As the traffic picked up and they neared downtown Chicago, Raven yanked him from his brooding.
"You've been putting up a pretty good front, but I can tell. Something's bothering you. Can you talk about it?" She looked up from keying her cell phone number as a speed dial entry into his phone. Her dark eyes filled with concern for him. He felt like such a jerk!
His rendezvous with Fiona loomed heavy between them, a barrier he couldn't deny. But he wasn't prepared to talk about it. At least, not yet. A part of him wanted to tear down that wall of lies. For so many years, that obstacle had amassed deep within him, like a cancer. It kept him a prisoner to his past. He wondered what it would feel like to shed light on all his dark secrets. The burden finally lifted. And he imagined doing exactly that with Raven.
But he took the path of least resistance.
"I can't. Not yet." He stared out the windshield, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. He made the turn down Michigan Avenue, heading for Dunhill Tower, then broke the strained silence between them. "But I want to. Just have a little more patience with me. I gotta sort through some stuff first."
He pulled to the curb in front of the tower and left the SUV running. Reaching over, he touched a finger to her cheek, then leaned toward her. With fingers laced in her hair, he kissed her, drawing from her humanity to fortify him. As his lips touched hers, his mind flooded with images of Raven, his heart unwilling to leave her behind. But he had to. With his past so much of a hindrance, he had to find a way to set himself free from it. And it was a journey he had to make alone.
"Remember, no deviations. And I'll call you when I'm done so we can set up a time for the ride home." He forced a smile, tapping an index finger to the tip of her nose.
"You got my number. Maybe we can swing by the hospital to see Tony later."
"Yeah, no problem." He yanked open the door to the car and waited for her to come around to slip into the driver's seat.
After a final kiss and a wave good-bye, Christian stood at the curb, watching her drive away. Under his overcoat, he reached for the cell phone clipped to the belt of his jeans. He hit a speed dial, then headed for the front entrance of the building, his face hardened by determination.
The man answered on the second ring. "Edwards, here."
"Yeah, Bill. This is Christian. I've got a favor to ask."
"Anything. What do you need?"
"Get me a pool car. I'm heading out to the hangar to pick up Fiona."
"Sure thing. Anything else?"
"Yeah. Just one more thing. I want you to start tracking the GPS on my SUV. I'll fill you in when I see you upstairs."
"You loaned out your high-tech baby?" the man teased. "Who is she?"
"What makes you think—" With a grin, Christian shook his head. "Never mind. Just tell me if it deviates from the South State Street area of downtown."
He ended the call and pushed through the revolving door, waving an acknowledgment to the guards at the front security kiosk. With the change in logistics, he knew the timing would be tight now. His face taut, he shifted focus. Soon, he'd be seeing Fiona again—and in a whole different light. And he still had no idea what would come out of his mouth.
"It'll be one of life's little mysteries," he muttered under his breath as he hit the elevator button, riding up alone. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his coat, clenching his fists.
Cynicism gripped him hard, coupled with a mounting resentment. Christian felt certain that seeing Fiona again would only reinforce his callous attitude. His mind reeled with all the questions he would demand her to answer.
"Welcome home, Fie." He furrowed his brow. "It's a whole new world."
Raven spent the first hour reviewing the case files Sam had laid on her desk, the ones from her father's past. Sam had placed a note on the top file, telling her he'd already conducted a background check on the "Top Scumbag" list. He'd narrowed the prospects considerably. She set down her pen after making the final entry into her casebook. The connection to her father was a slender thread. And she knew it.
"It's gonna be a crapshoot." She sighed, then dosed herself up with the caffeine from stale coffee. Her eyes trailed over to her partner's desk as she repeated a line from the movie Top Gun. "Talk to me, Goose."
Tony always used the old line whenever he felt the need for her sage advice. Now the tables were turned. She picked up the phone and placed a call to the hospital, needing to hear the voice of her wingman. But first she would speak to the guardian at the gate to get the truth.
"How is he, Yolanda?" She tightened her grip on the phone, holding her breath as she waited to hear.
"He's in stable condition. Thank God. And the doctor says his prognosis looks good." She heard a smile in Yolie's voice. The woman was practically giddy. "He's eating up a storm. Can you imagine him eating hospital food, without loading it down with hot sauce? I couldn't be happier."
Raven pictured her smiling face. Her euphoria was contagious.
"Oh, that's so good to hear. Call me if there's anything I can do for you or his parents." Her eyes welled with tears, happy to hear the good news. "Can I speak to him?"
"Oh, sure. Just a minute."
She heard Yolanda's voice in the background and a rustle of fabric. In a moment, she heard Tony on the line.
"Hey, Mac." His voice sounded weak, nowhere near his old self. But he still sounded damned good to her. "How's the case?"
"Hey, Tony. I've made some headway, but I miss my partner." Raven worried about telling him too much. She imagined how she'd feel if their situations were reversed and she was the one flat on her back, unable to help.
"I hear from the guys that Sam is helping you with some old case files. How's that going?"
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Tony was one tough guy. Still working the case even from the hospital. And the constant flood of visitors in blue uniforms would have kept him plugged in. No use shielding him from anything.
"I'm staring at a stack of old case folders right now. Thanks to Sam's help, we started with eleven cases, but are now down to four." She flipped open her case notes and reviewed the summary. "Two are dead, three in prison, one deported, and one moved out of state. That leaves four still living in the greater Chicago area."
She read the rap sheets of the final four to him.
"Real maggots, huh?" His breathing sounded labored. "What does your gut say?"
It took her a moment to retrieve one file. Flipping over the cover, she held up the mug shot inside.
"Dad made a personal note in one of his casebooks. He wrote 'gray dead eyes' like it really was supposed to mean something. My money is on Dad and old gray eyes, Logan McBride. But unfortunately, we've got no address on him."
Staring at the old black-and-white photo, she knew her father had been dead-on. The man made her skin crawl, even in 2-D. The old rap sheet was a long one, and her father had arrested the bastard on a grand theft auto when he'd been a teen. But even at that age, McBride had all the makings of a hard case.
"Follow your instincts, Raven. My money's on you." Tony cleared his throat. "How are things going with Delacorte?"
Images of Christian flashed in her mind, his handsome face, the feel and smell of his skin. She had it bad. The time she'd spent with him now felt like a surreal dream. And a hollow sensation plagued her with the mention of his name. Raven craved him like a junkie off a bender.
"Too good. I just feel like pinching myself, like I'll wake up and he would be a figment of my sex-starved imagination."
"Oh, Lord. I think that falls under TMI—too much information." His attempt at laughter turned into a coughing jag. She knew it was time to cut the conversation short.