A Time to Die. BEVERLY BARTON

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      As he walked toward the kitchen, he told her, “Lieutenant Desmond is on his way over here. He called in a report, and a couple of squad cars should arrive any minute.” Deke opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of water. “The bomb squad and CSI will be here soon to work the scene. It’s possible there are more bombs.”

      Lexie’s muscles tightened and her stomach churned. “Here in the building?”

      Deke shook his head. “That’s highly unlikely, but not impossible. If this guy had wanted to kill you yesterday, he would have placed the bomb in your office or a part of the building where he knew you would be. Same goes for the car bombs. If he’d wanted to kill you, he could have waited for you to get in your car before detonating the bomb.”

      Lexie heaved a sigh of relief.

      Deke handed her the bottled water. “Ms. Bedell and Geoff are coming over, too.”

      Lexie twisted off the cap, lifted the bottle to her lips and took a hefty swig of the natural spring water. The moment the cool liquid hit her stomach, she moaned quietly. “The water was a bad idea.” She reached down, picked up her cane and then stood.

      “Need any help?” he asked.

      She hurried as quickly as possible in the direction of the half bath that was located beside the dining room. “Oh, mercy. I’m not sure I can make it.”

      The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Deke rushed to her, swept her up into his arms and carried her into the powder room. He tossed back the commode lid and seat, situated Lexie in front of the bowl and propped her on her feet by keeping his arm firmly around her waist. She dropped her cane, which she’d been clutching against her side. When she bent over and heaved, Deke slipped in behind her, still supporting her securely.

      After she threw up her morning coffee and some viscid stomach fluids, she lifted her head, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glanced over her shoulder at Deke. She hated for him to see her like this. After spending helpless months in hospitals and undergoing years of physical therapy that had required her to put her well-being in other people’s hands, she had come to pride herself on being totally self-reliant over the past five years.

      “Sorry.” She whispered the one-word apology.

      “Hey, I’ve seen grown men toss their cookies for less reason.”

      When she tried to stand up, she staggered. Thank goodness he hadn’t released his hold. Standing perfectly still for a few minutes, she breathed deeply. Once the nausea and dizziness subsided, she pulled away from Deke.

      “I’ll be fine.” She held on to the edge of the decorative, free-standing sink. “I need to wash my face and rinse out my mouth. You can leave me alone now.” When he remained behind her, as if he were waiting to catch her if she wavered, she looked back at him and said, “Really. I’m all right.”

      He gave her a stern, concerned look, then walked out of the powder room and closed the door behind him.

      Lexie gripped the sink’s rim with white-knuckled strength. It wasn’t like her to fall apart in a crisis, so why now? Maybe it was because in the past ten years, all her crises had been non-life-threatening. Not since that horrible day in Gadi all those years ago had she been faced with the possibility of dying or of her actually being the cause of someone else’s death. She still blamed herself for Marty Bearn getting killed. No one else blamed her, not even Marty’s widow or his daughter. But no matter how many people had exonerated her for the crime, she knew she was guilty. She’d been the overeager reporter who had told her young cameraman to keep filming when the assassination squad attacked and President’s Tum’s guard fired back.

      If she and Marty had taken cover as soon as they’d realized what was happening, neither of them would have been shot. Marty would still be alive and she wouldn’t—

      “Lexie, are you sure you’re all right?” Deke called through the closed door.

      “I’m fine.” Even to her own ears, she didn’t sound convincing. “I just need a couple more minutes.”

      The first time she had been marked for death, it had been the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. To the man who had shot her, it had been nothing personal. He hadn’t meant for his bullet to hit her; she had simply been caught in the crossfire. This time, danger had come to her, spoken her name and claimed her. To the man who had threatened her and Cara and Helping Hands, it was personal.

      DEKE HAD LEFT LEXIE alone in the powder room for the past twenty minutes, checking on her twice and being told both times that she was fine. He knew better. She wasn’t fine. Although she probably hadn’t vomited again, she was sick. Sick with worry. And, no doubt, memories from a long-ago day, half a world away, were plaguing her. Was she reliving the moment her cameraman went down? Or the moment she took a bullet in the back? A bullet from his Colt M4A1 carbine. Was she asking herself why this was happening to her now, after she had finally put her life back together and was happy?

      Or was she happy? Really happy?

      Okay, so maybe it was chauvinistic of him, but he couldn’t help what he was thinking, could he? Lexie Murrough was a beautiful, intelligent woman, and yet at thirty-four, she didn’t have a man in her life. Unless you counted Bain Desmond, whom she said was only a friend. Yes, a woman could have a successful, satisfying life without being in a long-term relationship, but…

      The doorbell rang, jerking Deke out of his thoughts. He trekked across the room, paused in front of the door and peered through the peephole, then unlocked the door and opened it to allow Lieutenant Desmond, Cara Bedell and Geoff Monday entrance.

      “How’s Lexie?” Desmond and Cara asked simultaneously.

      “A little shaken up but okay.”

      “Where is she?” Cara charged into the loft, searching for her friend.

      The powder-room door opened and Lexie emerged, her face pale, her makeup partially washed off and her shoulders bravely squared. “Y’all made it here in record time,” she said.

      Cara ran to Lexie and grabbed her by the arms, then looked her over from head to toe. “Thank God you’re all in one piece.” She glanced back at the detective. “Geoff and I followed Bain the whole way. People get out of the way for a policemen’s flashing light.”

      Desmond came up behind Cara, reached around her and took Lexie’s free hand. He gave it a squeeze. “I need to go downstairs and play ringleader to the circus out there. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible, and I’ll need you to answer a few questions.”

      “Go. Do what you need to do,” Lexie told him. “Deke will take care of things here.”

      Desmond glanced at Deke. “Actually, I need Mr. Bronson to go with me and fill me in on what he saw. But Mr. Monday will stay here with you and Cara.”

      Cara pulled Lexie toward the sofa. The two women sat side by side and began talking softly, almost whispering.

      When Desmond left the apartment, Deke went with him. As they waited at the elevator, Desmond asked, “Were there any people in those cars that blew up out back?”

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

СКАЧАТЬ