“Nothing,” Mia said. “I spilled all over myself, that’s all.”
“That’s okay, dearie. Cook will fix you up, good as new.”
“I’d love a bath or shower,” Mia said.
“I can help you,” Reid said.
“Thanks, but I’d like a woman’s help,” Mia said.
“But I could—”
“Ah ah!” Cook cut him off, thrusting her forefinger in the air. “No buts. A girl needs privacy to work her magic for her man.” Cook patted at her upswept hairdo, then looked at Mia out of the corner of her eye. “Am I right?”
Mia smiled. “I knew you’d understand.”
Cook pointed her meaty finger at Reid. “Now you get out.”
“But I—”
“I said no buts! I take no talk-backs. Out, mister.”
“Okay, I give up.” Reid held up his hands. “Can I gather my things?”
“What for? Everything you need is in the room next door. You get yourself a shower, right? Then eat. Nap. I’ll fetch you when it’s time to come back.”
Heading for the shower, Reid almost turned back three times. He kept thinking of things he should have told Cook, but he made himself keep going. Mia wasn’t in any danger. He suspected the same couldn’t be said for him if he crossed Cook.
One Hundred One
Lost Angeles
Pascal grew more agitated each hour that passed. He alternated between staring out the window and pacing in front of it, but neither made Minou appear.
The door to Justine’s room was still closed and there had been no further update from the doctor. He’d begun to suspect that Ben knew something and was keeping it from him. That was not acceptable, but Minou was his greater concern at the moment.
“What’s that, Linus?” Pascal said, leaning closer. “That’s kind of you to offer, but the matter of Justine will wait until we’ve spoken with Minou.”
Linus was becoming such a thoughtful and responsible young man, but Pascal would not shuffle off his responsibilities. They would watch for Minou together.
At long last, Minou and her men approached the building. Pascal turned to the interior door and willed himself to remain calm while he waited for Minou to throw Brandt at his feet. Pascal could almost see him huddled on the ground begging for mercy.
The door opened. Minou entered alone. Pascal shook his head to clear his vision, but nothing changed.
“Minou, tell me something that will keep me from ripping out your jugular with my bare hands.” He said it in a low, calm voice, as if he were asking the special on today’s menu.
“Brandt wasn’t on Catalina. Witnesses saw him there an hour before we arrived. We searched the whole island, but he was gone. I’m convinced he left on the Belle Jewel with the others who escaped from the Tank.”
Minou’s uniform was torn and dirty, her boots were caked with mud, there was filth under her nails, and she had a scrape on her cheek crusted with blood.
“The reason for your tardy return?” Pascal asked.
“It’s a big island, sir.”
“And the question that determines whether you live or die today: where is the Belle Jewel now?”
“I don’t know, sir, but I brought you the pirate king.”
“At least that’s one bit of good news.”
“If anyone knows where the ship is, it’s Markoff,” Minou said. “I brought his wife to ensure he’s motivated to share that information. They’re in the Tank now.”
“Congratulations. You’ve earned yourself the rest of today. Tomorrow will be determined by what you learn from our guests. Dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Why wasn’t she leaving? “Is there something else?”
“Requesting permission to assign six men to burial detail, sir.”
“Request denied. The dead aren’t going anywhere.”
“Yes sir.” Minou double-timed her exit.
Pascal pivoted and nearly collided with the doctor.
“Chancellor,” the doctor said. “I have information.”
“That is fortunate for you, Ben.”
“We resolved the patient’s hypoglycemia and dehydration, but when we brought her out of sedation, she was still disoriented. We ran more tests and found she has severe anemia, so we began blood transfusions to raise her iron level.”
“Is she alert now? I need to talk to her and I’m not a patient man.”
“No, she’s not responding as I’d hoped. The type-specific blood supply on hand doesn’t have a high enough concentration of iron.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“We need blood from a compatible donor whose diet is higher in iron.”
“No one has a better diet than I do.” Pascal rolled up his sleeve. “See if I’m a match.”
An hour later, he felt fine, despite having given a pint of his own blood. He’d made Ben test and draw his blood right in the command post. He couldn’t have his men thinking he was weak or vulnerable. The sharks, they’d take any sign of weakness as opportunity to overthrow him. He sat up straight and looked at each of the people present, making sure they knew he was still fully in control. If anyone had looked the slightest bit skeptical, he’d have shot him right there. Luckily for them, no one did. He was still their commander, the chancellor, the King of Lost Angeles. But he could never let his guard down. He’d be on the lookout lest anyone forget who was in charge.
“You see that, Linus? I make my own destiny.” Pascal said. “She needed blood. I gave her my own. Soon we can implement our plan. You’ll see, son. We’ll have our revenge.”
Pascal knew his men thought he was crazy, talking to his son like he was a trusted advisor. He heard them whispering, but he didn’t care. The boy was a genius. Making keen observations about seemingly inconsequential details. Catching things even Pascal had not seen. In fact, Linus had recalled the one piece of information that brought the entire plan together.
Now all they needed was for that bitch Justine to stop playing hard to get.
Or maybe she wasn’t the problem at all.
He was beginning to think the young doctor wasn’t as forthright and uncompromising as he’d portrayed himself to be. Pascal usually saw through false posturing immediately, but something had been clouding his judgment. Unfortunately for the doctor, the clouds had parted.
“Gomez, keep an eye on Linus and send someone to find out what’s keeping his lunch.”
Pascal charged into Justine’s room. She was sitting up in bed, awake. She and the delusory doctor were chatting. Laughing. She’d probably been fine the whole time, and they’d been conspiring, colluding, making him a fool. He wanted to rip the head from Benjamin Lawrence’s neck, but he reined in his anger and put on his most concerned expression.
“Justine, you had us so worried.”
“I was about to get you, Chancellor,” Ben said. “The transfusion worked beautifully. Justine, the chancellor’s blood saved your life.”
“Thank God it worked,” Pascal said. “I don’t know what I would have done, what I would have said to Brandt if . . .”
“Where is he?” Justine asked. “Why isn’t he here?”
“Darling, what do you remember?”
“That’s enough for now,” Ben said. “She needs to rest.”
“Of course.” Pascal smiled warmly at Justine. “You rest and let me take care of everything. Brandt saved my son’s life, which makes you and your baby my highest priority.”
“My baby.” Her hand went to her abdomen and her eyes welled with tears.
“Your baby is going to be fine,” Pascal said.
“But the doctor said . . .” Justine’s brow furrowed.
“Dr. Lawrence doesn’t like to speculate. Isn’t that right, Ben?”
“Yes,” Ben said. “It’s too early to say.”
“Don’t you worry, Justine. I’ve sent for a specialist,” Pascal assured her. “Get some sleep. When you wake, the other doctor will be here.” He held the door. “After you, Ben
.”
“As soon I get her blood pressure, Chancellor.”
“Ben, I’m sorry to impose, but my son has been waiting to see you. Now that Justine is stable, could you take a moment to check him over? Only if you don’t mind, Justine.”
“Of course,” Justine said.
Pascal ushered Ben out of the room and over to the command post. “You tried to deceive me, Ben.”
“No, sir, I—”
“Get out your gun,” Pascal told Nathans. He wanted to shoot Ben right there, but he wasn’t going to let his anger ruin his plan. If he needed to produce the good doctor later, he wanted him alive and well. Or at least alive. “Nathans, escort Ben to the Tank. Put his wife and kid in a cell where he can see them. Gomez, get me a doctor I can work with.”
“Dr. Levine from the Grand?”
“He’d be perfect if he didn’t have the bedside manner of a fish.”
“What about Dr. Advani?”
“Advani . . . she’ll do anything to keep her pretty young daughter from working at the Grand. How a woman that looks like a troll could produce a daughter that attractive is beyond me.” He flashed to Mia and her ugly clothier mother, and fury sprang to his chest.
“Sir?” Gomez said. “Dr. Advani?”
“Yes,” Pascal said, coming back to himself. “Yes, get her. Now. Go.”
“Right away, sir.” Gomez hurried off.
Pascal looked from Linus across the room to Justine’s door. With both Gomez and Nathans gone, he was torn between watching after his son and guarding Justine’s door. It was his very distraction over Linus that had permitted Ben to deceive him. He’d need to keep a much closer watch on Advani. This meant, despite his own desires, he needed someone else, someone trustworthy, to be with Linus. It would be best if it were someone Linus wanted to spend time with. He couldn’t have the boy feel he was being pawned off.
Wait, there was someone. That junior nurse who had a crush on Linus. Linus liked her. Of course it was only a dalliance, not worthy of anything serious, but how perfect that she was a nurse. It was so obvious, he couldn’t fathom why he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
What was her name? Gomez would know. Gomez would take care of it.
One Hundred Two
Aboard the Belle
Reid jerked awake. He’d fallen asleep in the room next to Mia’s, and had nightmare after nightmare. In the last dream he’d been working on a patient, performing CPR, but he couldn’t revive the man. When he pulled his hands away, they were covered in blood. Kayla was screaming at him—It’s your fault! It’s all your fault! His grandmother was wailing. He looked back at his patient. Now there were three—his father, Tinker, and Brian—all dead. He looked down and the floor was littered with soldiers. They’d all been shot. Everyone was dead and it was his fault.
He took off his sweat-soaked shirt and splashed cold water on his face. It was his fault. He could see his grandmother’s and Kayla’s faces. The horror, the blame. The hate and disgust.
That’s how they’d look at him if he went back home. If they could look at him at all.
There was a knock at the door.
“Yeah?” He glanced around the room for a shirt to put on.
“Yoo hoo. Mister Reid, it is Cook.” The door swung open. “Why are you not ready! You hurry yourself. Do not make Miss Mia wait.” She hmphed and slammed the door.
Seeing Mia was exactly what he needed. When he was with her, the images of home faded, and the guilt and regret kept their distance. He found a clean gray shirt in a drawer, grabbed his bag, and was out the door so fast he could still smell Cook’s perfume in the hall.
He knocked on the infirmary door, then entered. Mia was posed on the bed in a white silk robe that showed more of her long slender legs than it covered. It was tied closed but managed to reveal ample cleavage as well. She patted the space next to her.
Reid sat down, unable to take his eyes off her.
“Well?” She looked at him expectantly. “Reid, how do I look?”
Damn, he should have said something right when he opened the door, but he hadn’t been able to form a coherent thought. Now that he was close to her, she smelled so good he wasn’t doing much better. “I . . . I . . .”
“Good.” Her lips curved in a provocative smile. “That’s what I was hoping for.” She draped her leg over his and grabbed his shirt, pulling him on top of her. She arched against him, her breasts hard against his chest.
He kissed her tenderly, but she dug her fingers into his back and wrapped her legs around him. Frantic, urgent. Moaning, grinding against him.
“Whoa,” he said. “It’s too soon.”
“I’m fine. Better than fine.”
He wanted to lose himself in her. “You’re not making this easy. I don’t want to stop.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Feel how fast your heart is beating?” Reid held his hand to her chest. “This is definitely too much too soon.” He rolled to his back and cradled her in the crook of his arm. “Let’s take it slow. We have all the time in the world.”
“Slow is not what I want. I want you.”
“I want you too, but I never should have let it get that far.” He knew better.
Mia rolled to her side, turning her back to him.
“You mad?” he asked.
“No, sleepy.”
He wasn’t sure he believed her, but after a few minutes, her breathing slowed. He snuggled closer, wishing he could fall asleep too, but every time he closed his eyes the dead from his nightmare returned. They pressed against him, sucking the air from the room. He saw Kayla’s eyes, accusing.
He slid his arm from under Mia and went to the window, but staring at the ocean didn’t vanquish his ghosts. He looked at Mia, but all he could see was Kayla. The guilt was suffocating. He opened the door. He had to get out of there, but he shouldn’t leave Mia alone.
“Mister Reid, what can I do for you?” Cook asked, waddling down the hall with a tray.
“I . . . nothing. I’m fine.” Reid felt like an idiot, running from ghosts that didn’t exist.
“You look like cabin fever,” Cook said. “It’s time for Miss Mia’s tea. You take a walk.”
“If you’re sure.” Reid stepped out of the way so Cook could squeeze into the room.
“Scrambo, mister.”
Reid felt better as soon as he filled his lungs with fresh air. A hundred shades of pink and orange clouds floated atop the cobalt water, ushering in the night sky. He’d seen gorgeous sunsets in Colorado, but nothing like this.
As he headed for the bow, he noticed a couple silhouetted at the rail. The man had his arm around the woman’s shoulders. Reid turned the other direction, not wanting to disturb them.
“Reid, have you got a moment?”
Reid shielded his eyes and turned back toward the couple. By the time he realized it was Nikolai who’d called to him, it was too late to do anything other than walk over.
“Let me introduce you to my daughter, Tatiana,” Nikolai said.
The young woman shook Reid’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“How is Mia?” Nikolai asked. “I’d like Tatiana to meet her.”
“She’s doing better,” Reid said.
“I brought some clothing for her,” Tatiana said. “I’m sure Cook’s been doing her best, but there’s not much to choose from on the Belle.”
Reid pictured Mia in the silk robe—he never wanted Nikolai or anyone else to see her in that. She definitely needed some other clothes. “I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”
“I’ll come by in the morning?” Tatiana asked.
“Great,” Reid said.
“See you then.” Tatiana took Nikolai’s hand and they strolled toward the rear of the boat.
Nikolai seemed like a good dad. It made Reid think of his own father. He wished he could tell him he’d been a good dad, despite what had happened at the end.
One Hundred Three
Lost Angeles
Pascal smiled. Doctor Parvati Advani was indeed the perfect replacement for Ben.
“You’re sure the baby is okay?” Justine held her hands protectively across her stomach.
“Absolutely, one hundred percent,” Advani said.
“I told you there was nothing to worry about.” Pascal made sure his voice oozed kindness and concern. “She’s our best neonatologist. You can rest easy.”
“But Dr. Lawrence wasn’t sure the baby was still alive.” Justine’s lip trembled.
“Do you know what the nurses call him?” Advani said. “Doctor Doom. Because he always gives the worst case scenario, getting patients worked up over nothing at all.”
Nice touch. “You don’t have to worry about Dr. Doom anymore,” Pascal said. “He’s been assigned to another patient.”
“Your son?” Justine asked.
Pascal’s heart skipped, then he remembered his earlier ruse. “No, no. When he examined Linus he scared me out of my wits with his ominous diagnoses. Thank goodness Dr. Advani provided a more sensible second opinion. It turns out Linus is in no immediate danger. He’s suffering from vitamin deficiencies, isn’t that right, Doctor?”
“I’m afraid so. Like all the children in Lost Angeles, Linus isn’t getting enough nutrients from our food supply. It’s something I’m sure you think about with a little one on the way.”
“You see, Justine,” Pascal said, “even the Chancellor’s son is not immune. I’d hoped our scientists would have made more progress by now.”
Dr. Advani checked the bottle delivering blood into Justine’s arm. “You’re very lucky. The Chancellor saved your life by giving you his blood.”
Justine smiled at Pascal. “Thank you.”
“I’ll give you some time to visit,” Advani said. “When I return I’ll have a meal for you and I expect you to eat.” Advani shook her finger at Justine, then turned it on Pascal. “Do not tire her out.”
“Yes ma’am.” Pascal closed the door behind her and pulled a chair to the bedside.
“Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you. About Brandt.” Pascal’s voice was low and somber. “But if you’re not strong enough . . .”
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