Severed Threads (36 page)

“
And the bracelet? She gave it to you, didn’t she?”

Chase dropped his hand immediately. “It was a gift before she died…at the hospital. A reminder of the past we shared. I can take it off if it bothers you.”

Rachel didn’t know how to answer that. The connection he felt with his wife was apparent, but she was no longer part of his life. Or was she? “I just have one question,” Rachel said. “All this time…why did you keep this a secret? Is it because you still loved her? Maybe even still do?”

“
I’m not going to lie to you. I cared about her, but I didn’t know what real love was until I met you. I didn’t want you to think less of me because of a mistake I made when I was young. Because that’s what it was. A mistake.”

Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“
Honey, I just want you to know,” he said, “I didn’t have a clue about Allie or why Helen chose not to tell me for six years. I didn’t even know she was dying until your brother intercepted an urgent call from the hospital in Denver and relayed the message to me."

Rachel sniffed a sarcastic laugh. “Devon. That explains a lot. But the fact remains, you left to be with her and said nothing to me about it.” Indignation brought her to her feet.

Chase immediately reached for her hand. “Please…just listen.” He stood and touched her on the shoulder, urging her to sit down.

She resumed her seat and stared down at her melting ice cream. She felt angry, hurt, bewildered. Betrayed. “No wonder Devon had me believing you were a heartless bastard. Turns out your were.”

Chase cracked a smile to shield his embarrassment and nodded at the couple seated nearby. His gaze returned and he asked, “Are you sure you want to hear the rest of this?”

“
Why stop now?”

He leaned in on his elbows and looked her square in the face. “The first time your father invited me to dinner and you walked in the door, my heart sank. After we spent the night talking for hours, I knew I’d met the girl of my dreams. The two years we spent together were the
best
of my life. And when I got that call and left you after your father died, I honestly thought I was doing the right thing…for everyone.”

Rachel shifted in her seat. She glanced at the neighboring table, wondering if the elderly couple was hearing this too.

“
For the past four years, instead of holding you, I was holding out. I should’ve come back. I should’ve let you into my life, but instead all I did was let you down. I’m asking now…no, I’m begging…give me a second chance, Rachel.”

She peered into his crystal blue eyes, searching for a reason to believe – a reason to have faith in the man she once loved. “You’re the first person that broke my heart,” she told him. “For the rest of my life, you’ll always be the one who hurt me most. Don’t ever forget that.”

Chase wagged his head. “Never.” He took her hand and kissed it, and somehow the hurt began to fade. Yet it would take time for trust to grow.

Rachel stirred her ice cream and placed a spoonful of the creamy mixture on her tongue. Staring down at the bracelet on his arm, she thought of a woman dying in her bed with a sick child to care for and decided it was time to be the bigger person – to find the compassion buried in her soul.

“
So, tell me about your daughter,” she said. “What do the doctors think?”

“
Allie needs a bone marrow transplant and has a severely weakened immune system. Dr. Bailey mentioned the possibility of putting her in an experimental antibody program. As it turns out, she’s the perfect candidate. With being so ill and young, her lungs, liver and stomach would be severely damaged with intense chemotherapy.”

Rachel remained silent, trying to absorb his words – the severity of his poor daughter’s condition. She realized fate had brought Chase and Allie into her life. If she could set aside her doubts and fears, and forgive the past, there would be more than enough room in her heart for both of them.

* * *

As they made their way back to room three-ten, Rachel noticed an ominous man standing at the far end of the corridor, watching them with pointed interest. She wasn’t sure if she would’ve recognized him if she’d met somewhere else. But who was she fooling? She’d recognize Pollero’s bodyguard anywhere.

“
Miss Lyons,” Bo called out.

Click. Click. Click.
With each approaching step, she could feel a new surge of adrenaline in her veins, her anxieties multiplying. She glanced at Chase and realized his eyes had already found the source of her concern.

“
Who is he?” Chase asked, vexation tilting his brows.

Bo halted a few feet away. “I need to talk to your brother. Do you know where he is?”

She narrowed her eyes, annoyed by his bold manner. “From what I’ve heard, your business is through. I think you need to leave us alone.”

Confusion resonated in Chase’s face. “Rachel, what’s going on?”

Before she could answer, Bo pulled out a leather wallet and flashed his ID.

“
The name’s Bo Novak. I’m a DEA agent. Miss Lyons and I met while I was working on an undercover investigation.”

DEA?
Rachel stared at Bo in disbelief. “You’re a narcotics officer?”

“
That’s right.”

“
Since when?”

“
Miss Lyons, I’m sorry but I need your cooperation. Especially with one of your brother’s captors now on the loose.”

Chase’s hand tightened on her forearm. “
Captors?
Is that what you were trying to tell me? Devon was kidnapped?”

Novak had turned into a fountain of knowledge, spouting more than Rachel wanted revealed. “His name’s Marcos Olivares. He’s wanted on suspicion of murder, drug smuggling, theft, assault and the list goes on. According to your crew member, Blaine McKenzie, he was on your ship this afternoon and made off with a small fortune. My mission is to – ”

“
Holly shit! You’re telling me I was
robbed
? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Rachel cut in. “Listen to me, Chase. This man isn’t at all who he claims to be.”

Bo sniffed a laugh. “Then who am I, Miss Lyons?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “You’re the creep who stood by while my brother’s partner was beaten to death. The same lowlife who did nothing while a mobster threatened my life. What kind of a cop does that, Mr. Novak? If that’s who you really are.”

“
I know this is hard for you to understand, but I didn’t witness Logan Tulles’ murder. Your brother did. I assure you that if I’d known what was going to happen, I would’ve taken measures to prevent it.”

She shook her head, still unconvinced.

“
I was under orders to bring down a drug lord by whatever means necessary. If your brother’s willing to testify to the shooting and murder that took place, then I just might be able to bring down the
real
criminal behind the Polleros.”

“
You don’t say. Well, you know what? Far as I’m concerned, you’re the
one
who needs to go to jail.”

Chase cast her an admonishing look while Novak pulled out a card.

“
Here’s my number, Mr. Cohen. When your girlfriend wakes up and realizes the danger she and her brother are in, give me a call.” He walked across the hallway and bent down over the water fountain. He remained there cooling his thirst for what seemed like an eternity.

Chase turned to her. “I don’t understand any of this. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you ask for my help?”

“
I know it sounds bad but you don’t know the whole story.” She glanced in Novak’s direction. “There were really bad people involved. Guns, knives, death threats. I didn’t know who I could trust. I wanted to tell you but there just wasn’t the right – ”

“–
time? Or maybe you didn’t care enough to confide in me.”

Even with hurt showing in his eyes, her indignation won out.

“
Wait a minute…how did I become the bad guy here?” she spouted. “You know, on second thought, this matter doesn’t have to involve you at all. You’ve got your daughter to think about. Just let me grab my bag and I’ll be on my way.”

Bo straightened. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stepped into the closest elevator, still watching her as the doors closed. Assuring her with a downturned look that he wouldn’t be far away.

Chase touched Rachel’s cheek, bringing her troubled thoughts back to him. “Listen to me. I love you…unconditionally. How could I
not
be involved? But, honey, you’ve got to tell me everything and you need to start by explaining what happened on the ship.”

Rachel closed her eyes, realizing she had no right to be angry with him for keeping secrets when she had so many herself.

“
Excuse me,” came from the nurse, standing in the adjacent doorway. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Cohen, but Dr. Bailey would like to speak to you right away.”

Chase nodded. He reached for Rachel’s hand and gazed down at her from the top of his eyes. “Don’t go anywhere. If you care about anyone…including yourself, you’ll be here waiting when I come out.”

After the door closed behind him, Rachel stood in the hallway measuring the distance to the elevator. Dreading the thorough interrogation that was sure to come.

Thirty

Devon’s upper body was spread out across the table. His forehead rested lifelessly on his layered arms. After three beers and four shots of Tequila, he was blissfully numb and intended to stay that way for as long as possible.

“
Wake up!” Naomi snapped.

She hovered like a dog looking at a patch of grass. Even in the room’s dark corner, with one eye cracked, he could see the phone in her hand. He pushed himself upright in his seat and belched. His vision mindlessly traveled over her voluminous breasts, eventually landing on her delicious downturned lips.

“
Want me to call you a cab?” she asked.

He pinned on a smile. “Been called worse.”

“
Cute.”

“
Yep, that’s me.”

“
Old joke.”

“
Getting older by the minute. Just bring me a cup of coffee, okay?”

She huffed. “Straighten up, Lyons. You’re not going anywhere until you sober up.” She sashayed behind the bar looking more perturbed than usual. She turned on the faucet full force and in a matter of seconds the glass coffee pot was filled and dropped on the burner.

Devon looked to his right. There were half a dozen patrons in the room, all well lubricated despite the fact that it was barely 6 P.M. A stubbly hustler walked in, trying to sell concert tickets but was shouted down by a noisy, vulgar blonde. At the end of the bar, an acne-scarred kid hugged a beer bottle, scoping his hopeless options. Devon ventured a look in the opposite direction. Two men were huddled in a matching corner, throwing back shots, unaware that their voices could be heard over the room’s high-pitched theatrics.

My kind of place.
Devon was barely twenty-one when his old man offered to buy him a drink in this seedy establishment. Somehow Sam had managed to keep his anger hidden after discovering his son was planning to drop out of college and sacrifice his hard-earned scholarship.

“
Get your life together or you’ll end up like the rest of these bums,” he warned. His dad’s disappointment and drunks staggering out of the place made a memorable impression. Two months later, he was back at school and eventually graduated with honors. Yet here he was, eight years later, a loser. Just like the rest of them.