“Would you like another drink, darling?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No … more.”
“No more what? Lies? No more sneaking around?”
“No more drinking.” She misplaced her hand and pitched forward.
“We both know you don’t mean that. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and remember
the baby.
And it will all start again.”
“The baby.” Gena started to weep, right on cue. “I lost the baby.”
Harry got up and moved to the bar, freshening his drink, ignoring Gena’s hysterics.
Alcohol affected people differently, but once you
knew their basic pattern it could be exploited with ease. Gena had a low threshold.
Of course, she’d been taking “nips” from her mother’s flask since she was twelve. That had been Millicent Armstrong’s way of easing her daughter’s nerves before a pageant. Apparently, Gena had come to hate vodka after that, turning to wine in college.
Harry had introduced her to Sloe Gin Fizzes. That he’d spiked the gin with grain alcohol meant Gena’s threshold was hit faster.
Drunk, she was completely malleable. She’d believe anything, do anything. And never remember a thing.
But alcohol also made her emotional, so when he needed better control, like this afternoon, he’d roll out the pharmacy. Dope her up good.
Unfortunately, she’d resisted Harry today. It had taken longer to get her sober enough to dress, to put on make-up. He’d rushed to Melita’s, but parking had been a bitch. Then Gena had balked. Balked.
By the time they’d arrived, Rocco had left the building. Harry’s dream of Gena fawning over him while they sat across from Rocco had gone up in smoke. She’d had on a low-cut dress and Harry had planned to kiss her, maybe discreetly fondle her breast right in front of Rocco.
Damn it, Harry’s whole reason for marrying her, to get back at Rocco Taylor, was not playing out as planned. In fact, tonight she might have pushed Rocco away for good.
In retrospect, Harry regretted not going with his “irate husband” routine. He could have confronted Rocco at the café and accused him of having an affair with Gena.
Or maybe Harry should have let them meet and then walked in on them. Except he didn’t trust Gena to be alone with Rocco for even a short time. Her confession about their little meeting this morning had proven that.
Harry watched as Gena, who had managed to get back up on all fours, tried to crawl for the door. He came around behind her, put his foot on her butt, and sent her sprawling again.
“Geez, honey. Be more careful. What am I going to do with you?”
“Are … are you still mad?” she wailed.
“Me? Mad? Because you kissed Rocco? Or because you admitted you still had the hots for him? Let me think.” He rolled his eyes. She was so pathetic, it wasn’t even fun tormenting her anymore. And yet he wanted to.
No, he wanted to torment Rocco. She was a piss-poor stand-in.
Damn it, Harry would have loved to catch them kissing today.
Thanks for telling me everything, Gena
.
Harry had been on his way home that morning after his flight was cancelled when he’d gotten a call from the security guard that her car was parked on the side of the road and needed to be moved. Gena had been in no shape to leave the house that morning.
Harry had found her at home, looking guilty, but after admitting leaving the house, she’d looked even guiltier.
He’d poured her a drink. “We need to talk, honey,” he’d said.
By the second drink, she’d spilled her guts, told him everything, including how she’d intended to leave him that morning.
“Because I slapped you around a little?” Harry had asked. “Did you tell Rocco that?”
Oh, no, Rocco thought she’d popped her face on the steering wheel. She’d been embarrassed that Rocco had seen her like that.
Wish he could see you now, princess.
Gena was trying to slink away again. Harry moved past her and closed the doors to his study.
“I’m not through with you, Gena,” he said. “Tell me what you did with Rocco today. When you climbed in his car.”
“I … I kissed him.” She started to cry.
“You kissed him. Did you fuck him, Gena? Did you tell him how you cry out for him at night in your sleep?”
“No,” she said.
“How can I believe you? I think I’ll call Rocco and invite him over here right now. Let’s end this and tell him everything, Gena.
Everything
. All your horrible little secrets. I’m tired of defending you and covering for you.”
She lunged for his leg and held on. “No! Please, I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.”
Harry looked at her through narrowed eyes. It was all her fault that his chance to show Rocco up had been blown.
He drained his glass and set it aside before stripping off his belt. At some point her begging for Harry’s forgiveness had changed to her begging for Rocco’s. And she didn’t even know it.
He doubled the leather and slapped it against his open palm. Sometimes it was good that she didn’t remember.
Thai Jungle
October 6, 10:00 A.M.
Maddy clung to Luc, willing the small motorbike to go faster. They were still in grave danger of being caught. Minh Tran’s guards had followed them, but after losing their trail at the river, how much longer had the guards searched the jungle? Had they gone back and called Minh Tran and told him of her escape? Were Tran and his small army now coming after them in helicopters? If so, she and Luc were sitting ducks.
She was also worried about Travis. That he had come for her made her heart swell. But not knowing if he’d gotten Luc’s message ate at her. The thought of Travis and his team getting ambushed and possibly killed was unbearable.
The motorbike hit a bump. She groaned.
“You okay?” Luc shouted over his shoulder.
“Yes.” She wasn’t, but they had no choice except to keep going.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she acknowledged to herself that she’d miscarried. A friend of hers had suffered several miscarriages and Maddy recalled her friend’s grief.
“Maybe it’s meant to be,” Maddy had said, unintentionally offering what now seemed like cruel comfort. “You got pregnant once; it’ll happen again.”
And while her friend did eventually go full term, those thoughtless words didn’t acknowledge or honor the tiny spark of life that had started to grow inside her friend’s womb.
Maddy grieved for her own loss now.
“There is a village ahead,” Luc said. “We’ll see if we can get a car. It will be faster and smoother than this. But if I have to promise them money to buy silence, will Travis Franks back me?”
“Yes,” Maddy said. “Travis is an honorable man.”
“I love you, Maddy,” Travis had said the last time they spoke. “We will make this work.”
Luc suddenly turned off the road and slowed before signaling for her to be quiet. A fast-moving vehicle approached from the opposite direction. Minh Tran likely had patrols looking for them now.
Luc helped her off the bike and into the jungle. She sank down behind a thick-leafed plant and watched as two jeeps came into view. Each vehicle carried four heavily armed men dressed in black.
The driver of the first jeep was a fierce-looking Thai male. Maddy ducked, certain the guard had spotted her.
“It’s them!” Luc shouted as he sprang forward and waved his arms.
The second jeep halted as two guards jumped free and pointed their firearms at Luc.
Then Travis pushed into sight. “Stand down!” he ordered, hurrying toward Luc.
“Where is she?” Travis’s voice was raw. “Where is Maddy?”
She climbed to her feet and lurched forward, unsteady. “Travis! I’m here.”
He raced to get to her and wrapped her in a powerful hug. “God, you’re okay!” He loosened his hold and held her at arm’s length, his eyes holding hers. “You are okay, right?”
“Just take me home. Please.”
“She needs a hospital,” Luc interjected. “She has lost a lot of blood and is running a fever.”
Maddy felt Travis sweep her into his arms. She wanted to tell him something, but suddenly it took too much effort to think. To breathe. The thought that she wasn’t going to make it popped into her mind.
“I need to tell you—” Maddy’s words were lost as she started coughing.
“Hush. Save your strength. Riley, get your ass over here!” Travis lifted her into the jeep. “Riley’s a medic.”
She tried again. “Need to tell you—”
This time Travis silenced her with a kiss. “The only thing I want to hear is that you love me and that you forgive me for not getting here sooner.”
Another man moved in and pressed fingers to her carotid artery. “I’m Riley, ma’am. How far along was your pregnancy?”
“Seven weeks,” Travis said. “Right?”
She looked over Riley’s shoulder at Travis. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you.”
Travis nodded. “I know. Like I said, the only thing I want to hear is—”
“I love you, Travis and—”
A wave of cramps cut off the rest of her words as the reality of her loss slammed home.
Travis said something, but Riley’s response was muffled. She tried to speak, but a massive weight crushed her chest. Her vision blurred. That’s when Maddy realized she was passing out. Or passing over.
A Private Hospital, Singapore
October 6, 4:30 P.M.
In the last six hours, Travis Franks’s world had shifted on its axis. He paced to the window of the private, third-floor waiting area. Below was a marble fountain surrounded by statues of seraphim, but the sight brought him no peace.
Maddy was in surgery. She’d lost the baby and now complications had set in. Internal bleeding, fever.
Riley had kept her stabilized long enough to get her to a doctor in Bangkok, where she’d received several units of blood. But Travis had insisted they get her out of Thailand, far away from Minh Tran’s reach. Their private plane had barely gotten under way when she’d started bleeding again.
They had immediately detoured to this hospital, the same facility where Dante, Max, and Dr. Rufin had all been treated. Dr. Cho, the chief surgeon here, was a friend of Travis’s. Cho had examined Maddy’s
X-rays and scans, then quickly routed her to an operating room.
I shouldn’t have pushed to leave Thailand so soon. I should have let her rest.
Travis and Riley had been escorted to this room to wait, though right now Riley was running an errand for Travis. Something Travis should have done himself, but he wasn’t about to leave the hospital. Hell, he would have gone into surgery if Dr. Cho had let him.
Be strong, Maddy, for both of us.
He checked his phone for messages, but there were none. Before leaving Thailand he’d gotten word that Erin had been rescued unharmed. The news that Logan Treyhorn was in a burn unit, barely clinging to life after setting himself on fire, was disheartening. Erin and Max were at the hospital with Logan, and Travis was eager for an update.
He was also waiting for additional information on yet another shocking report he’d received on Harry Gambrel. The crime scene evidence processed from the Boston condominium where pharmaceutical financier Abe Caldwell had been murdered included two strands of hair that matched Harry’s DNA. Chemically bleached hair.
Travis’s first reaction had been “what the fuck?” To have found Harry’s fingerprints in Bangkok and his hair at a Boston crime scene seemed impossible. Then Travis started connecting the dots.
The Agency had linked Abe Caldwell to Viktor Zadovsky. And Mr. Peabody had been their middleman. If Peabody had indeed held Harry in Bangkok, could Peabody have dragged trace evidence with him halfway across the world? Unlikely.
So why were Harry’s fingerprints and hair turning up but not Peabody’s? And why had Harry’s hair been bleached? Especially since according to Dr. Rufin’s description, Peabody also had bleached blond hair.
The coincidences were too strong not to ask: Were Harry and Mr. Peabody the same person?
If Harry had wanted to change his appearance, logic would suggest going opposite. Harry had brown hair, brown eyes. The opposite would be blond hair and blue or green eyes. And Peabody was blond with blue eyes.
Plastic surgery could have easily altered other features.
Travis paced, not wanting to believe the worst of a man who’d once saved his life. Which was Travis’s blind spot, as Rocco had frequently pointed out whenever Travis defended Harry.
Granted, Harry had an abrasive side that usually showed worse when Rocco was around. Travis had chalked their differences up to the fact they had a romantic conflict. Harry had married Rocco’s ex-girlfriend. Rocco claimed she hadn’t been an ex. And then Gena had been hospitalized and a warrant issued for spouse abuse. That the charge had been dropped meant no disciplinary action for Harry.
But now another thought occurred to Travis. Had Gena dropped the charges out of fear of retaliation? Had Travis overlooked things because he felt a debt to Harry?
Possibly, but not intentionally.
One thing was certain, as soon as they were back in the states, Travis would appoint someone else to investigate
the matter. Because if Harry had faked his own death, he was a traitor. A traitor with some valuable connections.
Connections that could leak inside information?
The door pushed open as Dr. Cho came in, still wearing his surgical scrubs.
Travis rushed to meet him. “How is she?”
“Better. I found a tear in her abdominal wall, probably caused by her falling off the fence. I want to keep her a while, to ensure the bleeding doesn’t start again, from surgery or the miscarriage.”
“Will she have any problems getting pregnant in the future?”
Dr. Cho shrugged. “I did not see anything that would cause a problem, but she should follow up with her personal physician as soon as she is home.”
Home. Something else he needed to talk about with Maddy. His place? Or hers? Or maybe a brand new place?
“When can I see her?” Travis asked.
“She’s being moved to a room now. I’ll show you.”