Heart Wounds (A Miranda and Parker Mystery) (31 page)

She had to get some sleep. And when she woke up, Parker would be awake, too. Awake and alert and ready to read her the riot act for going to Tottenham so late at night alone. Yeah, she’d set him straight on that.

Still holding onto Parker’s hand, she leaned back in the chair, closed her eyes, and listened to the beeping monitors as she drifted off.

When she woke, sunlight was streaming in through the window and a nurse was checking Parker’s vitals.

Miranda shot up in the chair, ignoring the pain that
shot through her muscles. “Is he awake?”

The nurse shook her head
, but she could see that herself. He hadn’t moved.

The nurse smiled at her with
the standard sympathy. “Why don’t you go down and have some breakfast?”

Sure, she thought. Why not? She didn’t want to leave Parker’s side but she needed a walk at least. She was as stiff
as a brick, and all her muscles were bitching at her for what she’d put them through last night.

She got up, stretched, and headed down the hall.

She wandered the halls for a while, decided she couldn’t get breakfast down, and found a vending machine where she could get a cup of coffee.

She stood in an empty waiting room as she drank it, staring through the tall windows at the glorious city
with its ancient monuments in the early morning light. She should call someone, she thought. Parker’s daughter, Gen. Her father. She was stunned to realize he’d be a comfort to her now.

She’d never have found him if it hadn’t been for Parker. Never have found Mackenzie. Her life would be that miserable endless treadmill of mere survival she’d been on when she met him.

She wiped her hand across her eyes. What was she going to tell her father? Gen? Everyone at the Agency?

That they’d gone off in search of a stolen treasure and nearly lost their lives? T
hat they’d come up empty-handed?

Why had they come to this city? Had it been worth it? For a lost dagger that would never be recovered? No, for an old friend. A friend who had also lost.

Old friend. Old friend.

Her mind began to race with the recent events. The polo match. Soho. The wake. Actions, gestures, words. They all played together in her mind like a movie.

And then it clicked. The pieces fell into place. She knew.

Trenton Jewell had been telling the truth.

Damn if she would let this one go.

She
had the number. She’d gotten it from Parker when they’d first arrived. She pulled her cell out of her pocket and dialed.

As it rang, she knew she was making
the call that would set everything straight. And maybe even make what they’d all sacrificed worth it.

Davinia unlocked the door to the flat in Chelsea and stepped inside.

She strode across the wooden floor, drinking in the smell of the place, taking in its details.

The homey pillows on the divan, the roses on the coffee table, the whatnot cupboard with her favorite china. He’d furnished it with a modern look that showed off his creative style, but with her tastes in mind.

Ah, t
hese rooms, this place where they’d spent so many hours of mindless bliss. Talking, kissing, touching. The day they’d almost made it to the bedroom. She’d longed to be with him that way, but she hadn’t dared. If she did, she was sure he’d leave her. And the rapturous fantasy she’d indulged in would evaporate like the morning dew.

What was he doing wit
h a woman twice his age anyway?

No, that wasn’t the reason
she’d turned him away that afternoon they’d almost made love. Deep down she knew she could never betray Neville, no matter what he’d done to her.

But
the pretty fantasy she’d lived here was gone now. Everything had changed.

She found him on the balcony
gazing out over the square, the wind playing with the thick blond waves of his hair she’d loved running her fingers through. He was wearing a lounge suit of sky blue, a color that accented his fair features. It was cut in a style that made his youthful form all too tempting. His casual posture evoked memories of the plans they’d made together, fingers entwined, hearts full of desperate hope and dreams of a future together.

But everything they’d had
was just that. A dream. One that would never come true. One she hadn’t really wanted to come true.

She knew that now.

“Davinia.” He turned to her with that boyish twinkle in his cobalt eyes that always set her heart aflutter. His face went somber as he reached out for her.

She stepped away and shook her head. “No, Sebastian. Not now.”

“As you wish.” He straightened himself, obviously displeased.

“You told me on the phone you found Prentis.”

He nodded and looked away, leaned his elbows on the balustrade. “He was in Bristol.”

She gasped. “So far
away?”

“
When the story broke out in the news he panicked and went to his mother’s. I found him there yesterday.”

How close they
had come to losing it altogether. “Where did the delivery company think Prentis was?”

“They weren’t concerned. Before he left, he called in and quit his job. Right after the police questioned him.”

“That didn’t arouse suspicion?”

“Apparently there’s a high turnover in the security business. Though he had good references
and a spotless record. I paid him twice what I said I would when he agreed to do what I proposed.” She could hear the guilt in his voice, felt it cutting into her own heart.

So they’d destroyed a career
of an innocent friend along with everything else with their foolish scheme. “The poor boy must have been terrified.”

“Out of his wits.
Still is. The police are reinvestigating the lorry company.”

“Oh, dear Lord.”

He was quick to comfort her. “But there’s no evidence. Everything went as planned. Prentis did everything according to my instructions.”

“He replaced it with the counterfeit you bought?”

“Yes.”

She let out a breath. “So Trenton wasn’t involved.”

“Not in our part. Or should I say your part?” There was rancor in his tone now that roused her temper.

That was unfair.
“It was your idea, Sebastian,” she snapped.

He waved an arm, eyes flashing.
“Inspired by your constant complaining over Neville’s obsession with the damn thing. And you didn’t say no when I suggested it.”

That much was true.
“I didn’t believe you could pull it off.”

“But I did.”

She turned away, pressed her fingers to her temples. “No, Sebastian. I can’t blame you. Everything that’s happened is my fault.”

He was at her side in an instant, pulling her into his arms. “Oh, my darling, no.
Forgive me. I didn’t mean what I said. It was I. I’m the one who carried it out. But neither of us could have known what Trenton had done. That there was a gang after the thing.”

They should have known every ruthless criminal might have made an attempt to take the dagger, might have killed for it. If they had thought that through….

Gently, she pushed him away. “It isn’t that simple, Sebastian. Not anymore.”

He stood staring at her, his chest heaving.
“Dear God, I wish I’d never heard of that blasted dagger.”

She turned away and stared
over the balustrade. Two young children were playing beside the fountain of Venus down below, laughing and carefree.

S
he sighed as if her heart would break in two. “All I wanted was one last chance.”

She felt him
reach for her arm, spin her around.

He
glared at her. “And how’s that working out, Davinia?”

His cruel jealousy stung her.
She knew he’d only gone through with this to prove Neville didn’t care for her any longer. To make her leave him. But he’d hit the right nerve. It wasn’t working out at all.

She’d never wanted to ruin Neville’s big day, never wanted to cause so much trouble. She never meant for anyone to know anything was wrong but him. She’d wanted him to turn to her. When he got home
that day, to confide in her, bear his soul to her, tell her he’d failed in his quest, that he couldn’t figure out how it had happened.

And then she would tell him what she had done.
Show him she had his cherished prize. And he’d understand at last what lengths she’d go to win back his love, to get his attention.

He would be so stunned and thrilled, he couldn’t help falling in love with her again.
Filled with relief and joy, he would take her in his arms and kiss her. They would come back together and be just as they were in the beginning. They would take long walks and talk the way they used to. Intimate, close walks. They’d make love. It had been so long since she’d felt his arms around her.

But it had all unraveled before she had a chance to catch her breath.

She inhaled, straightened. She had to get this over with. “Do you have it?”

He gave her a curt nod. “
It’s in here.”

She followed him into the
sitting room, watched him stroll to the cupboard, open a drawer. He took out a long black velvet bag. The kind you kept expensive jewelry in.

He handed it to her. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say. She took it from him and slipped it into her purse.

“Davinia, I beg of you.
Take that thing and toss it in the Thames. Sell it yourself. I don’t care how you do it, just get rid of it. Get rid of him. He doesn’t love you. I’m the one who can make you happy.”

She opened her mouth and stared at him, saw his cobalt eyes were turning dark with tears. Slowly she shook her head.
“I can’t, Sebastian. I simply can’t.”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
“You can’t take the blame for this.”

“But I am to blame.”

“Don’t say that.” There was desperation in his voice now as it broke with the words.

His handsome face lost all its ardent expectation. She was crushing him
, and she hated herself for doing it. How had she ever let herself get caught between two men? One who’d grown to love her but couldn’t have her, and one who had her but didn’t love her any more.

Once more he reached for her, took her hand in his, gently this time. “Stay with me
, Davinia. Please.”

It would never work between them. She’d been lying to herself all this time. She’d never really wanted it to.

She pulled her hand out of his and strode to the door. With her fingers on the handle for the very last time, she turned back to him. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I can’t stay with you. I have a daughter-in-law to bury this afternoon.”

Sir Neville sat alone on the rear portico of Eaton House, staring out at the gardens without seeing them.

He didn’t hear the warblers singing in the hawthorns, didn’t notice the gardeners trimming the hedgerows.
His tea and late breakfast sat before him on the table getting cold. His heart was far too heavy to eat.

Ruminating over the recent events, h
e ran a hand over his face and felt dizzy with grief. So much had happened. So much tragedy, he thought. So much pain. So many people had been hurt. George, Trenton, Gabrielle. Oh, poor, foolish, foolish Gabby. And Lionel, who was now crushed to powder by her death.

And the phone call he’d received this morning from
Inspector Wample. Three of the Stingers gang found dead in an auto repair shop in Tottenham. Including the leader, Scorpion. The man Trenton had dealt with. Including the man named Malcomb Shrivel. The vile hoodlum who had murdered Gabrielle.

And his good friend Russell Parker, kidnapped by
those very men and beaten within an inch of his life. And Miranda, who had found him and called the police in the nick of time.

All because of that blasted dagger. All because he couldn’
t let it go. He couldn’t let the police handle it. No he’d had to call in his friend’s son to find the thing. And now?

Russell was still alive, but he hadn’t w
oken up yet. What if he didn’t?

It was all his fault, Neville told himself. Every bit of it.
He bent his head and pressed his hands to his face, wanting to weep. But there were no more tears left in him.

He’d rung the hospital
as soon as he’d heard the news, asked to see him, but they’d told him no visitors. He’d go later, he told himself. Russell would be awake then. Later this afternoon. After…the funeral. The thought of Gabby’s burial brought a fresh round of tears.