by Maya Blake
A shiver shot through Rachel’s body. A target. So cold. So removed. Precisely the attitude she needed Gabe to take. This would get done. This would happen, and she would have everything that rightly belonged to her. As soon as she pushed a little more.
“I want her dead. Tonight.”
“You can’t always get what you want.”
“You’ve done your research. Do you seriously not know who I am? Do you not understand who my father is? Or what family I’m about to marry into? I will get exactly what I want, because I will accept nothing less. Or else.”
“Or else what, exactly?” The Fixer laughed.
He actually had the balls to laugh at her. That was all Rachel needed. She marched through the party, pushing people aside. He was here. He’d said as much. Luckily, she was wearing a mask and no one had to know that Rachel Franklin, soon to be Marshall, was being a coldhearted bitch and elbowing guests out of the way at her fiancé’s family’s party. She had to find Gabe. He’d said he was here, and she sure as hell was going to track him down. With laser precision and an eagle eye, she spotted him, off in a corner under the staircase.
She tapped him on the shoulder, employing the sharp point of her viper-red nails. As soon as he turned, she hung up her phone. “Or else, Gabe, I’m going to tell the whole world exactly who you are.”
* * *
Rachel had been off at the bathroom for only a few minutes. Luc knew he had a very narrow window of opportunity to talk to Vanessa, but he was nervous. Even from afar, across a crowded room, she was absolutely breathtaking. The gown she was wearing was pure elegance, but sexy as hell. She looked right at home at this party, as if she’d always belonged here. She was even talking with his brother and mother, and looking comfortable doing it. A part of his brain couldn’t stop from going there—Vanessa could live well in his world. He didn’t have to settle for less, or for what was expected of him. He could make a choice because his heart was telling him to. He could argue down every reason she’d given that they shouldn’t be together. He could make this happen if he willed it. He could make her his bride.
Luckily, his brother and mother gave him the perfect excuse to approach, and he had to take his chance. Even though his heart was beating a million miles a minute, at least he felt alive right now, not like he was being suffocated to death by Rachel.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Rafe said. “Mr. Perfect.”
A few weeks ago, Luc would’ve flattened Rafe for that. One punch. Done. Now he didn’t give a fuck. He was too busy keeping an eye on Vanessa, trying to keep his eyes in his head. She was even more gorgeous up close.
“You look very handsome this evening,” his mother said as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “Do you remember Vanessa? She works at the house.”
Luc nodded as nonchalantly as possible, trying to play it cool, but just being near Vanessa had every inch of his body on fire. “I do remember Vanessa.” He shook her hand, and although she obliged, she was quick to recoil. She hardly looked him in the eye at all.
“Hello, Luc,” Vanessa said politely. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to run to the ladies’ room.” She practically flew away, her dress rustling behind her.
Luc had to stop her. He didn’t want Vanessa running into Rachel, and he had to steal at least a few minutes with the woman he couldn’t seem to get out of his system. “I need to go find Rachel,” he lied.
“Of course you do,” Rafe said, seeming annoyed. Their mother was deep in conversation with one of the party guests.
Luc didn’t bother with goodbye, walking double time to catch up to Vanessa. He grasped her arm and pulled her into a secluded corner. “I need to talk to you,” he blurted.
“Luc. No. Go find your fiancée.” She struggled her arm away from him, her voice rife with distress.
“Vanessa. Please. Let me talk. It will only take a minute.” He wished his voice didn’t sound so desperate, but he was pleading. “I made a mistake. I never should’ve proposed to Rachel. It was stupid, and now I’m trying to figure out if there’s a way I can get out of it. You’re all I can think about.”
Vanessa’s eyes were vibrant and full of fire. “Luc, no. I told you no. You need to forget about me.”
“You say that, but I can see in your eyes that you feel the same way.” There was no way she couldn’t be feeling what he did. There was a connection between them that couldn’t be explained or ignored. It was flowing through his veins; it consumed his thoughts. And right now it was making every inch of his body white-hot, especially as he watched the way Vanessa’s chest heaved with desperation. She was fighting it. He could see it. And he didn’t see the point in that anymore. With no more regard for consequences, he took her into his arms and planted a hot, wet kiss on her lips. His mind raced with relief that this was finally happening, and with hope of where it might lead. He would take Vanessa away from here tonight. They would find a way to be together.
And then before he could get any farther, she jerked back. Horror flashed in her eyes. “No!” she cried. She pivoted away and ran off through the crowd.
He went after her, but a hand on his arm pulled him back. “Oh, Luc. There you are.”
He turned, not recognizing the eyes behind the mask. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” He lunged to go after Vanessa, but this woman would not let go of him.
“I need to speak to you.” Her voice was loud and insistent.
“And I need to speak to someone else.” Luc craned his neck to catch sight of Vanessa, but she was nowhere to be seen. Was she gone already? Was his one chance gone?
The woman dug her fingernails into his arm, nearly piercing the fabric of his tux jacket. “Your father owes me. And since he isn’t here, another Marshall man will have to answer for him.”
Anger rose in Luc like mercury on a blazing day. “What are you talking about?”
“Certainly your father would appreciate that I don’t care to discuss his transgressions in the middle of his wife’s extravagant party.”
Transgressions. He finally stopped to really look at the woman. She was wearing a voluminous ball gown, but there was no question she was pregnant. What the fuck was this? Was she claiming that the baby was his dad’s? He didn’t have time for this bullshit. This woman needed to leave him the fuck alone so he could find Vanessa.
Out of the corner of his eye, Luc saw his tía Ana creeping closer, seeming curious about his exchange with this woman. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” Luc said.
Ana was now standing before them. “Is there a problem?” she asked, placing her hand on the woman’s arm. “Maybe I can help.”
This spelled nothing but trouble, but Luc was desperate to make one last attempt with Vanessa. “Sure. You two talk.” His mother might kill him later, but he had to go. He worked his way through the crowd, thankful that his height gave him an advantage in this scenario, but otherwise frustrated by the fact that all of the women in the room seemed to be wearing black, and of course, there were the masks.
“Luc!” A woman’s voice rang out behind him. He whipped around, his pulse racing. Vanessa?
Elana ran up to him. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
She was out of breath, but he was out of patience. “What now?” His irritation was at its peak right now. He wanted to tear out his hair, burn his mask into powdery ashes and scream at the top of his lungs.
Elana gripped his forearm and looked up at him, her eyes wild with surprise. “Dad has come out of his coma! For good this time.”
Chapter Five
The nurse glanced through the glass window of Harrison Marshall’s room. He lay in his bed, finally awake from his coma. He was still quite disoriented, but that was to be expected. According to his chart, Harrison Marshall’s future was now looking sunnier. After weeks of hoping and waiting for the
accident to finally take its toll, it was up to the nurse to finish the job he’d been paid an obscene amount of money for. Harrison might have waged a good battle, he might have stubbornly clung to life, but it was time for him to die.
Leave it to the Marshall family to find the one doctor who could do the impossible and bring Harrison back to life. The accident on the Pacific Coast Highway was supposed to have been Harrison’s spectacular farewell. It would have killed almost anyone. But no one had counted on old Harrison having so much fight left in him. According to the nurse’s employer, Harrison’s survival was a result that was, quite simply, unacceptable. From what he’d gathered, Harrison Marshall needed to atone for his sins.
Luckily, no one else was in Harrison’s room. The other nurses and doctors were busy calling the family to let them know the Captain was awake. The glass vial of clear liquid was innocent-looking enough, smooth and cool to the touch, stolen from the hospital pharmaceutical supply, traceable only to the location where it was about to be administered. The hypodermic needle glinted in the garish fluorescent hospital light. With a pop of metal through the rubber membrane, the two were joined, fluid lazily drawn into the syringe to form a lethal union. It was certainly less showy, but hopefully far more deadly, than a car careening off a cliff.
A quick glance down the hall and a gentle push against Harrison’s door brought the incessant electronic chirps of the monitors keeping tabs on Harrison’s health these many weeks. Beep beep. Beep beep. Harrison was half-awake, half-asleep, a disoriented look on his face that did bring the smallest edge of remorse for what had to be done. But the nurse was going to be fired anyway, as soon as they found out about all the drugs he’d been stealing. With this payoff he could leave the country by midnight, live the rest of his life on a tropical beach, never to return.
Harrison muttered something unintelligible but had so little strength it was impossible to make out any words. He reached for the nurse’s station call button, but that was easily plucked from his fumbling fingers and placed out of reach before he could press it. Panic flashed in his eyes. Every second counted now.
He slipped the long pin of metal into Harrison’s IV port and plunged the deadly fluid into the tube. Harrison was so feeble now, so weak, but the struggle for life was somewhere inside his shell of a body, because he did fight it in his own now-pathetic way, even lifting his head from the pillow for an instant and managing a pitiful groan.
A few parting words whispered in his ear about who wanted him dead (he couldn’t resist!), and nature would take care of the rest.
It wouldn’t take long now. Although for some, it had already taken long enough.
* * *
The family left the party in a mad rush after Elana’s announcement and headed to the corporate jet. Gabe, ever the solid and dependable one, volunteered to stay behind to keep the party running smoothly. Rachel, ever the dramatic one, had said she wasn’t feeling well and would go back to the hotel. That was fine with Mariella. Less trouble. The family would make a return appearance around midnight to close out the charity event. Harrison’s recovery was important, but so was the success of the ball.
Mariella and Joe were the first to arrive at Whispering Oaks. Mariella had worried how it might look with the two of them traveling to Malibu in Joe’s Aston Martin, but however conflicted she was about her affair with Joe, this was more important right now. She’d been hoping and praying for a true awakening for weeks now. No more close calls. No more waiting. She wanted to look into Harrison’s eyes again. She wanted to see her husband. And once they were alone, she wanted to ask him why he’d never told her about the Fixer. Once he had his strength back, she wanted to ask what in the hell he’d been doing behind her back with another woman all these years. That conversation might be accompanied by a slap to the face for good measure, but only when she was certain he’d live through it.
Joe haphazardly pulled into a parking space near the entrance to the hospital. Mariella practically leaped out of the car, leaving behind the silly masquerade mask but certainly encumbered by her tight-fitting gown. She dashed for the front door, stilettos and all.
“Mariella, wait,” Joe called after her.
She came to a dead stop and turned. The evening air was cooler now, but still soft against her skin. The vision of Joe rushing toward her, the breeze pushing his hair back from his handsome face, only made this that much more difficult. “We don’t know how long he’ll be awake,” she gasped, torn between the need to see her husband and a knowledge residing somewhere deep inside her that said Joe’s arms were the safest place for her right now. Nothing could hurt her when she was there.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, cupping them gently. “Just take a deep breath. I want to make sure you’re ready for this. As Luc talked about on the jet, there’s a good chance he won’t be the same, Mariella. Remember, he sustained a traumatic injury. Many people are quite different after experiencing something like that.”
She did as she was told, sucking in the salty Malibu air. Joe, ever a steady and sensible man, was right. Even with Luc’s warning, she hadn’t truly considered just how different Harrison might be. It was too terrible to consider. She’d envisioned them picking up right where they left off—except for the many, many unanswered questions that had cropped up while he’d been asleep. “You know me, Joe. I take things as they come. If Harrison is different, I will deal with that. I don’t have a choice.” She might sound resigned and self-assured, but she was feeling anything but. What if her husband was permanently incapacitated? Forget the personal issues, would he be able to tell her who the Fixer was? And would he explain why, exactly, there had been any need for such a person in their life in the first place?
Two more cars came racing into the parking lot. They both screeched to a halt. Elana and Thom jumped out of theirs first. The second contained Luc, Ana and Rafe. Mariella despised the sight of her sister there. She would only cause problems, but at least Luc and Rafe had arrived together. They’d been sniping at each other during the whole flight. Perhaps her sons would finally start getting along.
Elana reached Mariella first, nearly pulling off her arm as she rushed toward the entrance. “Mom, come on. We can’t stand around. There’s no time.”
Mariella obliged, and she and her daughter led the processional inside the clinic. Dr. Aebischer was waiting.
“Mrs. Santiago-Marshall. We’re glad you and your family were able to get here so quickly from Las Vegas.”
Mariella listened, but her head was swimming. It was like everything was happening in slow motion, plucked from a surreal dream. “Of course. We flew right over.”
“Please. Walk with me.” Mariella joined the doctor as they made their way toward Harrison’s room, the rest of the family in their wake. “Mr. Marshall has opened his eyes. He is not speaking yet, and we are not yet sure how much he is able to understand.”
Joe had been right. There was a very good chance Harrison would never be the same. Here she’d thought they would be getting answers tonight. Now it seemed as though there was a good chance they’d be left with nothing more than questions. “Can we see him?”
Dr. Aebischer stopped right outside Harrison’s room. A nurse walked out and whispered something in his ear, and the doctor nodded but shared no information. “Yes, you may. I think it’s wise not to overwhelm him right now, but some familiar faces might help to bring him out of his confused state. Perhaps just you and your children at first. If he handles that well, everyone else can come in.”
Mariella nodded. She could live with that. “Yes. Of course. Whatever you think is best.”
Luc stepped forward and put his arms around her shoulders. She grasped his hand and looked up at her oldest. “It’s okay, Mom,” he said. “I’ll be right there. Whatever you need.”
Rafe appeared on her other side. “We’re all here, Mom.”
�
�It’s very important that you not upset him,” the doctor said. “No questions other than asking perhaps how he’s feeling. Otherwise, expressions of affection are best. Tell him you’re happy to see him. You can remind him of who everyone is.”
None of this was reassuring Mariella in the least. Her stomach sank. What if her husband didn’t know her anymore? Then what? “Introduce him to his own children?”
Dr. Aebischer nodded. “I’m sure that’s hard to hear, but he’s in a very fragile state and could be for some time. You can simply point out who is with you and refer to them by name. It’s those personal details that tend to jar a patient’s memory, especially someone with brain injuries like your husband’s.”
“I think we understand we need to take things slowly,” Elana said, ever impatient. “We just want to see him.”
“Certainly,” the doctor replied.
Mariella turned to Joe but didn’t say a word, not wanting to betray what was between them, even though if she could have had anything before she walked into that room, she wanted a hug from Joe and a reassuring kiss on her forehead. “Let’s go,” she said to her children. With a deep breath for strength, she pushed open the door to Harrison’s room.
* * *
As Joe watched Mariella walk away from him and toward Harrison, he was once again filled with an inner conflict unlike any he’d ever experienced. He loved her with everything he had, but what they had shared hours ago might have been their final rendezvous. There was a very good chance he’d have to start living off memories of her touch, her kiss, her heavenly post-sex smell. Better memories than hopes, he reminded himself. He’d spent so many years longing for her. At least he’d had her for a short time.
Joe closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Good God, he could go for a stiff drink right about now. The tension was killing him. And to think...he’d been so blissfully happy mere hours ago. He opened his eyes to see Thom pacing. Ana was observing quietly, drinking it all in. In many ways, that made Joe more nervous than anything. Mariella did not like, nor did she trust, her sister. That meant Joe didn’t trust her, either. Ana was dangerous.
