Untamed

by Diana Palmer

  Clarisse understood that. Her gratitude was in her eyes. She couldn’t risk letting Rourke know about the child. Ever. He’d go after her in court with no provocation at all to get his child away from her. The thought of Rourke and little Charlene raising her son made her neck hair rise up.

  “Don’t worry so much,” K.C. told her. “Things usually work out eventually.”

  “Think so?” she asked with a smile. “I wonder.”

  Dr. Blackstone walked into the room with the physician on Clarisse’s case. Both men were smiling from ear to ear.

  “My greatest success story,” Blackstone chuckled, looking at Clarisse. “I believe you may be the first of many to survive this deadly form of malaria in the final stage. If so, we may be looking at a breakthrough of epic proportions with the new treatment we used.”

  She smiled wearily. “I hope it saves many more lives. Thank you for mine,” she said softly.

  “I’m only sorry that I wasn’t here in time to save your husband,” he replied. “They speak of him with great respect here.”

  “Ruy was a fine physician.” Tears stung her eyes. “Sorry. I’m still not used to it. And I must arrange the funeral...!”

  “I’ll take care of that,” K.C. said quietly. “We’ll plan a memorial service when you’re better. No chance of your getting up this soon.”

  “None at all,” Blackstone agreed. “But you’re on a good path to a complete recovery. And you have a fine son to show for your labors,” he chuckled.

  * * *

  K.C. stayed until Clarisse was released from the hospital and she and the baby were back home again. He had two men in the house with her, both veterans of many foreign wars.

  “This is very kind of you, K.C.,” she said gently.

  His hands were deep in the pockets of his khakis. “Nothing will harm you or the child as long as I live,” he promised solemnly. He moved closer, his eyes tender on the baby in her arms. She was still weak, but she got around well. She was sitting in a wicker chair with little Joshua, in a light blanket, in her arms. She winced. Then she laughed. “The stitches are still sore,” she laughed.

  “You aren’t supposed to be lifting weights,” he chided.

  “I’m not supposed to lift heavy things. Joshua only weighs seven pounds,” she teased. She saw the hunger in his pale brown eyes as he looked at the child. “Would you like to hold him?”

  “Would I!”

  He bent and took the baby up in his big arms, smiling and then laughing as he looked into dark blue eyes. “I wonder if he’ll have your eyes or...his father’s,” he had to hesitate, because he’d almost said the name.

  She sighed. “You know, don’t you?” she asked.

  He looked down at her. “I know. But he never will. I give you my word.”

  She swallowed. “Thanks.” Her eyes fell. “He hates me more now than he used to. He’d go to court...”

  “He won’t know,” he said quietly. He drew in a breath. “But I know. That’s enough.” He looked into the baby’s eyes and smiled, jostling him gently. “He’ll never want for anything.”

  “No, he won’t. I’m filthy rich myself, if you recall,” she laughed.

  “So you are.” His lips pursed. “I was thinking about bodyguards, however.”

  “That sort of help I’ll take, with gratitude.” She moved restlessly and winced as the stitches pulled. “I think Peg’s right about leaving the country. Sapara would have a hard time getting to me in Texas. Especially in a small town like Jacobsville, where everybody knows everybody.”

  “And where half the decent mercs in the country call home,” he laughed. He walked around the room with Joshua, his eyes soft and affectionate. “Joshua will have plenty of attention there. Cash Grier will guarantee that nobody hurts him, or you.”

  She looked up at him. “Sapara has some of the bloodthirstiest operatives of anyone I’ve ever known, like that crazy man who tortured me when I was imprisoned in Barrera. It was diabolical, to kill my husband with an insect parasite.”

  “Risky, too,” he added. “Ruy was a physician.”

  “He was a very tired physician. I’d had some episodes of bleeding and he was worried about me. He didn’t sleep much, at any rate, and he’d worked himself sick taking care of people from the latest virus outbreak. That’s why he didn’t realize it was malaria. I should have noticed. I even know the symptoms. I nursed Rourke through it once, when I was about ten.”

  K.C. stopped and smiled. “He’s been part of your life for a long time.”

  She nodded. She bit her lower lip. “You don’t know how it was, those weeks we were together here.” She had to stop. It choked her up to remember the savage joy she’d felt with Rourke, basking in the love he couldn’t hide from her.

  “It was that way for him, too, Clarisse,” he said softly. “I talked to him several times before the assault that left him injured. All he talked about was you and the future.”

  She managed a watery smile. “That makes it so much worse, you know,” she said. “They said the gods used to punish men by taking them to paradise and then releasing them back on earth. The contrast drove them insane.” She lowered her eyes. “It’s like that.”

  “There’s always hope that he’ll regain his memories. Sometimes it happens spontaneously.”

  “Have you spoken to that neurosurgeon?”

  He nodded, jostling Joshua, who was watching him intently as he walked the baby around the room in his arms. “He said that we could tell Rourke about things that happened in the past, but that it wouldn’t make any difference. It wouldn’t prompt his own memory. It would be like reading him a story.”

  “That’s so discouraging.”

  “Yes.” He grimaced. “He said that the mind can create new pathways to portions of the brain associated with past memories. It’s a time-consuming process. Sometimes it doesn’t happen. Sometimes it does, but it can take time. A lot of time.”

  “It’s been so long,” she said heavily.

  “A very long time, for me, too. I’d only just found out that he was my son. I’ve lost him...”

  “You have to have hope, too,” she said, interrupting the painful statement. “He’s still your child.”

  He smiled. “So he is.” He drew in a breath. “And I’m a grandfather.” He grinned from ear to ear. “I want to shout that from the rooftops. I’m so proud of him. And I can’t tell a soul.”

  “You can be his godfather in public,” she pointed out. “You need a fedora and a machine gun, though...”

  He chuckled. “How about a Ka-Bar and an Uzi?”

  “Sounds just fine to me.”

  He handed Joshua back to her reluctantly. “I have to go home. I don’t want to, but I left projects hanging.”

  “Thanks for arranging the service for Ruy,” she said quietly. “It was very nice. He would have approved. I buried him next to his mother. He loved her very much.”

  “He was a good man.”

  “Yes.” She glanced up at him and frowned. “Something’s worrying you.”

  He nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Sapara had an enforcer whose face wasn’t known to most of his enemies. Rourke was the only man I know who would have recognized him on sight. His chief skill was to be able to blend in anywhere. He was ordinary-looking. He acted as Sapara’s hit man.”

  “Do you think he’s the one who planted the mosquitoes in Ruy’s bedroom?”

  “No. That was donkey work. Any of his minions could have accomplished that. His enforcer was always used in covert assassination, and he was inventive. Something like that scoundrel who tried to murder a woman in Wyoming who was involved with one of the Kirk brothers. He used malathion in migraine capsules. That’s the sort of thing Sapara’s assassin excels in—unusual, extreme, vicious murder. They say h
e learned his trade in the Middle East, under one of the more bloody dictators.”

  She felt chills all over. “You think I’m more a target than Peg or Winslow, don’t you?”

  “I do. Because you’re vulnerable. Or Sapara will think you are. It was your escape that led to his downfall. That’s the way he’ll see it. He’s waited a long time to plan his break from prison. I don’t imagine he’s wasted his time behind bars, either. He’ll have a plan and he’ll be putting it into effect soon. That’s why you’re leaving tonight for Texas.”

  “Tonight...!”

  He nodded. He looked toward her bedroom, where two tall, dark-eyed men were bringing out suitcases. “Tonight. I’m flying you over myself,” he added.

  “K.C.—you’ve done so much already,” she began.

  “You saved a whole country from Sapara,” he mused. “We’re even. Besides, I’m not having my godson on any commercial flight.”

  She smiled. “Okay. Thanks.”

  He shrugged. “We go back, Clarisse,” he said, smiling. “I still remember you with pigtails and Band-Aids on your knees, following Stanton through the bush looking for fossils.”

  “We found lots of things besides fossils,” she pointed out.

  “Yes. Including a very vicious viper, as I recall,” he mused.

  She laughed. “Stanton picked me up and ran with me all the way to the clinic,” she recalled. “He never left me, until I was almost completely recovered. I remember my mother thought it was scandalous.”

  “Your mother, God rest her soul, thought everything was scandalous.”

  “I suppose so. She was a good person, though.”

  Oddly, K.C. didn’t comment. He knew, as Rourke did, what had caused the traumatic separation between his son and Clarisse all those long years. Maria Carrington had been the serpent in paradise, where Rourke was concerned.

  “Check behind the men and make sure they’ve packed you properly,” he instructed. He held out his arms. “I’ll hold Josh while you do that.”

  She handed him over. “He’s such a good baby,” she said.

  “Not surprising. Not surprising at all,” he teased, looking at her.

  She laughed and went to make sure the packing had been done properly. She went into Ruy’s bedroom, hesitating. He’d collected things sparsely over the years of his life. But one thing he prized was an award he’d been given by an international coalition of physicians, for his work in war-torn areas of the world. She took it off the wall. She also took the rosary he always kept in the bedside table next to his bed. Her eyes teared up as she looked down at it. He’d been kind to her. He’d loved her, in his way. She felt great affection for him, but she could never love him the way she’d loved Rourke. He knew that, accepted it, was grateful for her company and the protection of the marriage.

  “I won’t forget you,” she whispered to the room.

  She clutched the rosary tight in her hand, bit back the tears and walked out, closing the door behind her.

  * * *

  It was a long flight to Texas. K.C. stopped along the way several times to let her stretch her legs and to refuel the small jet when necessary. When they landed at the Jacobsville airport, a police car was waiting on the apron, near the trailer that served as the fixed base operator’s office.

  Cash Grier came forward when they got off the plane.

  Clarisse was a little intimidated by him; he seemed the sort of man whom criminals would really fear. But he smiled at her and the child in her arms and she relaxed.

  He shook hands with K.C. “Long time no see,” he teased the older man. “You can still fly? My God!”

  “I’m not that old, Grier,” K.C. chuckled.

  “You’d be Clarisse,” Cash said.

  “Yes. And you’d be Chief Grier,” she said, nodding. She looked at his head intently.

  “What are you looking for?” Cash asked.

  “Horns,” she said with a straight face.

  He burst out laughing. “Who’s been telling tales?” he chided, glancing past her at K.C.

  “I didn’t say you had horns,” K.C. denied.

  “Lies,” Cash mused.

  He went to help K.C. unload the luggage. “You staying overnight?” he asked K.C.

  “I think I’d better,” K.C. sighed. “I don’t fancy flying straight back to Africa. I didn’t bring a relief pilot for the trip. I hear there’s a hotel with a Jacuzzi here in town...”

  “You won’t need it,” Cash said. “We live in a huge Victorian house right downtown. Plenty of guest rooms,” he added with a grin. “Tippy’s worn herself out working on the guest room for Clarisse and the baby.” He put the bags in the trunk of the car and went back to Clarisse. “May I?” he asked.

  She handed him the baby. The change it made in that hard face was miraculous. He seemed like a different person. He smiled and let the baby hold his big finger. “He’s beautiful,” he said softly.

  “You have a daughter, don’t you?” Clarisse asked.

  He nodded. “Tris. She’s almost three. We want another baby, but it’s taking more time than we expected,” he chuckled.

  K.C. clapped him on the back. “Good things do,” he pointed out.

  “Absolutely. Meanwhile, my daughter is the light of my life. Next to her gorgeous mother,” he added with a sigh. He shook his head as he handed Joshua back to Clarisse. “I never saw myself as a family man. Now it’s hard to remember that I wasn’t one.”

  “I’ve seen photos of your wife,” K.C. mused. “She’s a knockout.”

  “And I know things about you,” Cash retorted. “She’s married. You keep that charm to yourself.”

  “Spoilsport. Tough luck that I wasn’t around when she was shopping for a husband,” K.C. joked.

  “Good luck for me,” Cash laughed. “Let’s get going. Tippy will be standing on the porch with binoculars. She’s that excited about our houseguest.”

  “I do so appreciate the offer of a place to stay,” Clarisse began. “It’s been a rough few days.”

  “I’m sorry about your husband,” Cash said with genuine feeling. “But the thing now is to keep you and the child out of Sapara’s reach. Believe me, he’ll find no refuge here. You’ll be more secure than Fort Knox.”

  “Thanks,” Clarisse said.

  “All in a day’s work,” Cash replied. “Shall we go?”

  10

  Tippy was standing on the top step when Cash pulled up to the porch. The sun was setting behind the house, catching Tippy’s glorious red-gold hair and making a halo of it as she ran down the steps to meet their guests.

  “I’m Tippy,” she said, hugging Clarisse. “Welcome to Jacobsville!”

  “Thanks,” Clarisse said. “And thank you for letting us stay with you.”

  “No thanks necessary. I’m so excited. It’s been almost three years since we had a baby in the house. Could I...?” She held out her arms, as Cash had at the airport.

  Clarisse laughed. “Yes, you may. He isn’t heavy, but the stitches pull and I’m still very sore...”

  “Sore?”

  “C-section,” K.C. answered for her. He smiled at Tippy. “I’m...”

  “K. C. Kantor,” Tippy said at once, laughing. “Sorry. I know Rourke. You’re the image of him... Oops,” she added when K.C.’s face tautened.

  “I’m not angry,” K.C. replied, and smiled sadly. “I really am his father. We had a DNA test done. But Rourke doesn’t remember that I’m his father,” he added. “It’s...difficult.”

  Tippy winced. “I’m so sorry.”

  “So am I. He’s lost a good deal of his short-term memory.”

  “He called Jake Blair from the last place he was stationed,” Cash remarked as he started bringing in suitcases. “Jake said he remembered
most of what happened the last time he was here. So he does have some memories.”

  “Jake?” Clarisse asked.

  “He’s minister of the local Methodist Church.”

  Clarisse smiled. “Rourke mentioned that he was friends with a minister.”

  “He’s not exactly your ordinary minister,” Cash remarked, chuckling. “And that’s all I’ll say. Come on inside and meet the rest of the family.”

  She and K.C. and the baby were introduced to little Tris, a mirror image of her gorgeous mother, who was sitting in her uncle Rory’s lap watching a cartoon movie. She ran to Clarisse to be picked up. It made Clarisse feel so warm inside, the child’s immediate, affectionate response to her, a stranger.

  Clarisse laughed and knelt down. “Hi, Tris!” she said, and hugged the little girl warmly. “I’m sorry, I can’t pick you up. I was very ill...”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Tris said. She smiled shyly. “You’re pretty, like Mommy.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Is that your baby?” Tris asked. “Is it a girl or a boy?”

  “It’s a little boy. His name is Joshua.”

  “That’s a nice name.”

  “It is. The Coltrains have a son. His name is Joshua, too, but they call him Tip.”

  “Tip?” Clarisse asked, rising.

  “He likes to turn stuff over,” Cash said with a grin. “Mostly model trains. His parents have a whole room devoted to Lionel trains. His first word, I understand, was derail. Hence the nickname.”

  Clarisse laughed out loud. “I love trains.”

  “At Christmas they have open house,” Tippy said. She was walking around with Joshua, smiling and kissing his little nose and hugging him. “He’s precious, Clarisse!”

  “Thanks. I think so,” Clarisse said. “Your Tris is precious, too,” she added, smiling at the child, who beamed.

  Rory approached them. He had dark hair and green eyes and a big smile. “Could I hold him? He’s so cute!”

  Clarisse was surprised, but she nodded.

  “He loves children,” Tippy said as she lowered the little boy into Rory’s arms. “But this is going to be a little awkward...” She grimaced when Tris glowered at her uncle.