Raven. This c-can't be happening.' Her sobs escalated into spasms, words choking in her throat. 'I saw it all, and I c-couldn't help him. The phones were out. I couldn't help—'
The feeling of powerlessness overwhelmed her as she held Yolanda. She knew the feeling all too well.
'What's happening, Yolie? Where is he?'
'He's in surgery.' Yolanda pulled from her arms. Her eyes barely met Raven's. 'But I saw it on the doctor's face. It doesn't look good, Raven.'
'Don't borrow trouble by reading into anything. Tony would hate it if you gave up on him. You know how stubborn he is.' She searched her heart for any words of comfort. Her partner's own words about 'borrowing trouble' seemed so right.
'Where are the kids? Are they—?' Raven didn't know what to say. She knew firsthand that the kids weren't okay. Tonight, Tony's children had lost their innocence and their sense of security. Nothing would ever be the same again.
'They're at a neighbor's house. I didn't know what else to do.' New tears drained down Yolanda's cheeks. 'I haven't called San Antonio, to let his parents know. What am I going to tell them?'
After leading Yolanda to a nearby sofa, Raven sat beside her and rubbed the back of the woman's neck. None of this would be easy. And it had only just begun.
Before she spoke, Christian interceded, handing them both a cup of coffee. 'It's gonna be a long night. This might take the chill out of the room.'
She'd nearly forgotten about Christian. Awkwardly, she made the introductions, knowing Tony's wife would be paralyzed with worry. 'Yolanda Rodriguez, this is Christian Delacorte. He drove me.' Any other explanation was far too complicated.
'I'm sorry to meet you under such terrible circumstances, Mrs. Rodriguez. If there's anything I can do . . .' Christian's voice faded. He extended his hand, gently taking the woman's trembling fingers.
Kneeling in front of her, Christian spoke to Yolanda in a hushed tone, meant for only her. But Raven was privileged to hear it all.
'I couldn't help but overhear. If you'll allow me, I'd like to offer the use of the Dunhill jet to transport Tony's parents to Chicago. Just give me the word and I can make it happen.'
Yolanda turned her heartbreaking gaze to Christian, as if seeing him for the first time. Fresh tears welled in her eyes; her lower lip quivered. Without a word, she reached for his neck and pulled him to her. By his reaction, it was evident. The intimacy surprised him.
'May God bless and keep you, Christian,' Yolanda whispered, clutching him to her embrace. 'Thank you so much for your generosity.'
Raven sipped her coffee to choke back the emotion, witnessing the exchange. In that moment, she felt certain. Christian Delacorte had been fighting his demons—and still was. And he might never trust her enough to confide in her. But her trust barometer had
The truth was as unmistakable as the tear rolling down his cheek.
Chateau de Banville
Versailles, France
In the pale pink of dawn, the chateau reflected off the still lake, a pastel gem against the blue of a wakening sky. The image was crystal clear, like a photograph, in its perfection. Classic stone walls radiated a delicate pearled luster. Designed by Francois Mansart in the 1620s, the private residence was surrounded by exquisite gardens, accenting a spectacular fountain similar to the cascade at Louis XIV's Chateau de Marly.
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—
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.
