by J. L. Saint
“What’s wrong? What are you staking your life on?”
“You,” Roger said. He closed his eyes and pulled her into his arms. She came hesitantly at first then pressed into him, and he hugged her tightly. “You. I’ll explain more later when we can talk.”
“Love is a many splendored thing,” the old woman said with a sigh.
He looked at the old lady. That had been a movie rife with international conflicts with a couple who were about as convoluted as he and Mari were and if he remembered right, the story hadn’t ended with a rose garden. Bittersweet. Christ he hated the word. Hated the concept. Hated the whole idea that bittersweet was all he’d ever have in life.
Damn it. What was wrong with happy?
He had no idea what Mari would do about his role in Neil’s death, or how she’d face the tragedy with her family. But as he selfishly held her to him, he hoped against hope that there’d be something more than bittersweet between them.
“You two come have some breakfast while you wait. Ain’t nothin’ in the world like a night in a cabin to work up a bear of an appetite.”
Mari blushed beet red, a reaction that gave him another sliver of hope.
Roger didn’t ask how J. Cruthers knew what a night in a cabin could bring on, but guessed she’d gone into the cabin business for a reason.
Chapter Forty-Three
Atlanta Georgia
Rose in hand, Rico stood around the corner from Angie’s hospital room shamelessly eavesdropping on a hushed conversation between Angie’s mother, Liz, and the neurosurgeon in the hallway.
“Explain to me what’s going on? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thanking the good Lord ten ways to Sunday that she’s woken up from her coma this morning, but something’s not right. She’s worried she is going to miss my New Year’s Eve party that I flew a talented singer from New York in for. That was over nine months ago.”
“It’s not unusual for a person suffering from brain trauma to lose blocks of memory. Often those memories eventually return. Sometimes they don’t.”
“So what do I do? How do I handle this?”
“I wouldn’t force anything. I’d let it come naturally. Explain she had a car accident and that it’s September not December and take it from there. We’ll keep a close eye on her and take it a day at a time.”
The doctor’s beeper went off. “I’ll be back later today.” The doctor left.
Rico came around the corner. Angie’s mother stood in the doorway, gazing into the room, tears streaming down her face.
It took more courage to open his mouth than it did to face a bullet. “Liz?”
She turned, her expression twisting into a mixture of anger and sadness. They both knew if it weren’t for him, Angie wouldn’t be in the hospital right now. He held out the rose. “Don’t tell her about me, okay? She’s better off having never met me.”
Liz didn’t reach for the rose, and Rico sure as hell couldn’t walk away with it in his hand and keep himself together. He laid the Red Beauty on the handrail lining the hallway and left.
Leaving the hospital was the longest walk of his life, but it had to be done. That was one thing a soldier could be counted on to do. No matter what the price, he’d do what had to be done.
Chapter Forty-Four
Gainesville, Georgia
1100 hours
Ironic. Once again Roger paced the Emergency Room, waiting for news about Mari. This time he was in the room with her at least.
The roller coaster ride they’d been on had begun with a trip to the ER after he’d found her hurt in the convenience store bathroom. She’d been too confined by rules then to show her face or accept his help, but he’d picked her up and carried her out anyway, holding her close to his heart.
His hijacked heart, he later discovered.
He was still absorbing the fact that for her, the emotional ride had begun two years ago. Where would they go from here? Would she ever be able to look at him and see him? Or would she always see him as the man responsible for Neil’s death? He didn’t know anything. All he could see was the disillusionment in her eyes every time she looked at him.
The controlled chaos of triaging and admitting the injured from the funeral home bombing was just beginning to subside. Reports on the television about the aftermath were sketchy with rumors flying through the media, but Paul’s assistant had informed Roger there’d been no casualties as of yet. Some serious injuries had been sustained—two policemen clearing the area, several bystanders and five men from the President’s motorcade had been hospitalized. A multitude of minor injuries had filled the area’s ERs. Paul had been whisked to an undisclosed location after footage of him being loaded onto Marine One aired on national TV.
Roger didn’t get to see his family before they left the hospital a short while ago, but he did get to speak over the phone to his parents, his three brothers and to Paul’s parents. Secret service had had his family in a secured area for treatment at the hospital and while he would have been able to go to them, Mari couldn’t.
He and Mari were in a protected room too, with secret service outside the door as well as FBI, but Roger wasn’t sure if they were there to protect him or to monitor Mari.
He had an ill feeling in his stomach, as if he’d never see her again if he let her out of his sight. Even though she was innocent, someone would whisk her away to exact justice for the crimes against the country. It was a fear he couldn’t shake.
Just as the knot in his heart told him that his role in Neil’s death had destroyed their future.
She’d been very quiet since they’d left the elderly lady’s cabin this morning. And after the brief offering of comfort when the funeral home had exploded, she hadn’t made any attempt to touch him. She’d kept her attention on the continuous stream of news surrounding the assassination attempt and the unraveling of the sniper cells across the country.
They’d both seen the doctor. He’d had the gash on his head stitched, and she’d had her wound bandaged and cleaned. Now they were just waiting for results from blood tests. Mainly routine checks for dehydration after their kidnapping ordeal. She claimed she felt fine, but her blood pressure had been on the low side.
His blood pressure had bordered on the high side and he’d been advised to see his regular doctor about it. That wasn’t surprising considering everything. And even though the physical danger was all over, the tension between him and Mari had him by the throat. He didn’t know what to do. Anything he could say or do would make everything worse.
Mari stared at the television and the surreal scenes of the bomb’s destruction. Thank Allah Roger had done what he’d done this morning, hurrying to call as soon as she’d told him what Fahran had said. If they hadn’t…it was too horrible to imagine.
But even the devastation now could have been avoided if she’d told Roger when they’d been escaping the camp. He’d tried to ease her conscience this morning by telling her she hadn’t meant harm to his family or others, and that she wasn’t responsible.
She couldn’t quite accept that. Harm had occurred and she bore some responsibility in what happened and that smacked her right in the center of her aching heart.
Roger hadn’t picked up a gun and shot Neil, but Roger’s action had resulted in harm. Though different in a number of ways, the essence of her negligent delay in conveying information to Roger and Roger’s choice on a mission were the same.
So was she to hate and condemn herself and him? Be angry? Seek retribution? Do what her family had done? It killed her to know her family had been part of the attacks on America and its president.
What had become of her mother, Maisa and Fahran? She knew it had to be bad. Part of her didn’t want to know. Yet another part of her kept watching the news and waiting.
Currently on-screen was a picture of the hospital she and Roger were in saying the President’s family members had been and still were being treated here. Media was everywhere. Even stationed outside the hospital. She’d known Roger wa
s cousins with the President, but had never put any importance to it. Earlier they’d shown pictures of his family members—the men in suits, the women in expensive dresses, Roger in his military uniform. In a way it was daunting. She’d felt a little strange in the oversized pants and shirt supplied to her this morning, but she also found herself at ease in the outfit.
The news shifted from the hospital to video from a helicopter flying over the mountainous terrain of the Chattahoochee National Forest. She’d learned enough already to know that was where the terrorists’ camp had been.
Roger groaned and Mari saw that he had his gaze on the TV. He knew something about it all. Had known it since he’d spoken to General Dekker earlier. She waited for the news to reveal more about the camp, but they didn’t.
She waited another minute, hoping Roger would share with her what he knew. He didn’t and she couldn’t wait any longer.
“When do you plan to tell me about the phone call this morning? It was about my family. About their involvement in all of this. I could see it in your eyes. Is this another truth you’re holding back for my own good?”
He recoiled as if she’d slapped him.
She cried out in frustration, in pain. Who was she to judge him? She had deliberately withheld her father’s death sentence and it had almost cost Roger his life. She buried her face in her hands. His every action since she’d known him had always been to protect and to serve. To lay his life on the line for her even when she didn’t deserve it. He always gave his all.
She drew a deep breath and met his pain-filled gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Please tell me what you know about them.” Her voice broke. “I…I understand it will bad.”
He crossed the room and caught her hands in his warm, solid, capable ones. “I don’t know what is going to happen. All General Dekker said was your father and Salaam had yet to be found. Your brother is heavily guarded in a hospital and your sister is in custody. Everyone else at the camp was dead before the authorities arrived.”
Mari closed her eyes and squeezed his hands tightly. “You’re saying my mother is dead, right?”
“Yes, I am sorry.”
She shuddered, filled with sadness. “They’ll get the death penalty for what they have done, won’t they?” She searched his gaze, seeing only bleak agreement.
He sighed. “Maybe. We don’t know that for sure, though. I’ll tell everyone how they saved us and helped us escape. If Fahran hadn’t intervened when I attacked your father, we’d both be dead. He also could have told them my relationship to Paul and he didn’t.”
Mari had no idea if those facts would make a difference. They wouldn’t have in the country she’d grown up in. Nothing mitigated punishment. “So much death and destruction. When will it end?”
Roger’s heart squeezed so hard with pain for Mari that he couldn’t even draw a deep breath. She looked so lost, so hopeless, and he’d only added to her disillusionment by not being up front and honest to begin with. He felt compelled to answer a question which really had no definitive answer, or did it? When would the death and destruction end? “When we choose differently,” he whispered.
She frowned.
“A long time ago I read a quote by a man named Fromm who gave a lot of thought to human behavior. Basically he said the ultimate choice for man is to decide if he will create or destroy, or if he will love or hate.”
“Choose to love? Choose to create?” Her eyes widened as she studied his face. He could see some of the light and warmth returning to her gaze. Dare he hope that was for him? Dare he hope for forgiveness?
“Yes,” he said with a greater conviction than he’d ever known before. “No matter what life dishes out, we ultimately have the power to choose.”
“You know,” she said. “I told Fahran almost the same thing. I told him only love could bring him peace. Do you think he’s in this hospital? Can I see him? Can I see Maisa?”
Roger pulled away and paced across the room. What he had to tell Mari was only going to disillusion her more. “No. I don’t think you will be allowed to, but even if you were, it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Surely you don’t think they’d try and hurt me after sacrificing so much to help us escape?”
“No, that’s not it. What I am saying is you have to keep your distance from them. You don’t want anyone to mistakenly associate you to anything they did here.”
“What?” Mari stood too quickly, doing exactly what the nurse had cautioned her not to do. With her blood pressure low, Mari could easily become dizzy. She wavered on her feet. He urged her back into the chair. She grabbed his hand. “How could anyone possibly do that? I didn’t even know they were alive, much less here.”
“I know that, but investigators are going to ask you questions and I think the less contact you have with your family, the less that you even accidently learn from or about them, the better off you will be until all of this is sorted out. You have to prepare yourself to answer everything the authorities want to know. They’ll even question you about the past. What happened to cause the estrangement from your family? Why they left you to die years ago? How Neil found you and why your father sought to kill you now?”
She turned ghost white as she shook her head. “No. I can’t share that with strangers. I can’t tell them what those men—” She turned from him, trying to pull her hands from his.
He wouldn’t let her go. “Listen to me. You can and I will be there beside you every step of the way. What happened to you was not your fault. Not your crime. Not your guilt. You were an innocent victim. You’ll have to tell the investigators what happened so they will understand how you came to be here. So they will know you were brought here and not planted here to one day be a part of this attack on America and my cousin.”
“They think that?” she cried.
“Shh. I don’t know. They will want to rule out that possibility. I will stake my life on your innocence and will do everything within my power to help, but you have to help, too. You and your child deserve to be happy. Fight for it. Don’t let anyone take it away.”
The door opened and the doctor entered. “Ms. Dalton’s blood work is normal except her hCG levels are higher than what I’d expect at four months. When you get home, I’d have your obstetrician do a sonogram and reassess.”
Mari’s hands gripped his, and likely kept him upright on his wobbling knees.
“Are you saying something is wrong with the baby?” He searched the man’s face.
The doctor’s brows shot straight up. “No. Not at all. There’re several simple explanations. Her levels could just be a little different from the norm at this point in her pregnancy. No two people are the same and no two pregnancies are either. As I said, she could be at a different stage than originally thought. Also another reason for higher levels is multiple embryos. So have her obstetrician check her out when you get home.”
Roger was sure lightning had struck his brain. Not one, but more than one. The possibility was dizzying. “Multiple?” he muttered, even though he knew very much what the doctor meant.
“As in twins or triplets or more. Ms. Dalton, do multiples run in your family?”
“Yes,” Mari whispered.
Roger didn’t really hear anything else about their discharge. He just followed the FBI and secret service agents down the ER hallway with Mari at his side. Multiples. He didn’t ask if life could get any more complicated. He didn’t have to, because he looked up and saw across a lengthy room the bald, bowling-ball head of Clandestine Service’s Staff Operations Officer who’d been trying to nail his ass since Peru. The “Director” was out for blood and his smug smile said he was about to dig his claws into Mari.
Over his dead body, Roger thought. There had to be a way to head off this asshole, a tactical move that would tie the SOB’s hands. Enlightenment dawned. Maybe a little tactical deception… “Mari, this is the wrong time and place, but say yes even if you never will. Will you marry me?”
“No!”
Mari cried out, fear vibrating like thunder. She shoved him away from her.
What the hell? Roger whipped around toward her, shocked at her vehemence. Then he froze, his heart gripping in terror as he saw who was in the adjoining hallway, hidden from view from the others.
Coming at them from the side, not more than five feet from them, with what had to be a newspaper-covered gun in his hand, was Mari’s father. He stood up from a wheelchair. Madness gleamed in his eyes and hate twisted his reddened features as he waved the gun at Mari and at him shouting in Arabic, “All unbelievers deserve death. All whores deserve death.”
Mari had placed herself between him and her father’s wrath and Roger was going to wring her neck later for it. The other agents were several steps ahead, going head to head with the SOO and completely unaware of the danger that was broadsiding them.
He had a feeling that if he shouted for help or if he made any sudden movements Mari’s father would immediately pull the trigger and Roger wasn’t sure he could guarantee Mari wouldn’t catch a bullet.
He spoke to Mari’s father in Arabic as he slowly moved in Mari’s direction. “Asalamu alaikum, peace be upon you.” Roger gave the man the traditional Muslim greeting of respect—ironic that the most volatile would have peace so much a part of their tradition. Then he challenged Mari’s father. “Who says I am an unbeliever? I have read every word of the holy Qur’an. You are making a grave mistake in your condemnation of your daughter and me.”
Mari’s father, caught off guard, looked stunned.
It was all the time Roger needed to place himself between Mari and the gun. “Listen to him, Father,” Mari pleaded. “This hate, this anger is not what Allah wants.”
