Текст книги "Striking Distance"

Автор книги: Pamela Clare

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

She nodded. “You’re not bulletproof, you know. I feel so selfish keeping you here. This is

not

why you came to Colorado.”

“I think maybe it is, even if I didn’t realize it. I . . . care about you.”

Something in the way he said it made her look at him, the concern in his eyes putting an ache in her chest. That ache grew sharper when she realized that she and Javier might have had a real chance if things had gone differently after Dubai.

He took her hand, turned it over, ran his finger over the deep scratches on her palm. “I wish you’d gone to the hospital. I’ve had training as a medic, but the doctors and nurses would have done a better job of this.”

“I hate hospitals.” They were desolate, lonely places. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m not really hurt. I’m not sick. I’m just . . .

pathetic

.”

She’d heard gunshots, and she’d fallen apart.

Javier came eye to eye with her. “Don’t say that about yourself. You’ve already lived through more shit than most people face in a lifetime, and you’ve overcome it. You’re one of the strongest women I know.”

She shook her head, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “No. No, I’m not. I’m not nearly as strong as you think.”

As tonight had proven, she hadn’t overcome anything. She’d merely gathered the shards of herself together, plastered a façade over the ruins, and pretended to the world that she was whole again. Beneath the surface, she was shattered. Her weakness had cost a helpless little child her freedom.

Javier needed to know the truth. If he was going to be risking his life for her, he needed to know the truth.

Her pulse began to race at the thought of what she was about to do. She’d worked hard to keep this secret, but she wouldn’t keep it from Javier any longer.

She drew her hand away from him and stood. Trembling, she opened her bathrobe and exposed her naked body to his gaze—stretch marks and all.

* * *

JAVIER WAS HIT by two things at once—the sight of Laura’s beautiful body and the distress and fear on her pretty face. One sent a jolt of heat to his groin. The other set off alarm bells in his brain. The result was a short in his wiring.

“Uh . . .” he said.

He couldn’t keep his gaze from raking over her, taking in the sight of her full breasts with their light pink tips, the satiny curves of her hips, the soft golden curls between her thighs. The sight of her awakened memories of touching her, tasting her, losing himself inside her. He remembered her scent, the silky texture of her skin, the little mole on her right breast.

But she wasn’t trying to seduce him. Something was wrong.

He looked up to see tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why are you doing this?”

She took his hand, pressed it against her lower belly, drawing his gaze.

There on her skin he saw faint silver lines.

Not scars.

Stretch marks.

It took Javier a good long moment to understand, but when he did, it hit him like a body blow. His heart gave a hard knock, pain knotting his gut, one emotion colliding with the next—astonishment, rage, sadness. “Oh, God, Laura. No.”

Laura had been pregnant. She’d had a baby.

Al-Nassar’s baby.

Jesus!

A thousand questions chased through Javier’s mind, but now wasn’t the time. Laura was shaking uncontrollably, her arms now crossed over her breasts, her face turned away from him. He got to his feet, pulled her robe around her trembling body, and tied it in place, then drew her into his arms.

She stiffened as if she didn’t want to be touched. “I-I’m cold.”

He stepped back, his mind and emotions still reeling. “Want to sit by the fire? I can make some tea.”

“Okay.” She followed him out to the living room and sat on the sofa, her gaze far away, her eyes haunted.

He turned on the fire, grabbed a throw from her sofa, and wrapped it around her, then went to the kitchen, his gaze never wandering far from her while he heated water and steeped tea bags. She’d been in shock earlier, and she’d refused treatment. What she needed was rest, not more emotional turmoil. Why she’d chosen tonight to tell him about this he couldn’t say, but he wasn’t sure it was best for her.

God, Laura!

She’d had a baby in captivity.

The force of it hit him again.

When she’d been rescued, there’d been a few articles in the tabloids and some online chatter asking why she hadn’t gotten pregnant during the eighteen months she’d been Al-Nassar’s prisoner. The idea hadn’t even occurred to Javier, maybe because he knew from their time together in Dubai that she was using some kind of long-term contraceptive—or maybe because the possibility was too terrible for him to imagine.

She’d suffered enough, damn it. But to get pregnant by that bastard?

He carried two mugs into the living room and set his down on the coffee table, placing hers in her hands. “It’s hot.”

She sipped, the tea seeming to bring her back to the moment. “Thanks.”

He sat down beside her, deliberately giving her space, doing his best to lock down his own emotions. “You should just take it easy,

bella

. We can talk in the morning.”

But she didn’t seem to want to wait. “That’s why I stopped you in the sauna, you know. If you’d seen me naked, if we’d had sex, you would have seen my stretch marks, and you would’ve known.”

“I wouldn’t have rejected you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” In fact, Javier doubted he would have noticed anything. Yeah, he’d been trained to be good with details, but once his dick started working, his brain generally shifted to standby. Still, this was an interesting revelation, one he tucked in the back of his mind.

But she wasn’t listening to him. Her eyes drifted shut, regret sharp on her face. “I . . . I didn’t know. Most women know. Most women see the signs.”

“You didn’t know you were pregnant?”

“I’m sure that seems strange to you, but I didn’t have periods when I was on Depo-Provera, so . . .” She opened her eyes and stared into the fire. “The shots last for four months, and it’s supposed to take a while for your body to go back to normal.”

Javier did the math and realized it couldn’t have taken too long for Laura to become fertile again. She’d spent half of her captivity pregnant.

If only they’d known she was still alive . . .

¡Carajo! Fuck!

“He was always so rough with me, even when I didn’t fight him. He didn’t want to have sex with me. He just wanted to hurt me. I was a symbol of something he hated, and he wanted me to suffer. Every time he . . .” She paused as if searching for the words. “It’s like he was stabbing me again and again and again.”

Javier tasted bile in the back of his throat, his stomach revolting at the horrific images her words brought to mind, hatred like venom in his veins. He swallowed, fought back his rage. “I’m so sorry.”

You’re sorry, bro? What the fuck good is that?

“After a while, some part of me tried to forget my physical body. I just . . . moved out, blocked it out.”

Javier could understand that.

“I never thought about getting pregnant. There was so much else to worry about—getting enough to eat, beatings, rape, being killed. Every day they told me they were going to execute me soon. Every day I woke up thinking I was going to die. I . . . I made them promise to shoot me instead of cutting off my head.”

Javier could only imagine what it was like to live each day in that kind of terror, unable to fight back, depending only on your wits to survive. He knew men who’d lived through it as prisoners of war. None of them had come back without emotional scars.

“I . . . I thought it was poison.”

He didn’t follow. “Poison?”

“The pain.” Laura opened her eyes, her hands pressing protectively against her lower belly as they had that night in the sauna. “I thought Zainab had poisoned me.”

It took Javier a second to understand what she was talking about, the knot in his gut tightening when it hit him.

“I . . . I didn’t know I was having a baby. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. If I had known what was happening . . . How could I not have known?” She looked up him through tear-filled eyes, as if she expected an answer, her expression of despair slowly turning to self-loathing. “I should have known.”

“After what you’d been through? Your mind was doing all it could to protect you, to keep you alive. You can’t blame yourself,

bella

.”

Laura didn’t seem to hear him. “It was terrible. The pain was tearing me apart. I was sure I was dying. I begged Zainab to help me. I asked her why she had poisoned me. She called me stupid.”

Javier didn’t know much about women having babies beyond what he’d heard his mother and sisters say. The thought of Laura going through that much pain without medical attention or so much as a loving hand to hold was horrible enough, but to know that she’d been so brutalized that she’d had no idea what was happening to her . . .

He wanted to hold her. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted somehow to take all of this away from her. But he couldn’t. Nothing could.

* * *

NAUSEATED, LAURA COULDN’T bring herself to look at Javier’s face, fighting to put her worst nightmare into words. “I felt like my insides were being torn apart . . . like everything inside of me was being ripped out. And then . . . I heard a cry. I lifted my head, saw Safiya holding something in a blanket. The blanket moved. Until that moment, I’d had no idea I was having a baby. It almost didn’t seem real.”

She could still remember her confusion, her shock, the rush of adrenaline that had jolted her to a momentary awareness.

Javier’s warm fingers stroked hers. “You can finish telling me about this tomorrow after you’ve had some sleep. You’ve been through—”

But Laura needed to get it out. “They took her from me. I tried to get up and follow, but there was so much blood. I . . . I fainted.”

Laura told Javier how she’d almost bled to death, how she’d lain there on that bloodstained blanket for days, desperately thirsty and barely able to hold her head up, how she’d asked about the baby, only to be ignored.

“My breasts swelled and ached and started to leak milk.” The discomfort had been almost unbearable. “When I asked to see the baby, to nurse it, they told me I was crazy, but I could hear it crying. Then they said my baby had been stillborn. After a while, I began to wonder whether I had just imagined it all. My doctor says it was traumatic amnesia. When I was strong enough to walk, I tried to get close to her, tried to see her, but they wouldn’t let me, saying she was Safiya’s child and that I was unfit to be a mother.”

“How do you know it was a girl?”

“Angeza told me. She was the only one of Al-Nassar’s wives who was ever kind to me. She was Afghan. Her father had given her to Al-Nassar to settle a debt when she was only fourteen. I think she hated the others as much as I did. She said Al-Nassar had named the baby Yasmina. I call her Klara.”

“What happened to the baby, Laura? What happened to Klara?”

Laura shook her head, her pulse ratcheting. She stood, crossed the room, and gazed unseeing through the window onto the rooftops of a sleeping city. Why had she started this? Why had she told him?

“Oh, God.”

Javier came up behind her and rested his hands gently on her shoulders. “It’s okay,

bella

. I’m right here.”

But it wasn’t okay.

It wouldn’t be okay until Klara was free and safe.

And once Javier knew the truth . . .

“About two months after the birth, the SEALs rescued me. I heard them speaking American English, and something in me woke up, some part of me that remembered who I was and why I was there. I wanted to survive, to escape. I didn’t mean to forget her.”

Oh, Jesus!

“Your baby was left behind.”

Laura whirled about to face him, knowing what he must think of her. How could she explain it? There was no explanation, no excuse. “I didn’t think . . . I didn’t remember . . . Something inside me just

snapped

. I had to get away. I didn’t mean to leave her there. I didn’t mean to leave her. I didn’t even remember she was mine.”

“How soon before you remembered?”

She looked away. “The doctor at the hospital in Germany did an exam. Afterward, he told me that it looked like I’d recently given birth. And then it all crashed in on me—all the memories. But it was too late. It was too late.”

She looked up, expecting to see disgust or anger on Javier’s face.

Instead, he drew her close, held her tight, whispered to her in Spanish, words she didn’t understand, his voice not angry but soothing.

She resisted. She didn’t deserve this. “What kind of mother leaves her baby with terrorists? What kind of mother does something like that?”

Javier drew back and caught her face between his palms, forcing her to meet his gaze, his expression fierce. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. You’d been brutalized, violated, terrorized. You had a baby alone and almost died. They never even let you hold her. Then some men with guns drop from the sky and offer you a way to survive and come home. How could you expect yourself to remember she was your baby in the middle of that chaos?”

Laura heard his words, saw beyond the intensity on his face to the sympathy in his eyes, but some part of her couldn’t accept the absolution he offered. “She was my baby, and I left her behind.”

“It’s

not

your fault, Laura. You didn’t leave her. She was taken from you.”

“You . . . really believe that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

Tears Laura had held back for what seemed an eternity poured from her, grief and regret as sharp as pain cutting through her. Strong arms lifted her up, carried her to her bed, held her together until pain gave way to numbness and numbness to exhaustion—and sleep.

* * *

UNABLE TO SLEEP, Javier lay in the darkness, feeling gutted, torn between his need to do all he could to help and comfort Laura and a bitter rage that simmered in his chest. Memories of the night they’d raided Al-Nassar’s compound moved through his mind frame by frame. Al-Nassar lying almost naked in the dirt. Women huddling together with their children, some holding babies. Laura looking fragile and pale in the helo.

Now he knew why she’d seemed so weak. She’d been only about eight weeks away from having had a baby and hemorrhaging.

What he wouldn’t give to go back in time and have the presence of mind to ask her if anyone else was being held captive. He’d take Laura’s baby and get them both safely on that Hercules. But that was just a fantasy. He’d barely had time to rescue Laura as it was. Had he delayed any longer, the combatants who had fired those RPGs would probably have hit them and brought them down. But what kept him awake was wondering what had happened

after

they’d left.

Where was Laura’s baby now?

* * *

JAVIER JOLTED AWAKE to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He opened his eyes to find Laura snuggled up against him and still asleep, clearly exhausted. He reached for his phone, saw that it wasn’t yet oh-dawn-hundred. He hadn’t even had three hours of sleep. Then he saw the number.

Shit.

He’d known this was coming.

He muted the phone, slipped from the bed, and walked out into the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind him. “Hey, Boss.”

“Want to tell me why I saw you on prime-time news last night playing bodyguard for Laura Nilsson?” Lt. O’Connell sounded pissed. “Word is all over base—hell, it’s all over town. I just got a call from the commander, who was out for his four A.M. run and wants an explanation.”

How in the hell was Javier going to explain this?

He decided to keep it simple. “Laura and I are old friends. I was in Denver to hang with Nate West, and when that car bomb went off, I just had to help her. I was there when the shooter opened fire and was able to save her life.”

“Let me get this straight. You violated OPSEC by fraternizing with a civilian you rescued while part of a classified mission, then you made matters worse by exposing yourself in the media when you decided to moonlight as her bodyguard. They’re going to drag you in—”

“No, sir, I didn’t.”

“You didn’t what?”

“I didn’t violate OPSEC. I knew Ms. Nilsson long before that rescue mission. To this day, she has no idea that I’m the one who pulled her out of there.”

“You expect me to believe you haven’t told her?”

Six years on the Teams together, and O’Connell had the nerve to talk to him like this? “Have I ever lied to you, man? Have I

ever

lied to you?”

Not that Javier hadn’t wanted to tell Laura. Last night, he’d had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her that he’d been there, that’d he’d carried her out, that he’d seen how terrified and confused she was. But he’d upheld OPSEC and kept his mouth shut, even when he’d known that telling her would have helped her forgive herself.

“So you’re friends with the Baghdad Babe.”

“

Don’t

call her that, man. I fucking

hate

that. I really do.”

“More than friends, maybe. That’s the kind of thing a guy might tell his buddies, especially given how famous she was.”

“Some guys, maybe, but not me.”

“Did West know?”

Everyone knew that Javier and Nate were best buds. “Not till this week, sir.”

“Now I understand why you were gunning so hard for Al-Nassar.”

“That mission went off without a hitch.” No one could say that Javier’s feelings for Laura had compromised that op in any way.

“Did you know she was alive?”

“If I’d even

suspected

she was alive, I’d have raised hell to get her out of there long before that mission.”

“How did you get mixed up in her shit? You’re supposed to be recuperating, preparing yourself for a return to active duty, not starring in the latest episode of

Celebrity Bodyguard

.”

“Is there a reg somewhere that says I can’t help a close friend when she’s in trouble? I’m staying with her because she needs me right now. She’s terrified, man. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t pull her out of that compound just to let these assholes kill her on

our

soil.”

“Ms. Nilsson has the Marshal Service and the FBI to protect her. It’s their mission. Your mission is to recover and rejoin your platoon.”

“True. But who saved her life last night? I did.”

Boss drew a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll call the commander back, explain it to him like you explained it to me. But I can tell you right now, he’s not going to like it. I just hope he doesn’t revoke your leave and haul your ass back here for a disciplinary hearing. You’ve been a huge pain in the ass lately, you know that?”

That sounded more like the O’Connell Javier knew.

“Thanks, Boss. Sorry he woke you up and chewed your ass.”

“You’d better be. And, Cobra—good work. The guys are proud. They’re kind of attached to Ms. Nilsson themselves.”

The call ended.

Javier turned to find Laura standing behind him.

“You’re in trouble for helping me, aren’t you?” She watched him through worried eyes still swollen from crying, her hair in long tangles, her feet bare.

How much had she heard? Not much. If she’d overheard him talking about rescuing her from Al-Nassar, she’d be staring at him wide-eyed and full of questions.

“Naval Special Warfare just doesn’t like its operators on prime-time news.”

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”

He drew her into his arms, held her close, caressed her hair. “Don’t apologize,

bella

. That wasn’t your fault.”

“Is everything going to be okay?”

“Yeah, it’s going to be fine.” He didn’t want her worrying about this. “The sun’s not even up. Let’s get some sleep.”

CHAPTER

17

LAURA AWOKE, SAW bright daylight through her blinds. Beside her, the bed was empty, the sound of running water telling her Javier was in the shower. She stretched, yawned, body and mind strangely lethargic. It wasn’t until she saw the abrasions on her palms that she remembered.

She sat bolt upright, her pulse tripping.

Someone had tried to shoot her yesterday. Someone had tried to kill her, wounding Janet in the process. Javier had saved her life and . . .

Laura had told him about Klara.

Oh, God.

He hadn’t reacted the way she’d thought he would. Like her mother and grandmother, he’d refused to blame her, offering her comfort and understanding she didn’t deserve.

You forgive me?

There’s nothing to forgive.

She remembered how caring he’d been, holding her while she cried her eyes out, carrying her to her bed, staying with her through the night. Some of her lethargy lifted.

She got out of bed, grabbed her bathrobe, and walked out to the kitchen to make coffee. She’d just gotten off the phone with University Hospital when Javier stepped out of the bedroom wearing only jeans, his short hair wet.

He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Was that the hospital?”

She set down her smartphone. “Janet has been upgraded from critical to fair.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He leaned against the counter, his gaze meeting hers, his brown eyes warm. “How are

you

?”

“I’m fine. I’m okay, I guess. I don’t know.”

In truth, she felt awkward, exposed, nervous. Javier had seen a part of her no other man had seen. It was one thing to be sexual with a man. It was another to break into pieces in front of him. But Javier had seen the shattered core that she’d kept hidden, and he had accepted her, comforted her. He’d even seemed to understand.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder. Did he feel some kind of obligation toward her because of Dubai? “You don’t have to stay, Javi. I don’t want you to waste—”

“Shh.” He pressed his fingers against her lips. “I’m right where I want to be,

bella

. Why don’t you take a hot shower while I make us some breakfast?”

* * *

A HALF HOUR later, Laura sat down to a cup of hot coffee and a plate loaded down with a breakfast burrito and freshly sliced cantaloupe. “This smells delicious. Thanks.”

They spoke of inconsequential things while they ate—their favorite things to eat for breakfast, how well they’d slept, the weather.

It was Laura who finally brought it up. “I’m sorry I fell apart like that.”

“Give yourself a break. You’ve been through hell. There aren’t many people who could even imagine what it was like.” He reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. “It can’t be easy keeping Klara secret. I feel honored that you trusted me. No one else here knows, do they? Not even your friends.”

She shook her head. “I feel so

ashamed

. What I did—”

“You survived against all odds. There is no shame in that.”

She looked up at him. “I thought you would think less of me.”

“You thought I’d leave. That’s why you told me, isn’t it? Somehow you truly think you did something unforgivable.” He narrowed his eyes. “Sorry,

bella

, but you can’t shake me off that easily. But I have to ask . . . Where is Klara now?”

Laura found herself telling him about her long battle to find her daughter and bring her home. How she’d decided to work through the Swedish foreign ministry rather than the U.S. State Department to better protect her privacy. How they’d found Klara living with Al-Nassar’s younger brother. How they hoped to arrange a welfare check with Klara soon. How everything was stacked against her when it came to custody.

“Even if they’re able to get DNA and the DNA proves she’s my child, the fact that I’m a non-Muslim, a woman, and a foreigner means that the courts will likely rule against me. But I’m not giving up. Klara is a victim, too. She was abducted straight from my body, and I won’t feel whole again until she’s safely home.”

Javier laced his fingers through hers. “You’ll get her home.”

Laura nodded, fighting back her doubts, refusing to acknowledge any other possible outcome, regret swamping her once more. “If only I’d told the men who rescued me that she was there . . . If only I’d remembered . . .”

“I can’t stand to see you blame yourself. I know what war is like. Even if you’d remembered she was yours, even if you’d told the squad leader, there’s no guarantee they could have made it out with her alive. You did all you could.”

She looked up from their twined fingers. “Have you ever left a man behind?”

Javier opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. He didn’t need to say a word. The answer was plain to see on his face.

* * *

STILL REELING FROM all that Laura had told him, Javier spent the afternoon in his own special hell, wanting desperately to tell her that he’d been the man who’d rescued her. If she could only see that night from his point of view, she’d quit blaming herself. But if he told her, he’d violate OPSEC and turn himself into a liar.

He was in enough hot water already.

Then the paper called, Laura’s editor insisting she drop everything to do an interview. The asshole didn’t seem to give a damn about what Laura had been through, as far as Javier could tell. He just wanted the paper to have the most complete coverage, given that Laura worked there.

By the time McBride called to say one of his teams had seen a man with a spotting scope on the roof of the building across the street, Javier was restless, pissed off, spoiling for a fight. Thinking the worst, he left Laura, who was still on the phone, with Deputy U.S. Marshal Mike Childers, who had taken Killeen’s place, and met McBride, only to find the spotting scope was actually a telephoto lens and the sniper was a shooter of a different kind.

He fought to keep his trap shut while McBride cuffed and Mirandized the bastard. McBride’s team had apprehended the guy in the act of trying to take photos of Laura through her living room and bedroom windows. Now he lay on his fat belly on the black rubber roofing, arms behind his back.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right—”

“You can’t arrest me! I’m a photojournalist! I—”

“A photojournalist? You’re nothing but paparazzi. What kind of whiskey tango fuck-ass editor wants to publish the shit you call photos? You were spying on her, man. You’re no better than a peeping Tom.”

McBride shot Javier a warning glance and went on. “You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you?”

“You’re gonna make headlines, buddy.” The man twisted his head around and glared at McBride. “Arresting a reporter for trying to report the news—you’ll be lucky if they don’t sue your ass! Ever hear of the First Amendment?”

Javier bent down, looked the

cabrón

in the eyes. “Remember that part about staying silent? You should try that shit out, dawg.”

McBride stepped back, making room for a cop who began to pat the photographer down. “The First Amendment doesn’t give you the right to trespass on private property, and trying to photograph someone inside the privacy of their home sure as hell isn’t journalism.”

The cop pulled something out of the photographer’s vest. “A lock-picking kit? Is that how you got up here? That’s a felony.”

“I keep that in case I get locked out of my car.”

“Yeah, right.” Javier wanted to kick the man’s ass. “Tell that to the jury.”

McBride turned his back on the photographer and walked a short distance away, motioning for Javier to follow. He stopped, turning to face Javier. “You need to chill. I don’t blame you for being angry, but I can’t let you harass people in my custody no matter how badly they deserve to have their asses kicked.”

“Got it. Sorry, man.”

McBride lowered his voice. “How is she?”

“She’s coping.”

It bothered Javier that none of Laura’s friends knew the full weight she was carrying on her shoulders. How lonely these past two years must have been for her, keeping her heartbreak and worry for her little girl to herself, living with a sense of guilt and shame that should never have been hers to carry.

“Does she know about Tower yet?”

Javier shook his head. “I’ve kept the TV off, and she’s been staying away from her laptop except to connect with her mom through Skype. She hasn’t read the papers either because I recycled them.”

“Good call. How much does she know about Killeen?”

“She’s called the hospital twice to get an update on Killeen’s condition, but they won’t release any details. The last we heard, doctors had upgraded Killeen to fair. That seemed to ease her mind.”

McBride squinted against the bright sunlight, his gaze fixed on the city beyond. “Killeen was good at her job. I hate to think her career might be over.”

Javier knew from experience the regret McBride was feeling. Killeen had been wounded on McBride’s watch, and he would carry that with him. “She knew the risks, and she asked to be assigned here.”

“Yeah.” McBride didn’t sound convinced.

Neither was Javier.

Javier had spoken those words more times than he could count—for wounded men, maimed men, dead men. He’d said the same thing about himself.

Just words.

“West tells me you might be facing a disciplinary hearing for getting yourself involved in Laura’s situation.”

“West has a big damned mouth.”

McBride grinned. “I just wanted to let you know that I’d be happy to speak on your behalf if it comes to it. I still have a few connections inside NSW.”

For a moment, Javier didn’t know what to say. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“You let me know.”

“Will do.”

Nearby, two uniforms escorted the photographer across the roof toward the exit, one of them carrying the bastard’s hardware.

“I swear if you break my camera, I’ll sue for every dime you got!” The photographer was still shouting by the time they all reached the street seven stories below, his threats now laced with profanity. “I’ll have your fucking badge!”

As they walked past, Javier couldn’t stop himself. “Motherfucker.”

* * *

LAURA HAD JUST hung up from talking with Alex at the paper when her cell phone rang again. Thinking it was Alex calling to clarify something, she answered without checking the display. “Hey.”

“Hello, Laura. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“Gary.” He was the last person on earth she wanted to talk to.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls.”

“You ignored your promise.”

“I was just doing my job. You’d have done the same thing.”

“I’m sorry you think so.”

“Hey, you came to me, remember?” His voice was soothing, as if he were speaking to an upset child. “You asked for help in countering Tower’s allegations, and I did my best to provide that. By showing that footage, I generated sympathy for you. Yes, it helped boost our ratings, but all that means is that more households got