But despite the beauty of the pristine and tranquil setting, Fiona was a prisoner of her own volition, no longer enamored with the breathtaking opulence. Her heart longed for something beyond price—to be with Christian.
In the chill of the early morning, she sat on the grass across the lake, gazing toward the grand chateau of a very dear old friend, her arms wrapped around her knees. Filling her lungs, she inhaled the earthy aroma of the water nuzzling the tall grasses. Even though her cheeks were still warm from her brisk walk through the wooded trails of the massive estate, she felt the cold creeping through the layering of her sweats and into her bones—the chill linked to troubling thoughts.
Christian had been on her mind since she'd left Chicago, leaving him to face his unsettling future—alone.
Late last night, it came to a head. She had a fit of conscience and placed a call to his Dunhill cottage. But when she heard his voice on the answering machine, emotion gripped her throat, and she lost her fleeting courage to speak. Perhaps it had been more from weakness that she made the call in the first place. She would gladly trade her wealth for his happiness. Yet for all her hollow wishes, she'd been the cause of his pain—all of it. And after her moment of frailty, she vowed that her past would not destroy his future. She must remain firm, for his sake.
Slowly, she stood and brushed off blades of grass from her clothing, her feet and legs numbed by the cold. From the start, desperation colored her world, robbing her of a normal life. How long did she have to pay for her past indiscretion? She knew unfinished business loomed heavy in her future. She would not escape it. Captive to her sins, the prisoner returned to her gilded cell, uncertain of most things—except one.
Her unbearable solitude could not go on forever. Like the bite of the crisp morning, she felt it in her bones.
The gray haze of daybreak arrived, migrating through small windows along the length of the room, at odds with the persistent nip in the air. Christian steadied his breathing to focus on anything but his discomfort, knowing his jacket had gone to a good cause. In the early-morning hours, the waiting room to the ICU had grown quiet, leaving him alone with a sleeping Raven Mackenzie. She had tried to stay alert, dosing herself with caffeine. But in the end, she had succumbed to exhaustion.
The stillness they now shared held a sensual quality, like the intimacy of watching a sleeping lover. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part.
Sitting in a chair, he stared at Raven from across the room, his elbows on the armrests with hands steepled under his chin. Curled up on an angular sofa not meant for the human body, she slept with her head propped against her balled-up coat. After she'd fallen asleep, he'd covered her in his leather jacket. In that instant, he discovered the innocence of a child in her serene face. Since he'd first met her, her expressions had ranged the gamut from fierce determination, to anger, annoyance, and teasing humor. And he'd instigated most of those emotions. But seeing such innocence had been a charming surprise.
Innocence. So rare in his world. With a quiet sigh, he let the stillness wash over him once again, a welcome respite from his life. Even though this lull felt like the eerie calm before the storm, the tragedy that had brought them together lingered heavy in the air. It stirred so much in him. The suffering and uncertainty in the eyes of Tony's wife were familiar.
But he would take what he could get, relishing the simplicity of early morning and the promise of hope. In this room, time mercifully stalled, giving Tony precious minutes to find his way back to the living. Time became an infinite chasm, one without a beginning or an end.
For the last several hours, he had watched Raven, dealing with the traumatic shooting of her partner, giving comfort to the man's wife, and making phone calls to the station house to keep the investigation into Tony's assault moving forward. A long line of police officers, including the chief himself, had come and gone through the ordeal. Seeing her with each of them, Christian sensed her connection. She was clearly part of a much larger family—a community that cared deeply for its own.
And despite her personal feelings to the contrary, she found the courage to push through the pain, something he understood and respected. Catching her in those fragile moments, he supposed she might have believed she was alone with her fear and outrage. But he had been with her, supporting her with his presence. A silent vigil. It had been a privilege to see her through the eyes and hearts of others.
No doubt, Detective Raven Mackenzie was a woman filled with compassion and courage. And this made it impossible for him to hate her as a cop. He felt the years of resentment in the pit of his stomach, embroiled amidst the violent images of his family tragedy. Enduring a lifetime of hate was exhausting. He'd grown bone-weary of the burden.
Barely able to keep his eyes open, Christian rested his mind, counting what few blessings they had. For now, Raven's partner and friend was alive but in critical condition. Every precious minute of life was a positive sign, but no guarantee he'd pull through. The man's wife sat with him in ICU, and Christian had arranged for the Dunhill jet to pick up Tony's parents from San Antonio. They'd be landing soon. And with their arrival, time would rush forward, drawing them into its undercurrent. Finally taking Raven's lead, he let his thoughts drift, relaxing their grip on him. As he did, the room dissolved to inky black when he shut his eyes, listening to the measured rhythm of Raven's breaths.
Only a minute lapsed before the hospital intercom system jolted him awake, a muffled voice through the waiting room doors. Opening his eyes, he found Raven staring back. Her puzzled look softened to a warm welcome.
"You didn't have to wait, Christian." Under protest from the crinkling sofa, she sat upright, stretching her arms and straightening her mussed hair with a quick finger comb. "But I'm glad you did. Good morning."
Her voice was husky with sleep. The sound of it stirred him.
"Good morning. Can I get you some coffee?" he offered. His voice barely above a whisper, he sat forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. "And you should eat something before things get too hectic."
"When are Tony's parents getting here?" She looked at her watch.
"They should be touching down any minute. The hangar will call when they've landed."
"Not sure I ever thanked you enough for that. His parents don't fly much. They would've gotten lost at a big airport like Midway or O'Hare on a normal day." She smiled, the emotion only fleeting. Her face darkened with the reminder of why they were sitting outside the ICU. "But today is anything but normal."
"Before they get here, we should talk."
He knew he had no right to express an opinion about police matters, but during the last few hours, he'd been plagued with worry for Raven's safety. She narrowed her eyes at him, opening her mouth to speak, but he interjected, "I overheard your conversation about Tony's assailants being mercenaries."
"This is police business, Christian. We're not sure if it's connected—"
Before she finished her thought, he called her on it. "Bullshit! It's connected, all right. The break-in at your place, Tony's attack, and maybe even something tied to your father. It's not just about my past. Whoever killed Mickey is gunning for you now. And if mercenaries are involved, you'd need a small army to defend yourself."
"When Chief Markham was here earlier, he authorized twenty-four-hour police protection for Tony and me. I'll be okay. All this comes with the territory of being a cop, Christian."
He stood abruptly, pacing the floor and pointing in her direction.
"Bullshit on that, too, Raven. According to the motto, your job is to protect and serve, not make yourself a target for some lunatic killer. I'll only buy that argument if they start issuing uniforms with bright red-and-white targets across the chest."