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Breakaway

Page 24

by Rochelle Alers


  Celia slumped against the back of the bench. Elijah Morrow had called her and she’d refused to speak to him. “Who’s replacing him?”

  “No one knows. And I’m willing to bet they’re not going to get anyone willing to sit on a jury. No jury, no prosecutor means that son of a bitch will walk.”

  “How can that happen if they have a witness willing to testify?”

  “If you live, Celia.”

  She shook her head. “This is ludicrous. A known drug dealer comes into a hospital E.R. and kills two people before he’s shot, and he gets a free get-out-of-jail card.”

  “It’s all about drugs, guns and money, sweetheart. These people are ruthless and they don’t care who they have to eliminate to get what they want.”

  “He gets to walk and what happens to me? Do I have to look over my shoulder every time I step out of my house, praying the crazy bastard isn’t waiting for me?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” Timothy kissed the top of her head. “I want you to stay here until the FBI finds Fitch. Right now he’s a key piece to a puzzle that is becoming more bizarre with each passing day.”

  “Can’t Merrick find out something?” Her cousin Alexandra had married a man who worked for the Central Intelligence Agency.

  “The CIA doesn’t deal with domestic issues. The FBI does.”

  “I’m certain he must know some FBI agents.”

  “Stop it, Celia! That’s crazy talk. I just buried my grandmother. Please don’t make me have to bury you, too.”

  Celia froze. It was the first time in years that she’d heard her father raise his voice. “What do you want me to do, Daddy?”

  “Stay here until there’s word on Alton Fitch. One way or the other,” he added.

  She wanted to tell her father that she’d left her husband, and he was expecting her to come back to him. “I’ll think about it.”

  “When are you going to let me know?”

  “Tomorrow,” she said quietly.

  Shaking his head and blowing out his cheeks, Timothy stared at the ground. He’d raised his daughter to be strong, but he hadn’t realized how strong she was. If she hadn’t gone into medicine he was certain she would’ve become the first female CEO of ColeDiz International, Ltd.

  Waiting until her father walked back to the house, Celia reached into the pocket of her slacks and took out her cell phone. She had to speak to Gavin. She didn’t know his cell number, but she prayed he would answer the house phone. It took five rings before Gavin answered.

  It took less than three minutes to explain her position and why she’d decided to stay in Palm Beach with her parents. Much to her surprise, Gavin agreed with them. He gave her an update on Terry and told her he would call her every night at ten. He hung up without saying “I miss you” or “I love you.” Celia stared at the tiny phone as if it was something she’d never seen before. Then she pressed the end button.

  Chapter 21

  The days and nights blended into one continuous span of time as Gavin waited in the house in the mountains. He waited for Raymond Prentice to contact him and he waited for Celia’s return. It was as if Raymond and Alton Fitch had dropped off the face of the earth, never to be seen again.

  June passed, then July and now it was the middle of August. The only things that kept him from going completely stir-crazy was his having to take care of Terry, who was quickly losing his puppy appearance. He spoke to Celia every night, refusing to tell her the dreaded three little words because he knew if he told her then he wouldn’t stay and finish what he’d been ordered to do.

  He was sitting on the patio reading when the chiming of the doorbell echoed throughout the house. Reaching for the automatic resting on a table, he slipped it into the small of his back. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Daniel Walsh. He was in uniform. Hannah had given birth to a healthy girl and Daniel had invited him to a small gathering at his place to celebrate the event.

  Gavin smiled. “What’s up, Daniel?”

  “May I come in?”

  Gavin stepped aside. “Sure.”

  Daniel walked in and closed the door. “I have a cousin who lives on the Eastern Cherokee Reservation who told me there’s someone on the res asking for you.”

  “Does this person have a name?”

  “Ray. But you know him as O.”

  Attractive lines fanned out around Gavin’s eyes when he smiled. “Tell your cousin to tell Ray to stay put. As soon I make a few calls I’ll come and get him.”

  Daniel smiled for the first time. “How’s the wife?”

  “She’s good. Thanks for the message.”

  “Anytime, brother.”

  Gavin felt his heart beating outside his chest. Raymond Prentice was hiding out on federal land. He’d found his way to an Indian reservation. Retrieving his cell, he called Bradley MacArthur with the news that Raymond Prentice had made contact. Mac’s triumphant laugh came through the tiny earpiece. He told Gavin he would call him back as soon as he called the North Carolina field office to dispatch a team of agents to bring in one of America’s Most Wanted.

  Gavin whistled through his teeth, and Terry came running. Picking up the dog, he swung him around and around. “We’re going home, boy.”

  Celia sat in bed in the bedroom where she’d grown up, watching the late news. She stared, unblinking, as the likeness of her husband filled the screen. He stood behind an FBI spokesman, a shield hanging from a chain around his neck.

  Placing a hand over her chest, she sank down to the pile of pillows cushioning her back. Her pulse quickened when Gavin stepped forward to explain that a team of agents had uncovered the man responsible for kidnapping and the attempted murder of a gun dealer, and that he was shot and killed when he’d resisted arrest after he’d been spotted hiding out on an Indian reservation in western North Carolina.

  Minutes later her cell rang. “Did you see the news?” asked Nicholas.

  “I’m looking at it now.”

  “My brother-in-law is somethin’ else.”

  “Your brother-in-law is going to get the business when I see him.”

  “Don’t be so hard on him, Cee Cee. I think it’s kind of nice having a special agent in the family. With Gavin and Merrick we have all the bases covered.”

  Celia’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you sound surprised to find out that Gavin was an undercover agent?”

  “I’ve known for months that he’s with the FBI.”

  “And you didn’t tell me? Nicholas, you should be the one I should cuss out.”

  “Bye, Cee Cee.”

  A curse slipped past her lips when she realized her brother had hung up on her. “Who the hell is it?” she screamed when she heard someone knock on her bedroom door.

  The door opened and her father stood in the doorway with an expression of shock freezing his features. “I know your mother didn’t raise you to talk like that.”

  She dropped her gaze, thoroughly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  Timothy struggled not to laugh. “I’ll excuse you this time. I came to tell you that there’s someone here to see you.”

  “Who?”

  Timothy stepped aside and Gavin filled the space where her father had been. “Your husband.”

  Celia’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. “How can you be here when you’re…” Her words trailed off when she pointed at the television.

  Gavin walked into the large bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot. “It was prerecorded.”

  She stared at the man dressed in a suit that made him look even more delicious than the first time she saw him in the supermarket. “You know you’re going to get the business for lying to me.”

  “I couldn’t tell you,” Gavin said as he approached the bed. His gaze never left hers as he removed his jacket, leaving it on the bench at the foot of the bed. The silk tie was next, then the shirt. Celia’s ring was suspended on a chain around his neck.

  “What are you doing?” she as
ked, when he kicked off his shoes and pushed his trousers and briefs off his hips.

  “What does it look like, m’ija? I’m about to make love to my wife.”

  Celia attempted to slip off the bed, but she wasn’t quick enough when Gavin’s arm went around her waist over the cotton nightgown. He stopped, his eyes filled with wonder and shock. “You’re pregnant.”

  She pounded his shoulder. “And you’re a special agent,” she countered.

  Easing her down to the bed, Gavin buried his face between her neck and shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me? We talked every night and you still didn’t tell me.”

  “I wanted to, Gavin, but you never said that you loved me. Even if you’d told me that you missed me, I would’ve told you.”

  He placed a hand over the slight roundness. “When are you due?”

  “Early March.”

  “Have you ever spent the winter in the mountains?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I’ve been offered a supervisory position in a North Carolina field office. No more undercover work.”

  “What about my house in Miami? Or my clinic?”

  “We can use the house in Miami for vacations or when we come to visit your family. As for the property where you plan to open your clinic, I found out it’s going to be razed to put up low-income houses. That means the county will pay you fair-market value, which is probably more than what you paid for it.”

  “I didn’t buy it. Yale did. So, whatever they give me I’ll turn over to his parents. But, aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “What am I forgetting?”

  “I still have to testify.”

  “No, you don’t, Celia. I’m going to tell you something that cannot go any farther than this room. Now I want you to promise me you will never repeat it.”

  The seconds ticked by as he waited for her response. “I promise.”

  Celia listened, not interrupting when Gavin told her the man who reportedly was killed resisting arrest was his adopted brother who was working undercover for the ATF. They’d faked his death, using movie-making technology, and Orlando Wells Faulkner was vacationing in Puerto Rico. Once he returned to the mainland he, too, would transfer to desk duty, much to the delight of their mother.

  The Bureau had staged Alton Fitch’s abduction because of a death threat. A jailhouse snitch told the warden that the E.R. shooter bragged about getting another gang member to take the D.A. out. His cell was wired with a listening device and the egotistical killer couldn’t stop talking about whom he worked for and how many he’d murdered. When they played back the tape, he decided to accept life in prison without the possibility of parole, instead of a trial at which he was certain to get the death penalty.

  “You’re safe and D.A. Fitch is safe. And because your little friend with the pit bull tattoo used a gun that was stolen from a federal facility, and he was trafficking in drugs, the feds decided they wanted him for themselves. He’s now in a federal maximum security prison in Wyoming.”

  “I can’t believe it’s over and I don’t have to testify.”

  “That’s over, but for us it’s just beginning. I’ll hang out here for a couple of days to meet your family, and then we’ll drive down to Miami and have a mini-honeymoon before we go back to the mountains.”

  “Where’s Terry?”

  “I left him with Daniel and Hannah. I caught him humping a pillow, which means the boy needs some like I need some.”

  “What did you do these past two and a half months?”

  “You don’t want to know. I was all right until I heard your voice, then it was hard…” Gavin said through gritted teeth. He shook his head. “I don’t believe I just said that.”

  “Let me take off this nightgown and let Dr. Faulkner see what she can do to relieve you of your problem.”

  Reaching up, Gavin removed the chain from his neck and opened the clasp. He took off the ring and slipped it on her finger. “I don’t want you to ever take this off again.”

  “And I won’t.”

  He removed her nightgown, and then trailed kisses over her ripening belly. When they tired of foreplay, Celia opened her legs to her husband and welcomed him into her body. He’d come home, and she was home as waves of ecstasy throbbed through her, making them one with the other.

  Gavin breathed out the last of his passion into her mouth, chanting, “I love you. I love your life.”

  BREAKAWAY

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5491-0

  © 2010 by Rochelle Alers

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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