CHAPTER 27

HOSPITAL DA ClDADE
Cuiabá, Brazil

Jasmine had been in surgery for several hours. And there had been no word when it would end. Not knowing was killing him. Nicholas realized he'd never known what the phrase "hell on earth" meant until now. The clock on the ICU waiting room wall ticked with an abrasive noise, a mundane and monotone mockery of the passage of sweet time.

If anything good came of this, it would center on Christian.

Nicholas watched him return from the bank of phones down the hall. His son's face looked grim, worry forged in the dark shadows under his eyes. When Christian wasn't looking, he fixed his eyes on his son, taking in every detail of the man he'd become.

His son.

He marveled at the words and let them resonate in his head. Ever since he'd met Christian, he hadn't had the nerve to say them aloud. Perhaps in time. Thanks to his son, Jasmine, and many others, he might have that time. Time he didn't deserve.

He had a son, a courageous and trustworthy man. The irony of that fact wasn't wasted on him. He knew he had one woman to thank for such a gift, a woman he'd misjudged.

"How is your mother?" Nicholas asked.

Christian seemed surprised by the question.

"She's . . . better." He nodded. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward in his seat, one down from him. His son glanced at the clock on the wall . . . again. "Ever since I left, Fiona's been going through hell."

An awkward silence built between them. An announcement over the PA system filtered down to the waiting room, muffled yet persistent. Life went on, even though his world had stopped as cold and final as death.

"Then you'll have to make it up to her," Nicholas offered. He ventured a hand to his son's shoulder. He took it as a good sign Christian didn't flinch. "A man like you can be counted on to do the right thing." After a beat, he added, "Lord knows you didn't get that quality from my side of the family. You have Fiona to thank for that."

Christian dropped his head and stifled a soft chuckle.

"Yeah? Kind of worried about the flip side to the coin. What did I inherit from you?" He crooked his lip into a grin and let the question hang in the air. Neither of them wanted to hear the answer, but Nicholas ventured one anyway.

"I'd pray you inherited nothing from me, but the powers that be stopped listening to me long ago." He squeezed his son's shoulder again and let go. "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you, Christian. Proud of the man you are, despite all the odds stacked against you. Fiona did the right thing to keep us apart. You be sure and tell her I said so."

"Maybe you should tell her yourself."

Nicholas furrowed his brow at the thought of seeing Fiona in that place, dressed in prison garb and plagued by the haunted eyes of the institutionalized.

"I never intended for her to pay for her sin. I only wanted to protect her." Nicholas hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud.

"What are you talking about? Protect her from what?" Christian asked.

Nicholas had played a part in Fiona's incarceration as surely as if he'd turned state's evidence against her. He had nothing to do with the murder of her husband, Charles Dunhill. That had been her choice. She'd shown such strength to do what must be done back then. But when he'd learned about what she did, he had no idea of the real reason behind the killing and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

He didn't find out the truth until it was too late. Fiona had only been trying to save her child . . . their child. Christian.

Anger and a taste for revenge had colored his motives, but for the most part, he had arranged for the killing of the hit man that she'd used to assassinate her husband in order to protect her. The man was a loose thread and she hadn't the strength to cut it off. In the end, he had shed light on the old Dunhill murder-for-hire case.

Fiona's guilt proved to be too much for her. He should have known better. The very vulnerability he had tried to protect her against had also been her downfall. A self-inflicted wound. He couldn't shield her from her own conscience and the pervasive guilt that had been eating away at her all those years.

Guilt made a person weak. He found it a mercy not to be troubled by such things.

Nicholas didn't try to reply to his son's questions. Instead, he shifted his gaze down the hall. Showered and changed, Raven Mackenzie headed their way, carrying two small bags.

"She's lovely, you know." He jutted his chin in her direction. Christian turned to see what he meant. "Women like her don't come along every day. I hope you don't let her go."

Christian kept staring down the hall, smiling at the woman he loved. "Don't intend to. And you could take a little of that advice yourself."

He turned and smiled at his father. It felt surprisingly comfortable to sit with him like this.

"Any word? Is she out of surgery?" Raven asked, hope in her beautiful eyes.

Christian stood and shook his head. "None yet. What's in the bags?"

"I brought a change of clothes for you." She handed him a carryon. "And I thought Nicholas could use some things also. I went to the hotel, looking to pack a bag, and found one already done. Did you do it, Christian?"

"No." He looked down at his father, "Jasmine did."

At the mention of her name, the harsh reality of the situation hit home. Christian set his bag down and glanced at the clock once again.

"I'll stay until you get back," he offered, leaning up against a wall with arms crossed.

"Thank you for your kindness, Raven." His father's smile came and went. "I think I'll do us all a favor and freshen up. Excuse me." He stood and went to the nearest washroom, but turned at the last minute. "Please come get me if anything . . ." He couldn't finish.

"Yeah, we will." Christian nodded. After his father left, he said, "Waiting is pure torture, but I know it's been harder on him."

"Then he's lucky to have you here. So am I." She walked toward him with arms open wide.

"Risky business getting this close to me. I don't smell much better than . . . my father."

"I'll take my chances. Some things don't require second thought."

She nuzzled into his embrace, her familiar warmth washing through him like a cleansing summer rain. It felt good to hold her. He burrowed his head into her neck and breathed in the scent of her skin.

"I love you so much, Christian. And what you did for your father . . . and for Jasmine? It makes me love you all the more. I was selfish and wrong when I asked you not to go. I just want you to know that."

Christian heard her soft sob and knew she was crying. He pulled her closer, murmuring in her ear.

"I'm not sure I could make that decision a second time. It scares me what I almost lost . . . what we almost lost. I don't ever want to be in that situation again. I love you more than my own life, Raven Mackenzie. And there will be no more secrets between us. I swear it."

He held her, knowing he'd crossed a threshold with the woman in his arms. A threshold he'd been looking for his whole life. Finally, he'd come home.

When the doctor came down the hall toward them, Nicholas stood, unable to hide the dread and expectation on his face. Christian couldn't read the surgeon's expression, grim and edged by exhaustion. But the man raised his hands as he approached, allaying their worst fears.

"She made it through surgery." He forced a cautious smile. "But the next forty-eight hours will be critical. She's in recovery now. We'll be moving her to ICU soon. You can see her then, one visitor at a time."

Charboneau looked as if he'd collapse back into his chair. He let out the breath he'd been holding and almost doubled over in relief. Raven didn't say anything, but smiled at Christian, wrapping her arms around his waist.

The doctor gave them more on how the surgery went. Although Nicholas looked as if he listened to every word, Christian knew his mind was a blur with relief. He felt the same. As strong as Jasmine was, he knew she'd make it through the critical time with flying colors. The woman was too stubborn to die with a whimper.

When the doctor left, Christian spoke to his father. "Sounds like she's gonna make it. I'm glad."

"She's tough," Raven agreed, smiling at Charboneau.

His father let out a sigh, but avoided his gaze, coughing and clearing his throat. No doubt, something in the air made eyes watery and red.

"Yes, she is." He nodded. When he looked up, his attention shifted down the hall. His shoulders slumped and his face registered his sudden wariness.

"What the hell does he want?" Nicholas, slouched in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest. "Do we have to deal with this now?"

True to form, Captain Luis Duarte headed straight for them, his gaze locked on Charboneau. The man had cleaned up, dressed in uniform—all business and looking like pure trouble.

"I heard Ms. Lee has come through surgery. Good to hear." No smile. "But you and I have business, Mr. Charboneau. You want to discuss the matter in private?"

"No need. Say what you're going to say, Captain." His father narrowed his eyes. "I have nothing to hide."

The captain found amusement in his father's declaration of innocence. Christian wanted to believe his father had nothing to do with events at Genotech Labs and the nightly deliveries of the drug-addicted to the research facility's gate by a secret faction of the Cuiabá police, but he wasn't delusional. He shifted his attention to Charboneau, eager to hear what he'd say.

"I have had Chief Zharan under my own surveillance for quite a while. I've tracked his activities and his conversations. Anything you care to offer before I file my report?" The cop added, "My government might be more lenient if you cooperated."

Duarte had disclosed enough for a guilty man to leap to his own defense, trying to cover his tracks. Cops used this tactic all the time, hoping their suspect would admit to something. But unfortunately for the good captain, Christian knew he'd met his match with a man like Charboneau who'd dodged charges his whole life. Such a simple ruse wouldn't catch a man like his father.

"How thoughtful of you to consider my well-being, Captain. And, of course, I will cooperate with your government in any way I can. This man should be brought to justice."

Charboneau sat up and leaned forward in his chair, challenging the policeman to spell it out. Daring him to do it.

"I'll be eager to learn what transpired while I was out of the country. Your chief of police has used his position to undermine the noteworthy work of the genetics research being conducted at a facility I support financially. I'm sure he's set back our work, and I'll be contacting my lawyer to see what can be done about it."

Cagey to the bitter end. If Duarte had a trump card to play, now was the time to spring it. And Nicholas knew it.

"Chief Zharan is cooperating too. And Fuentes. With what I have, we shall soon know everything that happened. I will need a statement from you."

"Yes, about the kidnapping. I understand."

"The kidnapping and other things."

"Ah, then I will need time to contact my lawyer. A man would be ill-advised not to seek counsel on such matters."

His father raised his chin, baiting the captain. Duarte looked as if he'd won. With Nicholas asking for a lawyer, it raised the red guilt flag to a cop.

But his father quickly shifted gears, deflating Duarte's small victory. "After all, I would hate to cast a dark light on the impressive research of Genotech Labs. I would want my attorney to protect the lab's reputation, of course. I'm sure you understand."

He stared the police captain straight in the eyes without flinching. He'd asked for a lawyer and made it seem like his concern was for the reputation of the research facility, not his own backside. Christian never wanted to play a game of chess or poker with the man.

"I would imagine Dr. Phillips was coerced to participate in Zharan's scheme, but certainly, if there is more to it, I'd want to know the extent of his involvement. As a financial contributor, I'd have every right to know such things . . . for the sake of the facility and its research, you understand," his father added.

Checkmate.
Duarte gritted his teeth, his dark eyes set on Charboneau.

"I can expect your cooperation then." The man held back his disdain, but Christian felt the heat. "I will be in touch. Don't leave town."

Duarte turned toward Christian. "I'd like to speak to you in private, Mr. Delacorte. My request is not open to debate."

Christian followed the cop down the hall, glancing back over his shoulder at Raven. She did not look pleased. When they found an empty hospital room, Duarte closed the door behind him and started in.

"I don't know what your involvement is with Nicholas Charboneau, but you don't seem like the sort of man who would work for such a . . ." He didn't finish, but the man glared at him, expecting his response.

"I told you. I don't work for him. I did this as a favor for Jasmine. What are you trying to say?"

"Men like Charboneau come to my country and take what they want. They give nothing in return. This I am used to, but I suspect he's involved in something subtle and far more sinister."

"You have proof?" Christian leapt to a conclusion about the evidence, but by the look on Duarte's face, he'd hit the bull's-eye dead center.

"Not yet, but I plan to do everything in my power to determine his guilt."

"Or his innocence. Did you leave that part out?" He wasn't sure why he was defending his father, a man he didn't really know.

Duarte fixed his eyes on him, then turned to walk away, gathering his thoughts with a heavy sigh and hands on his hips. Keeping his back to Christian, he began again.

"Chief Zharan has openly talked about Charboneau's involvement, but as you can imagine, his testimony would carry little weight against a man like him. And Dr. Phillips is far too scared to point a finger at either man. It seems the passports for his entire family were withheld to force him to stay and cooperate. Zharan is in possession of these passports, so I still have no connection to Nicholas Charboneau," he admitted. "And Zharan is blaming Fuentes for his overzealous approach in carrying out his orders regarding the homeless men they delivered to the lab for testing. Dr. Phillips may have conducted the tests and experiments, but he claims not to know how they disposed of these men. Fuentes was ordered to dispose of them afterward. We will get to the bottom of this, but I suspect there's a mass grave out there that we may never find. Someone should pay for such an atrocity."