by Connie Mann
Francisco must have seen the look on his face, for he leaned close to be heard above the rotor blades. “They said the bullet hit her shoulder. No vital organs. She should be fine.”
Francisco signaled to the men to load the stretcher into the chopper, then put a hand on Brooks’s arm to detain him when he would have climbed in after her. “Where is your friend?”
“Dead.” In short, curt, sentences, Brooks told the other man what had happened.
“Let’s get you aboard and cleaned up,” Francisco said. Then he grimaced. “I’m sure your former boss will send a crew to search for the body. He says you have some explaining to do.”
Before he climbed aboard, Brooks looked around. “How’s Eduardo?”
“He’s just fine,” Francisco assured him. “Olga is even now spoiling the boy rotten—safely in a hotel room under armed guard, of course.”
Brooks gave the other man a weary smile and climbed aboard.
27
REGINA FLOATED IN A COTTONY WORLD OF MUTED BLEEPS AND MURmured voices, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. She tried to marshal her thoughts, to figure out where she was and what had happened, but coherent words and phrases hovered just out of reach. She wanted to open her eyes, but her lids were too heavy to lift.
She thought someone hovered nearby, could sense another presence beside her. She heard a deep voice sometimes. Did it belong to whoever kept watch? She wondered briefly if she should be afraid, but she wasn’t.
Tentatively, she moved one hand and immediately felt it clasped in another and held tight. Hard, warm, and calloused, that grip seemed somehow familiar and made her feel safe and secure. Protected.
She slept on.
Brooks sat beside Regina’s hospital bed and watched over her as she slept. With her dark hair spread out across the pillow, surrounded by white bedding, she looked like an angel. Maybe Noah wasn’t that far wrong to name the children’s home House of Angels. Regina was certainly one.
His wound had been thoroughly cleaned and examined, and the doctor had praised Regina’s medical skills. A woman of many and varied talents, his Regina. Too bad most people either saw her pretty face and sordid past, or they saw her frumpy clothes and looked right through her.
He ran a careful finger over the healing bruise on her cheek, and a spurt of anger lanced through him. He hated men who used their strength to hurt women.
As she had several times during the past two days, Regina began to cry in her sleep. Twin tears slid down her face and into her ears. Those silent tears made Brooks ache with an urge to soothe her pain. He had a burning need to make things right for her—and to see that they never went wrong again.
The thought had startled him initially. But after two days, he’d stopped fighting it. This woman and her happiness mattered to him. The admission frightened him, but he finally accepted it as truth.
Brooks tenderly brushed the wetness away and leaned over to whisper the same words in her ear he’d said before. “Shh, it’s okay, Reggie. Eduardo is safe. No one is going to hurt him. You’re safe, too.”
She still mumbled and twitched anxiously, and he wanted to add that no one would ever hurt her again, either, but he couldn’t make false promises. A woman like her was strong enough not to need them. He stroked her hair and crooned softly in her ear until she settled back into restful slumber.
The nurse bustled in and sent him a dour look. “You won’t be any good to her if you don’t take care of yourself first, Senhor. Go back to your room and lie down.”
Since she’d said the same thing at least three times today alone, Brooks merely sent her a stony look. “I’m not going anywhere. My side can heal here as well as in a hospital bed.”
“You had a pretty serious concussion, too, Senhor.”
It wasn’t the worst one he’d ever had, but he didn’t think that would reassure the militant fiftysomething woman. “I’m fine.”
Actually, the dressing down he’d gotten from his former boss via telephone had given him a much worse headache than the blow to the head. The man had given him a good thrashing for not telling him what was going on—especially since he had had Jax under surveillance for quite some time. If he’d communicated instead of being his usual independent, stubborn self, his former boss had raged, some of this mess might have been avoided. He had a valid point, so Brooks didn’t defend his actions.
He checked his watch and sighed. Apparently the fearsome nurse didn’t know he’d checked himself out earlier. He needed to swing by House of Angels, pick up Eduardo, and head for the airport. He’d been hoping Regina would wake up before he left and give him one last glimpse of those gorgeous brown eyes, but he had run out of time.
Slowly, he leaned forward, careful of the bandage on her shoulder. She was healing well, the doctors said, and they attributed her semiconscious state to painkillers and total exhaustion. She would be fine, they insisted.
The familiar guilt gnawed at him as he studied her face. If not for him, she wouldn’t be here. His erstwhile boss had termed Brooks’s decidedly unauthorized mission a success, but Brooks wasn’t buying it. This shouldn’t have happened. And for that, he was profoundly sorry. Let her be happy.
“Good-bye, Reggie,” he whispered. Pulling back, he gave in to temptation and brushed his lips lightly over hers. Once, and again. She tasted so sweet, so completely Regina. He cupped her uninjured cheek in one hand and gave it one more caress before slowly drawing his hand away. He took a last look and stepped back, turning toward the door.
“Stay,” she croaked. “Please.”
He spun around and saw that her eyes were open and looking right at him. Pleading. Just as he had before, he wished he were another kind of man. Wished he lived a different kind of life. One without so many uncertainties, so many ghosts. But he didn’t. Regret weighted his steps as he moved back to the bed and enfolded her small hand in both of his. “I can’t. I have to go.”
“Eduardo?” Fresh tears spilled over as she said his name.
“I’ll take care of him. I won’t forget my promise to you.”
She nodded and swallowed hard. “Thank you for saving my life.”
He wanted to howl at her calm acceptance. “If not for me, you wouldn’t be here.”
Regina smiled through her tears and lifted her other hand to cup his cheek. “If not for you, I wouldn’t be alive. God sent you as my guardian angel.”
When he started to deny it, she placed a finger over his lips. “You gave me a gift, two gifts, really.”
He didn’t understand, and his puzzled look must have told her so.
“You kept Eduardo and me safe. You gave us both the gift of life, of safety.”
When she fell silent, the question popped out before he could stop it, even though some instinct warned against what she might say. “And the second?”
“You taught me that not all men are the same. You saw the real me, and you liked me anyway.”
“What’s not to like?” he returned with a smile. “You’re a beautiful lady, Regina da Silva. And I don’t just mean under that awful sweater. You are giving and caring and someday, some man will recognize that.”
She didn’t say anything, but he saw the accusation there: she’d already found him, and he was leaving. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked away. He wanted to tell her he cared about her. That maybe someday . . . He left the thought unfinished. His life at the moment was nothing but unfinished business. The best thing he could do for both of them was to let her live in peace.
He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Thank you for the gift you gave me—of knowing you.”
At the door he paused with his hand on the knob and added, “I’ll notify you when Eduardo is settled with his new family.”
28
I CAN’T.
Brooks’s words echoed in Regina’s heart long after he’d gone, and she had no more tears left to cry. There was a wealth of regret behind the simple phrase. She knew its source, understood its origin, and still wished with all
her heart that she could change his mind. Ironically though, his determination to stick to his guns, to do what he’d said without turning right or left, was one of the things she admired most about him. It was also the very thing keeping them apart.
As she lay there, wondering how she would survive the long, lonely years ahead, she heard a commotion in the hallway. Hope fluttered in her heart. He’d changed his mind and come back.
The door to her room burst open and a strange man in a suit marched in. The faint hope died a silent death, leaving only emptiness behind.
“Regina da Silva?” the man demanded.
She struggled to a sitting position, hissing in a sharp breath at the pain in her shoulder. “Who wants to know?”
“Senhor Lopez is here to see you.” Suit jacket flapping open to reveal his shoulder holster, the man spun on his heel and left, banging the door shut behind him.
Within seconds it opened again, and Francisco Lopez breezed in, his handsome face wreathed in smiles. He swooped down on the bed and snatched one of her hands, placing a gallant kiss on the back of it. “How are you, my dear? I’ve been so worried.”
“Much better, thank you,” she replied politely. She didn’t think he wanted to know about her heartbreak.
“Where’s Eduardo?” he asked accusingly, scanning the room as though she’d hidden him behind the water pitcher.
“He’s safely on his way to the United States, Senhor,”
His disappointment showed in the sudden slump of his shoulders. “I had hoped . . .” He glanced her way for a brief moment, and Regina saw such grief and regret etched in his face, her throat closed. In that instant, the truth dawned as well. This man was Eduardo’s father.
“He’ll be well taken care of. Carol will see to it.”
“I know she will.” He narrowed his gaze, then asked slowly. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”
Regina nodded.
“I never meant for it to happen, never meant to hurt Irene. Never meant to hurt my family.”
“But you did.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, I did.”
The silence stretched as he paced her room for several minutes, then stopped abruptly. “I’m trying to make amends. I’m withdrawing from public life and will try to rebuild my family. It’s the least I can do.”
The implications of his simple statement were enormous, as was the price he was paying for his affair with Irene. But Regina had to admire his desire to take responsibility—even if it came much too late. “You would have made a good president for Brazil.”
“My family needs me more,” he said simply. Then he cleared his throat. “I came by to thank you for all you did for Eduardo. You were truly his angel.” He thrust a piece of paper into her hand. “I wanted to give you this, for the House of Angels.”
Regina took the check he held out and gasped at the amount. “You don’t have to—” she began.
“Yes, I do. You are a remarkable young lady, Senhorita da Silva.” He turned, one hand on the doorframe. “I hope your young man will soon realize that.”
By the time they walked off the jetway in Orlando, Brooks wasn’t sure who was more tired and cranky—him or Eduardo. There had been several delays, and neither of them had gotten any real sleep. He had a new appreciation for mothers who kept small children entertained on long flights. He felt ten years older and smelled like day-old fish. Eduardo wasn’t exactly squeaky clean either.
None of that deterred his mother in the least. She latched onto both of them with the determination of an octopus, touching every part of them she could reach, wrapping her arms securely around them and refusing to let either one move more than an inch away from her.
Brooks finally unwound one arm from about his neck and broke her hold. “Ease up, Mom. You’re choking the little guy.”
Carol blushed and cuddled Eduardo closer still. “I was so worried,” she admitted. Then her chin lifted in a gesture so like Regina a sharp jolt of pain shot through him. “It’s a maternal thing, trust me on this.”
“Let’s get the luggage taken care of,” he suggested, steering them toward baggage claim. He normally traveled only with carry-ons, but that would have been more than even he could handle, what with Eduardo and his assorted paraphernalia to deal with onboard.
Almost an hour later, they finally headed toward the airport exit with Eduardo strapped in a car seat in the back, loudly protesting this sudden confinement.
Carol reached into the back and gave him a bottle. Within moments, blessed peace reigned in the car. Brooks eased his death grip on the steering wheel and glanced at his mother. “How’s Noah?”
A mixture of hope and pain showed clearly in her face. “He’s holding his own. He’ll be glad you asked about him.”
Brooks waited for her to plead with him to go to the hospital with her, but she didn’t. Instead she said, “Let’s get you and Eduardo home and settled.” She stroked a hand down his arm. “You both look beat. And from where I’m sitting, a bath couldn’t hurt either one of you.”
Her statement shocked a laugh out of him, but his thoughts immediately veered to the memory of Regina, hair plastered to her head after her bath in the river, brown eyes wide with shock after losing her fake glasses.
This had to stop. She was a lovely woman, would make some man a fantastic wife one day, but he wasn’t the right man.
Stay. Please.
How long would the memory of her face as she’d asked him that torment him?
29
THE NEXT DAY, BROOKS PACED THE HALLWAY OUTSIDE NOAH’S HOSPITAL room, wondering what to do next. He’d been standing there long enough for the nurses to give him questioning looks as they walked by, but he still didn’t make a move toward the door. Finally, he gripped the door handle and strode into the room, figuring he’d make it up as he went along.
When he saw his father lying in the hospital bed, he was glad for his military training. Otherwise, there was no way he could have kept from flinching. This frail-looking old man in the bed was not his father. Couldn’t be. Noah was tall and broad-shouldered, larger than life. This man just looked weak and sick.
While he searched for words, the familiar gray eyes opened and instantly filled with tears at the sight of him. “You came,” his now-hoarse voice croaked.
Brooks nodded, hardening himself against the way those tears affected him.
“Is Eduardo safe?” Noah asked, his gaze sharp with concern.
“He’s at the house with Mom,” Brooks replied.
Noah studied him for a moment and then sighed. “I’m not his father, you know.”
Brooks raised a brow. “Aren’t you?”
“No. I’m not.”
“I saw a photo of you and Irene while she was pregnant. Looked an awful lot like another photo I remember.” He tried and failed to keep the accusation out of his voice.
“That was completely innocent, I promise you. There was nothing between Irene and me.” Noah shook his head slightly, as though bewildered by the accusation. “She and Regina are like daughters to me.”
“The other photo wasn’t innocent,” Brooks said bluntly.
Noah flinched as though he’d been struck, but his gaze never wavered. Brooks had to give him points for courage. “No, it wasn’t. And it’s high time I apologized for that.”
Weak or not, Brooks wasn’t letting the old man off that easily. “Are you sorry for the photo or for the affair?” he asked bluntly.
If possible, Noah seemed to shrink before his very eyes. But then he seemed to gather his strength. The determination in his gray eyes reminded Brooks of the man he’d loved, idolized, as a child. “I was wrong to have an affair, wrong to betray your mother, wrong for not making it right years ago.” When he paused, Brooks steeled himself for excuses, but none came from his father’s lips. “But I’ll never be sorry that I’m your father, never be sorry Carol is your mother.”
“You hurt her.”
“Yes,” Noah admitted.
“I don’t just mean back then, but for the last thirty-some-odd years.” Anger rose in him, making his voice harsh. “All she wanted was for you to love her with everything you’ve got. It wasn’t too much to ask.”
The words hung in the air between them while the machines continued their rhythmic bleeps and beeps. “No, it wasn’t. She deserved that and much, much more.” Noah brushed at the tears streaming down his cheeks, and Brooks averted his gaze, uncomfortable as always, with his father’s free displays of emotion. “I’ve asked your mother to forgive me and she has.” When Brooks looked into Noah’s eyes to test the truth of that statement, his father pierced him with a direct look. “Now I’m asking you to do the same.”
Brooks twisted his hands tightly at his sides. “It isn’t that simple.”
“No, it isn’t. But it would be a start.”
“I’ll think about it,” Brooks said, and left the room.
“Telephone, Regina,” Olga said, peering around the office door. Brooks had promised to call when he had Eduardo safely settled with his new family. A smile started forming on Regina’s lips when Olga added, “It’s Senhora Anderson.” She poked an imperious finger in Regina’s direction. “And as soon as you are finished speaking with her, you are going to bed. You just got home from the hospital. The account books can wait another day.”
Regina tried to hide her disappointment and managed a wan smile. “But there may be another child who can’t.” She held up a hand to still Olga’s protest and then picked up the receiver. “Hello, Tia Carol.”
“I’m so glad you’re home from the hospital. How is your shoulder?”
“Getting better, thank you.”
“I wanted to let you know that Nathaniel and Eduardo are safely here.”
He was officially done with her, then, Regina thought. He wouldn’t even call to let her know they’d arrived safely.
As if she’d read her thoughts, Carol continued, “Nathaniel planned to call you himself, but he’s at the hospital with Noah, and he didn’t want you to worry.”