Joshua stared, watching the natural color drain from her face as moisture dotted her forehead. The pulse in her neck throbbed erratically, causing him to feel a rush of fear. Her slight frame swayed weakly against his side, and he knew he had to act and act quickly. He caught her before she fell. Shifting, he grabbed the arm of a man standing nearby. “Get Martin Cole for me! We need to get her to a hospital.”
Chapter 32
Jacket and bow tie discarded, Martin paced the confines of the hospital waiting room like a big cat on the prowl.
“Martin, let’s go get some coffee.”
He ran his hand over his hair for what seemed to be the hundredth time since he raced into the emergency room with Parris.
“I can’t, Josh. I can’t leave her until I find out if she’s going to be all right.”
“I’ll bring some back for you.” Joshua picked up his tuxedo jacket, slipping his arms into it and concealing the firearm secured in a shoulder holster.
Martin couldn’t acknowledge Joshua’s offer of comfort and friendship because he’d retreated to a place of nothingness where he ceased to think or feel. There was no way he could envision his life without Parris.
I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. The litany played over and over in his head. He dropped down heavily to a plush tulip-shaped chair, covering his face with his hands.
What was happening to him, to them? Who was this nameless, faceless person who wanted Parris dead?
Joshua was certain it wasn’t Owen Lawson. Or if it was Lawson he had employed experts. Joshua had him under surveillance at his home and had monitored the telephones at Lawson’s private security business. There was nothing which indicated he was remotely responsible for the attempts on Parris’s life.
A Styrofoam cup, filled with steaming black coffee pulled Martin back to the present. He took the cup, staring down into the muddy depths. “You know I really didn’t believe her, Josh. I kept telling myself she was paranoid.” Sighing heavily, his shoulders sagged in defeat. “She never fully recovered from Lawson’s attack. There were times when she’d wake up in a cold sweat from the nightmares.”
Joshua took the seat beside Martin. “Parris is as emotionally stable as you or I. Her fears are very real.” His mouth tightened in frustration. “Whoever is behind this is good; very good.”
Martin placed the cup on a side table. “If Lawson isn’t behind this, then who is?”
“Only Parris knows that.”
He picked up the foam cup, taking a long swallow of the black bitter brew. “And I have to get her to tell me what she’s afraid of.”
Joshua stared at a discarded paper cup under a chair on the other side of the room. “You asked me to protect Parris because she was afraid of something or someone. If you can’t get her to tell you who or what it is there are ways to get her to talk.”
“What are you saying?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you suggesting a truth serum?” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
“That’s one possibility,” Joshua stated without blinking.
Martin recoiled in shock. “You’re asking me to deliberately drug my wife? Don’t you think she’s been drugged enough?”
“You would have no part in it. I would administer and monitor the drug. Within fifteen to thirty minutes we’ll have everything we’ll need to find who’s behind these very clever attempts on Parris’s life. Sodium amytal is quite effective when administered properly.”
Martin exploded with a raw curse, startling the nurse entering the waiting room. He ignored her, glaring at Joshua. “You’re talking about the woman I love, not some spy who’s been passing military secrets, Joshua.”
Joshua returned Martin’s stare. “How are you going to hide this from the press? Right now every tongue in West Palm Beach is wagging about how Martin Cole’s wife O.D. at his fund-raising. It’s all going to come back to haunt you,” he predicted.
“Right now I don’t give a damn about anything anyone has to say.”
“Mr. Cole?”
Martin glanced up at the nurse. His dark eyes mirrored his anxiety. “Yes.”
“Come with me, sir. Dr. Austin will see you now.”
“Your wife is recovering quickly, considering the amount of Haldol and alcohol mixture found in her blood. The fact that she’s young and in excellent health played an important part in our not losing her.”
Martin frowned. “What is Haldol?”
The youthful-looking black doctor stared at Martin behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Haldol is a tranquilizer.” He paused as Martin leaned forward on his chair. “Has your wife been under a doctor’s care for…”
“No,” Martin interrupted, coming to his feet. “She won’t even take an aspirin.”
Dr. Austin blinked several times, resembling an owl with his heavy-lidded appearance. Lacing his fingers together on the top of his desk, he glanced up. “Mr. Cole, the toxicology report indicates Haldol in your wife’s blood. Apparently she’s been taking or had taken the drug without your knowledge. It’s been known to occur.” He managed a comforting smile. “We’ve counteracted the Haldol with something called Cogentin. We’d like to keep her a few days to monitor her blood pressure and electrolytes. Then you can have her back good as new.”
The clear liquid dripped down the tube into Parris’s veins, silently signaling the ordeal which had almost cost her her life. The newspaper’s headlines glared up at her—GOV HOPEFUL SPOUSE FELLED IN DRUG O.D. She pushed the offending periodical off the bed, scattering the pages to the floor.
“Who is trying to kill you, Parris?”
“I don’t know,” she answered slowly. Her voice was low and breathless. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and pressed deeper against the mound of pillows cradling her sallow face. “I don’t know.” And she didn’t know. She didn’t know who the man was who threatened her life; her life and Martin’s.
“You don’t know who is trying to kill you, and you don’t know how that tranquilizer got into your drink. Do you know what I think?”
“What?” She refused to look at him.
“I think you deliberately took those pills to get Martin to drop out of the race,” he said, hoping to penetrate her wall of resistance. He wanted and needed a name.
Martin walked into Parris’s hospital room, his face contorted in rage. “Get away from her! This is going to be the first and last time that I’ll tell you not to interfere with me and my wife. This involves family.”
Sudden anger lit Joshua’s cold eyes as his body stiffened in shock. For a long moment he stared at Martin. “Then just this once try to think of me as family.”
“She’s been through enough without you maligning her,” Martin said in a softer tone.
Joshua motioned to Martin and both men stepped outside the room. “All I want is answers, Martin.”
“I don’t have answers, Joshua. How do you explain it? Parris wasn’t out of your sight all of last night. When she went into the ladies lounge my mother was with her. We all drink champagne from the same bottle and no one was drugged except for her. Who could’ve gotten close enough to drop those pills in her glass?”
“The pills were placed in the glass prior to the waiter pouring the champagne.”
Martin leaned closer to Joshua. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
“I wanted to wait until I gathered something concrete. I’ve been unable to locate the waiter who served her that drink. The club hired him at the last moment to fill in for a regular who had called in sick. When I find this piece of garbage we’ll probably uncover who hired him to do their dirty work.”
Martin pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, shoulders slumping forward. This feeling of helplessness was foreign and frightening, and at that moment he would willingly give up all he possessed to keep Parris safe.
“Do whatever needs to be done,” Martin said quietly.
A slight nod was the only indicator of Joshua’s acquiescence. He had to find the person or p
ersons responsible for the attempts on Parris’s life before they struck again; perhaps achieving success.
Parris lay in bed, staring at the grim expression on Martin’s face. He reminded her of Joshua. Both of them had affected silent glares that made her want to hide away in the bedroom.
Her gaze shifted to the greenish-purpling bruises on the back of her left hand from the constant tube feedings. Slender fingers massaged her throat. It was still sore from the tube that had been used to purge her stomach of the powerful tranquilizer.
“I will not become a prisoner in my own home,” she croaked ineffectively.
Her impudent response vibrated on Martin’s taut nerve endings. He leaned over her prone body. His fingers caught her shoulders in a firm grip.
“I’m giving the orders, Parris, not you. I will tell you when to eat, sleep and when to bathe. You are never to be more than six feet away from me at any time. I have a tap on the phones so every call will be monitored and traced, and no one will be allowed on or off this property without my knowing of it. So you’d better get used to obeying me, Mrs. Cole. Cross me once and you’ll look for your phantom killer to relieve you of your misery.”
“Don’t threaten me, Martin.”
He loosened his hold. “I’m not threatening you, Parris. I only want to let you know what to expect.”
Parris closed her eyes, sighing audibly. “I know what to expect. I’m going to be a prisoner.”
“You wouldn’t be a prisoner if you told who was trying to kill you.”
“I don’t know, Martin. How many times do I have to say it.” He stared at her unblinking, then released her and stalked out of the bedroom.
She squeezed her eyes tightly to stop the tears from escaping. She’d been back in Florida for six months and she hadn’t told Martin about her abduction. But how long much longer would it be before she was forced to tell him?
How many times in ten years hadn’t she replayed the words in her head? “I was paid to get you out of Florida. I’m suppose to kill you once we cross the state line. I don’t murder babies. Once you leave you can’t ever come back. If you ever tell Martin Cole about our little meeting and chat, I’ll cut him up until there’s nothing left of him.”
The threat was repeated during the ride from the New York airport to midtown Manhattan. “If you ever find yourself back in Florida,” the raspy-voice man said, “not that you should. But if you do then don’t forget what I told you about telling Martin Cole about our little bargain. I’ll force you to watch while I gut him.”
The tears flowed and after she was drained she fell asleep; with sleep came the nightmare. Vivid and violent.
True to his word, Parris became a virtual prisoner. If Martin didn’t watch her, Joshua did. Joshua rarely spoke and when he did it was as if they were strangers instead of friends. She had no way of knowing Joshua blamed himself for the drugging incident. Both times she’d faced danger it had been his carelessness that almost cost her her life. He made a solemn vow it would not happen again.
“I need an advance.”
“You won’t get another dime from me until you do away with Parris Cole.”
“Look, I owe some money.”
“That’s not my problem.”
The break in the telephone indicated the call was over. And my life is over, thought the man with the prominent vein. He had to get some money—quick.
Chapter 33
Parris found an empty chair, away from the crush of people where food was served, and flopped wearily onto it, drawing the back of her hand over her moist forehead.
The hot June weather had given way to the oppressive July humidity yet the guests did not seem to be bothered by the sultry air blanketing the Fourth of July celebration. They had been granted a week’s reprieve from the fast-paced campaigning they all had been forced to undergo during the past month.
Balloons, ribbons and bunting in red, white and blue festooned tables, chairs, tree trunks, branches and shrubs while a dozen banquet tables groaned with platters filled with dishes as varied as the attendees.
Casual attire was the norm: shorts, swimsuits, sundresses and anything else that allowed for an expanse of flesh to catch whatever cooling breeze deemed to avail itself.
Parris sipped her sparkling water slowly, observing the many people she had come to know well from behind the lenses of a pair of oversized sunglasses. The chilled glass felt refreshing between her palms as she finished the drink. Tilting the glass and grasping an ice cube, she slid it down the length of one bare arm before repeating the action with the other.
“I can think of a better way to cool off.”
“Tell me about it and I’ll take you up on the offer,” Parris replied, staring up at the familiar face looming above her.
“A dip in the ocean,” came the reply.
“Even the Atlantic is boiling today.”
“You’re probably right about that.” The dark eyes under bushy white brows swept quickly over Parris’s face. “How are you feeling?”
“Well enough, Sammy.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” She removed her sunglasses. “See—no circles and my eyes are clear.”
Sammy settled onto a chair beside her, his forehead furrowed. “I worry about you, Parris. You had a close call with that drug overdose, and now Martin tells me that you’re imagining that someone is trying to kill you.”
She was momentarily stunned. Sammy had never openly expressed any concern about her, and she was certain he had never forgiven Martin for marrying her.
“It’s not my imagination,” she muttered defensively.
“Don’t get upset,” he countered. “I’m on your side. I’ve never liked politics and I don’t like Martin dragging you around with him and putting you on display like a museum piece. You need to be in Fort Lauderdale, taking care of your lovely house, giving parties or having babies.”
She ignored his remark about babies. “Four more months and it’ll be behind all of us.” That is if I can survive, she thought.
“But what happens if Martin doesn’t win? Is he going to try again?”
Parris gave Samuel a sidelong glance. “Martin has said he’ll return to ColeDiz if he loses.” Her stomach tightened in apprehension. “Has he told you differently?”
Samuel shifted on the webbed chair. He stared at her before saying quietly, “No.”
She stared back at her father-in-law, realizing what should’ve been apparent the night David revealed Samuel did not approve of Martin going into politics. He didn’t want Martin to leave ColeDiz. Perhaps he was afraid David would not be able to pick up the reins from Martin.
Her gaze swept over a small group, locating Martin. Wearing a blue baseball cap to shield his eyes from the blazing sun, he laughed and gestured with volunteers from his Miami campaign headquarters. His feet and chest were bare although he’d slipped a pair of jeans over his swim trunks. He had opened his parents’ home to everyone to take advantage of the swimming pool and tennis courts.
Her clear brown eyes caressed his tall lean form. “I think you’ve lost him, Sammy,” she stated calmly. “If he wins the election, you’ve lost him. And if he loses, you’ve still lost him. I don’t think Martin will be content to sit in an office and negotiate corporate procedures ever again.”
Samuel’s bushy silver eyebrows lowered. “And how do you feel about all of this, Parris?”
Her pride would not permit her to reveal her mixed emotions. How could she tell Samuel that she was as unsure of her own future as he was of his son’s. “How I feel is irrelevant. Martin is my husband and I must support him. At least publicly.” She turned her head, watching Samuel study her. “I love Martin, Sammy. He and I may not agree on everything, but despite our differences we’ll survive because of our love for each other.”
Samuel sighed, smiling. “That’s what I want to hear. You’ve become a true Cole. We never oppose one another.” His face split into a wide grin. “Now, are y
ou going to agree to allow me and M.J. to look after Regina so you and Martin can spend some quality time together?”
“Yes,” she replied softly. Her eyes filled with excitement and anticipation.
She had gotten Martin to cancel her personal appearances once again. Once the hubbub concerning her drug overdose faded she was expected to resume traveling with him. The projected date was July seventeen—the day after Regina’s tenth birthday.
* * *
A riot of color greeted the dawning day as Parris stood outside of her bedroom, watching the brightening rays of the rising sun kiss the faces of the flowers in the garden.
Sunrise was her favorite time of the day. Everything began clean, new and unique. Each new day would be different from the one before it, never to be duplicated.
Old-fashioned roses mingled comfortably with silvery lamb’s-ears, daisies and feverfew. She smiled. Her favorite flowers were spires of foxgloves, snowy phlox and irises. Whenever she had the opportunity to stay home, the rooms were always filled with the fragrance of fresh-cut flowers.
She stared out past the garden and beyond. Somewhere out there was a small private army of men Martin had hired to protect their property. She rarely saw them, but she knew they were there.
She hadn’t answered the telephone or the door since her drugging, and she never went out without Martin or Joshua accompanying her. She had become a prisoner in a prison without bars.
Returning to the bedroom, she flexed her bare feet into the deep pile of the pale carpeting, drying her toes of the early morning dew.
“I must be losing my touch if I can’t convince my wife to stay in bed with me beyond sunrise,” came the silken voice behind her.
Her slender hands covered the dark brown arms circling her waist. She leaned back against the strong body pressed against her back.
“I decided to leave it while I still had the strength.”
Martin’s nose nuzzled her neck. “You don’t need your strength, darling.” His voice and warm breath made her shiver. “I’ll feed you, bathe you and love you. What else would you need?” He turned her around, smiling down at her. “For the next three days I’m your slave.”
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