"I just can't—" She pleaded for his mercy with her eyes and in the pitiable quiver of her voice. "Saying it aloud . . . the truth is so ugly. I'm not ready for it. Not yet. Please. Can we go home? I need to go home."
She looked lost. He had come so close to hearing it all. But her refusal now was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Fiona had to know the ramifications of her actions. Surely, if she knew, she would tell him everything. It was the only way.
"Charles Dunhill, the Delacortes, Mickey Blair . . . how many have to die for you to tell the truth? After you fled the country, one of the detectives on the case was gunned down on his front lawn, in front of his family. The ICU is gonna be his home for a while. The police believe it's the same man that killed Mickey."
The shock on her face was undeniable. But he couldn't stop.
"And Detective Raven Mackenzie is under my protection, because the same bastard is stalking her."
"I didn't know. You have to believe me, if I had known—"
"If you'd have known, would you have come back at all?" His words were brutal. They found voice through his pain and his betrayed trust. He glared, unwilling to mask his anger. "What are you not telling me, Fiona? Who is my biological father? And did you have anything to do with the death of your own husband?"
As he gazed out the window, he heard the creak of a chair as she stood. In the reflection of the glass, he saw her walk toward him. Christian felt her presence by his side. Any other time in his life, the act would have given him comfort. But now, he knew pain would follow. He was about to learn the truth. Only the rhythm of the rain filled the emptiness until—
"My husband, Charles, killed the Delacortes. He made it look like a police raid gone bad, but it was all him." She cried, her arms clutched around her waist. Her shoulders shook with every sob. "I despised him for what he did."
"But why did he—? What did they do to deserve that?"
"He wanted you, Christian. He was after my son." Her eyes glazed over. She was in another world. "We were so careful, John and I. But Charles must have found out. I never discovered how." She turned and reached for his arm. "By the grace of God you survived. Maybe John had more to do with that. I don't know. But I had to do it. Don't you see? Charles wouldn't have stopped trying to find you ... to kill you. You were only a boy—"
She collapsed in his arms. He held her, supporting her weight until he walked her to a chair.
"I had to do it. I had no choice," she muttered, staring out the window as if he weren't there. "I hired Mickey to kill my husband. It was the only way to keep you safe. Charles was such a jealous and vengeful man. And with his money, he had a long reach."
He gripped her hand as he knelt in front of her. The pieces to the puzzle had fallen into place. Only one question remained.
"Who's my father, Fie?"
Her eyes widened. She clenched her jaw. Suddenly, her cooperation ceased. Christian saw it in her face. She would keep her secret. And despite his complete devastation over her betrayal, he still loved her enough—to let her go.
"You have a choice, Fie. You can get back on that plane. I won't tell them where you are. Bury yourself deeper this time." He lightly touched his fingers to the back of her hand, not taking his eyes from her. "Or you can stay, help me sort this out. But I'm not sure it's in your best interest to do that. Whatever you decide, I'll try to understand."
He wanted to take her in his arms and protect her from her demons, as she had done for him all those years ago. But whatever would have happened, he'd never know. The harsh sound of his cell phone called for attention. In denial, he waited for the second ring to answer it.
"Yeah."
"She's on the move." The gruff voice of Bill Edwards yanked him from his misery. He stood and left Fiona sitting in the chair, confused by the look of concern on his face.
"You have the coordinates?" He listened intently and shut his eyes tight, trying to regain his focus. "I'm heading out now. Get someone over here to take Fiona anywhere she wants to go. When I get on the road, I'll call you again, to feed me the information. Don't lose my SUV, Bill."
He ended the call, his heart racing. Raven was on the move, even after promising she'd stay put.
"What's going on, Christian? Is it the case?"
"I've gotta go."
"Please don't shut me out now," she pleaded.
"What you did . . . hurt me, Fiona. You lied to me all those years. Every time you comforted me after one of my nightmares, every time I raged against the police, blaming them for what happened, you perpetuated the lie. I'm not sure I can live with that. I'm not sure I want to." He stood and walked toward the door, leaving her behind. "You severed the tie between us—not me. Having an attachment to you? It may come at too high a price." He swallowed hard, knowing his cruelty hit a new low. But he had no time to ease her burden. Raven needed him.
"I gotta go."
"Christian . . . please."
Ignoring her, he ran into the pouring rain. The weight of it soaked his hair and clothes. He dashed to his car, hitting the keyless remote and fumbling for the cell phone on his belt. Turning the ignition, he pulled from the parking space and hit the new speed dial for Raven.
As it rang, he took a final look at Fiona alone in the waiting room, her face blanched by fluorescent lighting. She looked so small and frail. That image would haunt him, along with all the rest. And he deserved every ounce of guilt. Finally, he turned away.
"Come on. Pick up," he urged.
Raven didn't answer. When his call rolled into voice mail, he left a quick message, trying to hide the concern in his voice. But something wasn't right.
His headlights caught the heavy drops bouncing off the pavement, his windshield wipers drumming a rhythm to match the cadence of his heart. Something felt terribly wrong.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied his mind, employing the techniques he'd learned long ago to calm himself. With only a brief glance, he punched a second number on his cell. Staring into the night, his eyes on full alert, he steeled his senses for the hunt.
"Talk to me, Bill."
The streets were congested with slow-moving traffic. Rolling along at twenty miles per hour, Raven knew she'd be delayed in meeting Father Antonio, and being late always made her anxious. It couldn't be helped.
The storm robbed what precious little light remained of the day, and the pounding rain made visibility nonexistent. For a moment, she considered pulling over to let the storm pass, but opted against it. At least she was moving.
With the windshield wipers beating on high, she squinted through the downpour, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. The colorful lights of the city bled through the streaks of rain. Large drops pelted the SUV, making it hard to think.
She saw St. Sebastian's Church on the left and almost missed her turn. As she pulled into the side parking lot nearest the rectory, she parked the SUV, but kept the engine running. Father Antonio would not recognize the vehicle as hers, so she followed his instruction and flashed the headlights.
Nothing. She peered through the darkness, looking for any sign of life from the modest living quarters.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a man in the shadows, waving a hand and jogging up to her car from the right side. Although the hood of the man's coat covered his face, she thought he might be the priest judging by his build and stature. She narrowed her eyes and craned her neck for a better view. But as he drew closer, she saw the cross hanging from his neck and she unlocked the doors.
Suddenly, a dark shadow eclipsed the streetlamp behind her. A motion caught her eye, reflected in the side mirror. A man crept toward her car, too damned sneaky to be harmless. On pure instinct, she reacted without hesitation. Laying her shoulder into it, she shoved at her door, jamming the heavy hunk of steel into the man like a weapon. With the first strike, he doubled over in pain, his arms attempting to shield his knees. To make her point again, she pulled the door back for a second assault. This time, she used her leg to thrust into him.