No One Lives Forever

by Jordan Dane

  "I would imagine Dr. Phillips was coerced to participate in Zharan's scheme, but certainly, if there is more to it, I'd want to know the extent of his involvement. As a financial contributor, I'd have every right to know such things . . . for the sake of the facility and its research, you understand," his father added.

  Checkmate. Duarte gritted his teeth, his dark eyes set on Charboneau.

  "I can expect your cooperation then." The man held back his disdain, but Christian felt the heat. "I will be in touch. Don't leave town."

  Duarte turned toward Christian. "I'd like to speak to you in private, Mr. Delacorte. My request is not open to debate."

  Christian followed the cop down the hall, glancing back over his shoulder at Raven. She did not look pleased. When they found an empty hospital room, Duarte closed the door behind him and started in.

  "I don't know what your involvement is with Nicholas Charboneau, but you don't seem like the sort of man who would work for such a . . ." He didn't finish, but the man glared at him, expecting his response.

  "I told you. I don't work for him. I did this as a favor for Jasmine. What are you trying to say?"

  "Men like Charboneau come to my country and take what they want. They give nothing in return. This I am used to, but I suspect he's involved in something subtle and far more sinister."

  "You have proof?" Christian leapt to a conclusion about the evidence, but by the look on Duarte's face, he'd hit the bull's-eye dead center.

  "Not yet, but I plan to do everything in my power to determine his guilt."

  "Or his innocence. Did you leave that part out?" He wasn't sure why he was defending his father, a man he didn't really know.

  Duarte fixed his eyes on him, then turned to walk away, gathering his thoughts with a heavy sigh and hands on his hips. Keeping his back to Christian, he began again.

  "Chief Zharan has openly talked about Charboneau's involvement, but as you can imagine, his testimony would carry little weight against a man like him. And Dr. Phillips is far too scared to point a finger at either man. It seems the passports for his entire family were withheld to force him to stay and cooperate. Zharan is in possession of these passports, so I still have no connection to Nicholas Charboneau," he admitted. "And Zharan is blaming Fuentes for his overzealous approach in carrying out his orders regarding the homeless men they delivered to the lab for testing. Dr. Phillips may have conducted the tests and experiments, but he claims not to know how they disposed of these men. Fuentes was ordered to dispose of them afterward. We will get to the bottom of this, but I suspect there's a mass grave out there that we may never find. Someone should pay for such an atrocity."

  He was right. Someone should be held accountable for what happened to those men.

  "Aren't you afraid I'll pass this on to Charboneau?" Christian asked. "Why are you telling me this?"

  A long awkward silence passed between them. Finally, Captain Duarte turned around to face him.

  "Because you risked your life to protect the others. And I pride myself on being a good judge of character. I believe the actions of a man say much about his true nature." Duarte smiled for the first time, the effort taxing.

  "You did the same. Thank you, Captain."

  "I think by now you can call me Luis, yes?"

  Christian shrugged and nodded. "It took guts to go against your chief of police."

  "The man thought of himself as superior, and he used his position of power to corrupt those around him. I came from one of the favela you see on the edge of town. My parents were dirt poor. Zharan and men like him consider me nothing more than filth on their shoes. I may not have much even now, but at least I can look at myself in the mirror. Who's to say what wealth truly is?"

  "You are a philosopher, Luis." Christian smiled, seeing the man for perhaps the first time. "I suppose the research at Genotech will come to a halt until things are sorted out."

  "Yes, but there are many credible facilities throughout the world. If I have my say, I will shut the place down. That message you can take back to Mr. Charboneau. No matter how he wants to color his benevolence, his money will no longer be required."

  "I appreciate your candor, but why didn't you come forward and tell me what was going on? Raven and I nearly got killed out there."

  "I know, and I am very sorry for my part in that, but you have to understand. I did not know your connection to Charboneau. You could have been working for his syndicate and lying to me. My case against Zharan was in its infancy. I could not afford to make a mistake." He shook his head. "I deeply regret what might have happened. I escalated my actions to help. I hope you understand. So much was at stake, the lives of many."

  "So what happens now?" Christian crossed his arms.

  Duarte's contrite expression grew stern. "Chief Zharan and Fuentes will have many charges against them, not the least of which will be aggravated kidnapping and extortion on the man I suspect was his partner. I hope you appreciate the irony. Mario Araujo will testify. He should receive a light sentence for his cooperation. By the end of all this, Zharan's list of offenses should surpass his arrogance."

  Duarte scaled back his stern attitude. "I cannot say how the case against Charboneau will end. That remains to be seen. I ask only your discretion, and one other thing."

  "Yeah? What's that?"

  "Don't disappoint me, Mr. Delacorte." He grinned, almost a smirk.

  "Don't plan to, Captain Duarte." Christian shook his hand and watched him leave the room, but felt rooted where he stood, unable to rejoin his father.

  He wasn't sure he could ignore his doubts about his father. Nothing might ever be proven, yet a wall had been erected in his mind by a presumption of guilt rather than innocence. Christian couldn't shake the feeling, and knew that any future with his newfound father would be tainted by it.

  The harsh reality stacked up to an impenetrable wall and the truth glared at him in the face. His mother, Fiona, had been right to keep the man's name a secret from him all these years. Nicholas Charboneau made his wealth off criminal activities. End of story. His fantasy of having a relationship with the man after all these years had been just that—a fantasy.

  How would he face the man now? And worse, did he care what his father thought?

  CHAPTER 28

  The next few days were filled by hours at the hospital, with time spent in between at police headquarters. In the end, Duarte reluctantly gave Nicholas the clearance to leave the country—the sooner the better. The cop was not a happy man, but he had an impressive case built against Chief Zharan and Fuentes. Both men turned finger pointing into a lost art. Once they got going, neither would shut up.

  Even though Christian had doubts about his father's involvement, he'd probably never know the truth now. He found it hard to act as if nothing had changed between them but he'd come to terms with his own feelings. In the end, he had to settle for doing the right thing and saving the man's life, returning the favor Jasmine had done for him.

  He was okay with that.

  On the day they were scheduled to leave Brazil, Christian found his father exactly where he thought he'd be, at the bedside of Jasmine Lee. It didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep. Charboneau hadn't noticed him and Raven standing in the doorway to the private hospital room.

  Recovering from an almost lethal bullet wound, Jasmine looked pale but beautiful, her fresh-faced childlike innocence had been restored as she slept. Nicholas sat near the bed, his chair pushed close. He held her hand and stroked her hair, his eyes fixed on her as if he might awaken her by sheer force of will.

  Maybe he could.

  Christian had no desire to intrude. He only wanted one last look as reassurance Jasmine would be okay. Because of her strength and unflinching love for his father, she had done what she came to Brazil to do— save his life. Thanks to her, Christian knew he would have some semblance of a future with his father, such as he was. The last piece to the puzzle of his life was named Nicholas Charboneau. In the grand scheme of things, the
man was no prize in the humanitarian department, but Christian felt a certain serenity just having met him. He had to be satisfied with that. Maybe one day he would be.

  He watched his father. So much remained unsaid between them, all the questions without answers. Given all that had happened, he would not find a resolution today. And he hated awkward good-byes, especially those tinged with the implied obligation between an estranged father and son.

  His trip to Brazil had taught him what mattered most was not where he'd come from, but where he was going. His past didn't define him anymore. He could paint a life worth living, one paintbrush stroke at a time, on the blank canvas of his future. And Raven had more to do with that than Nicholas Charboneau. He knew that now. With reluctance, Christian backed out of the room and turned to go, slipping his hand in Raven's. He stopped when he heard his father's voice.

  "Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?"

  So much for the old man not noticing.

  "I figured the next step was yours." Christian stuck his head back in the room with Raven at his side. He kept his voice low with Jasmine sleeping. "You know where to reach me in Chicago. I think you've known that for a while."

  "Yes, I suppose so." Nicholas stood and joined him at the doorway. "But I'm not exactly father of the year material, if you know what I mean."

  "Really? I find that hard to believe, but I'll take your word for it." He grinned and leaned a shoulder against the door frame.

  "How is she?" Raven asked.

  "She gets better with each passing day. Doctors are expecting her to make a full recovery."

  "That's good." Raven nodded and smiled.

  After a long moment of silence, Charboneau cleared his throat.

  "One thing you will learn about me—that is, if you care to—I'm not the type of man who ignores an elephant standing in the middle of a hospital doorway. Aren't you even a little curious about my involvement with Genotech Labs? You've never really asked me about it." He directed his question to Christian. "And I know it's put a strain on any chance we might have."

  The man had balls. A brass pair.

  "I think I have a pretty good idea about your interest in the lab. Just because the police don't have grounds to arrest you doesn't mean your slate is clean."

  Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "Whatever happened to the presumption of innocence?" he asked. "Would it surprise you to find that a man my age and in my line of work might have regrets? I've assessed my life and found I'm not perfect. There . . . I've said it. Alert the media."

  Christian shook his head, unable to hold back a lazy grin. Yep, a brass pair of whoppers. "You're a crime boss, for crying out loud. That's not exactly a minor character flaw."

  "I wasn't the one who ramped up the experiments and instigated that bogus and disreputable medical clinic. The chief of police knew it would be easy to place the blame on someone like me, for exactly the reasons you brought up." His father splayed a hand over his chest. "Why is it so difficult for you to believe I would want to turn over a new leaf?"

  Christian stared at his father. The man didn't flinch and he didn't turn away or divert his eyes. If body language could be trusted, he wasn't lying. Yet why would a man like Charboneau care what he thought? And why was he fighting so hard to convince him of his innocence?

  "So let me get this straight. You came to Brazil to put your capital dollars in a genetics facility geared to fight drug addiction . . . even though you and your crime syndicate make money off the other end of that coin. Is that it?"

  Nicholas shrugged again. "Do you think my business associates would support such a benevolent act? Why do you think I came to a country half a world away . . . and invested my personal funds? There are some things a man would be wise not to share. I just figured if I did this, it might balance the scales a little."

  What he said was beginning to make sense in a strange sort of way. And Charboneau certainly was pulling out all the stops to convince him.

  "It's a pity Dr. Phillips isn't talking," Nicholas said. "Otherwise he might back me up." He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, his fatigue showing.

  Christian smiled and cocked his head. "Yeah, too bad the doctor's so scared. But I suppose a man's got to put his family first."

  "Yes, I would feel the same, if I were in his shoes. I think I'm beginning to understand the importance of family."

  Before Christian could reply, Captain Duarte walked up behind them.

  "Sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to find out how Ms. Lee is doing today." He smiled with his uniform cap in hand. The humble act looked as if it pained him, a smile as much of a hardship for the captain to summon as speaking before a crowded auditorium. Duarte was living proof that a person shouldn't judge a book by the austerity of its cover.

  "She's better." Nicholas nodded and shook the man's hand. "No offense, Captain, but we'll be happy to take leave of your company . . . and your beautiful country. I just want to get her home."

  Home. The word sounded good to Christian.

  "No offense taken, Mr. Charboneau. I for one will be happy to see you go. And I hope you don't take this personally, but I would rather we not cross paths again. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Very. We are in complete agreement. And believe me, I don't say that often with an officer of the law." His father smiled.

  Turning to Christian, Duarte said, "I came to see you and your lovely lady to the airport. Your jet is fueled and ready for departure."

  Christian put his arm around Raven and shook his head, fighting a smile.

  "How did you know we'd be leaving, Captain?" Raven asked.

  Christian rolled his eyes. He'd stopped questioning the captain's superhuman powers. "Let's just say the guy's a real know-it-all. And I mean that, literally." He turned his attention toward the cop. "We'd appreciate the lift. Thanks."

  "It would be my pleasure." Duarte nodded and moved down the hall, sensing Christian had unfinished business.

  He turned toward his father, dreading this moment. See you around wouldn't cut it. Yet he didn't know what to say. Nicholas saw his uncertainty and made it easy.

  "The next time we meet, it'll be hard to top this, you know." His father grinned.

  "Yeah, well. If it's all the same to you, I could do with a little less excitement."

  Nicholas's face grew solemn. "Doctor said that what you did for Jasmine back there, you saved her life. I have no idea how to thank you."

  "Just tell her we're even. She'll know what I'm talking about." He reached out his hand to his father. "Don't be a stranger."

  Nicholas looked at his outstretched hand, then opened his arms and pulled Christian into his embrace. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. I mean it," he whispered in his ear. "If you'll give me a chance, maybe we can take this father-son thing a day at a time, see what happens. Can you handle that?"

  "A day at a time sounds like a plan." He wondered if his father noticed that he didn't answer the question.

  Christian pulled from Charboneau's arms and stared into his eyes long enough to know his father accepted what he said, for now. He watched him rejoin Jasmine at her bedside and found himself wishing things had been different, but trust had to be earned. And they had a long way to go before that happened, if it ever did.

  As he turned, Raven slipped her hand into his, an endearing gesture he'd grown to love. She fixed her eyes on him, giving him the quiet reassurance he knew he could count on for a lifetime. They walked to where Captain Duarte stood, then headed for the bank of elevators a few steps away.

  "As you said before, Christian, I do know things." Duarte shrugged with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Things that might surprise you."

  He shifted his gaze to the captain but didn't respond. He didn't have to.

  "Such as?" Raven took the bait, then hit the button calling for an elevator.

  "Nicholas Charboneau is Christian's father, isn't he?" Duarte asked, looking as if he really didn't expect an answer.


  A little shocked by the man's abrupt declaration, Christian cocked his head and stared at him. He would have guessed the family resemblance didn't get by the detective's keen observation, but he would have been wrong. It would appear Duarte was a mind reader as well.

  "I saw it in his eyes. Your father's," the cop added without hesitation. "Even for a man as complicated as Nicholas Charboneau, the undeniable connection was plain to see."

  Christian let Raven and Duarte into the elevator before him, then punched the button for the ground floor. The cop had looked behind the curtain of Oz and saw something even he had missed.

  "Nothing gets by you, Luis." He shook his head, giving the man his due.

  "Yes. Just remember that." The man tapped the bridge of his nose, and a corner of his lips twitched.

  When they got to the first floor, Duarte spoke again.

  "We will pick up your luggage at the hotel. Then we have a quick stop to make before you leave. It won't take long."

  "Lead the way." Christian extended his arm toward the revolving front door of the hospital. "I'm placing my trust in you."

  Duarte grinned, for real this time. With chest out, the police captain sauntered across the hospital reception area in his neatly pressed uniform and shiny black shoes, his footsteps resonating across the marble floor.

  "It's about damned time, Delacorte."

  Jasmine cleared her throat, a painful look on her face. Opening her eyes looked like an effort. Nicholas grabbed a cup of half-melted shaved ice and held up a spoon with an ice chip in it. Without words, she

  opened her mouth and accepted it. After she cooled her parched throat, she spoke in a soft raspy voice.

  "You think Christian bought what you said about regrets and your act of benevolence?" Jasmine forced a weak smile, putting up a good front. The fire was gone, but she looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.