Burned Hearts (10 page)

He eyed me speculatively. “The woman who caused you to succumb to jealous tendencies—for absolutely no good reason?”

“Please. She's drop-dead gorgeous and you'd be lying if you claimed otherwise.”

“She's attractive. Not my type, though.” His gaze slid over me and he grinned. “And being pregnant with my son makes you even more spectacular.”

“Thank you.” I picked at my omelet a moment while my heart fluttered from the appreciative look Dane gave me. Then I said, “Anyway, about Mikaela. I went to see her after her Italian market opened in Old Town and I put the bug in her ear about a memorial service, which she graciously orchestrated. We've talked several times since. She's really pretty broken up about your ‘death,' and I was wondering if, at some point, you intend to let her know you made it out of the Lux and that you're fully intact. Well, relatively speaking.”

I spared a glance at his bandaged shoulder and fought a wince. I hated seeing him injured.

While Dane mulled over my inference of letting Mikaela in on the secret, I nibbled on my breakfast. His other shoulder bunched and I could tell it was a difficult decision for him to make.

Finally, he said, “I really don't like keeping this from her. I'd never intentionally hurt her.” There was a sudden hint of regret and remorse in his eyes.

“She'll understand the reasoning behind the confidentiality issue, but still. I imagine she's pretty tortured over losing you. Sometimes, she'll bring you up and then—” I shrugged. “It's like she goes to this place somewhere distant and happier in her head and then pretends to override her misery with some outrageous anecdote. Yet I can hear in her voice it's all feigned.”

He shoved back his chair. Stood and paced.

“I'm not trying to pull heartstrings,” I gently said. “I just think it's something to consider. I know you too well, Dane. You'll want to be the one to deliver the delicate news first, before the media latches on to the story. You'll want to do it in person, so that she can see you're okay, that it's real.”

He raked his hand through his hair, making it even more disheveled. I was momentarily sidetracked, thinking of nothing other than falling back into bed with him.

But then he said, “I trust her completely. She wouldn't do anything to compromise my safety or my work. Unless—” He shook his head, a bit agitatedly.

“Unless she told Fabrizio.” Her boyfriend and business partner. It was his village in Italy where they imported a good deal of their gourmet meats, cheeses, olive oils, and sauces.

The wine they sold all came from top vineyards around Tuscany and Florence. From what I'd gleaned through Mikaela, they were on a mission to get Scottsdale society hooked on bold and expensive Super Tuscans, reigniting the market for those types of wines.

What Mikaela and Brizio knew about Sangioveses, Merlots, Proseccos, et cetera, boggled the mind. I merely collected their recommendations and gifts, having no idea myself about categorizing and rating wines—and not currently being able to sample them. Kyle and Rosa, however, enjoyed every bottle.

Really, it was one more reason to feel inferior in comparison to the uber-sophisticated and worldly Mikaela Madsen, but I conveniently reminded myself that it was me Dane had married. I was the one carrying his child. That took the sting out of Mikaela being so perfect and being so bound to Dane that she'd always turned to him for help.

He stopped his pacing and said, “Whether she could keep this from Brizio is a major concern. One small slip … That could be detrimental to us all. We're at a very crucial point right now, especially not knowing all that Hilliard—or the rest of the network or society—knows about my existence and my work with the FBI.”

I nodded. “I haven't brought this up previously for that reason. But thought it should at least be on the table.”

“I'll give it some thought.” He kissed me on the forehead, then sat. “Eat the rest of your breakfast.”

*   *   *

Later, Dane reluctantly consented to let me play nursemaid. I hooked him up to the ice machine while he sat on the sofa in our great room, his bare feet propped up on the sturdy coffee table. His computer was in his lap and I caught his frustrated groans because his one hand on the keyboard couldn't keep up with his lightning-quick thoughts.

He'd told me there were just a few dots left to connect to the indictment puzzle. He was definitely going for the jugular with the society, overturning every possible stone to make sure the maximum amount of evidence against them was brought forth. Any tiny suspicion he had he investigated. No matter what rabbit hole it led him down.

I curled up next to him and quietly searched the Web as well, looking at furniture for the nursery on my iPad. Occasionally shutting off the chilling unit. Letting a little time pass, then switching it back on. Not disturbing Dane.

Only an hour or so passed before the agitation got the best of him.

He threw off the pad on his shoulder and set his laptop on the table before him. Got to his feet. He crossed to the floor-to-ceiling doors and windows looking out on the terrace and the forest beyond. A couple of the doors were open and the rustle of leaves and the running of the rapids filtered in. Soothing sounds, though Dane's aggravation overrode the tranquility.

I flipped the cover on my tablet, left it on the sofa, and joined him.

Wrapping my arms around his waist from behind, I pressed my cheek to his warm skin, feeling his good shoulder blade flex.

“What is it?” I asked in a soft voice. “Can't find what you're looking for?”

“I'm used to the needles and haystacks by now,” he told me, his voice low and tense.

“So what's got you so annoyed?”

“Not annoyed. More like…” He blew out a sharp breath. Shook his head. Then said, “You mentioning Mikaela earlier has me thinking about a lot of things.”

“Seeing her? Letting her in on the secret while it's still a secret?”

“No, that's not it at all. I'm actually not thinking about her right now. I'm thinking about you. About us.”

My stomach took a peculiar dive south. Because of his grave tone? Because I'd been thinking a lot about us lately, too? How all of this affected our marriage. Or relationship.

“I've made a million promises to you,” he said. “How many have I kept?”

I closed my eyes. Tried to maintain steady breathing and calm nerves. In all honesty, I told him, “You've kept the most important one. That your heart will never belong to anyone else.”

That'd been his wedding vow to me. Not the only one, which he clearly thought of now.

“I also told you that I wouldn't let you down.”

“And you haven't,” I contended.

“I haven't given you the life you deserve.”

My heart wrenched at his silent fury. “You gave me exactly what I wanted, Dane. You.”

“But I can't always be here with you. I have to allow Amano and Kyle to protect you.” He let out a low growl. “Fuck. There shouldn't be anything for them to protect you from. You should be planning events at the Lux. Spending time with Meg and Sean. Grace. Tamera. Your friends. You should be out shopping and wondering if I'm going to hit the roof when I see the bill.”

I couldn't help but laugh at that one. “I fear you'd only be disappointed I didn't make a dent in the bank account. Not much of a shopper. Well, except for this kid.”

“You know what I'm saying.”

“Yes.”

“This isn't ideal, Ari.”

I was quiet for a few moments. My arms tightened around him. I could feel his pain. His disconcertment. His need to give me the moon and the stars. Not nightmares.

But it wasn't Dane's fault.

I said, “You once tried to convince me you weren't the bad guy. When you'd beat the hell out of Vale for what he'd done to me. It scared me, Dane. Everything about that night and the way you responded scared me. But you rescued me. And the only reason you went off on Vale with such rage was because he'd hurt me.”

Turning my head into Dane's rigid muscles, I kissed his smooth flesh. Then whispered, “You're not the bad guy. And I know it.”

“I'm a bad husband, then.”

That just plain broke my heart. Tears sprang to my eyes.

“No,” I was quick to say. “You absolutely are not. I respect your convictions. You are solid as oak, Dane. And I love you even more for that.”

“I want your life to be perfect, Ari.”

“
Nobody's
life is perfect, Dane. You have all this money, these gorgeous houses, limited-edition books and cars. But you never knew your parents. You never once got to speak with them, tell them your hopes and dreams and let them admire your successes. Your strength. Your brilliance.”

“That was something I had no control over. This—”

“Is something you don't have full control over, either. I chose to be with you. I knew from the beginning it was going to be dangerous. Less than ideal. But I committed to this. To you. With no blinders on, no delusions. You laid it all out for me, Dane. I am here because this is where I want to be. I'm here because you're my husband and I love you more and more with every breath I take—and I'm not going anywhere.”

The tears spilled a bit faster. His hand covered mine, clasped around his midsection. He gave them a gentle squeeze.

I added, “When you're here with me, I have everything I want.”

It tore me up that he was so conflicted. That such a confident, steadfast man could think for even one second that he didn't give me everything I needed, everything I desired.

But I could also understand how someone who was accustomed to being in charge of his destiny and environment would falter when it came to having the rug ripped from underneath him. And how he'd feel he wasn't doing his marital duties justice.

I simply said, “Finish this, Dane. Come home to us.
That's
my idea of a perfect life.”

*   *   *

The FBI showed up mid-afternoon. Agents Daugherty and Strauss had found Candace and Ruby Talbot, handcuffed to exposed pipes in an abandoned warehouse. I didn't need to imagine their fright—I'd suffered it once myself.

Wayne Horton, who Strauss informed us was merely a person of interest at this point, had reportedly disappeared again. According to Daugherty, our menacing ghost kept no permanent address and had numerous aliases. And likely some the FBI hadn't even discovered yet. That didn't bode well for tracking him down anytime soon. Yet I caught the glint in Amano's dark-brown eyes during the discussion. He lived for shit like this—the hunt was his forte. Kyle seemed to catch the fever, because he appeared equally willing to take a stab at sniffing out Wayne.

I fretted over the whole situation—not wanting to invite more trouble into our lives.

Dane did more pacing, this time in front of the fireplace in the great room. He said, “We need to dig up more on this guy, find out if he was the one to plot Ari's kidnapping and plant the bomb at the Lux. The snakes on the patio. All of it.”

“I highly suggest we don't underestimate him,” Daugherty said. He was of medium height, solidly built, with a shock of red hair against a pale complexion. “But he's not our main concern at the moment. We've got to wrap up our investigation on Admiral Bent. We want all five members going down—no one slips through the cracks. In fact—” His cell buzzed, interrupting him. He spared a quick glance at the screen. “I need to take this. I've been waiting on some information related to Bent's whereabouts. This might be it.”

Daugherty stepped away from us. Strauss continued the conversation, though both Dane and I paid more attention to Daugherty and the way his casual strolling about the cavernous room turned agitated, along with his tone. He nodded sharply and then he swore under his breath.

Dane and I exchanged a look. My blood turned to ice in my veins.

Finally, Daugherty jammed his phone into his pocket and returned to our small group.

To me, he asked, “Would you mind turning on CNN, Mrs. Bax?”

I usually got a thrill out of Dane calling me that—any reference to my being his wife, actually. But right now nothing registered beyond the apprehension gripping me.

“Certainly.” I reached for the remote on one of the end tables and flipped on the flat screen mounted above the fireplace. I found the proper channel and quickly read the Breaking News ticker at the bottom. “Holy fuck.”

“Right,” Daugherty said. “Our search for Bent's whereabouts is over. A couple of D.C. agents found him about an hour ago, hanging from the rafters of a vacant building in Georgetown.”

“Suicide or homicide?” Dane asked, angst seeping into his tone. I surmised he wasn't pleased Admiral Bent might have taken the “easy” way out of all of this.

“Evidence currently points toward suicide, but of course there will be an investigation and an autopsy.”

“It's not really his style,” Dane offered. “He was an admiral, after all. Tough as nails.”

“When the heat's on…,” Strauss merely said. “Desperate times and all that—people do what they have to. He wouldn't have fared well in prison. Clearly knew it.”

“What does this mean?” Kyle asked. “Related to the indictments?”

Daugherty said, “My guess is the trials are going to be moved up—they'll be starting soon. Which means you need to come with us, Dane. We'll have two more agents stake out this property.”

Amano scowled. I knew what he was thinking—
not on my turf
. But he said nothing.

“I don't like this,” I suddenly said to Dane, panic seizing me. “I know we've talked about it and the FBI wants you sequestered so no one can get to you, but what if they do? This has all turned so sinister that—”

“Ari,” he said as he clasped my hand and stared into my eyes. “It'll be okay. You stay here with Amano, Kyle, and Rosa. Let the two other agents do their thing. Keep calm; decorate the nursery; come up with baby names. Do whatever you have to to get through the day. Do you hear me?”