But he couldn’t explain all this to her now. He didn’t have the strength. And she probably wouldn’t understand anyway.
“Please go.”
She snatched the necklace away and held it up. “Very well! I thought you were a man worthy of this, a man willing to stretch his life to the limit and live it to the fullest, but I see I was wrong! So sit there in your pool of blood and fade away if that’s what you wish! I have no use for your kind! I never have! I wash my hands of you!”
She tucked the extra necklace into a fold in her sari and strode by him. He heard the apartment door slam and knew he was alone.
Hell hath no fury…
Jack tried to straighten himself in the chair. The attempt flashed pain through every inch of his body; the minor effort left his heart pounding and his breath rasping.
Am I dying?
That thought would have brought on a panic response at any other time, but at the moment his brain seemed as unresponsive as his body. Why hadn’t he accepted Kolabati’s help, even for a short while? Why had he refused? Some sort of grand gesture? What was he trying to prove, sitting here and oozing blood, ruining the carpet as well as the chair? He wasn’t thinking clearly.
It was cold in here—a clammy cold that sank to the bones. He ignored it and thought about the night. He had done good work tonight… probably saved the entire subcontinent of India from a nightmare. Not that he cared much about India. Gia and Vicky were the ones that mattered. He had—
The phone rang.
There was no possibility of his answering it.
Who was it—Gia? Maybe. Maybe she was wondering where he was. He hoped so. Maybe she’d come looking for him. Maybe she’d even get here in time. Again, he hoped so. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to spend a lot of time with Gia and Vicky. And he wanted to remember tonight. He had made a difference tonight. He had been the deciding factor. He could be proud of that. Even Dad would be proud… if only he could tell him.
He closed his eyes—it was getting to be too much of an effort to keep them open—and waited.