disappear, he had to know the truth before it was too late. He let his mind delve into the depths of his pain.
'And you just watched me go through that hell and didn't say a word. How could you? Why?'
Quietly, when she thought he hadn't noticed, Fiona clutched at her stomach as if she were nauseated. He knew the feeling. Slowly, she regained her composure and joined him at the door. She stood by his side and stared into the heavy rain.
'I know you're not going to believe this, but I did it for your own good.'
Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back, not sure he wanted to hear her crafty dodges.
'You owe me an explanation.' Glaring forward, he kept his tone even. 'Let's start with something simple. Who were the Delacortes? If I was your son, how did I end up being raised by them?'
Flashes of his family's faces blew through his mind, like a reel of film played out of context, remembrances he thought he'd buried. Memories long forgotten suddenly sprang from the darkness. Strange images mirrored in the glass of the waiting room.
Glimpses of a happier life. Loving smiles. Laughter. Childish games with his precocious younger sister. Replaced by the screams he knew well—and all that blood.
Then, just as suddenly, the throng of memories faded. Yet one image remained. Bathed in light, shadow man now had a face, a memory he would keep.
'John Delacorte.' Fiona spoke the man's name as if she read his mind.
'Yes.' His trance slowly cleared with the sound of his own voice. Christian gazed at Fiona. Odd, she had a smile on her face.
'I met him when I was pregnant with you, Christian. Back in those days, there was such a stigma to an out- of-wedlock pregnancy. My family made excuses for me, sent me away.'
Pulling her coat around her, Fiona folded her arms. She stepped to the chairs across the room and collapsed into one.
Her voice sounded very far away. 'He was a ground-skeeper at the facility, Serenity Clinic in upstate New York—very private, very discreet. John and I became friends. He was such a compassionate young man.'
She patted the seat next to her. Defeat showed on her face. He couldn't refuse her. Moving the chair from the wall, he squared off, facing her knee to knee.
'I couldn't give you up, especially not after seeing your eyes. Green, like mine.' She smiled. Tears pooled, then drained down her cheek. 'I was betrothed to Charles Dunhill. A very dangerous man. If he knew—' It took her a moment to continue. 'I paid John to adopt you. Once I got married, I had access to more funds. It got easier to support you, to keep you hidden. I subsidized John and his growing family for years. He was such a good man.'
'But you gave me up. Why? And why keep me hidden? Were you that. . . ashamed?'
'God, no. I loved you, so much.' A sob caught in her throat. She clutched at his hand. The unexpected touch made him flinch, but she held firm. It was her way. 'It broke my heart when I wasn't there to see your first steps, to hear you call someone else Mother.' With a frail hand, she wiped tears from her face. 'It was the best I could do, Christian.'
He narrowed his eyes. She still hadn't answered his question. Why did she keep him hidden? She caught his look of skepticism.
'Besides, John loved you like a son. After the years went by, I saw how much it meant for you to be a part of his family. He couldn't have loved you more if you were his own. I saw that, too.'
Her diversion worked, for an instant. Christian swallowed hard, choking back the emotion.
'What?' She squeezed his hand, encouraging him. 'Say it.'
The connection he felt for Fiona now reminded him of the many conversations they had when he was a kid, so messed up. She had a gift. She could draw things from him that he didn't know were inside.
'Lately, I've been having that same recurring nightmare. The one I had when I was a kid. But this time, I remembered more of it.' His eyes found hers. 'My father . . . John saved my life. He died because of me. They
'No, Christian. If anyone takes the blame, it should be me. I was too weak to deny my family and stand up to Charles. Don't do this to yourself.'
'It wasn't the police that killed the Delacortes, was it? Why did you lie about that?' His accusation came from nowhere. But he saw by her reaction that he'd stumbled onto the truth.
She refused to answer. Fiona's jaw dropped, her eyes wide with his abruptness.
He yanked his hand from hers and stared in disbelief. 'Damn it! You owe me the truth. Don't hold back now.'
She wasn't going to answer him, but he couldn't let it go. Standing, he thrust the chair out from under him and stalked toward the door. 'Those men were after me. I remembered that too. Who killed the Delacortes, Fiona?'
'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
