“I saw what was left of the Cadillac J.D. practiced on,” the Ranger said. “There wasn’t a piece left bigger than a sandwich. No amount of armor is going to protect your limo if he plants an IED along the route you’ve been using to get back and forth to your compound.”
Wyatt had seen the results of the sort of devastation McKinley was talking about up close and personal when he’d gone to Iraq to investigate a military security business in which he’d planned to invest. He’d been in a convoy moving along Highway One when the armored personnel carrier directly in front of him had been blown up by a remotely detonated IED.
Four out of the six soldiers in the carrier had been killed outright. The fifth had lost his right leg and arm and had a skull fracture. The sixth had been burned so badly that his skin sloughed off when Wyatt tried to move him to safety.
Wyatt had a scar on his hip where he’d been hit by shrapnel, but he’d come away essentially unharmed. Except for the indelible mark the experience had left on his psyche. For months afterward he’d jumped every time he heard a car backfire. It was horrifying to imagine Kate as the victim of such a destructive weapon.
“Kate told me the two of you have been using a predictable route back and forth to a heliport here in Houston,” Jack said.
Wyatt nodded. “That’s true.” He wasn’t used to being a target. That was more his father’s bailiwick. “What do you suggest?”
He saw Kate tilt her head, as though she hadn’t expected him to ask or accept the Ranger’s advice. But he was willing to do whatever was necessary to keep her safe, even if it meant swallowing a little pride.
“Vary your route around Houston, and in and out of your compound, so it’s unpredictable,” McKinley said. “It would be better if you weren’t traveling the highways at all.”
“You mean we should stay in the city?”
The Ranger shrugged. “You’ve got a place here.”
Kate looked at Jack as though he’d betrayed her. “The boys are in school in The Woodlands. It would be too much of a commute for them if we were staying in downtown Houston.”
“Just until the police or the FBI can locate what they think is a terrorist with a bomb,” McKinley said to her. “I want you safe, Kate.”
“I appreciate the warning,” Shaw said, irritated by the intimate looks the two of them were exchanging. “Please get in the car, Kate.”
Wyatt could see she was angry—at the Ranger and at him. For a moment he thought she was going to turn around and walk back inside the hospital. Instead, she took the few steps to the limo, threw her purse inside and stepped in after it. Wyatt turned back to the Ranger and said, “Thanks for the warning.”
“Take care of her.”
“I intend to do just that.” He turned his back on the Ranger and joined Kate in the limo. Jimmy closed the door behind him and headed around the rear of the limo. When he was back behind the wheel, Wyatt said, “Take us to Shaw Tower.”
“You got it, Boss.”
“Cancel that, Jimmy,” Kate said.
The limo driver met Wyatt’s eyes in the rearview mirror, his bushy brows raised in question.
“Hold on a minute, Jimmy,” Wyatt said.
The limo driver found a safe place to stop the car and pulled it to the curb.
Wyatt turned to Kate and said, “You heard what McKinley said. It isn’t safe to be traveling back and forth on the highway.”
“I have to get back and forth to the hospital every day through the city. That’s going to leave J.D. a way to get to us the same as if we drove to a heliport every day. Why not just use a different heliport every day or simply make the drive all the way home sometimes?
“We can even stay in the city on the weekends occasionally, when the boys can be with us,” Kate said. “J.D. can’t be everywhere. If we vary the route we take, and where we spend the night, he’ll never know where to find us.”
“Unless he picks an intersection we’ll be likely to cross and simply waits for us there.”
“If both the FBI and the Houston city cops are on the lookout for a terrorist with a bomb, he couldn’t really hang around the same place every day without getting noticed, could he?” Kate asked.
Wyatt saw her point.
“And he’s not likely to hang around close to your compound, because he’d stick out like a sore thumb. Not to mention the fact he’d have to sleep on the ground. I don’t see J.D. inconveniencing himself if he can help it.”
“I don’t like playing Russian roulette with that son of a bitch,” Wyatt said.
“I lived with J.D. long enough to know he’ll take the path of least resistance. If we vary our routes in and out of the city and make it difficult for him to predict where we’ll be, he’ll get tired of waiting and give up.”
“You want me to gamble with your life.”
Kate met his gaze and said, “I can’t be away from my sons, Wyatt. J.D. has already caused enough disruption in their lives.”
He noticed she’d used his first name again, which made him feel more attached to her. And more vulnerable. He was sure that was why she’d done it. “Skip the heliport and drive us home, Jimmy,” Wyatt said at last.
“You got it, Boss.”
He met Jimmy’s gaze again and the limo driver closed the glass privacy window between the front and back seats.
Kate released a breath Wyatt hadn’t known she’d been holding, leaned her head back against the comfortable leather seat and closed her eyes.
“You’re exhausted again,” Wyatt said. “And it’s only the middle of the week.”
“I had a new patient today,” she replied, “a ten-year-old boy named Simon. He lost a leg to sarcoma. I’ve been helping him do exercises with his stump to get ready for his prosthetic limb.”
“One little boy tired you out?”
“He thinks the exercises are pointless, because he doesn’t think he’s going to live long enough to need the prosthetic limb that’s being made for him.”
No wonder she was tired, Wyatt thought. He could never do what she did. He didn’t know where she found the emotional strength to consistently face that sort of challenge.
“The sad thing is,” Kate continued after a moment of silence, “he’s probably right. Simon’s cancer was so far advanced when he was diagnosed that he may very well die.”
Shaw didn’t know how to comfort her. The opportunities to offer comfort had been few and far between in his life. So he offered the only suggestion he thought might help. “You need to get more sleep.”
“I would sleep better if you gave me my own bedroom,” Kate said acerbically.
Shaw looked out the window, ignoring the request. She was staying in his bed, where he could hold her close at night. He felt the same need to make up for lost time with Kate that he did with his sons. There were years they’d spent apart that he could never get back. He planned to make the most of every day from now on.
They’d been riding in silence for quite a while when Kate said, “Jack’s six-year-old son Ryan has leukemia.”
Expressing sympathy wasn’t usual for him, either. He wasn’t sure exactly what expression was appropriate. He imagined how he would feel if his sons were ill with a life-threatening disease. And felt sick in the pit of his stomach. “I’m sorry to hear it,” he said in a gruff voice.
“That’s why Jack was at M.D. Anderson. Ryan hasn’t reacted well to the chemotherapy he’s been getting. He’s an inpatient at the Children’s Hospital. I’d like to take Lucky and Chance to visit him over the weekend.”
“I didn’t know they were acquainted with McKinley’s son.”
“The boys met over Christmas, when Jack was taking care of the twins and Ryan came to visit from Kansas.”
“Is that a good idea?” Wyatt asked hesitantly. “Taking them to see a kid who’s so sick he has to be in the hospital?”
“I’m sure the boys would enjoy seeing Ryan. And, if he’s feeling well enough, I think Ryan would enjoy having visitors.”
Kate opened her eyes and searched his face. “What is it?”
“I was just wondering how they’ll handle seeing their friend so sick.”
“I didn’t say it would be comfortable for them. Not at first, anyway. But I wouldn’t like to think Lucky and Chance would abandon their friend just because it’s difficult to see him hurting or in unusual surroundings.”
“What’s the boy’s prognosis?” Wyatt asked.
“I don’t really know, but he has one of the more deadly forms of leukemia.”
Wyatt felt that same ball of panic in the pit of his stomach. “That’s too bad.”
“So you’ll let me take them to visit on Saturday morning?”
“I’ll even come with you.”
“Don’t feel like you have to come. We’ll be fine without you.”
“I’m coming,” Wyatt said. “And that’s the end of it.”
“Because you want to? Or because you don’t trust me?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
“I want to come. Satisfied?”
“But you don’t trust me.”
“Should I?”
She rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath. “We’re going and you’re going. Fine. End of discussion.”
“You and that cat of yours,” he murmured.
“What?”
Shaw’s lips quirked. “You both show your claws when you get upset.”
26
Holly’s ankles were swollen the size of grapefruits. She’d been on her feet all day at work—on a Saturday—without a break. Not the smartest move for a stressed-out woman who was almost six months pregnant. But Ryan had been expecting afternoon visitors, and Jack wasn’t around, so she’d decided to go to the hospital a bit before visiting hours and meet with some of the patients in her clinical trial.
She sat down on Jack’s oversize chair in the living room and put her feet up on the ottoman. She’d missed having a mid-morning break because she’d used the time to visit Ryan, who was cranky and miserable.
“Please, Mom, I want to go home!” he’d begged, his lips scabbed and giant tears rolling down his pale cheeks.
“Soon, sweetie,” she’d soothed. “Soon.”
But her throat had swollen tight as she spoke the lie. The first treatment phase, which was intended to induce remission of the cancer, had consisted of a drug cocktail of daunorubicin and cytarabine, given over a course of seven to ten days. The chemotherapy was supposed to leave the patient clinically free of the disease and with a normal white blood cell count.
Ryan had completed his tenth day of chemotherapy with his blood count nowhere near normal. He was definitely not in remission. His doctor would be adding more drugs, perhaps thioguanine or etoposide, before trying again.
Sadly, Ryan had been too sick to spend more than a few minutes with Lucky and Chance when they’d come to visit. Since her son’s immune system was so compromised, the twins had worn gowns, masks and gloves. Nevertheless, it had been an awkward few minutes, because their mother, and a man she recognized from TV coverage as Wyatt Shaw, had come with them.
“Thank you for bringing the boys to visit Ryan,” Holly had said politely to her nemesis.
“I’m glad you allowed them to come,” Kate replied with a smile. “They’ve been worried ever since they heard Ryan was sick.”
Holly glanced at the three boys. Ryan was lying weakly on his hospital bed while the twins stood on the bed rails hovering over him. Shaw was standing beside them, also gloved, masked and gowned. “I’m not sure seeing Ryan like this is going to reassure them.”
She’d watched the three boys long enough to see that Lucky and Chance were enjoying the novelty of wearing gowns, masks and gloves, and that Ryan had a smile on his face for the first time since he’d been admitted to the hospital.
“I was surprised to hear from you,” Holly admitted.
“Didn’t Jack tell you? I’m working here at M.D. Anderson,” Kate replied. “With pediatric sarcoma patients.”
“I think Jack did mention you would be working here.” Which made me wonder whether the two of you might be making plans to see each other. “How do you like working with kids instead of soldiers?”
“It’s different,” Kate replied. “Sadder in some ways. Because they’re still fighting for their lives.”
Holly was surprised at Kate’s frankness. And how quickly she’d put her finger on what was also the hardest part of Holly’s job. She didn’t want to like Kate Pendleton. Holly considered the woman a serious threat to her marriage. She wished Kate weren’t so empathetic. And so beautiful. What chance did Holly have—with her thick waist and her thick ankles—competing with such a slender, absolutely stunning woman?
As though she’d read Holly’s mind, Kate said, “In case you were wondering, our move to Houston didn’t have anything to do with Jack moving in with you. The twins and I are staying with Mr. Shaw for a little while.”
“So you changed jobs?” Holly asked, her brow furrowed. That didn’t sound very temporary. She was dying to ask how Kate had gotten involved with such a notorious man in the first place, but she didn’t want to open a new can of worms, afraid of what would spill out.
Kate shrugged. “The opportunity to work here presented itself, so I took advantage of it.”
One of the twins interrupted them to say in a surprised voice, “Mom, Ryan fell asleep.”
“We should go,” Kate said. “May we come again?”
“Of course,” Holly replied. She wouldn’t deny her son anything that made him happy, despite her own discomfort with the situation.
Especially since there was no telling how long Ryan’s recovery would take. Because of his increased risk of infection and other side effects from his chemotherapy, he might be in the hospital anywhere from four to six weeks. And that was if the second round of chemotherapy was successful.
If chemotherapy didn’t work, Ryan would need a bone marrow transplant. Holly leaned farther back in Jack’s chair and hissed in a breath. The most successful bone marrow transplants were done using a human leukocyte antigen (HLA)-matched sibling—a brother or sister—rather than a mother or father.
Unfortunately, Ryan was an only child.
That’s not true, Holly. Ryan has a sibling. A sister.
Blood suffused her face as she remembered how it had felt to discover she was pregnant at fourteen. The terror. And the joy. And the horror at what she must do. There was no way she could raise a child on her own. She’d still been a child herself. So she’d given away the baby she and Jack had made. Only God knew where their daughter—a twenty-six-year-old woman—was now.
It hadn’t been an easy decision. She’d made list after list of the pros and cons of keeping the baby. She always came up with the same rational answer. She couldn’t. Her parents would be no help, and if she married Jack, she might never escape her mother’s fate.
So she’d done what she thought was best for the three of them. First, she’d broken up with Jack without even hinting that she was pregnant. Then she’d gone to visit a nonexistent “sick aunt” in Houston until the baby was born. Finally, she’d given up their baby for adoption.
Holly had held their little girl long enough to see through a blur of tears that she had chestnut curls, like her father, and very green eyes, like her mother. She’d quickly counted all ten fingers and all ten toes. Then the nurse had come and taken her away. Letting go was the hardest thing Holly had ever done.
Holly didn’t know what had become of their daughter. Didn’t know her name. Had tried to forget her birthday. But for the past twenty-six years, she’d never yet made it through the entire day on April 10 without crying.
If it became necessary to save their son’s life, she would tell Jack the truth. She shuddered to think what he would do. What he would say. How
he would react to her deceit.
In hindsight, she knew what she’d done was wrong. She should at least have told Jack she was carrying his child. But she’d feared he wouldn’t want to give up the baby. She wouldn’t have been able to resist his entreaties to marry him and raise their child. And she hadn’t believed he would love her forever and ever, as he’d always claimed he would.
Every day she prayed that their daughter had found a good home with loving parents. She’d endured a great deal of guilt over her decision. And second thoughts. And regrets.
But what was done was done. There was no going back—unless Ryan needed his sister’s help to stay alive. Then Holly would have to face her daughter—and her husband—and account for the choices she’d made so long ago.
Assuming their daughter could be found.
Holly closed her eyes and sighed. She’d come to Houston with such high hopes such a short time ago. It was hard to stay optimistic under the circumstances.
When she’d left Ryan’s hospital room after bidding Kate, Wyatt Shaw and the twins goodbye, she’d felt too nauseated to eat anything. Now her stomach was rebelling because it had been empty for too long. And she was just too tired to get up and cook something.
Especially since she wasn’t sure Jack would be home to share the meal. He was spending long hours trying to track down J.D. Pendleton, who seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. Jack was sleeping in a separate bedroom and had a separate bath, so she’d hardly seen him in the nearly two weeks since Ryan had gone into the hospital.
Which was probably a good thing. Her hair needed washing. Her eyes had dark circles from lack of sleep. Her figure was gone, taken over by the growing baby inside her. How was she supposed to compete with a woman like Kate Pendleton?
“Holly? Are you all right?”
Holly opened her eyes and realized Jack had come in without her being aware of it. He was sitting on the ottoman, a masculine hand wrapped around one of her massively swollen ankles. “I’m sorry, Jack. I meant to make us some supper. I must have dozed off.”
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