“Well,” Erin retorted before Gabriel could respond, “if you ever answered your phone or your e-mail, you’d have known. Some godfather you’ll make.”
Gabriel hugged her close. “She’s been itching to travel before it’s too late. Plus, I tried to ditch her, and she threatened to come on her own.”
“Besides, it gave me a chance to meet her,” Mara Reed added, her hand twined with her husband’s. He hung back, observing the gathering. He flexed his fingers against hers, then absently lifted her hand to his mouth.
Sebastian gestured to them. “Mara Reed, my former business partner, and her husband, Dr. Ethan Stuart.”
“When you told me you needed to borrow our plane, Sebastian, I should have expected there was more to it,” Mara pointed out. “A man saves your life, and you owe him forever.”
Sebastian motioned to Kat, who joined him at the dining-room table. A dress in carnelian swirled around her ankles, the color luminous against her skin. She’d braided her hair into a smooth style that begged for his hands to dip inside. He resisted the urge with effort, but couldn’t refrain from stroking his thumb along her bared shoulders. “Helen will be here soon. Everything set up, Gabriel?”
“I’ve got the feed hooked up in the great room. Get her back there, and we’ll be golden,” replied Gabriel. “I can guarantee local coverage and a run on CNN.”
“Excellent.” Sebastian looked down at Kat. Her eyes were steady, but tense, and he wondered if he’d made the right decision. Tipping her face up to his, he asked softly, “Are you sure about us doing this in there? We can use the library or even this room. Just say the word.”
“I’m fine, Sebastian,” she murmured, reassuring herself as much as him. She rubbed her chin against his hand, savoring the warmth, missing his touch already. “Gabriel said it was best, and they—they’ve cleaned the room.”
Oblivious to the couples watching him, he covered her mouth in a kiss that seared through him. After too short a time, he lifted his head, resting his forehead on hers. “It will be over soon, honey, I promise.”
On cue, the doorbell rang.
Sebastian straightened. “Showtime.”
He walked to the front door, his steps unhurried. Casually, he twisted the knob and the door swung wide. Sebastian immediately recognized Helen, Enzo, and the teenager he’d seen in the car. Another woman, sharp-faced and thin, stood beside her, and two middle-aged men waited expectantly. At the rear, a heavy, ruddy man leaned on crutches.
“Helen.” He stepped back, the gracious host, and invited them inside. “I didn’t realize you were bringing friends.”
“My partners,” Helen explained stiffly, “insisted on accompanying me. Marguerite Seraphin. Jeremy Holbrook. Vincent Palgrave.” She pointed to each in turn, the introductions surreally polite. “I believe you’ve met Mr. Selva and his associates.”
“I have.” Beneath their feet, the marble clacked as they crossed the threshold. At the entrance to the dining room, Sebastian halted. “Before we go any further, I’ll need you to make the wire transfer.” He’d set up a laptop on a side table, the screen glowing green.
“First the Cinchona,” Helen countered.
“No dice.” Sebastian shrugged. “You’ve come with an army, which makes me think you intend to leave without paying. Give me the money, and you’ll get your prize. If I cheat you, shoot me.”
Helen brushed at imaginary lint on her Chanel sleeve and sauntered to the computer. Having expected it, she called up the proper screen and typed in her instructions. “Enter your account,” she directed tersely.
From memory, he entered the numbers and pressed ENTER. Then he switched to another screen and brought up his account. The transfer amount tripled his previous balance, and Sebastian swallowed a cheer. Instead, he logged out and bowed gracefully. “A plea sure doing business with you, Helen.”
“The Cinchona, Sebastian. Now. I have a plane waiting.”
“Absolutely. You should get what’s coming to you.” Sebastian led them down the hallway past the area where he’d scrubbed away Felix’s blood. The memory set his teeth on edge, but he controlled his rage with effort. With a flourish, he slid the great-room doors on their runners and stepped inside.
Bulbs popped and lights flashed on the astonished faces of Helen and her cohort. Voices chattered excitedly and a reporter, a pencil of a woman, hurried forward, microphone at the ready. The cameraman trailed behind her, zooming in on Helen. “I’m standing live with Ms. Helen Cox, CEO of Taggart Pharmaceuticals. Is it true, Ms. Cox, that Taggart has formed a consortium to market what is being billed as a wonder drug?”
Furious but trapped by the camera, Helen gritted her teeth, and replied, “Yes, I and my colleagues have formed a collaboration to bring the Cinchona to market.” She smiled grimly and introduced her team. “We wanted to announce the development from here, in honor of the man who discovered the Cinchona after nearly five hundred years.”
“You mean Mayor Mutambo of the Mutambo village?” shouted another reporter.
Helen whirled toward the voice, her mouth agape. “Mutambo?”
Sebastian stepped forward, Gabriel’s camera following. “Mayor Mutambo of the village that actually created the Cinchona. I told the press that you and your consortium have graciously agreed to develop the drug for the tribe. And to give them the patent, in perpetuity. As well as any patents developed on secondary drugs or any derivatives from the Cinchona.” He waved to the mayor, who ambled up to the knot of reporters.
“We are so grateful to Taggart Pharmaceuticals for their generosity. The production of the Cinchona will not only save lives, it will bring prosperity to the Mutambo and to the nation of Bahia.”
Helen spun to face Marguerite, Jeremy, and Vincent. “I didn’t do this, goddamn it! I didn’t agree to this. Who did?”
Sensing a meltdown, Jeremy and Vincent said nothing, both grieving the demise of their companies. Marguerite, however, recognized the tall, willowy woman heading for her and Enzo. She stumbled backward, eager to escape. “Enzo,” she muttered, but no one was there. Abandoning pride, she broke into a run, chased by a reporter sensing a new story. She slid across the slick marble and lost her balance. Landing at the feet of five uniformed officers.
“Marguerite Seraphin, you are under arrest for the murder of Senor Felix Estrada and Dr. Clifton Burge.” Chief Montoya stood over her while officers helped her to her well-shed feet.
“Helen Cox!” she screamed. “Helen did this. Not me! Tell them, Enzo!” she demanded, wrestling against the officers who tried to subdue her.
“I have no connection to this, Officer. I do not know what she is talking about.” Enzo cast his eyes down, hiding a sneer. See how the bitch liked to be ignored. He had sufficient information to trade for a lighter sentence, and Raphael and Turi would make nice patsies.
Soon, Marguerite stood in handcuffs, spewing venom and crying for a lawyer.
Kat watched the drama unfold from the hallway, satisfaction blending with sorrow.
“Make a sound and I’ll kill you,” Helen said coolly, pressing her gun into the small of Kat’s back. “In there,” she directed, her head jabbing toward the sitting room.
“Okay.” Kat moved slowly, hoping Sebastian would notice her missing. But the sitting-room door closed behind her with a thud, and she was alone with Helen. The woman flipped the lock on the door with an ominous click. Despite the terror crowding in her veins, Kat refused to grovel. “What do you want? The Cinchona’s gone, and the police have arrested your friends.”
“Which gives me ample reason to take my revenge on you,” Helen explained. Bitter eyes took in the room in shambles, books and papers strewn across the floor. “Sebastian shouldn’t have tricked me,” she offered contemplatively. “Not after everything we’ve been to each other.”
Kat laughed out loud at the pitiable comment. “Are you trying to make me jealous?” Contempt blazed in her eyes, and she replied easily, “Sebastian has made mistakes, God knows, but
those days are behind him. Like you.”
“Men like Sebastian don’t change, darling. What they are is bred in the bone.” Helen narrowed her eyes in malicious glee. “A couple of nights in your arms won’t transform him, regardless of what the romance novels tell you. He’s a thief and a liar, and that’s all he’ll ever be. It’s all he’s ever been.”
“Whom are you trying to convince?” Kat asked, looking around for any means of escape. The entry to the bunker was sealed shut and the windows to the sitting room would cut her to pieces. “This can’t end well for you, Helen. They won’t let you leave. I won’t.”
“Sebastian and I had a deal. He delivers the Cinchona and you live. Given his performance, obviously ten million dollars meant more than your life.”
Kat froze. “What are you talking about?”
“His payoff. Didn’t he tell you? He had me wire it to his account before the sideshow started. Out there.” She gestured to the hallway with the gun’s barrel. “Ten million dollars for your life. I was cheated.”
“Sebastian wouldn’t do that,” Kat protested halfheartedly. “He staged this in order to trap you. Not for the money.”
“I told you, love. With men like Sebastian, it’s always about the money.” She released the safety, frowning slightly. “A deal is a deal.”
When the door flew open, Kat dived to the ground just as a shot rang out. She rolled once, her arm on fire. Above her, around her, more gunfire sounded, but she lay on the carpet, blood flowing. She thought she saw Helen’s body fall, saw dark-clothed officers swarm inside.
“Katelyn!” Sebastian dropped to the floor beside her, anguish careening through him. His hands shook as he gathered her up. “Katelyn, honey, talk to me. Where does it hurt, baby?”
“My arm. Just. My arm.” Fighting through the haze of pain, she tried to focus on the voice, the face of the man she loved. She blinked, suddenly too sleepy to keep her eyes open. “You took the money?”
“What?”
“She told me that you took the money.” Kat slurred the question, too overwhelmed to stay awake. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
Her mouth quirked into a smile that trembled with pain. “Good.”
Kat lay in her uncle’s bed, surrounded by her new friends. Erin fussed over the bandage on her arm, while Mara plied her with juice.
Senora Martinez clucked over her, still astounded that Kat had been shot. “You need to drink. Doctor’s orders.”
She swatted the juice away using her good arm. “I’m not thirsty.” Staring past the end of the narrow bed, she watched the door as she had for nearly two days. But Sebastian didn’t appear. Hadn’t since she’d regained consciousness. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Erin saw the heartbreaking look and launched into the day’s news. “Mayor Mutambo has accepted an offer from an American company to patent the Cinchona. Gabriel has put together a P.R. team to assist him, and Mara brought in some legal assistance to be sure everything is aboveboard.”
Taking the cue, Mara added, “The British government is planning to extradite Marguerite Seraphin, and the U.S. has called dibs on Palgrave and Holbrook. The Bahian authorities have declined to extradite the other three.” She sat on the edge of the bed and stuck the straw into Kat’s resistant mouth. “Chief Montoya is now a celebrity. Footage of the gunfight has been playing nonstop. Shows Sebastian racing to your rescue and Montoya taking Helen Cox down.” Realizing what she’d said, Mara covered her mouth and cursed, “Berkle sticks! I’m sorry, Kat. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
Erin gamely rose to her feet and nodded to the door. “Let’s give Kat some time to sleep.”
“You don’t have to be afraid to mention his name,” Kat said, smiling wanly. “Sebastian. He saved my life. If he hadn’t picked the lock, Helen would have killed me.”
“And he’s been busy helping the police file charges,” Senora Martinez offered enthusiastically. “He’d be here if he could.”
“Sure. Of course.” She shut her eyes before the welling tears fell. “I think I am tired, okay? I’ll just nap.” Before the women responded, she turned onto her good side and yanked at the covers. The door closed softly, and she sighed, moisture dampening her cheeks. “Of course.”
Twilight had come when she awoke. Kat sat up in bed, dragging her hair away from her face. She reached for the lamp and flicked it on. Then she froze. Pain, sharp as an arrow, twisted inside her.
“You’ve been asleep for a while.” Sebastian spoke from the single chair beside her bed.
His eyes were shadowed, the brown dull in the lamplight. Because she wanted to touch him, she flattened her hand against the sheet. “I don’t seem to do much else lately.” Abruptly thirsty, she brought the tepid glass of juice to her lips and sipped slowly, marshaling emotions that raged through her, rending her heart. For two days, she’d lain in this bed, waiting for him. He hadn’t come. She loved him, trusted him, and it didn’t matter. Worse than the tear in her skin from a bullet was the hole he’d left in her heart. So she’d listen to what he had to say and then find her way home. Alone. Swallowing hard, she asked baldly, “Why are you here, Sebastian?”
“To see you.” He’d practiced what he’d say to her in his head a thousand times since she’d been shot, knew the words by heart. He’d come too close to losing her already to risk saying the wrong thing. But the sight of her, pale and fragile in the wide bed, chased the carefully planned speech away. “I needed to see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine. The doctors say I’ll be ready to travel home in a couple of days.” She lifted a hand to scrub at her eyes, willing them not to fill. “When are you leaving?”
He leaned forward and clasped his hands together to keep from reaching for her. First, he had to explain what he’d done and why. Why he’d stayed away and why he’d come to her tonight. But he wouldn’t finish if he touched her and felt the silk of her skin, the warmth that could burn through him like flame. There would be time, he promised himself. If it wasn’t too late. “I haven’t decided when I’m leaving yet. Mara and Ethan have offered to fly us back.”
Kat flinched at the thought of being trapped for hours on a plane with Sebastian. Wanting what she’d never have. “I don’t want you all to wait for me. Senora Martinez can look after me.”
Catching her reaction, he countered softly, painfully, “I can take care of you, Katelyn. I don’t have anywhere else to be.” Fear of a loss he wouldn’t survive shuddered through him, leaving only a plea in his mind. Forgive me. Love me. “Kat, I have to explain—”
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” she interjected coldly. She refused to listen to a polite rejection from the only man she’d ever loved. Instead, she’d set him free. Calm, devastated, she explained, “I don’t need you to look after me, Sebastian. You’ve paid your debt to my uncle. We’re even.”
The cool, impassive tone sent a shiver along his skin and broke his heart anew. “We’re even?”
“Done.” Kat stared at him, eyes dry and burning. She wouldn’t cry over him. Not now. Not ever. She’d offered him trust and love in the midst of secrets and lies, and he’d turned her away. She refused to endure that again. “Our partnership is over. I did as my uncle asked. So did you. We’re finished here. No debts, no ties. No regrets. You’re free to go, Sebastian.” Her throat closed and she fought to finish without a sob. “Please. Go.”
The dismissal shot through him like a bullet, breaking him. Too long. He’d waited too long to believe her—to accept that she believed in him. Saw him more clearly than anyone ever had. Searing heat flashed through him followed by a chill that reminded him of death. Could a man die and still feel his heart beat? “Katelyn. No.”
Puzzled, she blinked once at the harsh denial. “Why not? You’ve gotten what you wanted. The Cinchona. The money. You protected me, saved my life. What more do you want?”
Sebastian surged to his feet, looming over her. Fury, hot and molten, pumped through his veins. “I don’t w
ant to be even, damnit. I don’t want to be finished.” Words tumbled out, but not the speech he’d prepared. When she watched him out of cool topaz eyes, all he could think about was losing. In his mind, he saw her body fall, saw the red rushing out and spilling to the floor. Saw his life ending. He dropped down, kneeling by the bed. Desperate, he grabbed at her hand and set the glass aside with a snap. “I want you. Hell, I’ll give away the money.”
“What?” She stared at Sebastian, mouth agape. “Why would you do that?”
“To prove myself. To you.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, fear driving him to beg, to demand. “I don’t know what Helen told you, but I did take the money. For you. For us. For me,” he admitted miserably. “I steal things, Kat. It’s what I do. What I did. Before you.”
“The ten million came after you met me,” she reminded him, her words quiet but wry.
“Yes,” he acknowledged. “I’ve been in Mutambo with Gabriel and Ethan. We’re setting up a partnership to fund production and distribution of the Cinchona, just in case the pharmaceutical consortium falls apart. There will be a foundation, Kat. The Felix Estrada Foundation. With a five-million-dollar grant from you and me.”
Stunned, she stammered, “Half the money? And the other half?”
Sebastian flushed. “I’m new at this charity stuff, Kat. Give me time.”
Love filled her, flowed through her, strong and true. “What do you want, Sebastian?”
Holding her eyes, he whispered, “Everything. You.” He knelt by the bed, taking her hand in his. “Until I met you, I didn’t know they were the same thing.” Fumbling in his pocket, he held up a ring, the stone topaz to match her eyes. He’d spent the day hunting through jewelry stores to find the right match. The perfect one. “I’m the thief, but you’ve stolen my heart.”
Secrets and Lies Page 26