“Beautiful? You always were a terrible liar,” I said, my voice hoarse.
Henry came around the side of my bed and sat beside me. He grabbed my hand with both of his. “That’s not a lie, Eve. After hearing what I did on that phone . . . after hearing you scream and cry and those hits . . .” Henry’s eyes closed as he leaned his head into our connected hands. “Seeing you alive and in one piece is a beautiful thing indeed.”
Given I was the one in a hospital bed, I should be the one who needed comforting. But the opposite appeared true. From the looks of it, Henry had been through more of a beating than I had. I lifted my free hand and combed it through his messy hair.
“What happened, Eve? Who did this to you? Why did they do this?”
The memories were back and meant something, so I searched for that one. It didn’t take long to remember what had happened or who’d done it: assault, hotel hall, threats, unconscious, Rob Tucker.
Followed promptly by: Errand, Target, wife beater, Mrs. Tucker, freedom, Eve.
Shit, the Tucker Errand wasn’t the only one I was working. The man warming my hand happened to be my Target too. What the hell was he doing there? In Tampa? He’d been in Seoul when I passed out with him still on the other end.
Had I managed, in one unfortunate instance, to compromise both Errands? They were both important to me—the Callahan one because of who was involved and the dollar signs tied to it, and the Tucker one because of the devil I was dealing with. If G knew Henry Callahan was sitting beside me in a hospital in Tampa when I looked as if I’d just gone toe-to-toe with a heavyweight boxing champ, she would probably breathe fire.
G . . . what was I going to tell her? Good thing she was taking a vacation in Mexico and threatened that unless it was a matter of life and death, not to bother her. Since I was still, technically, alive, I used that as my excuse to not call her right that second to let her know what had happened. But I’d have to tell her eventually, and just what was I going to say?
I had too many questions and no time or mental fortitude to work them out. It might have been the haze of the drugs or the haze of Henry, but something was definitely messing with my ability to think clearly and logically.
“Eve? Did you hear me?” Henry asked quietly. “Who did this to you?”
He looked at me, and the darkness that flashed through his eyes was staggering. Henry had always been a think first, hit second kind of person. Given the look on his face, if Rob Tucker were to appear and I pointed at him in answer, I had no doubts Henry would have a moment of hit first, think second. But Rob Tucker wasn’t there—thankfully—and Henry was waiting for my answer.
“I don’t remember,” I lied, needing to salvage whatever was left of keeping the Errands separate.
“You don’t remember what?”
I sighed. Henry was a natural problem solver. That was part of the reason he was the president of a Fortune 100 company, but that also carried over into his non-business life. Which was a pain in my ass given my compromising predicament.
“Anything, Henry. I don’t remember much of anything right now.”
“But—”
I shook my head. “Please, thinking about it is only giving me a headache. I’m sure when my head is less foggy and I have time to work stuff out, it’ll all come back to me.”
He looked ready to go one more round of rebuttal, but he closed his eyes and exhaled.
What is he doing here? How did he find me?
“What are you doing here, Henry? How did you find me?” Of all the questions I had, those were the ones I couldn’t stop repeating to myself.
“I’m here because you’re in the hospital looking a bruise or two away from being in a coma.” His forehead creased. “And I found you thanks to a Callahan Industries microchip locator.”
My eyes widened as far as they could given their swollen state. “You had me microchipped?” I would have shrieked that if my vocal chords were up to the task.
“What? No.” Henry shook his head. “Your phone. Every employee-issued phone is microchipped in the event—”
“In the event you might want to spy on an ex?” I raised an eyebrow.
“In the event one of my employees goes missing. I have employees who travel a lot to parts of the world that aren’t exactly friendly to Westerners. The microchip was invented and installed as a life-saving device, not a spying one.” Henry gave me a You satisfied? look.
“What you call life-saving I call life-spying,” I replied.
“Whatever you call it, you can’t deny that that microchip did, in fact, save your life.”
“My life wasn’t in danger.”
Henry’s eyes ran up and down me again. They narrowed as he took in my face. “And what you call not in danger, I call getting beaten to the point of camping out on death’s doorstep.”
He was right, of course, but I’d never admit that. Time to change the subject. “So what happened after I blacked out? Do you know?” I found the bed remote and raised the head of it so I was somewhere between sitting up and lying down.
“Before you blacked out, I’d already located you thanks to my laptop being glued to my hip everywhere I go, including the bathroom—”
“Eww, you were in the bathroom during all of that?” I curled my nose.
Henry rolled his eyes. “I’m exaggerating to make a point, Eve. Roll with me, okay?”
“I’ll roll with you, just so long as it isn’t into the bathroom.”
He groaned. “Once I’d located you, I had one of my colleagues call the emergency system in the Tampa area to alert them that you needed help, along with where you were.”
“So the ambulance showed up, rushed me to the hospital, and then we all lived happily ever after?” I scanned the room. If that was anything close to what HEA looked like, pass me the hemlock. “How long have I been unconscious?”
Henry gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “About two days.”
Knocked unconscious for two days?! Rob Tucker had just made enemies with the single most spiteful person on the continent. I could do revenge like he could swing his fist.
“What are you doing here? I thought you had a crazy week filled with meetings and negotiations and Korean BBQ.” I knew having Henry beside me should have been the opposite of comforting, but there was nothing else I needed more right then.
“Some things are business, and some things are important,” he answered.
“For a man like you, don’t those two things go hand in hand?”
His eyes locked onto mine. My heart picked up its pace, which I promptly attributed to the drugs. “I’m here with you now, aren’t I? Does that answer your question?” he asked.
Things were as convoluted as they had ever been between Henry and me. Nice to see some things stay the same—insert sarcasm here.
“Thanks for being here,” I said, working a smile into place.
He matched his smile to mine. “Where else could I be?”
Of course that would be the instant Mrs. Callahan came to mind. Somewhere out there was a woman wearing a wedding ring the man beside me had given her. Somewhere out there was a woman who’d hired me to seduce the man beside me so she could be free of him. Somewhere out there was a woman who wanted to leave Henry Callahan like I’d wanted to.
I wondered if Mrs. Callahan would be more successful than I had.
“I’m going to rest, I think. I’m pretty exhausted.” My smile shifted into a fake one as my hand went cold. My heart might still react to Henry, but my brain knew the score. My mind would never forget what he’d done, or the reason I’d been reintroduced into his life, or why revenge should always be on the tip of my tongue when I thought of Henry Callahan.
Rising, Henry leaned over me and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. His lips should have felt like ice . . . but they felt warm. “I’ll be in the waiting room when you wake up.” His eyes stayed on me as he headed for the door.
Only when he’d closed it was I able to take a breath. I was in bad shape, mentally and physically. A Target had been responsible for nearly killing me. Another Target was responsible for saving me. One Target I loathed more than I’d ever hated another person. The other Target was one I had to convince myself to hate, despite feeling quite the opposite.
And damn it, what was I going to tell G? The thought of it all made me as tired as I’d just tried to convince Henry I was. Lowering my bed, I curled into my pillow to fall asleep, hoping some of the what-nows would have been magically answered when I awoke.
I’d just closed my eyes when the door opened. I smiled, keeping my eyes closed. “What did you forget?”
“To tell you that the reason I do the things I do is because I care about you.”
My eyes flashed open, my body curling inward to protect itself. I instructed myself to stay calm, to keep my breathing even and my face strong, but I wasn’t sure if I was up to staying calm and strong when Rob Tucker got closer to me with every confident step. He had an overflowing bouquet of flowers in one hand, a large teddy bear in the other—the bandaged one from the file I’d unleashed on him—and a smile like he was congratulating his wife on giving birth to their firstborn.
“You have an unusual way of showing someone you care about them.” My voice sounded almost as scared as I felt. That wouldn’t work. I couldn’t be scared. I wouldn’t let a man like Rob Tucker reduce me to fear and cowering.
“But look at you now, sweetheart,” he said proudly, setting the bouquet on the nightstand before tucking in the bear beside me. “I can already see on your face and hear in your voice that you’re showing me more of the proper respect and reverence I deserve. I didn’t hit you because I wanted to. I hit you because I had to. You needed to understand your role in this, as well as mine.” After arranging a few of the flowers, he looked at me with a wide smile.
He was proud. He was looking at me as if I was his child who’d just taken her first steps. He was pleased with the way our relationship was progressing . . . because laying a woman out so badly she was unconscious in the hospital for two days was the pinnacle of progress.
Rob Tucker had some seriously f**ked up views on relationships.
I had two options. I could lash back at him with my words and fists like I was twitching to do—right before pressing the nurse call button and screaming bloody murder. That option was appealing in just about every way possible.
The second option was trickier. Much trickier. I could play along with him in his twisted game. I’d have to play the beaten “girl” he’d pulled the spine right out of, and play pantomime in this sick relationship game. If I played along, I could free Mrs. Tucker and exact a sharper revenge on Rob Tucker. If I played the part of a weak woman, I could come out the other end as the strongest one he’d ever met.
Option one was instant gratification and so appealing. Option two would take time and dedication and couldn’t be executed overnight. Continuing with the Errand would mean working two of the most difficult and intricate Errands of my career. Option two could also mean death. The man grinning at me had made it clear he had no qualms about beating me close to death, and I didn’t doubt he’d finish where he’d left off if he deemed me stepping out of line again.