The Wrong Hostage (37 page)

S
AN
D
IEGO
T
UESDAY AFTERNOON

IMMEDIATE FAMILY ONLY
NO MORE THAN TWO VISITORS AT A TIME

L
ANE LOOKED AT THE
sign on the heavy wooden door of the intensive care unit, then at his mother.

“Maybe I should wait out here,” he said.

“It doesn’t get any more immediate than you and Joe,” Grace said.

“I’m still having a hard time getting my mind around it.”

“The fact that your biological parents are human, and your legal father is all too human?”

“Uh, yeah.”

She gave Lane a hug even as she regretted the new lines of tension around his eyes. He looked—and was—years older than he had been a month ago.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Most kids don’t have to deal with their parents being people until they’re twice your age. Most adults never have to go through what you did. And in case I haven’t mentioned it, I’m very proud of you.”

“Ambassador Steele said the same thing. So did Cook.”

“So will Joe, if he’s awake.”

So would Ted, if he wasn’t such a jerk
.

But he was, and two bullets in the back hadn’t changed that. When she and Lane had gone to see Ted in the next room over, he’d pretended to be
asleep.

“I know this isn’t easy,” she said. “There’s a lot to sort out, for all of us. Life has…changed.”

Lane made a sound that could have been a laugh. “Ya think?” Then he hugged her hard. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You walked away from your career and risked your life for me. I love you, Mom. I just wish I’d known.”

“About Joe?”

“Yeah. I guess. I don’t know.”

She almost smiled. “Sometimes Joe affects me the same way. But you should know that I love him very much.”

“I already figured that out.”
When you ran past Dad and cried all over Joe
.

Lane still didn’t like to think how he’d done the same thing just as soon as he’d taken the key from Hector’s pocket and unlocked the cuffs.

It’s not that I don’t love Dad
.

It’s just that I don’t like him
.

“I like Joe,” Lane said. “Hell—heck—I’m not the first kid to have two fathers, right? How does he feel about it?”

“Joe?”

“Yeah.”

“Ask him.”

Grace opened the door, saw that Faroe was sitting up, and went quickly to his side. He was pale and his mouth was tight with pain. The bullet had missed all organs, but it had ripped a hole in the rest. She kissed him gently, then took his left hand and cradled it against her cheek.

“You look like hell,” she said.

“You don’t.” Faroe slid his hand around her neck and urged her down for a better kiss. “You smell like heaven. Want to break me out of this joint?”

Lane cleared his throat.

“He knows,” Grace said as soon as Faroe released her mouth.

“Then he shouldn’t be surprised to see us kissing.” Faroe held his good hand out to Lane. “How about a left-handed shake?”

Awkwardly Lane took Faroe’s unbandaged hand.

“Thanks for saving my life,” Faroe said, squeezing and releasing his son’s hand.

Lane stared. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

“You yanked Hector off-balance before he could kill me, and then you got out of the way so your mother could do what had to be done. Your quick thinking saved her life, too. And Ted’s.”
Cowardly piece of dog crap that he is
. “How does it feel to be a hero?”

“I was scared as hell—uh, heck,” Lane admitted.

“Hell works for me,” Faroe said. “That’s how scared I was.”

“Really?”

“All the way to the soles of my feet.”

“Then I guess it’s okay to be scared,” Lane said, his tone half questioning.

“I’d be worried about your brains if you weren’t.” Faroe smiled. “I’m not worried.”

Lane’s answering smile was shy but real.

For the first time since the violence in the warehouse, Grace allowed herself to hope.

“Has Steele been in to see you?” she asked Faroe.

“Last I checked, we weren’t related, and the head nurse is a real dragon.”

“Do you think that would stop the ambassador?” Lane asked. “Wheelchair or not, the man’s a full-on bulldozer.”

“Good point. Yes, he came to see me,” Faroe said to Grace.

“You didn’t sign anything, did you?”

Silently Faroe held up his heavily bandaged right hand.

“What did you tell him?” Grace asked.

Faroe gave Lane a sideways look. “She grill you like this about homework?”

Lane snickered. “Always.”

Faroe shook his head. “I told Steele that after I married you, you would be available to negotiate the terms of our future, if any, with St. Kilda Consulting. If you don’t marry me, I won’t have a future worth negotiating, so the point is moot.”

Lane looked at his mother’s flushed cheeks, tear-bright eyes, and dawning smile. “I’m going to check out the cafeteria,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” Faroe said.

“Yeah, I do,” Lane said. “Or do you need me to close the deal with her?”

“You’re okay with the idea?” Faroe asked Lane.

“Of you and Mom?”

Faroe took Grace’s hand. “Yes.”

Lane gave his mother a one-armed hug and headed for the door. “It’ll be weird, seeing her happy, but I’ll get used to it. And she won’t have so much time to worry about me.”

The door closed behind Lane.

“That’s one hell of a kid you raised,” Faroe said. “I’ve known a lot of men who would be a wreck after what Lane went through.”

“He’s not over it yet. There will be nightmares.”

“Like you had?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve had my own,” Faroe said. “Still do.”

“Tell him that someday. He admires you.”

“For screwing up?” Faroe asked, disgusted.

“For saving his life. And mine. You set yourself up to take Hector’s bullets so that I could get close enough to shoot him without endangering Lane.”

Faroe sighed and leaned more heavily into the propped-up pillows. “Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

“Only if you start practicing left-handed with a pistol.”

He laughed, winced at the pain, and settled for a smile. “Pistol practice. Guess that means we’re staying with St. Kilda?”

Grace smiled. “It’s a good thing you’re already lying down.”

He gave her a sideways look. “Why?”

“Steele has been grooming you—and now wants to groom us—to take over St. Kilda Consulting when he retires.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.”

Faroe didn’t know what to say.

“Before you say yes or no, think about this,” she said. “If we sign with
St. Kilda, the contract will be retroactive to a week ago. In other words, neither of us will have to pay St. Kilda for any costs incurred in saving Lane.”

Faroe whistled softly. “Steele must be feeling generous.”

“Not quite.” Grace smiled like a lawyer. “There’s the five-million-dollar reward for Hector Rivas Osuna, plus anything in excess of fifty million dollars that might be recovered from Ted’s files. If we were free agents, the money would go to us.”

Faroe was quiet for a long time before he said, “You dropped the hammer on Hector. It’s your call on the reward.”

“And the rest?”

“They say that blood washes off gold, but I don’t know if there’s enough water on earth to clean Ted’s money.” Faroe sighed and shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable. “Again, it’s your call. You and Lane had to live with the mutt. But damn, I wish that Hector had been a better shot.”

She smiled grimly. “I’ve already started the process to remove Ted from any legal guardianship of Lane. Talon Cook said he would personally guarantee that Ted doesn’t cause any problems over it.”

“Is Ted going to do hard time?”

“Stu has the morals of a reptile, and he’s as clever as they come in manipulating the law for his clients—until their money runs out. So I guess we’ll just have to hope that Ted’s money runs out before he walks.”

“Lane’s alive,” Faroe said. “That’s what matters.”

“You really don’t care about the money, do you?”

“You’ll negotiate a good salary—”

“And bonuses.”

“—for us with Steele. We won’t starve. And if we don’t sign the contract, the task force will be squeezing us to give information on St. Kilda Consulting. Steele might grate on me from time to time, but bureaucracy grates on me all the time.”

Grace grinned. “Steele loves you too. He wants to be your best man.”

“What!”

“Harley says you’ll look
fabulous
in a white tux.”

Faroe closed his eyes. “That’s it. We’re eloping.”

“You sure? Lane hinted he’d love to give me away.”

Faroe opened his eyes. “You wearing a tux, too?”

“I was thinking about that red outfit I picked up in Mexico.”

“Only if we elope.”

Smiling, she leaned down and kissed him. “Two white tuxes it is.”

Elizabeth Lowell’s
many remarkable historical and contemporary novels include
New York Times
bestsellers
Always Time to Die
,
The Color of Death
, and
Die in Plain Sight
.
Amber Beach
,
Jade Island
,
Pearl Cove
, and
Midnight in Ruby Bayou
were also instant
New York Times
bestsellers. Lowell has more than thirty million books in print. She lives in Washington and Arizona with her husband, with whom she writes mystery novels under a pseudonym.

www.elizabethlowell.com

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