Heart pounding, certain she would find no pulse, she checked his neck. A steady but slow beat alerted her she needed to act quickly. She then ran her hand over his head and neck. No swelling or bleeding. Frantically, she ran her hands over his arms and chest and found nothing wet with blood, even when she lifted his black shirt to double check the area. There were no new bruises or abrasions, so she continued to his back, sides, and hips. Her fingers came away wet. He’d been hit near his hip.
“Stupid, hardheaded asshole,” she murmured. Seeing the big lug’s face ash-gray and lax scared the bejesus out of her.
With shaking hands, she managed to crank the truck on the first try. She needed to get them to a safe spot and call Ryker. Then she’d see how bad he was hurt.
“Rex!” She shook him by the shoulders. The bright red blood on her fingers looked like gruesome paint. “Rex, I need to move you over so I can drive to the Lazy Inn. I saw it the other day and thought what a perfect place to hole up in.” Almost in tears, she swallowed to calm the building hysteria. “Crazy, isn’t it, how things like that can work out? Seeing something you might need and boom! Needing it.” She laughed, the sound a little demented. “Boom! Explosions. Boom. Get it?” She really didn’t expect him to answer and maybe that’s when she realized she needed to regain control.
She managed to slide his body to the other side by exiting the truck and shoving her whole body against his. The smell of blood filled the air. Mumbling a few of Rex’s favorite curses, she shifted the truck into drive and headed down the road.
Time dragged and every moment felt surreal as she stayed mindful of the speed limit. If the authorities stopped her, having the sheriff as a brother wouldn’t help. Oh, Jesus H. Christ, her brother. In all of the horror with the cave-in, she’d forgotten they still didn’t know what happened to him.
With her brother missing, they would definitely haul her ass in if she had a wounded man in the truck with her. Too many families had turned on each other in the past. Though thankful they hadn’t found any sign of Edward in the caves, she prayed he was still alive. She’d heard other people say they could feel it if a loved one was dead or not. Why couldn’t she feel it? She loved him in her own way.
She blinked, clearing the tears from her eyes. Not a good time to break down. Rex depended on her to get them to safety and contact Ryker.
The weathered Lazy Inn sign never looked so good. She pulled to the back of the low office building and hoped that if anyone spotted Rex, they would think he was taking a nap.
She reached for the door handle with blood-coated fingers and stopped. Closing her eyes for a few seconds as the desire to scream welled up, she breathed in deep to regain control and then wiped her fingers under her black shirt. What wasn’t dried was sticky. She spotted a water hose off to the side of the inn as she exited the truck. A quick wash and she walked into the office. With her bruised face, dressed black on black, and coated in dirt and mud, she imagined she was a sight to be seen. But the clerk didn’t pause as he accepted her money. When she returned to the truck, Rex hadn’t moved. That frightened her so much. No matter how bad things had gotten between them, he’d always been full of energy and fire.
She needed him to wake.
She’d insisted on a room at the far corner of the property. He was too big and heavy for her to carry him, and no way could she ask for help. How would she explain all the blood?
“Rex, sweetheart, I need you to wake up.” She shook him, begging and pleading. No response. Looking around, she spotted a maid’s cart sitting outside a room and, a door down from it, an old ice machine. In seconds, she returned to the truck with a towel filled with ice. She needed Rex to wake up.
“Sorry, but you’ve got to wake up.” She placed the cool towel to his face and moved it around, hoping it would revive him. A few seconds passed and nothing happened. She ran the towel down his neck. He groaned as the ice began to melt. He rolled back against the seat. She threw the wet cloth on the floorboard. “Rex, you have to help me. You need to get out of the truck and into the room.”
He shivered. “It’s cold.”
Relief flooded her body. He finally spoke.
“I know, sweetheart. Sit up and help me walk you to the room. I’ll get you under the covers and warm.”
With her pushing and pulling, he sat up and stumbled out of the truck. By willpower and luck, she managed to get Rex into the room and sprawled across the bed.
He was out again, but asleep on a lumpy mattress had to be ten times better than the truck. She pulled a knife from under her pant leg and sliced off his shirt. Unfastening his pants, she carefully worked them down his legs, taking his briefs with them.
“Stupid man. You’re not a superhero. You bleed and can die.” She concentrated on reaching the wound and seeing the damage. Otherwise, she would throw herself on the floor to kick and scream in frustration.
Keeping her attention on the angry-looking hole near his hip, she felt around to see if the bullet had hit bone or anything major. His color still looked bad, maybe a little paler. He could be bleeding internally and she wouldn’t know it until his body went into shock. From the way blood continued to seep and with no exit wound, she knew the bullet was still inside. With what little medical knowledge she had, there was no way she would go digging inside of him for the metal. That would only be asking for trouble. Nicking a major artery would cause the situation to become fatal.
Swiping her forehead with her arm, she walked into the bathroom and threw up. Refusing to look at her reflection, she splashed water on her face and jerked the towel off the rack and returned to Rex. She pressed it to the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding completely. Using his cut up shirt, she twisted it and slipped one end beneath him and brought it around to tie off. It didn’t really place pressure on the wound, but more kept the towel in place. She covered him with the sheet and comforter.
Finally, she pulled out her cell phone to call Ryker and nothing but a blank screen greeted her. It was dead. Two days had passed since she last charged it.
She picked up Rex’s pants and pulled out his cell. The busted screen said it all. Screw it!
Shaking her head, she looked around. There was always the old-fashioned way. She lifted the receiver from the phone next to the bed and called collect. After only one ring, one of the handlers at The Circle headquarters answered. She recited her code before they patched her through to Ryker. As one of The Circle’s elite operatives, she had the freedom of not working with a handler as others did, but instead reported directly to Jack and thus Ryker. With Jack possibly dead, Ryker was her immediate boss.
“What the fuck is going on there, Rodriguez?”
Abby held the phone away from her ear. The man had anger issues. How in the world did his wife, Marie, put up with him?
“Brody blew up the mountain and everyone was inside. I think only me and Rex escaped.”
The other end was quiet for a moment. “Christ! Are they alive?”
“We’re not sure of that, sir. But we need some help. Should I call in the locals?”
“What did Rex say?” Ryker’s voice shot through the line.
“He didn’t—that is, he told me to get my family to safety, but he’s wounded and has lost a lot of blood. I’ve got him comfortable, though he’s out cold.” She quickly gave him the details of what happened and where they were staying.
“I see. Stay put. It’ll take us a few hours to get there even by helicopter. I’ll have someone talk with the locals, and we’ll get a permit backdated. The report that goes out will say that a major construction project was going on at the cave, and explosives were used. We’ll see if we can keep the federal boys out of it.
“Any explosions of that magnitude would bring in the locals without a tip before you even got away. For them to not be there already means someone is holding them back. We need to reach your mother or sister-in-law and get them to safety. You said your brother was taken?”
“We believe Brody took hi
m. Knowing my brother, he didn’t listen to me when I told him to stay out of my business. He probably questioned the wrong person and it got back to Brody.”
“Most likely. Stay there. Take care of T-Rex. In the meanwhile, Brian from IT will call you with a credit card number to use. Then you can arrange to buy whatever you need to take care of you two until we get there.” Then he hung up.
Abby leaned over Rex and caressed his face with shaking fingers. T-Rex? Men and their crazy nicknames for each other. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she ran her hand over his warm forehead and through the stiff ends of his hair. She wished he would let it grow back out. Why had he cut it?
She traced his scar, feeling a little guilty knowing how he didn’t really like her touching it. She wanted to memorize every inch of his face. Her hand dropped to his chest and wide shoulders. A fingertip followed the design of a tattoo. They had been naked together so many times over the last several days, but not once had an opportunity come up for her to really look closely with proper lighting. When they were without clothes, they generally had better things to do than discuss body art.
She leaned in closer. The fine lines circling each arm’s bicep appeared, at first glance, to be Celtic knots with a single word at the front and center inside a heart. The knots were words. She recognized the words on both arms. They were songs she’d loved at the time they were engaged. On his right arm was Leona Lewis’s “Bleeding Love.” The single word was love. The other arm had the lyrics from Rihanna and Ne-Yo’s song, “Hate That I Love You,” with the word hate. The words in small print underlining love and hate were her name, the year of her birth, and the year she’d supposedly died.
She fell back in the chair next to the bed. Her hand covered her mouth. Tears streamed down her face. She didn’t know what to make of all that. Her throat clogged with a suppressed scream of emotion. Rex had told her once that with all the scars he had, he’d never put ink under his skin. She leaned forward and softly caressed the nearest tattoo, confirming they were real.
“Now I’ll have to get the suckers burned off.” Rex’s half-opened eyes stared at her.
Surprised that he’d answered her unspoken thoughts, she asked, “Why did you do it?”
“Because I loved you and I wanted to save the words from your favorite song. They made me think of you. And I hated . . . hated how you left me a broken man. Never again.” He shifted on the bed and growled his frustration.
“Don’t move. You’ll start bleeding again.”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She really didn’t care. She was so happy he was alive.
“Wanted to be sure you weren’t pulling my leg.” His sad grin broke her heart.
“Huh?”
“I wasn’t sure that you were really here or a hallucination.”
“I’m here. You were shot and who knows how much blood you lost with all the climbing through the vents and stealing a truck.”
He sighed, nodding. Before she could stop him, he shifted. His already pale face whitened further. He took a deep, sharp breath. “I feel like milk left out in the sun.”
“I swear. I thought you were dead. Jack and I were told you’d died in Peru,” she said.
The pain he’d endured then was suddenly visible in his eyes, his face, and the way he held his body so stiff, not from this wound, but from the massive one he sustained years ago.
“We’ve gone over this. I believe you and Jack. This isn’t the time or place.” He stared up at the ceiling.
“When is it the right time and place? We’re not going anywhere and I need to talk—” The telephone rang, interrupting her.
Was it a conspiracy to keep her from talking about what was hanging between the two of them? They needed to clear the air and she couldn’t think of a better time. They were alone, and he couldn’t leave without falling down on his face.
“Hello?” Abby said.
Without wasting any time, Brian gave her the information she needed to take care of Rex. The man was efficient.
Abby turned back to Rex. With his eyes shut and body relaxed, he appeared asleep. She knew better.
“You can play possum all you want, but you’re going to listen to what I have to say.” She crossed her arms and glared.
His eyes opened a crack. “Sure. Whatever makes you feel better.”
The thought of placing her fingers around his neck and squeezing flitted through her mind. Smart-ass. Could he not tell when she was being serious? He’d come so close to dying. Even with help on the way, anything could happen: infection, the bullet moving and nicking an artery, and more that she refused to think about.
Still, he had a point. Was she confessing because she wanted to feel better about herself? How would the news help him? She could tell herself that he needed to know, but why not before? If he died after she told him, would it make a difference? There wasn’t anything he could do at this juncture.
She’d never considered herself a coward and couldn’t start now. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath.
“I was pregnant with your child when I went to work for The Circle.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
* * *
REX WATCHED ABBY’S lips move, but he’d gone deaf after she’d said pregnant. His child. She had his child and never told him.
“What the hell do you mean you were pregnant?” he shouted, though the words came out more like a screech. He’d never screeched in his life.
She flinched, closing her eyes as her mouth stretched into a grimace.
His mind raced. Why did she tell him now and not before? The woman was smart. By telling him as he lay unable to move, weak from the throbbing pain and loss of blood, she thought she was safe. Not that he’d hit her; perhaps he’d shake her for lying to him. Once again, she’d proven how little she knew him, how little she trusted him, to not tell him as soon as she found out. What about the last night they were together? The foremost question was, had she known before he left for Peru?
“When did you know?” he asked, keeping his voice low, waiting.
“Excuse me.” She sprinted to the bathroom and slammed the door.
He closed his eyes. The sick sounds he heard told him the story. She’d known and kept it from him. His fingers dug into the sheets as his chest tightened. The need to cry welled up. His breath came in short bursts and his throat ached with silent screams.
For the woman he’d loved to hide their baby from him and not give him the opportunity to rejoice. What had he done to be punished in such a way? As a kid, he’d had his ass beaten for letting others take advantage of him. His dad had told him for years he was a dumb fuck and deserved whatever came his way.
He released the torn sheets and used the backs of his hands to wipe his face. Christ! He needed to act like a man. Staying on his back wasn’t an option. If the bullet hadn’t killed him yet, he could last a little longer.
Weak but determined to win, he sat up. The room spun as he tried to stand, and he fell back onto the bed, nearly missing it. Sweat poured off him and his body trembled as he worked to keep down whatever was left in stomach. He tried to pull the rest of his body onto the mattress, except his lower half wouldn’t cooperate.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Cool hands lifted his legs and shoved them back onto the bed.
Damn, he was naked.
He stared up at the stained ceiling. All he needed was to be a cripple too. For the moment, the numbness spreading from his wound to his toes was a relief. In seconds, the feeling came back in a rush of agonizing heat. He cupped the wound as if wishing he could make it better. Her gentle hand rested over his. He moved, causing hers to drop away.
She dragged a chair next to the bed and sat, watching him until she said, “I’m sorry.”
He was unsure if he could look at her.
“Tell me. Boy or girl?” he asked softly, trying to control his temper.
“A little boy.
”
Jesus Christ. A son. He would be around five. Close to the same age as her nephew, Edward’s son.
He caught his breath. His son?
“Tell me the truth for once in your life. Is Tommy our son?” That had to be it. He didn’t look anything like his fair-haired parents. He and Abby were dark-headed, and with her brown eyes being a dominant trait, they would most likely pass on to their child.
Somehow he brought his gaze to hers. He doubted he’d ever forgive her.
“Tommy?” Her forehead wrinkled.
“Yeah. Your brother’s son. He’s five, isn’t he?”
She vehemently shook her head. “No. No!”
“That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you acted so funny and hardly spoke with him. I’ve never seen a woman act like that around a kid.” Maybe he wanted it to be the truth.
Tears streamed down her face. She continued to shake her head.
“You were afraid I’d figure it out. That you took our child and gave it to your beloved brother. You’ve wanted your mother’s approval for so many years, and this was your way of getting it. Make your perfect brother happy and your mother would finally love you.” Pain pierced his chest and his hip hurt to the point every inch of his body ached. His head was about to explode. He wanted to stop talking but the pain of her betrayal was the final nail in the coffin.
“You’re wrong. All wrong.”
“I’ll get my son back and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. I know money produces results in custody hearings. So I can fight your family.”
“Stop! Please stop.” She landed on her knees next to the bed, her forehead pressed to the mattress near his arm. “You don’t understand.”
“What do I not understand? That you’ve proven once again how little you think of me? Why would I think you’re any different than anyone else I cared for? Did Jack tell you how my dad beat me not only for being taller than him, but also for being dumb? His favorite nickname for me was ‘dumbass.’” He laughed but the sound was mocking as he looked back at all of the past hurts. “In grade school, I was constantly called ‘dummy.’ The other kids thought I’d been held back and was only lying about my age. Teachers expected me to be smarter and more mature only because I was nearly twice the height of the other kids. Home wasn’t any better. Dad would whip my ass for the same thing.”
Circle of Deception Page 20