Solid Gold (Unseen Enemy Book 8)

by Marysol James

  “No?” Griff said, still eyeing the other man closely. “I ain’t treading on any toes?”

  “Nope,” Cole said, eyeing Griff just as carefully. “No toe treading going on here.”

  “So,” Claire said, seemingly oblivious to the tension between the men. “I go to this one café almost every day – it’s kind of my unofficial office, really – called The Web, on Brock Street. Maybe I can buy you a coffee there? Tomorrow morning at about ten?”

  Right away, alarm bells started ringing in Griff’s head. He remembered Spider’s speculative glances up and down his body, remembered Mirrie clocking him, remembered the teasing brownies conversation. Just because Claire had been absorbed in her work and laptop and had no real memory of Griff at the café, he couldn’t expect the same amnesia from the staff.

  And just how the hell would he be able to explain spending the whole day in the same place as Claire, silently lurking behind her with a hat pulled down low over his forehead, and then mysteriously ending up on that lonely road the same night? There was no explanation, none at all, and it was nothing but imperative to stay the hell away from The Web.

  Talk about cover blown, huh?

  “Sorry,” Griff said now. “I’m busy in the morning, but tell you what… maybe I can take you for lunch tomorrow.”

  He noted Cole’s deepening frown, even as Claire’s face lit up. Interesting, how completely Cole disliked him, even after he’d helped the woman that he considered a friend. Griff resolved to stay the hell away from Cole too, as much as possible.

  “Oh,” Claire said, flustered and pleased. “Oh, no. You don’t have to do that…”

  “Maybe I want to,” Griff said, injecting warmth into his words. “Maybe I’d like to.”

  “Oh,” she repeated. “Well… OK then. Yes.”

  “Do you like Italian?”

  “Love it.”

  “Do you know Antonio’s? On –”

  “On Stout Street,” she finished for him. “Oh, yes. I mean, I’ve never been in there, but I’ve passed by quite a few times. It looks amazing.”

  “One o’clock?”

  “One o’clock,” she said, and her smile was radiant. Griff felt the most male part of himself respond to all that sweetness and happiness, and he firmly slammed the door down on his idiotic libido. OK, she was an attractive woman and he was a red-blooded man, and that’s what was going on here.

  That’s all that’s going on here.

  “Great,” he said, ignoring the fact that he was already looking forward to seeing her the next day. He chalked it up to sheer relief that the op was still live, and progressing, and he was one step closer to helping Leeza and the other victims of the Worthingtons’ scheme. “Tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow,” she echoed.

  “Tomorrow,” Cole growled, and Griff just knew that he was on the man’s radar. That was a problem, but not an insurmountable one, if he alerted Dallas to it the next morning.

  Everything was just fine.

  Everything was under control.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, Hunter ‘Sully’ Sullivan entered the hospital room silently, then stood and looked at his wife as she slept in the chair next to her son’s bed. Cordelia was all curled up in a tight little ball, and Sully felt the exhaustion radiating off her, even as she slumbered deeply.

  He set down the two cups of coffee on the table next to the door, and leaned back against the wall, his massive arms crossed as he stared at her some more. Even after four days of sleeping in that damn chair, and all the stress and worry over Sean, she was still the most beautiful and strongest woman that Sully had known in a long, long time. He’d been blessed with an astounding first wife – tragically murdered, along with their unborn son – and all he saw when he looked at Cordelia and Sean was a second chance to love, and to be loved in return.

  The fact that Sean was from Cordelia’s first marriage and not ‘really’ Sully’s son made exactly zero difference to any of them. Sean was his son, his in all the ways that mattered, and Sully couldn’t have been more worried about Sean’s post-surgery prognosis and progress if the boy had been his own damn flesh and blood.

  Sully heard a noise behind him now, and he turned to see Doctor Calvin Finn standing there, holding a thick stack of papers.

  “Doc,” Sully said, keeping his voice low. “Those Sean’s test results?”

  Calvin Finn nodded and adjusted his glasses. “Yes.”

  “Let me get Cordelia,” Sully said. “She’ll want to know anything and everything.”

  “That’s the truth,” Dr. Finn said with a smile. In his long career, he’d met many formidable mothers – and Cordelia Sullivan left them all in the dust. “Get her, grab that coffee, and let’s sit out here, OK?”

  “Gimme two minutes, doc. Prepare her a bit.”

  “Sure thing, Sully. I’m here when you’re ready.”

  Sully walked over to Cordelia, hating to wake her up, but knowing that it wasn’t even a negotiable point. They’d arrived in Miami almost a week ago, and in that time, she’d shown nothing but determination to know and understand everything about Sean’s brain surgery… even when those things were dark or risky or frightening.

  “Baby,” he whispered, running his fingers through her tousled black hair. “Wake up, Cordelia.”

  She made a small sound in her throat, turned her face away from him.

  “I’m sorry to do this, baby, but Dr. Finn has Sean’s results, and –”

  Immediately, her dark eyes flew open. “Results?”

  Startled, Sully blinked down at her. “Yeah. He’s out in the hall and –”

  She shot to her feet, totally wide awake. It was literally unbelievable to Sully that this woman had been dead to the world less than a minute before: now she was all alert tiger mother, ready to protect, fight, and even maim for her young.

  “Let’s go,” she said abruptly. “I want to hear if they can bring Sean out of his induced coma today.”

  Sully nodded, then felt his heart stop as the small bit of color that she had in her face disappeared. She gasped, grabbed her stomach, swallowed hard.

  “Cordelia?” he asked, afraid of something, though he didn’t know what it was. “What’s wrong?”

  Without a word, she launched herself at the bathroom door, fumbled with it, wrenched it open. His heart in his throat, Sully followed her, watched in horror as she threw herself to her knees in front of the toilet and threw up violently.

  “Cordelia!” he said, hurrying over to her. He knelt behind her, pulled her hair back for her. “Fuck, baby… breathe, OK? I’m right here.”

  She nodded, threw up again, then again. Sully watched as she slowly relaxed, then sagged on the floor, her head down. He reached up and poured her a glass of cool water. She took it gratefully, took a sip.

  “I’m OK, Hunter,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Just the stress getting to me, I think.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, watching her carefully. His wife might be the one who could read people like maps, but Sully wasn’t bad at knowing when Cordelia was hiding stuff from him. “This happened before, then?”

  Right away, she looked down This was her big tell, and Sully gently took her chin between his rough fingers, turned her face up to his. He waited until she met his own dark eyes, then he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

  “How many times, baby?” he asked softly. “Tell me.”

  “Uh.” Her eyes skittered away, then went back to his. “Maybe… five times.”

  “Five?” His thumb stilled. “And you didn’t say a word?”

  “What’s to say, Hunter?” she asked, and her usual crisp, brisk tone was back. “I’m barely sleeping, I’m eating cafeteria food, I’m scared to death that my ten-year-old son might not come back from surgery that removed a cancerous tumor from his brain. Frankly, it’d be weird if I wasn’t puking every morning, huh?”

  “Morning?” Sully said. “Only in the morning?”

  “Yeah.�
� She held her head wearily as he helped her to her feet. “Though I feel nauseous most of the day, to be honest.”

  Sully paused, did some rapid calculations in his head. “Uh… you haven’t had your period for a while, have you? Maybe – what? Two months? Maybe more?”

  She reeled backwards and leaned back against the sink. “You – you think…you think that I’m –”

  “I don’t know,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “We have been trying. What do you think?”

  “Oh,” she said, totally dismayed as it hit her. “Oh, no!”

  “Is that a denial?” he asked, teasing her a bit. “Or a confirmation?”

  “Oh, shit,” Cordelia whispered as pieces began to click into place. “Oh, God, Hunter…”

  “Right here, baby,” he said gently. “Am I right?”

  Like an idiot, she stared down at her own lush body. Took in her swollen, tender breasts. Noted that her gently-rounded belly was a bit more rounded than usual. Thought about her wild cravings for toast with apple jelly and banana smoothies. Then she did some counting on her fingers (and toes) and that was when she was sure.

  “Yeah,” she said, moving from shocked denial to stunned happiness between heartbeats. “Yeah, babe… I think you are.”

  A huge grin split his handsome face right in two, and he ran his hands through his hair. “And are we happy about this? I mean, I know the timing isn’t fantastic, but –”

  “We’re happy,” Cordelia said; he watched as she smiled at him, that perfect, pure smile that always made him love her a bit more every time that he saw it. “We’re so happy.”

  “I’d kiss you,” he said. “But you just threw up God-knows-what. Maybe after you brush? Gargle? Chew some gum?”

  She laughed. “Would you settle for a hug right now instead?”

  “Always,” he said, opening his arms to her. “Come here, you beautiful, fertile woman of mine.”

  “Hey!” she said, mock-indignantly, her voice muffled against his muscled chest. “Am I a brood mare?”

  He cocked his head at her. “And if I said that you are?”

  She smacked his forearm. “I’d be really, really offended right about now.”

  “That’s no good.”

  “Nope,” she agreed. “Also, we need to get out to Dr. Finn ASAP.”

  He nodded, moved away. “I’ll wait right outside.” He kissed her fingertips, then shut the door to give her some privacy and space.

  Alone for a whole minute, Cordelia stared at her own face in the mirror. It was incredible to her that she’d missed all the signs, but considering what was going on in their lives, maybe it was understandable. After all, their focus had been on Sean’s surgery, and on adopting a baby girl named Iris, and their jobs, and on all the day-to-day stuff of living in a house with two kids to feed, and a driveway to shovel, and endless lists of stuff to juggle.

  So, yeah… she’d give herself a pass on this one. This time.

  She sighed a bit, brushed her teeth, rinsed her face, ran a brush through her hair. Then – knowing that this was as good as it was going to get – she opened the bathroom door. Hunter extended his hand to her, and she took it. She dropped a quick kiss on Sean’s forehead as they passed his bed, and then they went out to the hallway to talk to the doctor, Hunter grabbing what was surely lukewarm coffee – but no less-welcome or -needed for that, though maybe she’d need to consider drinking decaf from here on in – as they passed the table.

  Dr. Finn stood to greet them, his blue eyes warm. Cordelia gazed up at him, feeling nothing but trust and respect for this man. He specialized in a type of laser surgery that delicately, painstakingly, removed what were considered inoperable brain tumors by most doctors, and when he’d told Cordelia and Sully that Sean was an ideal candidate, Cordelia had felt something that she hadn’t felt for a long, long time.

  She had felt hope that Sean might have a future.

  And this man had handed her that hope. If he told her that she needed to cut off her own damn leg to help Sean, then she’d demand that Dr. Finn hand her the knife on the spot. Anything he said, anything he did, Cordelia was on board.

  “Hi,” she said to him now, then gestured at the test results. “How are things?”

  “Good, Cordelia,” Dr. Finn said. “Really good.”

  She and Sully both relaxed. Dr. Finn knew that they didn’t want anything but the main point, and so that’s what he gave them, no preamble or faffing around.

  “We got it all,” he told them. “The whole tumor. Nothing’s left… not one cancer cell.”

  “It’s – it’s gone?” Cordelia whispered. “Really gone? All gone?”

  “Really and all,” Dr. Finn assured her. “We’ll be bringing Sean out of the induced coma today, and you’ll be able to take him home in about two days.”

  “We – really?” Sully said, stunned. “So soon?”

  Dr. Finn shrugged. “He’s a healthy, ten-year-old boy, Sully. Why the hell would he stay in the hospital when he could be home eating pizza and watching movies and driving you all crazy?”

  “He’s healthy,” Cordelia said, and both men heard the wonder in those two words. “Healthy…”

  “Completely,” Dr. Finn said. He wasn’t always able to deliver good news – wasn’t even usually able to do so, since he saw the bad cases, the hopeless cases, the cases that every other doctor had written off – and on these occasions when he could bring joy, he was as thrilled and grateful as the families. “Sean is completely healthy. He’ll need some follow-up stuff back in Denver, and I’ll be in touch with his regular doctor about that later today. But that can all be done at home, guys.”

  “Oh.” She blinked away tears. “I can – he can go home…”

  “Take him home, Cordelia,” Dr. Finn told her, then nodded at a nurse who was trying to get his attention. He moved away from them now, already thinking about the next very sick child who needed him, about the next mother and father who were desperate for his help. “Take Sean home, and watch him grow up. Enjoy your two beautiful, amazing children.”

  “Thank you,” Cordelia choked out. “Thank you so, so much.”

  Sully silently extended his hand, and the men shook, smiling the whole time. Then as quietly as Calvin Finn had come into their lives, he walked right on out. He just walked off to hopefully perform another little miracle, to once again do what had been deemed impossible by so many others.

  Cordelia and Hunter watched him go, then their eyes met. They shared a smile.

  “Three,” Hunter said quietly, caressing Cordelia’s stomach with his large hand. “Our three beautiful, amazing children.”

  “Yes,” she said, simply unable to believe that this was her life. So much hope, so much happiness, so much love. “Three.”

  **

  Selena Perez winced as she reached for the sugar on her kitchen shelf above her head. Damn, her stitches pulled, and she was pretty much good and done with that sensation. It seemed to her that she’d had nothing but surgeries for the past six months, and even though they were all voluntary – well, more or less, and in a manner of speaking – she wasn’t delighted about any of it.

  “Hey!”

  The rough voice behind her surprised her, and she spun, almost dropping the sugar.

  “Luke!” she gasped. “Jesus! Don’t do that!”

  “I don’t do that?” he snapped. Selena watched as two-hundred-plus pounds of solid, hard man stormed across the floor to her wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts. “You don’t do that, Selena! No goddamn stretching for another week. You know this, beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” she argued. “But it’s just sugar, Luke. I was making your coffee.”

  “I don’t give a good goddamn, Selena, so don’t you get mouthy with me.” Luke Rhodes’ dark blue eyes were almost gray with anger. “I don’t care about fucking sugar for my coffee. I do care about your breast reconstruction healing properly, so go and sit that luscious ass down, if you don’t mind. I’ll be making my
own damn coffee.”

  Selena sighed, but she gave in. Yeah, she was the only female bodyguard at Solid Security, and she was as tough as hell, and she was totally competent and capable, but she also knew better than to take on Luke when he was determined to take care of her. That was a battle that was lost before it even began, so without another murmur, she planted her butt in the kitchen chair and watched Luke make his coffee, and then start breakfast.

  As always, she was impressed by how easily he moved around her small kitchen, breaking eggs and frying bacon and chopping onions, all with just one hand. He’d lost his left hand in Afghanistan when an IED had detonated. That had been three years ago now, and Luke had more than coped with its loss, and he’d figured out how to live life one-handed without major struggle or strain. At this point, he barely even noticed that it wasn’t there – and it was that comfort that made others forget too. Selena included.

  “So.” Luke added grated cheese to the omelet. “Any word from Griff?”

  “Yeah. He called me this morning to ask about how I’m doing, and something’s weird.”

  Luke shot her a worried look. He and John Griffin were good friends; they’d had each others’ backs in the wilds of Afghanistan for two full tours, and Luke didn’t like hearing that Griff might be in some kind of trouble.

  “Weird bad?” Luke asked. “Or just weird?”

  “Dunno.” Selena shook her dark head, drank her own coffee. “I do know he’s meeting with Dallas and Mark this morning over at Solid Security, to give them a verbal report.”

  “OK.” Luke flipped the bacon, relieved but still puzzled. “And why’s that weird?”

  “Because we never present verbals until the assignment is over, and that’s just a formality to tie up any loose ends,” she said. “Everything’s on paper when we’re out in the field… unless something’s going on. Then we haul ass to the office and speak to Dallas in person. Weird that Mark’s going to be there too, actually. Usually Dallas handles the meeting alone, and passes relevant bits on to Mark as he sees fit.”