Last Ride on the Merry-go-round

by Judith Rochelle

  "But—"

  "No buts. Go with Jamie. Let us talk and then I'll tell you exactly what's going on. Okay? Can you trust me on this?"

  Jen hugged and kissed her daughter, murmuring to her soothingly before she could get Deanne to finally release her and reluctantly follow Jamie down the hall. Jen dropped into a chair at the table, not sure how much longer her legs would hold her, and took a grateful sip from the cup Lisa set in front of her.

  "Protect you?” Ethan casually took a swallow of his coffee from the mug he was holding. “Protect you from what?"

  Oh, God. Where do I start?

  Jennifer sighed. “It's a long story, and not a very pleasant one, I'm afraid."

  "No offense intended, Jen, but with you I wouldn't expect any different."

  "Ethan!” Lisa's voice had a scolding edge to it. “My God, let the woman tell us what's going on before you start throwing barbs at her."

  Jen fiddled with her tea cup. “It's all right. Ethan, I know how you feel about me. Believe me, if I had other choices I wouldn't be here. But Deanne and I are in big, big trouble. I just couldn't think who else to ask."

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why not? It isn't as if we just saw each other yesterday."

  Jennifer picked up her spoon and deliberately stirred sugar into the brandy-laced tea, her eyes on the dark liquid as she tried to figure out how he was going to react to her news. Her heart hammered against her ribs and all her breath felt trapped in her throat. She was about to play her trump card and she had no idea what would happen when she did.

  "Because you're the only one who'd have a vested interest in doing so,” she told him.

  "Yeah? And exactly why is that?"

  Now she looked at him, her gaze holding his, aware of Lisa watching them with curiosity. “Because, Deanne is your daughter."

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  Chapter Two

  The room vibrated with shockwaves. Ethan stared at Jen across the table. His face was as unreadable as a mask but Jen saw the reaction in the darkening of his eyes.

  The silence stretched endlessly.

  Jen dropped her eyes, unable now to look at either Ethan or his wife. She concentrated on stirring her tea.

  Ethan had tilted back in his chair, resting it on the back legs, something Jen had seen him do a hundred times. Now he slammed forward and the legs hit the floor with a sound that cracked like a rifle shot. “I don't believe it."

  "Ethan, listen.” Jen wrapped her hands around her cup, their trembling obvious. “I was afraid ... no, I knew you would say that. But I promise you, it's the truth. I swear by all that's holy."

  Now a hodgepodge of emotions raced across Ethan's face. Jen could imagine what he was thinking. A daughter. A child. He had fathered a child and didn't even know it. Until tonight.

  "Oh, right. You wouldn't know holy if it came up and spit in your face."

  "Ethan. That won't solve anything.” Lisa's voice was soft, barely concealing her own unsettled feelings.

  "It's all right.” Jennifer waved a shaking hand. “He's said worse."

  And what did I expect, anyway?

  "What the hell am I supposed to say?” Anger leeched into his voice. “You show up here after eight years and drop this in my lap? How come this is the first time I'm hearing about it?"

  "Who could find you at that time to tell you anything?” she snapped. “Would you even have been sober enough to understand? Or do anything about it?” She glanced over at Lisa. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't ... I don't know how much Ethan's told you..."

  "I know everything about him I need to.” Lisa's voice was steadier now.

  Interesting, Jen thought. I didn't think Ethan Caine would ever open up to anyone. This must be one amazing woman.

  "Well, anyway,” she continued, “after a while it didn't matter. I just ... moved on with my life."

  Ethan rocked back in his chair again and the awful silence resettled.

  "So,” he drawled at last. “Isn't this an interesting piece of news. How old is she, did you say?"

  "Seven. It happened almost eight years ago, the last time—"

  "I think we can pass on some of the details,” he snapped. “We all know ... how babies are made. So. Eight years is a long time. How do you even know it ... she's ... mine? She could be anybody's, right?"

  Jen glanced from Ethan to Lisa and back to Ethan. She twisted her fingers together in an attempt to conceal how badly her hands were shaking, but anger began to creep through the fear that was choking her. She couldn't look at Lisa while she emptied out the details of her past with Ethan. “Because you were the only one I slept with, the only one I had slept with in a long while, around the time she was conceived. You can believe it or not, but it's the damned truth."

  Ethan's lips twisted. “Like I'm going to believe you. I know you, Jen. Remember?"

  Lisa rose from her chair. “I think maybe I need to leave you two alone for this discussion. I really don't have a place in it."

  Ethan reached out a hand and gripped her arm. “Stay right where you are, Lisa. You're my wife. There's nothing I have to hide from you. Not anymore."

  Jennifer stared at both of them. Was this the Ethan Caine she'd known so long ago? The man who shared nothing with anyone? “No secrets, Ethan? Your life has certainly changed. It used to be one big secret."

  "Not these days.” Jen watched the way his hand caressed his wife's arm, feeling something close to envy. “Lisa knows everything there is to know about me. Good and bad. But let's get back to the present, shall we?"

  "I swear to you, Deanne is your daughter."

  She reached into the pocket of the jeans she wore, pulling out a folded sheet of paper she'd stuck in there after her shower. Hand still shaking, she reached out to give it to Ethan. “Maybe this will answer some questions."

  "Yeah? What is it? An affidavit? Big fucking deal."

  "Ethan! Enough.” Lisa's voice was louder, firmer.

  "It's the results of a DNA test.” Jen licked her dry lips. “I had it done a long time ago. Just in case I ever needed it."

  "What, exactly, did you use for comparison?” he asked.

  "I found an old comb of yours in the bathroom that still had enough strands of hair in it for testing purposes."

  Ethan stared at the paper for a long moment as if it might bite him. The lines in his face had deepened and his eyes were the color of a dark storm.

  "Go on,” Jen urged. “Take it. You can have your own test done to compare. But while we're waiting for the results and doing nothing, she and I could both end up dead. I mean, why the hell else would I drive hundreds of miles to find you?"

  "Because you had no one else to turn to?"

  "Because no one else would care enough to help us. But a father will want to protect his daughter."

  Ethan got up to refill his mug, leaving the sheet of paper lying on the table. When he didn't even glance at the bottle of brandy on the counter, Jen realized what an enormous impact this woman had had on his life. The old Ethan Caine would have filled the cup half full with the liquor. He really had cleaned up his act. Good. That meant he'd be that much sharper in this situation.

  "All right.” The tic of a muscle in his jaw was the only sign that he was keeping a tight control on himself. “And yes, I plan on having a DNA test run, but there are ways I can expedite it. For now, I'd like to know what actually did bring you out in the middle of a driving rain from ... where the hell did you come from, anyway?"

  "Michigan. Outside of Detroit."

  He furrowed his brow. “You must have been driving a hell of a long time."

  "And she's exhausted,” Lisa pointed out. “You can give her the third degree tomorrow. Let's just cut to the chase for right now."

  Ethan gave a reluctant nod, his face still expressionless. “Okay, Jen. Reader's Digest version."

  "All right.” Jen inhaled and let the breath out slowly. “When I discovered I was pregnant with Deanne I wasn't sure what to do. Abortion was
n't a choice, at least not for me.” She hurried on at the look on Ethan's face. “But I obviously couldn't run around and keep doing ... what we were doing. I needed to make a living and a stable home for my child."

  "Were you in Detroit at the time?” Ethan asked.

  Jen nodded. “Yes. That's where I happened to be when I found out the news, and it seemed as good a place as any to set down some roots. Try to make a home for the baby and me."

  "But you had to earn a living."

  "Believe it or not, Ethan, I'm a damned good graphic artist. And I had some money set aside to keep me going until I could get work. I decided to set up my own business, from home, so I wouldn't have to worry about day care for the baby."

  "You could have called me,” Ethan pointed out.

  Jen gave a very unladylike snort. “Come on, Ethan. We both know a child is the very last thing you would have wanted to be involved with then. And where the hell would I find you, anyway? Some jungle or desert? Or a dive bar in a strange corner of the world?” Another long breath. “Anyway, I was doing some work on presentation brochures for the Tate Museum. John Sutherland, the director, had his eye on me for a long time. He asked me out several times and I finally said yes."

  "Did he know you were pregnant?"

  She nodded. “But it didn't seem to matter to him. When he asked me to marry him, he just wanted my assurance that the baby's father wouldn't come barging in one day and cause problems."

  "None of this sounds very dangerous.” Ethan stirred sweetener into his coffee.

  "I thought I was marrying into the ideal, safe situation, as a matter of fact.” She twisted her mouth in a grimace. “I was sure that after all these years and all these spins on the merry-go-round I'd finally caught the brass ring. Little did I know I was walking into a nightmare."

  "What do you mean? Did he beat you? Molest Deanne?"

  She saw Ethan's face darken at the thought. “No, no. Nothing like that.” The words spilled out of her mouth. “John had a ... gambling problem. He belonged to a private club and he'd been on a prolonged losing streak. I had absolutely no idea about it, I swear to you. A lot of nights he came home very late, but he said he was involved with museum business."

  Ethan's face was like granite. “Just where did you think he was all those nights he was out losing the moon?"

  She shrugged. “Museum business. I had no reason to question him."

  "So someone got their hooks into him."

  Jen nodded, smiling gratefully at Lisa who took her cup to refill. “All he had to do was use the cover of the museum to smuggle antiquities into the country for private buyers. Whoever was controlling him took it from there."

  "Stolen antiquities.” Ethan rubbed his jaw. “That's become the latest hot topic. Are you aware that a lot of time the enormous sums of cash that change hands are used to fund terrorist cells?"

  Jen felt the blood drain from her face. “No, I'm not.” She smoothed her bangs back from her forehead. “Jesus."

  "All right, go ahead,” he prompted.

  "Yes, well, that's not even the worst of it. I guess John thought he could get out from under if he could just make one big score. So he held out two very valuable pieces from a shipment to sell."

  "And of course they discovered it,” Ethan snorted. “Guys like these are no dummies. They always have a specific manifest. How the hell did he expect to get away with pulling this off?"

  "I don't know.” Her voice trembled. “All I do know is he came home four days ago, told us to pack everything we could, and drove us to a cabin he'd rented. But they must have followed us."

  She gave him every detail of what transpired from the minute John had shoved them into the air conditioning duct until they finally crept out after dark. Including watching John shot to death.

  "And Deanne saw all of this?” Ethan's voice was deadly quiet.

  "I covered her eyes when I saw what was happening. And when we left I kept her turned away from the body. But she heard the arguing. The gun shots. And she's barely said a word since we left the cabin. I have to find a way to explain this to her.” She swallowed the last of her tea. “Ethan, I don't know who these people are but there's something else going on here, something about those particular pieces. The men told John if he didn't have the artifacts then I must. He said he'd find us, use Deanne to make me tell them, then kill us both. And I don't doubt for a minute that's exactly what they'd do."

  "What about the cabin? Could you find it again?"

  Jen frowned. “Why?"

  "Don't you want John's body found? Besides that, if we can trace the ownership of the cabin, we can get a handle on who's involved in this. Maybe the kingpin."

  She shook her head. “All I know is we blundered around on back roads for what seemed like hours before I finally saw signs for the interstate. I wish I could be more help."

  "Okay. We'll worry about it later. The body isn't going anywhere. And maybe the longer it stays undiscovered the better it will be for us.” Ethan kept his voice low and even, but there was a steel quality to it. “Truth or dare time, Jen. Do you have any idea where these pieces are?"

  "No.” She met Ethan's gaze without flinching. “I swear to you. I didn't even know what was going on until John rushed us out of the house and out of the city. Even then he gave me a very abbreviated version. But I sure heard plenty stuck up in that duct for hours."

  "How did you get away?"

  She told him about the hidden car, waiting hours until dark before sneaking out to it, the emergency supplies it contained. “I guess John was really making preparations for a getaway."

  He started to rise from his chair. “Do you think anyone could have followed you here?"

  "No.” Jen clenched her fists in her lap in an effort to keep her fragile control from fracturing. “For one thing we have a different car than we used when we left the house. For another, I still remember some of the driving lessons from the famous Ethan Caine."

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-grin. “Thanks for the compliment, but I think I'll beef up the security a little, just in case."

  As he walked out of the room, Jamie spoke up from the kitchen doorway.

  "Mom?"

  Lisa drew in a breath and smiled at her son. “Yes, honey?"

  "The girl doesn't want to play games. She's lying on my bed crying. I tried to get her to stop but she won't talk to me. What should I do?"

  Lisa pushed back her chair. “We should let her and her mother get to bed. Jen, why don't you go with Jamie to get Deanne? What you need right now is a good night's rest. Both of you."

  Jen carried her cup to the sink and turned to follow Jamie just as Ethan came back into the room.

  "I need to make some calls,” he told her. “Safety is the first issue, but finding these people is the only thing that will put a stop to the situation."

  "Are you going to do that? Help us?” Jen held her breath, too afraid for Deanne not to show her desperation.

  "Yes, but not quite the way you think. For one thing, I have to consider my family. I can't go haring off the way I used to. For another, I run a security training school now that holds classes every day. I have a hand-picked crew that helps me with it."

  She felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Had this trip all been for nothing?

  "So where does that leave Deanne and me?"

  "Right here for the moment. Safe and secure. I'll coordinate everything and use my contacts but I'm going to get some help with this. Someone to take the lead."

  "Oh? And who would that be?” Who is he going to turn us over to? Some stranger?

  "I don't think you'll be unhappy, but I'd rather wait until I've got it all in place before we talk about it, okay? Go on to bed with Deanne, and I'll tell you everything at breakfast."

  Forcing herself to be calm, she nodded. She trusted Ethan or she never would have come here in the first place. “All right. Jamie, lead on."

  As she followed the boy down the hall, she heard Ethan
, obviously on the phone, saying, “Hi. It's me. You up for a little trip, buddy?"

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  Dino clicked off the phone and closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers across his forehead. So Ethan had a daughter. One he'd never known about. That must have been a shocker. He could just imagine Ethan's reaction when Jennifer LaCroix and her child showed up on his doorstep. Scared to death about something.

  The last time Ethan Caine had called him for a favor, he'd ended up racing through the Quintana Roo jungle in Mexico with an AK 47 under his arm and a scared kid over his shoulder. Now another child was in danger and her identity put a whole new face on things.

  Well, hell.

  Saying no to his closest friend wasn't an option. His calendar was clear. He'd just completed an operation for his “silent” partners so one wasn't likely to pop up in the immediate future. The two small fishing charters he had booked could be referred out.

  He put his feet up on the desk and leaned his head back, his mind trying to wrap itself around the situation. This was personal, and Ethan Caine with a personal agenda was like a mountain lion with fresh meat in his jaw.

  Not to mention the fact that this one involved Jennifer LaCroix. More than eight years had passed since the last time Dino saw her, partying with Ethan's wild crowd, looking for the edge in every situation. And now she'd somehow gotten herself mixed up in the stolen antiquities trade, one of the most lucrative yet most dangerous businesses in the world. Wars had been fought over artifacts looted from tombs and museums. Murder committed without the blink of an eye. How the hell had party girl Jen gotten herself in this kind of mess?

  Sighing, knowing that he was stepping into a big tar pit, he picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

  "Crank up the chopper. We're invited to breakfast."

  * * * *

  There was surprisingly little air traffic on the trip up from Key West. Dino gave Mike Hogan the briefest possible description of his conversation with Ethan when they met at the air field.

  "That's all I know. Ethan wouldn't have called if he didn't need us. You know that."