The One (23 page)

Read The One Online

Authors: Vivienne Harris-Scott

While
looking at her, he was praying.

Please
dear God
,

She's
suffered enough
,

This
is all me, it's all on me
,

Punish
me
,

Please
punish me
,

Let
her be
,

Please...

Two doctors
had finally come to Ethan after 4 hours of silence, and informed him of
his wife situation and the choices that needed to be made within the next 48
hours.

He
had been devastated upon hearing the news and wondered how he could and would
tell her.

He
already made the choice in his heart, but he would respect and support her
decision no matter what.

When
she would wake up, she would have to choose between herself and their child.

I
choose her.

Ethan
thought, as he finally pushed the door open.

I
choose her.

CHAPTER 17

Damage control

James

Santa Monica. Los Angeles, USA. January
2011.

“
Who
the hell are you?
”
she said, furious.

“
James Marshall.
”
he replied coolly, undeterred.

Staring at
her door, pondering which approach to take when she would come out, James had
been surprised by the quick opening of the door, and her brusque tone when she
faced him. Saying his name has been an automatism.

Now,
they were facing each other, more like staring, and evaluating the other.

She
was the first to move, and pushed her wheeled suitcase past him saying,
"Well, whoever you are Mr Marshall, I don't have time for
whatever you are selling! I have a plane to catch..."

She
was on her way to the elevators and almost there, when I said,
"I'm not selling anything Ms McGregor, or should I say, Ms Muñez?"

“
And, by the way
…”
I asked, "Is it Thalia or
Victoryn?"

She
stopped moving, and I could tell she was trying to control her breathing before
facing me.

She
finally turned around, smiled and said calmly, "I think we should
talk."

I
was surprised. Again. She was showing a coolness that she couldn't have felt.

Decidedly,
a very intriguing woman.

She
motioned me to the lift with her arm and said boldly, "I wasn't kidding. I
have a plane to catch, so if you want to keep this conversation going, I guess
you have to come with me."

It
was my turn to smile. She had guts.

((~~!~~))

We were on Emirates flight EK216 from LAX
to Dubai and would be landing in about 16 hours and I was starting to chill,
sipping in my scotch, while she was looking at me, and waiting for an answer.

She
had asked me whom I was working for as the lift descended in her building,
and I had lazily replied, "Does it matter?"

She
had pressed the emergency button, stopping the elevator; pushed me against the
wall, her hand on my chest saying with a voice trembling with anger,
"Listen to me Mr Marshall, if that's even your real name, I will be
boarding my flight in 90 minutes. You can either be with me or sit on your
ass in a police station. When this lift opens, I will have you
arrested for trespassing. The doorman will take my word for it. Do
you want to chance it and lose my trail, or tell me who you work
for?"

As
I said, the woman had gumption.

Now
2 hours later, as we were sitting in first class seats, she had been asking me
about my work, not giving anything away, and when I asked her when she would
start talking about herself, she smiled and replied, "James, we have
another 16 odd hours to get to know each other! All work, and no
foreplay?"

She
laughed. I liked her laugh.

Finally,
after a few more minutes of banter, she said with a serious tone, "Answer
this, and I will tell you anything you want to know about me.
”

She
had asked the one question I didn't know how to reply.

See,
in the lift, the decision had been easy: I didn't want to lose her, so I
admitted working for McCarty. She had smiled sadly, pushed the lobby
’
s button and then had asked if I had my
passport on me. Her flight was international.

Now, after
making ourselves comfortable, chitchatting, and settled for the long haul, she
had finally said, "James, will you share whatever I tell you with
Julian?"

I
hadn't replied. Not yet anyway.

I
didn't want to lie to her, so I was seriously thinking about what I would do
with whatever information would be provided.

I
knew she had two names that I knew of, I didn't know why yet, but suspected
something huge.

I
knew she was a frequent flyer. This had been confirmed at the Emirates counter
when a hostess came to her, welcoming her back in Arabic, takings her bags, and
then shepherded us smoothly through airport security and to the first
class lounge with ceremony.

I
knew she spoke several languages fluently, which made it easy for her to blend
in if necessary.

I
knew she was guarded, and only took me with her because, being smart, she
wanted to keep in complete control over someone who evidently knew her
identities until she knew more and could neutralize the said person. This is
something I would have done myself if I had been in her shoes, and her quick
thinking and reacting commanded my respect from a professional point of view.

But
most importantly, I knew she could disappear again if I gave her a wrong
answer.

We
were headed for Dubai. I had no idea what or who was awaiting her there, but I
would have bet my last dollar that if I gave her the wrong answer during this
flight, she would disappear on me upon landing, and I wouldn't be able to find
her this time.

She
was clever and resourceful; she had done this before, and could do it again. I
had to carefully consider whom I was dealing with, and what could be reported
to my client.

Something
else also made me think twice about my answer.

She
intrigued me.

Yes,
I know what you're thinking,
he's thinking with the wrong head
... But
no, I ain't.

In
my line of work, you encounter all sorts of characters, but this woman was
a mix of strength and vulnerability I don't see often. Add intelligence to
that, and the fact that she was beautiful, that gives you an intriguing
jigsaw puzzle.

I
had the feeling she would tell me the truth about everything I would ask if she
could get the same commitment from me.

I
felt like she could see through me.

I
didn't want to lie to her, so I didn't, and said, "I will tell him only
what you allow me to tell him." looking straight into her green eyes.

She
smiled, our glassed clinked, and she said, "Ask away, James."

((~~!~~))

I regained my composure fast when I saw
the man in front of my door.

Show
no fear
, I told myself

That's
the only way to get through things in life.

After
he said his name, I perused his face, running it through my mind, trying to see
if I knew him. No, was the answer. Then, I decided to send him packing.

I
didn't have time for whatever his deal was.

I
was almost at the elevators when he called my name, well, my names, actually.
That made me stop; I was already thinking about who he really was and how I
would ditch him.

Smile
,
I told myself, and then turned to look at him.

I
needed to find out what he knew exactly. I ordered him to get into the
lift with me, and asked him whom he was working for. When he refused to answer,
sheer anger rushing through me, I pushed him violently against the wall,
telling him if he didn't answer me right then and there, I'd have his ass
hauled to jail. Was it worth it for him?

He
was quick to decide he'd rather follow me instead, and admitted working for
Julian. I felt relief and sadness.

So,
Julian had sent him? He was looking for me? Why?

I
decided not to ask anything more until I had formulated a plan on how to deal
with James Marshall.

I
think that took him by surprise because on the ride to LAX, I could tell he
felt uncomfortable. I was silent the entire time, while he was asking me
questions I didn't bother to reply to.

Finally,
at airport, I led the way to the Emirates counter and James seeing I was carted
away by the VIP hostess bought a ticket on the spot to stay with me. Even in
the business lounge, waiting for boarding, I did not say a single word to him.

I
was busy thinking about all the reasons why Julian would send someone for me.

I
thought about the night we shared and the ache I had been feeling since leaving
him that morning, - Jesus, it was only yesterday!
Why did it feel like
weeks?!!!! -,
but I also thought about Ethan. If Julian had sent someone to
my address, it could only mean he knew who I was. How? I wasn
’
t sure, and didn't care at this point. I
was only concerned about what he would do with his knowledge.

Why
did he send James? To get me back? Or to hand me over to Ethan?

With
this in mind, I decided, the safest thing to do was to go to Dubai as planned,
find what James knew, and then act accordingly.

See,
I hadn't decided yet, if I would ditch the man upon landing in Dubai, or else.
All would depend on our conversation.

When
the plane took off, I knew I had James as captive audience. I relaxed, ordered
some drinks, and asked a few question about his work. He replied to all, and it
appeared he was working for a security firm used by Julian's business manager,
usually for corporate stuff, but when Julian had asked them to get someone to
find me, he was assigned the job due to the sensitive personal side of it.
Julian was a well-known actor, and anything regarding his private life would
sell highly to tabloids, so no ordinary PI would do for this kind of work, the
temptation to sell the information was too great for these guys
apparently. That's when James came in. He was an ex-intelligence agent, turned
corporate handler, and could do things, quickly, discreetly and efficiently.

Now
that I had a better idea of the man I was dealing with, I was wondering if I
should just tell him the truth, or not.

From
what he had been saying, Julian did not know who I was. James hadn't called him
yet to tell him he had found me. This was good. I could work with that.

When
I had asked him why he hadn't reported anything yet, he grinned at me
and sheepishly said, "I'm intrigued. I wanted to know more about you
before giving my report," That made me smile and I replied, "Why
James? Don't tell me you are already falling in love with me?" His
expression was shocked, and I laughed even harder.

This
was going to be fun!

Decided
to push the banter, I added mockingly, "James, not to worry, I've got 10
years on you at least, you're a baby by my standards..."

He
had smiled broadly and replied mildly offended, "How old do you think I
am?"

"28
give or take," I said with a smile of my own.

"29,"
he admitted, somewhat surprised at my accuracy.

"See,
you're a baby..." I laughed gently.

"Are
you telling me you are 38?" he asked, incredulously.

"That's
what I'm telling you." I replied, steady.

"No.
”
he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yes.
”
I stated, taking a sip of my drink.

"Women
lie about their age." he quipped, his lips pouting.

"Not
this woman." I grinned.