Harlequin Intrigue November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2

by Carla Cassidy

  “You’re worse than one of my Team Three members. Can we nap after the workout?”

  “We can definitely go to bed after the workout.”

  She threw a sharp glance his way, but he’d bent over to tie his shoes.

  He stood up, dragging her coat from the back of the chair and folding it over his arm. “Do you want to hang this up? Might as well straighten up a little before we leave the room to the maid.”

  “Sure.”

  He extended his arm and stopped. “Did you leave the phone in here?”

  Her heart skipped a beat as she swiveled toward the desk by the computer. “I thought I left it there.”

  Her pulse returned to its normal rhythm when she spied her lifeline to Bobby on the other side of the laptop. “It’s here. I’ll take it to the gym.”

  Beau plunged his hand into her coat pocket and pulled out her personal cell phone. “This is your own phone, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s mine. Is it dead? I haven’t looked at it in days. I turned it off when I got here just in case someone wanted to use it to track me down.”

  He pressed a button. “Completely dead. It’ll work with my charger. Do you want me to plug it in? You don’t have to use it if you’re afraid Prospero will ping you.”

  She shrugged. “Might as well. I’m not sure I want to see or hear any messages on there if they’re all from Prospero.”

  He attached her phone to his charger and then crooked his finger at her. “No stalling. Let’s go.”

  True to his word, Beau put her through a rigorous workout—strength, agility, balance. Not that a few hours hitting the gym would prepare her for the assignment tonight, but it bolstered her confidence.

  Beau was good about bolstering her confidence. And how was she repaying him?

  He came up behind her and kneaded her shoulders. “How’d that feel?”

  “This feels great.” She rolled her head back.

  “I meant the workout.”

  “That felt great, too.” Tipping her chin at the water dispenser, she asked, “Do you want more water?”

  “Sure.”

  She pulled two plastic cups from the dispenser and waited for the woman in front of her to fill her water bottle.

  When the woman turned, she smiled at Deb. “You and your husband have a great connection.”

  “My...? Yeah, we do.”

  “It must be nice to share interests with each other.” She made a face and took a swig of water. “My husband and I don’t do anything together anymore. I try to get him to be more active, but he’d rather sit in the room and read scientific journals.”

  Deb stepped around her to fill the cups. “Even if you liked reading scientific journals, it’s not something you can do together, huh?”

  “Exactly. I’m even a nurse and I don’t like it. Of course, I made my husband take me to that charity ball the other night and look how that ended up.”

  Deb’s hand jerked and the water sloshed over the edge of the cup. “Charity ball?”

  The woman’s eyes bugged out. “You didn’t hear about that? My husband was in town for that scientific symposium on defense. That’s how he got an invitation to the charity event at the end of the conference, but that big-shot scientist croaked on the dance floor.”

  “Oh, I did hear something about that on the news.” Deb placed the cup on top of the water dispenser. “Did they ever found out the cause of death?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Did your husband know Dr. Herndon?”

  “Dr. Herndon?”

  “The man who died.”

  The woman smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I’d forgotten his name already. See, you know more about it than I do. No, my husband didn’t know him. Of course, now my husband is using that doctor’s death as an excuse to avoid parties—as if that happens every week.”

  “Well, I hope the rest of your visit is uneventful.”

  “Now, what fun would that be?” She laughed and returned to her machine.

  At least the woman hadn’t recognized her from the charity ball or the newspaper photo the next morning.

  She handed Beau the water and he tossed it off in one gulp. “Making friends?”

  Deb pitched her voice low. “Turns out she was at the little shindig the other night.”

  “She didn’t recognize you?” He crushed the cup in his hand.

  “She did not.” She wiggled her fingers. “Now stop wasting cups. I’ll get you a refill in that one.”

  “You don’t have to fetch water for me, Deb.”

  “You gave up a lot to help me. It’s the least I can do.”

  Later they returned to the room and scurried for the bathroom door in a mad dash. They collided and Beau wrapped his arms around her from behind, lifting her feet off the carpeted floor. He swung her around and dumped her on the bed, landing on top of her.

  She panted. “Are you really going to claim the shower first after I brought you all that water?”

  “Is that why you did it, so you could call dibs on the shower?”

  “Actually, you go first. I want to chill out and watch TV. Maybe I’ll take that nap now.”

  “Are you sure?” He brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “I was just teasing about the rush to the bathroom.”

  She pushed at his chest. “Go, but don’t be surprised if I’m sound asleep when you get out.”

  He kissed her nose and rolled off of her.

  When the bathroom door closed behind Beau, Deb snuck a soda from the minibar and swept her newly charged phone from the table on her way back to the bed. She stretched out, hit the remote for the TV and turned on her phone. It couldn’t be tracked if she just checked her messages, could it?

  She scrolled through several messages from Cade, J.D. and Gage, her Prospero teammates. They’d all ganged up on her, but it didn’t sound as if one of them believed she’d turned.

  She kissed the display of her phone. “I love you guys.”

  She also had several voice mails, and the ones from Jack Coburn didn’t sound all that warm and fuzzy.

  When the next voice mail started, the voice of Bobby’s pediatrician surprised her. “Deb, this is Dr. Nichols. Give me a call as soon as you can. We got those test results back for Bobby.”

  A little fizz of fear touched the back of her neck. The test results? Dr. Nichols hadn’t made a big deal about them at the time of the visit—just some blood, some urine. No big deal.

  In the next voice mail, Dr. Nichols’s voice sounded more urgent. “Deb, this is Dr. Nichols again. I need to speak to you about Bobby’s test results. I don’t want to worry you too much, but it is imperative we talk.”

  Well, Doc, you just worried me.

  Deb held her breath and pressed two to hear the next message.

  “Deb, I hope everything is all right. It’s not like you to ignore any issues with Bobby’s health, and well, this is an issue. We need to speak.”

  With dread pounding against her temples, she punched the button for the next message.

  “Dr. Nichols here. Typically, I wouldn’t go into this on the phone, but you need to hear this information about Bobby’s test results. His blood tests indicated an immune deficiency. That’s why he’s getting sick so much. This is definitely not as serious as it could be, but Bobby’s going to need some blood, and we both know that’s not going to be easy with his O negative type.”

  The doctor explained a few more details that would’ve made much more sense in person where she could’ve asked some questions. But she couldn’t be there. She was in Boston. And Bobby was with strangers. Sick. In need of blood. Blood she couldn’t give him.

  The bathroom door opened. “I thought you’d be sleeping by now.”

  Beau
padded into the room on bare feet and halted. “Deb, is everything okay?”

  She had the phone clasped between her knees and she raised her eyes to meet Beau’s worried gaze. “No. Everything just went from bad to worse.”

  His gaze darted from the phone she’d left on the bed to the one in her hands. “Not Zendaris?”

  “Bobby’s pediatrician has been trying to reach me.”

  “Why?”

  “Bobby’s sick.”

  “Oh, Deb.” He crossed the room and crouched beside her. “Is it serious? Is that why he’s been feeling under the weather?”

  “I don’t know how serious it is, but he mentioned an immune deficiency. I need to talk to the doctor.”

  “But not HIV or something like that?” He placed a hand on her bouncing knee.

  “N-no. He mentioned that this illness is not as serious as it could be, so it sounds like it can be treated.”

  “That’s encouraging. Now we just need to get him home and get that treatment for him.”

  “You don’t understand.” She knotted her fingers and the phone dropped to the floor and bounced once.

  “I know it seems like a long shot to get him back without giving Zendaris the plans, but we can do it.”

  “It’s not that, Beau. It’s the treatment.”

  “What is it? Some type of blood or platelet transfusion? It’s not gonna be pleasant, but I’m sure he’ll pull through.”

  “Something like that, but Bobby has an uncommon blood type, O negative, and he needs to get blood from another O negative donor.”

  A deep furrow formed between Beau’s eyebrows. “That’s a crazy coincidence. I have the same blood type.”

  “I know that. I figured you did.”

  He sat back on his heels, his hand sliding from her knee.

  “I figured you did because you’re Bobby’s father.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The room spun around him. Hell, the world tilted.

  He was a father? He was Bobby’s father? He didn’t doubt Deb. The timing worked out, although Bobby had to be older than she’d claimed. He hadn’t just turned two; he must be almost two and a half. The picture of his nephew, Zach, his older brother’s kid, looked just like Bobby in Deb’s picture. How had he missed that?

  This also meant Deb hadn’t run back to her lover or boyfriend, probably hadn’t had a boyfriend at all.

  It also meant she’d lied. For over two years she’d kept his son from him and then she’d kept the truth from him for over two days now.

  And now his son was sick and being held captive.

  “Say something.”

  His gaze returned to her face, strained with worry, her eyes bright with unshed tears. He swallowed the angry words that rose to his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She flinched.

  He’d suppressed the angry words, but his fury must’ve seeped into his tone.

  Spreading her hands in her lap, she said, “There were a few reasons, Beau. First, I didn’t even know Beau Slater was your name. You were always Loki to me. You were Loki that night.”

  “Cop-out.”

  She flinched again.

  “You’re an intelligence expert. There was any number of ways you could’ve discovered the identity of Loki. Next?”

  Her fingers twisted, but she held his gaze. “Okay, you’re right. Maybe I could’ve figured out your real name. Then what? Presented a pregnancy to a man who’d made it clear he didn’t want to be tied down? A man who reveled in the spy’s life—a different country every week, no home, no family obligations, freedom?”

  Her words pricked him—right between the eyes. He must’ve really gone overboard with the James Bond stuff that night.

  “Good God, Deb. That was one-night-stand pillow talk. Did you really believe I was that shallow?”

  “That’s my third point.” She held up three fingers as if to prove it. “I was embarrassed. We had a glorious, passionate encounter for one night. And then I was supposed to present you with a son nine months later? I wasn’t some giddy girl who didn’t understand the ins and outs of conception. I should’ve used protection.”

  “If it comes to that, I should’ve been using protection. That’s not the point. You didn’t, I didn’t and we produced a baby. And then you kept him from me for over two years.”

  She jumped up from the chair and took a turn around the room. “I didn’t know how you’d take the news.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s not up to you to control my feelings. Stop trying to control everything.” He grabbed the pillow from the chair and threw it across the room.

  She ducked, even though he’d tossed the pillow in the opposite direction.

  “I was scared, Beau. I was afraid that I’d present you with our beautiful boy and you’d reject him. I couldn’t bear that for my son. Not my son.” She swiped the back of her hand across her cheek.

  Was she bringing up her own abandonment to soften him up? The hard knot that had formed in the pit of his stomach when she’d told him about Bobby loosened.

  Squeezing his eyes closed, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d risen from his crouch when he threw the pillow and now they stood across the room from each other, the air between them crackling with emotion.

  “I understand about your fears. I do. But you brought a child into this world alone. What did you put on his birth certificate for his father? Unknown? Isn’t that your father’s name?”

  Her face crumpled and a sob ripped through her body, making her slump forward. “It was hard, but I thought it would be even worse if you knew about him and rejected him. I—I thought I could find a father for him one day.”

  Anger pounded against his temples and he smacked his chest with his fist. “I’m his father.”

  “I’m sorry.” She raised one arm, her fingers stretched out toward him. “I should’ve tracked you down. I should’ve told you from the beginning. I see that now. I see how you talk about your nieces and nephews, but you didn’t reveal that side of yourself to me in our first meeting.”

  He tensed his muscles, steeling himself against her gesture. Instead of going to her, which every fiber of his being wanted to do, he snorted. “Our first meeting was a hot tangle of body parts. My nieces and nephews didn’t come up.”

  She dropped her arm and hugged herself. “I told you about my life—the foster homes, the trouble, Robert.”

  “Last time I checked, you’re a woman. Chicks talk.”

  She rolled her eyes and the hug turned into arms crossed over her chest. “Oh, you talked, Loki. You talked about the fight you had on the streets of Istanbul. The cat-and-mouse game you played with the Russian spy in the halls of the Kremlin. The Saudi princess who stripped for you in her father’s palace. You talked about the high life. The spy’s life. You didn’t sound like father material.”

  His skin prickled with heat. He wanted to ram his fist into the wall. He cleared his throat. “Pillow talk.”

  “It left an impression.”

  He wouldn’t let her turn this around on him. She’d made the choice, and although he could understand that choice better, it didn’t change the facts.

  “You should’ve told me, Deb.”

  “I know. I see that now. I saw it when you talked about your family. I made a big mistake.” She swept her hands across her face. “Will you help Bobby?”

  “If you have to ask that, you don’t see a thing.”

  * * *

  DEB LET THE water from the shower trickle down her face to join the tears and wash them away.

  She’d screwed up. Big-time.

  All the reasons she’d given herself for not tracking down Bobby’s father turned to ash when confronted with Bobby’s father.

  She’d allowed her fa
ntasies of Loki to sway her. The stories he’d told her in bed hadn’t done anything to disavow her of those fantasies. He was everything she’d imagined him to be.

  Just not father material.

  She hadn’t been looking for a father for her children that night. She’d been looking for a good time. She’d been looking for a hookup with a man she’d dreamed about for two years, ever since she’d read about one of his exploits in a journal.

  She hadn’t been mother material that night, either. Beau was right—chicks talk. And she’d talked about a dysfunctional childhood being shuttled from foster home to foster home. Antisocial behavior. Thieving and lying. And finally being taken in hand by a tough ex-marine who’d lost his own daughter to a drug overdose.

  If she were a man looking for a mother for his children, she would’ve run the other way after meeting her.

  Sighing, she cranked off the water. They still had to get through this assignment together. She knew he had her back...and Bobby’s. The fact that she’d even questioned his commitment put the nail in the coffin of any kind of relationship they might have had.

  But he’d be there for Bobby.

  She knew that now. Beau Slater would never abandon his son, no matter what his son’s mother had done or how she’d insulted him.

  They’d planned to get a bite to eat before setting off for Herndon’s house. She’d gladly eat crow just to sit down with Beau and try to explain herself again. Not that it would do any good at this point.

  She toweled off and dressed in the bathroom. Then she poked her head out the door. She didn’t know what she expected to find—Beau sitting in a corner gnashing his teeth or standing on the balcony throwing pillows into the river.

  He waved her over from where he was hunched over the laptop. “Found something interesting on our bookstore guy.”

  The tightness in her chest eased and she strolled to the corner of the room and looked over his shoulder. The screen showed a page from the beefy man’s passport.

  “Quite the world traveler, isn’t he?” Her voice sounded high and unnatural so she cleared her throat.