The Housewife Assassin's Garden of Deadly Delights (30 page)

Ryan is silent for so long that I’m afraid the cell transmission somehow dropped out. Finally, he says, “Arnie is still waiting for the release of Catherine’s body. I’ll send him to Johns Hopkins first, to retrieve the ring.”

I hang up.
 

I’d love to crawl into bed beside Jack. Instead, I move one of the room’s two guest chairs as close to him as I can, and I inch my hand under his patient gown so that I can place it on his chest, directly over his heart. That way, I can feel it beating, if just barely.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” I whisper, as if this is the magical phrase that will rouse him from his fateful slumber.

But it doesn’t.

I pace the floor until Arnie shows up to courier the microdot back to Acme.

“You’ll call as soon as you crack it, right?” I ask him.

Arnie nods, but he can’t pull his eyes away from Jack. Who can blame him? The beeping monitors are bad enough. Add to that the bandage covering Jack’s head, his gray pallor and bloodless lips, I’d been struck speechless too.

I don’t have to tell him to pray for our dear friend. I watch as he crosses himself.

Before turning to leave, he kisses me on my forehead.

I hate seeing the pity in his eyes.

Chapter 18

Heeling In

When you don’t have time to give a plant the right home, you can provide a temporary one for it by setting it into a shallow trench and covering its roots with soil so that it has the protection it needs until it is ready to be permanently planted. Gardeners call this process “heeling in.”

Obviously, this is different from teaching a dog to heel, which, teaches him to move with you, by staying next to your right leg. Usually, this involves weeks of training with a leash and some treats.

Heeling in a human is somewhat more complicated. A leash puts you on the right course. A whip may be needed to show him who’s boss. However, if the human can’t be trained, the shallow trench will once again be put to good use.

Only this time, what you plant there will find a permanent home.

The nurse shakes me gently. “Mrs. Stone—”

I sit up with a start.
Oh, my God, did Jack die while I was sleeping?

But no, the monitor’s slow, constant beep hasn’t changed.
 

It’s been two days since Jack was shot. The nurses are kind about my constant vigil. They’ve learned to move around me, as if I’m just another piece of furniture.
 

This one notices my hand over Jack’s heart, and shifts her eyes so that I can’t see the sadness within them. She is no stranger to grief. If he doesn’t wake soon from his coma, they’ll try to convince me to let him slip away naturally.

I can’t. Not yet, anyway.

Before she turns back, she forces a smile. “I’m sorry to have startled you. I didn’t mean to wake you because of any change in Mr. Craig’s condition, but because he has a special guest.”

I glance around the room. The fatigue that mists my brain fades instantly when I see whom she means:

Lee Chiffray.

A broad-shouldered man in a black suit stands in front of the transom beside the room’s closed door. He is part of the president’s Secret Service detail.

Lee doesn’t follow my gaze. He’s too busy living up to the nurse’s impression of a compassionate statesman. “Thank you, nurse,” he says, all the while patting her hand as he walks her to the threshold.
 

She practically floats out the door. I doubt she’ll wash her hand for at least a week. Perhaps I should request a different nurse to change Jack’s bandage.
 

Lee walks over to the bed. He purses his lips at the scenario in front of him: Jack’s head in bandages, and the lethargic monitor reading. Finally, he murmurs, “I’m sorry he got shot, Donna.”

“Kind of you to say.” I can’t keep the frost out of my voice. If what Xia and Catherine said is true, he is the reason Jack is now hovering between life and death.

Oops, the nurse left her surgical cart behind. I pocket a scalpel. You never know when it’ll come in handy.

“I talked to his attending physician,” Lee says. “He assures me they’re doing all they can to save him.”

I shrug. “How did you hear about Jack?”

“Ryan called me.”

“Oh? What else did he tell you?”

“Beyond the fact that Catherine was killed too? He also divulged that you were in the process of apprehending her assassin when Jack was shot.”

“And I presume you know the assassin was Liang Xia.” I wait for his flinch.
 

Instead, recognition comes with a frown. “Isn’t that the same MSS operative who was involved in China’s attempts to poison our crops?”

“It wasn’t China, Lee. It was the Quorum. And, by the way, Secretary of Agriculture Harkness knew of a threat, and chose to do nothing about it. As a reward for keeping his mouth shut, I’m sure there’s some fat bank account with his name on it.”
 

Lee’s eyes harden. “If that’s true, I’ll have him arrested immediately.”

I take a step closer. “But, you already knew about his role in this, didn’t you?”

“What? How would I?” He stares down at me, perplexed. “Donna, what is this about? Are you saying that I’d poison my own country?”

“Yes. You’d have a lot to gain from it: power and money, let alone keeping the world in a state of fear and terror.” I take a step closer. “Before she died, Xia claimed it was you who sent her to assassinate Catherine.”

“That’s ridiculous! I’d already made my deal with Catherine. She was to get a full pardon on my last day in office. You knew this.”

“Yes, that may have been the original plan—until Catherine attempted to change your little bargain.” I watch his eyes narrow in anger at my accusation. “Lee, Catherine got in touch with me because she had evidence that you are the head of the Quorum.”

My remark stuns him into silence. When he finally finds his tongue, it’s to growl, “She was making a crazy accusation. She couldn’t have anything of the sort, because it doesn’t exist!” He looks me in the eye. “Donna, you of all people shouldn’t have believed her.”
 

“How about Xia? She swore that the kill order on Catherine came from you.”

“I don’t give orders to MSS operatives, Mrs. Stone. For God’s sake, I’m the President of the United States—or have you forgotten?” His anger makes him stupid. He grabs my left arm and pulls me close to him. His eyes search mine for the hope that I believe him.

I murmur, “How could I ever forget?”
 

“Since they’re both dead, you’ll have to take my word, Donna,” he mutters.

Good for Ryan. He didn’t tell Lee about Catherine’s microdot.

Our bodies are mere inches apart. Lee’s eyes drop to my lips.
 

If they’d dropped as low as my wrist, he’d see I’m clenching the scalpel and I’m ready to use it.

But I don’t. Not because I don’t reciprocate the longing in his eyes, but because Jack’s heart monitor seems to be revving up, like a Harley climbing out of a mud hole.

Lee and I look over at Jack in time to see his eyes blink open. His torso rises slightly from the bed. He croaks, “Donna…”

I toss off Lee’s arm in order to run to Jack’s side and smother him with kisses.

“I guess this means you’ve reconsidered my proposal,” Jack murmurs.

“No, I was hoping you’d consider mine.” I sit down on the bed facing him, and I take his hand. Holding it tight, I declare, “Jack Craig, my love, my soul mate—I can’t fathom my world without you. Will you marry me?”
 

“Hell yeah, baby. I thought you’d never ask.”
 

He couples his answer with a tender kiss.

When I turn around, Lee is gone.

Jack shifts slowly so that he can see too. “Was that—?”

“Um…yeah—Lee.”

He shakes his head. “Figures. For a moment there, I’d mistaken him for the Grim Reaper.”

“That may not be too far from the truth.”

From the look on Jack’s face, he’s curious as to what I mean by that, but the full story will have to wait. Now that POTUS and his security posse are clearing the building, the nurses and doctors flood into the room to revel in that little miracle called life.

It’s okay. Jack and I will have the rest of our lives to catch up on everything he missed.

Chapter 19
 

Tendril Loving Care

Tendrils are twisting and clinging growth on vines that allow plants to attach themselves to a trellis for support.

Humans also grow, and in the process, sometimes they cling.

It’s an honor to provide support to someone you love. If they prove worthy of your care, adoration, and devotion, by all means hold on for dear life. You’ll both thrive.

George is waiting at BWI to take us home. Acme’s in-house medicine man, Doctor Fleishman, has accompanied him.
 

“Because we’ll be flying at a high enough altitude, Ryan felt we should play it safe,” he assures us. “I’ll use the flight time to observe Jack, test his memory and motor skills, and clue you in on some things you can do to keep him comfortable at home.”

Jack winks at me. I presume he had his own idea of what we could be doing with this time to ourselves, considering all the wonderful play spaces on this plane. Oh well, his Mile-High club fantasy will just have to wait.

We’ve just reached cruising altitude when Ryan’s call comes through. I put it on speaker.
 

Ryan’s voice booms through the cabin. “Arnie hacked Catherine’s microdot.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Jack chides him.

“Frankly, I think we should wait until we’re together, and not just because it’s truly too sensitive for airwaves. Frankly, I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you see Catherine’s intel.”

“Well, that’s just peachy-keen,” I mutter. “It’ll be gnawing at me for the next five hours! What am I supposed to do, twiddle my thumbs?”

Ryan laughs. “Take a nice hot shower.”

“Hardee-har-har.” So much for getting the last laugh.

I’ll admit it: I could certainly use one, and the bathroom shows no sign of the struggle that took place just a few days ago. Jack’s blood has been wiped clean, the marble floors and counters sparkle, and the smell of rosemary wafts through the cabin.

It’s not as if I expect Xia’s ghost to rise from the steam created by the state-of-the-art Thunderhead rain showerhead, but I think I’ll pass anyway.
 

The memory of Jack’s near-fatal assault will stay with me for quite some time. The scar above his ear is reminder enough of how close I came to losing him.