“I heard they put you through your paces, and you did well. Your only job is to get better. No one expects you to get back to normal overnight.” He handed her one of the two spoons he held.
“I don’t think there’s much danger of my overdoing anything. The exercises wore me out. I just hope I don’t fall asleep face first in my stew.”
His laughter wrapped her in warmth and friendliness. “If you do, I promise to pull you out and keep it our secret. Now, what shall we talk about?”
Nikki suddenly wanted to know all about him and felt guilty for it. Here she was a widow, and even if her husband hadn’t been the greatest, she shouldn’t be interested in another man so soon—but she was. Maybe drawn to him was more accurate; she might want to deny the attraction, but she couldn’t. “Tell me more about your team. There’s Ivan from Interpol, and some techno geek...”
“Greg. The kid’s absolutely incredible. He can find anything that’s ever been stored in a database. I’m hoping he’ll get the info we need to ID your husband soon. There’s a BAU specialist on the team, too. His expertise lies in revenge killings and vendettas. So far, he hasn’t discovered much to help.”
“What about Brad? It’s an odd name for a woman, isn’t it?”
“It is, but if you knew her the way I do, you’d understand that Elizabeth, Liz, or Beth just wouldn’t suit her.” There was such admiration in his voice, she wanted to kick something. Jealousy was not a character trait she wanted to cultivate. Sam had been a jealous man. The sudden thought upset her. She let the sound of Jason’s voice erase the memory. There were some things best left forgotten.
“Her real name is Elizabeth Bradley. Her friends and colleagues call her Brad. She’s ex-military, and you don’t want to piss her off. Like me, she goes wherever they need her, but home is San Francisco. Her husband’s Bill Seaford, the sci-fi novelist. They’re making Deep Six, his latest book, into a movie. They have two-year-old twins.”
She relaxed, relieved the woman wasn’t special to Jason in the way she’d thought.
“Why does Deep Six sound familiar?”
Jason laughed. “I read it aloud to you in the hospital. Irene believes people in a coma are aware of those around them, and sometimes remember some of the things they hear.”
“I can’t think of the storyline. I’ll have to read it again I guess. Or maybe see the movie when it comes out.” Curious to know more about him personally, she decided to probe for the answer to her biggest question.
“Is there a Mrs. Spark waiting for you somewhere?”
He sobered, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“There is, but she’s married to my brother Rick. I fly solo.”
“Why?” The question was out before she could stop it.
“Let’s just say I haven’t been lucky with the women in my life.”
Nikki realized she’d pushed too hard. His personal life wasn’t any of her business. But she would like it to be, and that had the potential of being a big problem.
“So other than sci-fi,” she asked returning to safer territory, “what kind of books do you read? I don’t know what kind of books I like.”
“But I do, or at least I know what kind of books you had on the bedside table. You’d just started a romantic suspense novel. I finished it with you. I enjoyed it.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Well, I thought you would like a book you’d planned to read...”
She cut him off. “Not the book, the whole thing. Coming to the hospital, reading to me—it takes hours to read a book aloud. I was in that coma six weeks. If you came once a week, you must have spent the whole day with me. It seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a stranger.”
He reddened. “I thought you needed a friend.”
She held out her hand to him, and he reached for it. His touch made her feel warm and tingly inside.
“I did, and I still do. Thank you.”
She took a spoonful of stew. “It’s delicious. My compliments to the chef.”
Jason nodded. “It’s a good thing I don’t have kitchen duty. I can burn water. I eat most of my meals out. I can make mac and cheese and reheat frozen dinners, but that’s it.”
“I’m a good cook.” Nikki continued to eat. “My pot roast is fantastic, and my apple pie is second to none.” She stopped talking when she realized Jason was watching her carefully. “What? Have I got food on my face?”
“Think of what you just said.”
“I remembered something else, didn’t I? Why do I keep bringing back minor details like these? Why can’t I recall important things like my son? It isn’t fair. I remember a damn doll, but not the child I nursed.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she dropped her spoon.
Jason put his spoon down and took her hand in his. The touch was comforting and familiar.
“Hey, your memory will come back all in good time. You have to be patient. You had a nightmare early this morning. Maybe those are memories trying to come back, too. I don’t care if you ever remember what happened, Nikki. I’ll get this guy whether you do or you don’t. If I can help in any way, then you can count on me.”
He stood, shoved the table away from the bed, reached for her and pulled her into his arms.
She should probably protest, but at this moment, being held in this man’s arms was what she wanted. He was offering her the comfort she needed.
“I’m here for you and Mandy as long as you need me. I won’t leave until it’s over, and even then, I hope we can still be friends.”
He held her a moment longer, letting her absorb his strength and confidence. When he released her, he looked as moved as she felt, but the guilt was in his eyes once more. He settled her back against the pillows, and pushed the tray in front of her once more.
“Now, you have to eat to get well. Have I told you about my brother, Rick? He can take so long to get to the point...”
Chapter Thirteen
Jason sat beside Nikki at the table watching her flip through the computer file he’d manage to assemble on her biological father. Tears brimmed her hazel eyes, more golden than green or gray tonight because of the amber housecoat she wore, but she was smiling. Why did women have to cry when they were happy? It confused the hell out of a man.
“You look like him, you know. Even with the cosmetic surgery, I can see the resemblance in the eyes and the cheekbones.”
When Jason had left her after lunch, he’d gone to the computer and had been dismayed to find nothing but a grainy newspaper photograph detailing the basic account of her father’s death. His wife and daughter were mentioned in the article, but not by name, and there was no information on the others involved in the accident.
Jason had panicked. He wanted to do this for Nikki, and he wouldn’t fail her again—he couldn’t. He’d phoned Greg and Ivan, begging them to see what they could find. He hadn’t given a thought to how the old count might have prized his personal privacy.
He’d been able to get a lot of information about the winery and the château that went with it. Talk about a bonus. No longer a family home, the castle served as a bed and breakfast catering to tourists visiting Champagne. It had to turn a tidy profit since staying there started at $350.00 a night—and that got you a room in the stable. So where was the money?
The house was quiet, the only sounds coming from the hiss of the gas fireplace and the ticking of the grandfather clock. Mandy and Cassie had gone to bed, and Angie and Troy wouldn’t be up for another three hours.
“Thank you for this.” She smiled at him. “He loved me.”
The image, one Ivan had sent, showed her in her father’s arms, standing beside a Christmas tree. There was no mistaking the pride and love in the man’s eyes. The photograph came from a newspaper article in the St. Dizier weekly. Nikki had translated the article for him. Apparently, she’d placed the angel on top of the tree to kick off the Christmas festivities in the small town closest to the estate. The picture had been take
n six months before her father’s death.
“Yes, he did, and from what I can see, the feeling was mutual. I can’t take all the credit for this, though. Most of it comes from Greg and Ivan.”
“But they wouldn’t have put it together for me if you hadn’t asked.”
“I’ll get it printed for you when we get back to San Francisco.”
Nikki pulled up another image showing five men dressed in climbing gear. Her father was in the center, and the man on his far right was Thomas Lincoln, the only one not smiling in the photograph.
“He doesn’t look happy to be there. Everyone else looks like they’re excited and looking forward to the adventure, but he’s down in the mouth. Why did he even bother to join the expedition? Maybe I’ll ask him if I can ever bring myself to talk to him again.”
She shifted in her chair, moving her left arm.
“Do you want me to take you back to your room?”
“No, not really. I slept almost three hours this afternoon. I’m not tired, but if I’m keeping you from doing something, by all means take me back.”
“Nope. My job right now is protecting you and sitting with you makes that easier. Nathan’s outside doing the perimeter sweep and talking to Troy’s man. He’s helping plant a few detractors in case we have unwanted guests.”
“Won’t those things keep the animals away? Mandy and I watched a deer eating berries on a bush in the backyard this afternoon. She was thrilled. She’d only seen them in the zoo, and I don’t recall ever seeing one before,” she laughed, “but then I don’t recollect much.”
“The motion sensors and stuff he’s setting up won’t affect the wildlife. It’s designed to keep track of two-legged predators.” She shuddered, and he touched her arm, drawing her gaze to his.
“It’s unlikely we’ll even need that stuff. My money’s still on the UCSF trap we’ve set. But Troy’s the expert on this, and he’d rather be safe than sorry.”
She nodded and shifted again. “Can we go and sit on the sofa? My arm’s a little sore this way. I think it’s the angle it’s at.”
He stood, pulled the chair out and picked her up. She put her right arm around his neck and he carried her over to the sofa, the distance too short. He liked the feel of her in his arms. He settled her so that the sofa’s armrest supported the cast.
“How’s this?”
“Much better, thanks. The cast is pretty heavy. I can’t wait to get it removed. I’m anxious to find out if my finger works. I’m amazed they were able to reattach it.”
The vision of the severed finger lying on the floor near her face flooded his mind.
“As soon as I saw it, I put it on ice. I don’t even know why because I thought you were dead. I’m glad I did.”
“So am I,” she whispered.
The living room was in semi-darkness, bathed by the glow of the fireplace. It was the perfect setting for romance, and the thought made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t think of her that way. Nikki Hart was a victim, the woman he’d sworn to protect. She was a friend, but that’s all they could ever be. He’d learned that mixing his personal life with business didn’t turn out well. Besides, he had a secret the size of the Grand Canyon.
She’d probably be as big as Cassie was now, her baby girl’s birth only weeks away if he’d moved his ass. He stared at the offensive cast, the one she wouldn’t be wearing if he’d done his job right. She would never forgive him if she learned the truth about his timing that night, and how could he blame her? He would never forgive himself.
“Let me turn on some lights,” he said. Standing, he flicked on the lantern-style lights on each side of the fireplace. The oil painting emerged from the darkness, and Nikki gasped.
“What’s wrong?” He hurried to her side.
“That painting. I’ve seen it before, I’m sure of it. There’s so much loneliness and isolation there. Who’s the artist?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t signed. I picked it up in L.A. about eight years ago.” He sat beside her, amazed at how small the sofa was. Why hadn’t he realized it was only a two-seater?
She shrugged, but he could see the painting had upset her, and she was doing her best to hide the reaction. “I’m an artist. I suppose I’ve seen thousands of paintings.”
She turned her attention away from the fireplace. “When Ivan provided the information about my father, did he mention anything about that tacky ring?”
Jason chuckled. “Few women would refer to an expensive red diamond ring as tacky, but I agree with you. It wasn’t the right style for your finger.” He picked up her right hand. “You’ve got small hands. Any ring you wear shouldn’t overpower them.” He felt his face heat. “That’s what I think anyway. My brother took months to find the perfect ring for his wife.”
He stood, the sudden need for space overwhelming him. To cover his unexpected movement, he grabbed the plaid blanket from the easy chair and brought it back to spread over her.
“I don’t want you to catch cold.”
Moving over to the fireplace, he leaned against the mantel, blocking the oil painting from her view, but giving him the distance he needed.
“Ivan hasn’t tracked down the ring yet, but he did get an update on Scarletti, the man we think may have issued the contract. We’re still trying to figure out who your husband was.”
“I guess knowing that will make it easier to figure out a motive for this whole damn thing. The one thing I can’t understand was why they didn’t kill me when they heard the police sirens. If it was a contract execution, why not finish the job?”
Jason had wondered the same thing. He’d mentioned it to Ivan and Brad, and none of them had a definitive answer. It was just one more aspect of the case that made no sense.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the topic. “The man on the tape said you had to suffer. Maybe that’s why, or maybe, like me, The Butcher thought you were already dead. We’ll ask the bastard when we catch him.” Images of her with her throat slit like her son and the nurse made his blood run cold.
“Every crime has to have a motive,” Jason said, running his hand through his hair. “That’s what’s missing here. Once we know the reason behind the murders, we’ll have the answers we need. As far as Scarletti goes, Ivan’s Interpol sources are still looking into him.”
“What do they know about the man and his crime family?”
“From what Ivan told me, Scarletti’s aged substantially in the last decade. Apparently, the man’s dying. He’s got pancreatic cancer. For a man so close to meeting his maker, you would think he would hesitate before making a deal with the devil. His only child, a daughter, was badly burned in a suspicious house fire about twenty years ago. The place was probably torched by one of his competitors. Three others in the house, including her husband, were so badly burned they couldn’t be identified. It’s a miracle she survived.”
Nikki cringed. “I can’t imagine living through something like that. I know how much I hurt, and I don’t remember it. Her pain must have been incredible.”
“I’ll bet there were days when she’d have been happy not to have survived. There’s going to be a hell of a battle for control of the family business when he dies. Since Scarletti has no heir apparent, it’s anyone’s guess who’s going to take his place. The place to start looking for answers to this is Sicily, and that’s what Ivan’s guys are doing.”
“Could the man who offered the contract be someone else?”
“It’s possible. The Butcher’s the prime suspect in more than fifty murders in the last ten years, so obviously he did work for others. Interpol’s reviewing all those hits, looking specifically for mutilations.”
Nikki worried her lower lip, the action drawing his gaze to her mouth—to the lips he’d thought of kissing before. He turned away and gazed into the fire.
“Have they made any progress in identifying Sam or whoever he is?”
He pushed away from the fireplace, drawn to
her side.
“No, even dental records were a dead end. It looks as if he had all his teeth removed and replaced with implants. The FBI’s forensic coroner has the body in San Francisco. He’ll be able to tell us more when he’s through with the remains, but like everything else in this case, it takes time. We’re waiting on the DNA analysis from the real Sam Hart’s sister, too.”
“So we wait. I don’t like waiting.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I ever did.”
He smiled. “Neither do I. Have you had enough or do you feel like watching a movie? There’s quite a collection here.”
“How about something funny? Even if I’ve seen it before, it’ll all be new this time.”
Jason laughed. “One comedy coming up.”
* * *
Nikki stared at the ceiling. The room wasn’t completely dark. She’d asked Jason to leave the bathroom light on when he’d carried her to bed. She’d thoroughly enjoyed The Great Outdoors, the classic John Candy movie which had ended as Troy and Angie came downstairs to start their shift. She’d felt relaxed and contented, but the sight of the semi-automatic rifle Nathan handed Troy reminded her how deadly serious the situation was.
Tonight had been an emotional roller coaster for her that had started long before Jason had carried her to the table to look at the computer images of her father. After her nap, she’d spent some time practicing with her walker and coloring with Mandy. The Halloween pictures her daughter insisted they draw, the more gruesome the better, had disquieted her. Many of the ghouls, goblins, zombies, and demons she’d sketched reminded her of the figures she saw in her dreams.
Mandy had been upset when she’d realized she wouldn’t be going trick or treating but Jason had soothed her by promising her a Halloween surprise. He’d explained how important it was that nobody realized they were in the area, and eventually, when he’d added some candy corn and red licorice to his bribe, she’d calmed down and accepted his substitute. Mandy then spent the rest of the evening playing Twenty Questions trying to guess what the surprise would be. Curious, Nikki had asked Jason about the treat he had planned, but he’d smiled enigmatically and told her she’d know when Mandy did.
On His Watch (Vengeance Is Mine Book 1) Page 17