Kate had discharged herself from the hospital without having the further surgery. “There’s no rush, is there?”
The doctor wasn’t happy, but extracted a promise from her to see her gynecologist. She hadn’t told Nikos yet about her condition; she knew if she did, he would insist on inseminating and freezing her eggs and Kate just wasn’t sure. She wondered when she had decided that Nikos wasn’t the one for her. When you met Lisander Duarte, you little fool …
Now it was a month later, and Kate was relieved when Nikos told her he was working out of the city for a week, and Kate could bury herself in her work. There had been an odd atmosphere between her and Nikos, one which neither of them wanted to address, so they limped on, never really talking.
Maceo was officially a free man; there was simply no evidence he had killed Tyson Janek, and the DA’s office had to walk back a very embarrassing statement they had made about catching his killer the day of the murder.' Kate had never known the DA’s office to behave so recklessly, and she was determined to find out if the DA himself had any ties to Tyson Janek. She would bet her life he did. Tyson must have poured poison into his ear about his stepdaughter's new love. She made her displeasure with the DA known—Gerry had talked her out of launching a formal complaint until they were sure he was corrupt.
“A junior partner accusing the DA without proof—that would be the end of your career, Kate. Not just in the States, either. News travels.”
Kate had been digging around without much success and was in her office, being frustrated by the lack of response to her questions, when Lisander Duarte knocked on her door.
“Hey,” she said in delighted surprise and stood to greet him. She suddenly felt awkward. Did she shake his hand or hug him? They had kissed, but …
Lisander saved her by placing his hands on her shoulders. “Let me look at you. You seem healthy. I trust you’re doing well?”
She grinned. “I am, thank you. Appendicitis is painful, but thankfully, the recovery is quick. Thank you, Mr. Duarte, for the beautiful flowers and the sketch. It meant a great deal to me.”
“I think we can go with Lisander and Kate now, can’t we?” Lisander grinned, taking the seat she offered. “And it was my pleasure. I meant what I said. When you’re ready, that gown is yours.”
“You are too kind.” Kate could feel her face burning. “What brings you into the city?”
“Forward planning for New York Fashion Week. And I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay.”
Her face couldn’t get much hotter, Kate mused, but she was delighted he wanted to see her. She threw caution to the wind. “Hey, look, I’m finishing up here … want to grab a drink somewhere?”
Lisander pushed through the crowded bar and to the table he and Kate had commandeered. He handed her one of the sodas in his hand, and they clinked glasses. Kate Garcia was easy to spend time with, he thought now, and she’d done what nothing else had done for months now—made him smile. She grinned her thanks to him for the drinks as he sat back down beside her.
“Thanks for taking care of Maceo,” he said, clinking his glass to hers.
“If only all cases were that easy.” She checked her watch and leaned back happily, “but not for another hour. I could live here...” She looked around the bar, its subtle lighting and dark wood complementing the big leather couches.
“You seem like a woman who would want to go out every night, soaking up everything New York has to offer. Good or bad,” he added, grinning wickedly.
She laughed. “Yeah … been there, done that. Not here, but yeah, I’ve done my share of partying.” Her expression was suddenly changed, bleak and sad. Lisander frowned.
“Sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I was a mess with drugs, booze, anything that was available. My dad had just died; Ma was remarried and with her new family.” She laughed quietly then. Lisander waited, and she smiled at him. “Little Miss New Boobs.”
Lisander’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
Kate grinned. “It’s from Friends. When Janice’s husband leaves her for another woman and his new family, she calls her Little Miss New Boobs.”
Lisander shook his head. “Your knowledge of Friends is somewhat encyclopedic.”
She bowed her head. “I thank you. I could probably recite the whole ten seasons to you verbatim. It’s a gift.”
“It’s something, all right,” Lisander muttered, and laughed when she punched his shoulder. “Hey, tell me to mind my own business …”
“Mind your own business.”
“Funny girl. So, what was the catalyst? To stop the partying?”
Kate smiled. “I can’t even tell you. It’s like one day I just woke up and thought ‘What the hell is this life? Such a waste.’ I remember being out at Coney Island, and it was cold but sunny and just a perfect day. I had a hangover, but the fresh air blew through me, and I just decided at that moment to change. So, I got clean. It’s not like I was on the heavy drugs— it was just the odd ecstasy pill and some weed—and enrolled in college. And that was that.”
Lisander nodded. “Impressive. For what it’s worth, I’m very grateful to Coney Island.”
Kate laughed. “Me too.” She met his gaze, and her stomach flipped. Lisander smiled, a soft, intimate smile, and then his lips were on hers.
God that kiss, tender, gentle, then firm and masterful. Kate’s head whirled with desire. Lisander leaned his forehead against hers. “Wanna get out of here?”
She took him back to her apartment, her desire for this man overriding the thought of Nikos. Lisander’s hands were on her body, caressing, massaging, stroking, and she let go of all her ambitions. Christ, she wanted him inside her, had never felt such a strong desire before. She wanted to be naked with him, fucking him, being fucked in every way there was, giving herself over to him completely.
“Lisander,” she whispered, and heard him groan. In the kitchen, he lifted her onto the counter, his hands reaching under her skirt to tug her panties down her legs, his long fingers caressing her. Kate cupped the hot length of his cock through his jeans and felt how hard it was for her.
“I want you, Katie.”
A punch to the gut. Katie was Nikos’s nickname for her. Oh, god, Nikos, I’m sorry. She gently pushed Lisander away. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” She couldn’t look at him. He stood, catching his breath, silent for a few moments.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He tried to smile, but Kate could see the hurt in his eyes. She slid off the counter and went to him.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” She grinned wryly. “I truly am a big old mess at the moment. I have a boyfriend; his name is Nikos. Until I get things resolved with him, it’s not fair to him. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I’m just not ready.” She tried to read his expression. “Friends?”
“Always,” he said with a sad smile. Kate stroked his face.
“It’s not that I don’t want you, Lisander. I do. I have ever since that first day. I just have to end things with Nikos first. I don’t want to be a cheater.”
Lisander nodded. “I understand. Look, I had better get out of here before you change your mind and wrestle me to the ground again.”
Kate laughed, grateful for the joke. “Does anything dent your confidence?”
Lisander grinned. “Not really.” He cupped her face in his hand and brushed her lips again. Kate groaned; the taste of his mouth was too intoxicating.
They started to kiss again, then froze as someone knocked at the front door. For a moment, they didn’t move. Another knock, louder. Kate sighed and grinned up at Lisander.
“Disengage, soldier.”
He snickered. Walking away from him, she smoothed her clothing and her hair quickly. Another knock.
“Coming!’
“If only,” muttered Lisander, and she giggled.
“Perv.” She blew him a kiss and skipped to the front door and unlocked it.
Nikos stood in front
of her, his face a mask of shock.
Benoit and Shiloh sat in the small café, both staring at the photograph in front of them. Shiloh reached over and took Benoit’s hand. He looked up at her, dazed, almost bewildered. She smiled at his expression.
“Our baby. Our girl.”
He laughed softly. “I cannot quite believe it. This is really happening, huh?”
Shiloh laughed and rubbed her belly. “Unless this is a burrito baby.” She watched him as he marveled at the scan photo. “Any names come to mind? Anything but Marcella.”
She regretted her words at once as his face creased with pain. “I’m sorry, Benoit. I didn’t mean to break the mood.”
He didn’t answer, but stared out of the window. The Parisian streets were dark now, streetlights casting long beams over the slick wet asphalt. She watched his face go through a myriad of emotions before he cleared his throat and turned back to her.
“Shiloh … I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t feel something for Marcella and that I probably will always miss her as a friend. But this,” he waved the scan gently, “I am committed to our child now, to trying to make us work.”
She reached over and stroked his face. “Thank you.” She saw the uncertainty in his eyes though, withdrew her hand and sighed. “Things would be so much better if she wasn’t around all the time. Just so you didn’t have to see her, so I didn’t have to see her and know she was the love of your life, that I am your … fallback, your consolation prize.” Her voice was soft, but there was bitterness in her words and angry tears in her eyes.
He sighed and took her hand. “Don’t ever say that.” he sighed, “Marcella is not the love of my life, Shiloh. Don’t you know by now that I love you?”
It was the first time he said it and Shiloh’s eyes filled with happy tears. “I love you too, Benoit Vaux.”
He smiled and kissed her hand. “A new life, mon amour.”
She smiled and glanced at her watch. “Let’s go home, Benoit. Let’s start making that new life.”
Shiloh waited at the café as Benoit brought the car around. Outside the rain was relentless; headlights on the windows of the café twinkled like jewels. Shiloh smiled to herself, running her hand down her swollen belly and picking up the scan again.
She could pick out the baby’s face now, the nose, the tiny eyes. She squinted, trying to see who the child resembled then laughed to herself. What did it matter? Everything was working out right. She traced the fetus’ outline with her finger, her eyes pricking with tears. Love. It was a feeling she had thought she would never feel for a child.
“We’re on our way, baby,” she whispered, grinning to herself. She noticed an old couple looking over at her, and she waved the scan at them. They nodded and smiled.
Sighing happily, she gazed out of the window again, trying to pick out Benoit’s form in the melee of cars and bodies and rain, and waited.
He watched her from the across the street, his eyes following the elegant sweep of her neck, the way her blonde hair fell over her shoulders in fine strands. So, she was pregnant? That made things more interesting … still, he was only tracking her to throw people off his scent. This blonde girl was merely collateral damage. Ori was his real prize, her resemblance to Viola fueling his bloodlust. He would use the blonde to distract The Midnight Club and then, when the time was right, claim his prize. It was getting harder and harder to get to Ori alone; he would have to take his chance whenever he could.
He just hoped he would get the chance soon. Orianthi Roy could not be permitted to marry Maceo Bartoli. She was his, and his alone …
Shiloh saw Benoit pull up to the curb and gathered her things. She stepped out into the rain and Benoit leaped out to open the door for her. As he did, a car came from nowhere, tires screeching wildly, and slammed into their car. The force knocked both Benoit and Shiloh off their feet, broken glass shattering around them. Benoit threw himself onto Shiloh as the car headed inexorably towards them. It was over in seconds, and then all was silent for a beat. People began to stream out of the café to help; the attacking car pulled back and screeched away, the driver unseen.
Benoit quickly gathered Shiloh to him. A large gash on her forehead was oozing blood, her cheeks were grazed, but she blinked at him, dazed but conscious. “Ça va?” His voice was urgent, and she nodded.
“Oui. Toi?”
Benoit was shell-shocked but unharmed, “What the hell was that?” He looked up at some of the bystanders. “Did you see who that was?”
They all shook their heads but later, at home, when they were resting, he got his answer. A text message. Nightfall. Benoit cursed, and Shiloh looked at him with big, frightened eyes. Together, they looked at the website. A new photograph of her had appeared: sitting in the café, waiting for Benoit. A warning: I am close.
Benoit did his best to reassure Shiloh. “I will never let him hurt you or our child.”
Four hours later, in the dead of night, Shiloh awoke, panting, pain like she’d never known ripping through her. She staggered to the bathroom to find blood flooding out of her, the pain in her abdomen excruciating. She managed to scream for Benoit before she passed out.
Seth Cantor had been concentrating so hard on his work that he barely heard his cell phone. As the weather worsened in Montreal, he stayed longer hours at the office. Now that he and Irina were over, he had no appetite for socializing. He knew his friends were worried about him—but they all had bigger problems at the moment.
He snagged the phone from his pocket. “Cantor.”
“It’s me.” Benoit said, his voice flat. Seth’s heart began to beat fast; please don’t let this be bad news …
“Did you see the website today?”
Seth brought it up and cursed. “A new photo.”
“It was taken yesterday, just before we were hit by a car. Shiloh’s in the hospital. They think she might be miscarrying.”
Seth’s heart sank. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Look, they’re trying to stop it, but I really need your help. We need to find this guy before he kills Shiloh or Ori or anyone else.”
“Agreed. Look, I’m on my way to Paris. I’ll be with you soon. Hang on there, buddy.”
“Thanks, Seth,” Benoit sounded relieved and grateful. “See you soon.”
Alex told Ori and Maceo about the attack in Paris as they ate breakfast. Both expressed their sorrow. “Do you think we should go to them?”
Alex shook his head. “Maceo, you haven’t got your passport back yet. Seth is going, and we all agree that putting Shiloh and Ori in the same place is not a good idea. He or she is determined to kill you,” he said to Ori, who paled. “I think this shows he will stop at nothing. I’m glad you have Jason and Krav Maga.”
“Cheers to that,” Maceo murmured and kissed Ori’s temple. She smiled, but said nothing.
Over the last four weeks, she had been training hard every day with Jason Meeks, an instructor who Alex knew. She was enjoying the physicality of it and her body changing as she got fitter and leaner, but there was something else, something she hadn’t shared with Maceo or Alex.
Jason himself had appeared friendly when she started working with him. They would go for long hikes in the woods, but it wasn’t until a few days ago that she’d noticed his changing attitude. He began to flirt, complimenting her on her body in a way that made her uncomfortable. What was the word? she thought. Intimate. He pretended there was an intimacy between them that didn’t exist as far as she was concerned.
Then, yesterday, she had been late to the rendezvous point. Tired, cranky, and hormonal, she had overslept, and the aspirin she’d taken for cramps hadn’t kicked in yet. She pulled her car alongside his at the parking lot of the trail. He stood, his hands on his hips, staring at her car.
She sat in the car for a few minutes trying to gather herself. It was obvious Jason was waiting for her. She rubbed at her eyes and dropped her head into her hands, frustrated. “Five. Minutes. To. Myself,” she intone
d softly, her words muffled.
She gave a yelp as the car door was yanked openly suddenly.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jason’s face was red with anger “I was worried sick about you.”
Her annoyance flooded over, and she slid from the car and slammed the door shut behind her. Ignoring him, she stomped into the small hut where the bathrooms were, trying to slam the door in his face. He caught it, though, following her, and she turned on him.
“I don’t answer to you, Jason. I don’t answer to anyone. Now, if you don’t mind …”
He stepped toward her, and she caught her breath as she saw the rage in his face. She swallowed and turned away, but his hand was on her shoulder then, gripping, spinning her around.
“You don’t talk to me like that, baby girl, do you understand? After all, I’ve done for you … is it too much to ask for a little common courtesy?”
Ori felt a jolt of dread as she looked into his handsome yet angry face. Suddenly Jason blinked, stepped away from her, and held his hands up.
“God … I’m sorry, Ori. That was totally inappropriate. Please forgive me. I was worried sick about you, and I took it out on you. Please, I’m sorry.”
He looked so genuine contrite that Ori’s anger seeped away. “It’s okay,” she said rather stiffly. “Look, shall we leave it for today?”
Jason sighed. “If you’d like, but I’m willing to put this behind us and carry on if you are?”
Ori considered. Her stomach cramps were telling her to go back to bed, but she knew that if she carried on, the exercise would be good for her.
And, indeed, it proved so as they ran, walked, and practiced their moves. She had to admit, she loved training out in the open, no matter how cold it was. She felt like she was becoming strong and hardier. Jason didn’t mention his outburst again, but she knew she would never feel comfortable with him.
So now, when she had the chance to say something to Maceo or Alex, she stayed silent. Jason Meeks was the least of her problems right now. Maceo’s passport had still not been returned by the DA, and now Maceo’s lawyer was getting involved, making noise. She and Maceo wanted desperately to go home to Italy; she missed her work, Lucia, all her friends, along with their life together in Venice, away from all this crap. She had a constant dread that she would never see that life again, that it would be taken from her one way or another.
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