Outsider (15 page)

“Oh.” She nodded. Her eyes were dark with shock and exasperation. “You've just asked the leader of the biggest gang in the projects to take me on as a dependent, and you think it's all right?”

C
OLBY GAVE HER
an odd look.

“Didn't you know?” she asked.

“How would I have known?” he returned.

“He's wearing the colors and tattoos of the Serpientes,” she told him.

One dark eyebrow went up. He stared down at her through narrowed eyes. “Learned that at work, did you?” he asked softly.

She hesitated for a second. She cleared her throat. “All right, Rodrigo told me,” she said, averting her eyes.

“The liaison officer?” he chided.

“He has a friend in law enforcement locally,” she said, which was no lie.

“I see.” He didn't, but his mind was whirling again with new knowledge of her and of Bernadette. Bernadette. His daughter. He moved closer to the door and watched the child hooking up the microscope he'd bought her to a small laptop computer.

“She knows how to do that?” he asked, surprised at her intelligence.

Sarina nodded. “She's very smart with electronics. Like…you were.”

He turned and looked down at her with troubled dark eyes. “I told Hunter that Bernadette's father was a cold-blooded bastard,” he said huskily. “I was right. I am.”

“You didn't know.”

“No. I didn't know. Maureen never said a word about your phone call.” He shook his head. “I was blinded by lust,” he bit off. “I wanted Maureen so much that I couldn't see past her. What do I have to show for that marriage? Years of hell, when the excitement wore off. And look at your life, and Bernadette's.” He sighed. “You told me that Maureen and I went along leaving broken lives behind us. I didn't realize what you meant until now.” Her flush made him frown. “There's more?”

She hesitated.

“You'd better tell me,” he said bitterly. “It seems to be the night for confession.”

But he looked as if he couldn't take much more. Still, he wasn't budging. She grimaced. “Maureen was married when you were going with her.”

“Married?!”

She swallowed. “While you and I were dating, she was busy trying to get a quickie divorce in Reno. He fought it. The day you married me.” She couldn't bear to look at him. “He…killed himself. So she came home free, after all.”

He actually leaned against the wall for support. Of all the horrors of the night, that was the absolute last straw. He closed his eyes. He felt a cold chill. It was misting rain and he was out in it without his jacket. Chills were dangerous. He still had the fevers he'd acquired in Africa, and they recurred if he was careless with his health, but he was too upset to think about the risk.

“He killed himself,” he said huskily. He looked at her, seeing the pain and anguish of her pregnancy far more vividly than he wanted to. “You lost everything, almost lost your life having Bernadette. She grew up without a father. An innocent man died so that Maureen could marry me. And I expected a happy life, after all that destruction. God! I got what I deserved.”

She didn't know what to say. She'd had no idea that the revelation would hit him so hard. In fact, she'd often dreamed of seeing his face when he knew the truth about his daughter. But it didn't give her the satisfaction she'd once expected. It hurt.

“Colby…” she began, trying to find the words.

He turned away from her. “Tell Bernadette good-night for me, will you?” he asked roughly. “I've got to go.”

“Thank you for her present,” she faltered.

He couldn't even answer. A present. He'd missed her whole little life, made an enemy of her the day they met, and here he was bringing her a single present when he'd missed giving her dozens. Birthdays, holidays, special days, he'd missed them all. While he was trying to get Maureen to come back to him, his daughter had been living in poverty and growing up without a father. He kept walking blindly toward the SUV.

 

T
HE WORDS HAMMERED
in his brain until he thought he'd go mad, long after he was back at his apartment. He was glad that he didn't keep alcohol, because there was a great temptation to blow years of abstinence and tie one on, royally.

But that way lay disaster. He took a shower and fell into bed, so worn-out by the stress of the night that he actually slept. But by morning, he was feverish and sick as a dog.

He took some aspirin and went back to bed, certain that it was just a chill. But by late Sunday night, he was delirious with fever. He couldn't even get to the phone to call for help. In fact, he didn't want to. If he died, maybe the pain would stop…

 

“M
AMA
! You have to wake up now!”

Sarina opened her eyes immediately, accustomed to having to look after Bernadette during her attacks. “Are you okay, baby?” she asked as she sat up.

“I'm fine, but Daddy isn't,” she replied. “We have to go to him. He's very ill. Mama, I think he's dying!”

“Go to him…” She looked at the clock by her bed. “Baby, it's three o'clock in the morning! I have to get up at seven…”

“Please!”

“But, I can't find my way to his apartment in the dark,” she argued. “And I'm sure he's fast asleep. We could call him,” she offered, because the child was visibly upset.

“No! You have to come, right now, or he's going to die, Mama!”

The urgency in the small voice decided her. Bernadette did seem to know things that other people didn't. What Colby was going to say when she knocked on his door was unsettling, but she allowed herself to be convinced.

She threw on jeans and a sweatshirt while Bernadette got into her school clothes and gathered her books.

“Why are you doing that?” Sarina asked, puzzled.

“You'll have to let me go home with Mr. Hunter and go to school with Nikki,” she said matter-of-factly. “Daddy's in really bad shape.”

“Will he be all right?” Sarina asked reluctantly.

“Yes. I think so,” she added worriedly.

Sarina let out the breath she'd been holding and locked the apartment behind them. There was no doubt in her mind that Bernadette knew what she was saying. She had a link to Colby. Apparently he had one to her as well, she thought, remembering the expensive microscope he'd brought the child. But she hoped Bernadette was wrong about the danger he was in.

 

T
HE SECURITY GUARD
on duty at the gates let them into the apartment complex because of Bernadette's tears. He even walked to Colby's apartment behind the child, who went straight to his door with serene confidence—even though she'd never seen Colby's apartment in her life.

“He's very sick,” Bernadette told the security guard worriedly.

With a grimace, he unlocked the door. “Let me go in first,” he said firmly.

He went into the apartment while Sarina mentally compiled a list of good defense attorneys…

But the guard was back suddenly, his face worried. “Do you know who his doctor is?” he asked.

She went in past him, almost running. Colby was lying in his bed wearing only black boxer shorts, shivering and wet with sweat. He didn't recognize her. His skin was blazing hot to the touch and his eyes were blind with fever.

Sarina jerked up the phone and dialed the Hunters' number. Only seconds later, Phillip answered.

“Colby's very sick,” she said at once. “He's running a high fever and he doesn't know me…”

“Malaria,” Hunter said at once. “He's had it before. Go look in the medicine cabinet. There should be a prescription bottle of quinine.”

She went into the bathroom and looked through the usual over-the-counter medicines until she found two prescription bottles. One was high-powered pain medication. The other was quinine, recently filled and full.

She ran back to the phone. “I found it.”

“See if you can get two of them into him. I'm on my way.”

She went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. Bernadette and the guard looked on as she got his head up and his mouth opened and forced him to swallow two of the tablets.

“It's malaria,” she told the guard.

“How do you get malaria in Houston?” he wondered aloud.

“He got it in Africa,” Bernadette said in a worried, subdued tone. “He was in a conflict there.”

“A war?”

“He worked for the military until recent years,” Sarina said dully.

“You can never tell about people, can you?” the guard wondered aloud. “But he's a tough sort of guy. It's not all that surprising.”

Bernadette reached out and touched his dark, wavy hair. “Oh, Daddy,” she said, and her voice broke.

Sarina reached down and picked her up, hugging her close. “He'll be all right,” she promised the child, praying that she was right. He looked bad.

“His best friend is on the way over,” she told the guard. “Phillip Hunter. They work for Ritter Oil Corporation with me. I think Hunter's nursed him through this before.” She described Hunter, just in case.

“I'll wait for him at the gate and let him through. You staying?” he asked Sarina.

She nodded.

He ruffled Bernadette's hair. “Hope your dad gets better.”

“Thanks,” she said, wiping her eyes.

He went out, closing the door behind him. Sarina hugged Bernadette close and rocked her. It was painful to see such a healthy, vital man like that. She knew instinctively that the emotional shock of the day before had helped revive the disease in him. He'd left his jacket behind, and it was cold and wet outside, even today. She put Bernadette down and looked at her worriedly.

“I'm okay,” Bernadette said softly. “You mustn't worry. I can breathe all right.”

Sarina let out a worried sigh. “Okay. Did you use your medicine this morning?”

“Yes, I did, while I was getting dressed.” She smiled. “This new stuff really works, Mama.”

“It does, doesn't it?”

There was the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside. Sarina went to open the door.

Hunter looked half-awake, but he smiled at her. “How is he?”

“Bad,” she said, not pulling her punches. “He knows that Bernadette is his daughter. He had several shocks yesterday, and he was out in the cold rain without a jacket last night. He got chilled.”

“That's what happened last time he got it,” Hunter said on a sigh. “Too much stress and no relief. He won't take a drink.”

“I don't blame him.”

Hunter walked into the bedroom. Bernadette was sitting in the chair by the bed with one hand on Colby's good arm, singing something softly in Apache.

“No need to ask if you spent time with a shaman,” Hunter mused, having recognized the chant.

Bernadette looked up at him and smiled. “Granddaddy used to say that medicine was okay, but it never hurt to say a prayer while you gave it.”

“He was right.”

Hunter moved to the bed and examined Colby, who was still burning with fever. He sighed and took off his coat. “It's going to be a long night.”

 

H
E AND
S
ARINA
took turns sponging Colby down to reduce the fever. Hunter called a doctor who was apparently also a good friend. The man lived in Jacobsville, where Cy Parks also lived, but he seemed more than willing to drive up to Houston to see about Colby.

“Couldn't you get somebody closer?” Sarina asked curiously.

Hunter nodded. “Yes, I could, but Micah's known him a long time and he's familiar with the fevers. He was with us in Africa. In fact, he saved Colby's life by amputating that arm when he was shot.”

Sarina was very still. She was remembering something that she'd heard Cy Parks say, about going with a group to Africa and fighting in a conflict there. She stared at Hunter with her suspicions in her eyes.

He was quick. “Don't make assumptions,” he cautioned.

“You and Cy Parks were in Africa,” she said slowly. “So was Colby.”

“A lot of people were, and some of them were sanctioned by government agencies. It's classified,” he added. “I can't talk about it.”

“Oh,” she said, relieved. She laughed softly. “Sorry. I was remembering something I heard about a group of mercenaries who helped restore the government in an African state. Rodrigo told me, in fact.”

Rodrigo had been with them, Hunter recalled, but he wasn't telling Sarina that. Or about Colby. When Colby wanted her to know about his past, he'd tell her. On the other hand, he wondered how Colby was going to react when he knew about Sarina's line of work…

He left her sponging Colby's face and chest and casually mentioned going outside to get something out of his SUV. But when he got out into the darkness, he phoned Micah back and warned him about saying anything to Sarina about Colby's past.