. It's him." No emotion sounded in the quiet voice. "This envelope has everything you need. What I'm doing today is highly unorthodox. Nathanial had no official sanctions to be overseas. I know what's in the packet and because Nathanial trusted you, I'm doing the same."
It pissed Zach off that this man used Monroe's first name. He was Monroe, Sir, or Master. Zach only used Nathanial on rare occasions.
"I'll leave you to look through the papers. It's mostly self-explanatory, though he did provide everyone a separate personal letter." Edward glanced out the window. "Information will be leaked to the press that he's missing. Please do not speak to anyone about the disappearance. Eventually, his death will be disclosed, but this isn't up to me."
When no reply came from Zach, Edward nodded to the door. "I must be going."
Zach's unsteady hand pressed the button to ring Stephens. "Will you please see Mr. Labough out?"
"Yes, sir," Stephens' voice sounded from the speaker.
"Is there a way I can contact you?" Zach looked at the man and his voice sounded desperate even to his own ears.
"I'm sorry, no. You will hear nothing further from me or the government, though a death certificate will eventually be sent." Edward turned away.
"You mean the government Monroe gave his life for... the one that won't acknowledge him?" His voice elevated with anger.
Edward didn't say another word, just walked through the door.
Zach didn't realize his legs bent, but he found himself sitting in Monroe's comfortable reading chair holding the large envelope in a death grip. He lowered his head and tried to steady his breathing without success. He needed Angel, but he dreaded giving her the news. It was so much easier to have a small kernel of hope and he didn't want to take that away from her.
"Fuck," he said out loud. This could not be happening. He looked at the plain manila packet.
His fingers worked the clips open and he slid out the separate envelopes inside-plain white with each of their names written in Monroe's steady, precise script. He laid them aside. An official certificate came next and Zach read the names on what appeared to be a marriage license: Nathanial Jason Monroe, Angel Anne Philips. Dated more than two years ago and made absolutely no sense.
The trembling in his fingers increased as he opened his letter.

Zachery,
Edward Labough is a good man and agreed to deliver my letters in the event something happened to me. Please do not try and contact him again. You reading this means I am gone.
The marriage certificate is for Angel's protection. I had it put into play long before you came back to us. She now has the protection of my name and wealth. I expect you to step up to the plate and marry her quickly. This you owe the three of us.
She knows nothing about the marriage document, but it is legally recorded and will stand up in any court of law. My final will also names her as beneficiary with Marguerite and Stephens cared for, too.
One of the things I have always admired about you is your ability to stand alone, but it is also your greatest weakness. You need that ring on your finger as much as Angel does. Protect her from herself and let her soothe your heart, as well.
There is so much more I wanted for the three of us. I have no doubt my last thoughts were of you and Angel. I love you, Zachery. I fell in love the first time I saw you; bloody, defiant, and staring death in the eye. It is a feeling I have never had before, and then, through you, Angel came into my life and gave me the greatest gift of all. Be brave again and guide Angel from the darkness.
Nathanial

Zach turned the single page over in his hand.
Blank.
This can't be all, Monroe... don't fucking do this to me.
Zach took a deep, steadying breath, trying to slow the many thoughts bouncing quickly through his brain. He understood the marriage license and had never doubted Monroe would care for Angel. Zach's uncertainty came with the thought that Angel would no longer want to marry him. It was just another aspect of their lives that his selfish misgivings fucked up. The ache in his chest grew. Angel deserved more than he could give her. She deserved Monroe.
"Sir?"
Stephens' voice startled him.
"May I be of assistance?"
Zach managed to shake his head. He could find no words.
Stephens walked away and for the first time Zach saw the man's usually erect shoulders slumped in abject grief. Zach didn't stop him, and a moment later he heard the sound of a door shutting.
He pulled in a ragged breath and walked to the stairs. Each step to Monroe's room was slow torture. He stopped at the doorway. Marguerite sat on the bed holding Angel tightly in her arms. They both looked up. He tried to get the words out.
The truth dawned on the women.
"Dios del mayo tiene misericordia," Marguerite softly intoned while rocking Angel in her arms. May God have mercy...she said in English and then again in Spanish while tears flowed down her cheeks. Monroe was a son to her.
Angel's head shook back and forth before she closed her eyes and lay still within the older woman's embrace. Zach walked to the bed and took Angel's cool hand in his, but she didn't open her eyes. He lifted her fingers to his mouth and kissed the back of the delicate skin, breathing in her scent, needing her touch. She offered no resistance and showed no outward sign that she knew he was there.
It could have been minutes or hours that passed. Marguerite slowly extricated herself from Angel, looking to Zach with grief stricken eyes.
"I will cook, Se駉r." She slowly walked from the room, leaving Zach and Angel alone.
He bent over and then lifted Angel, scooting up the bed to rest his back against the headboard. He wrapped her tightly within his embrace. She didn't make a sound, no sobs, and no tears. He placed his head against her hair, breathing slow and steady, and closed his eyes.