James, Blue, and I go to the lounge while the doctor speaks with Fernando, Brock, and Jose. I drink some impressively good coffee and James eats a very delicious banana muffin. I stole one bite of it and James gave me a death glare—after tasting it I understood why. What kind of a hospital has coffee and muffins this good? Maybe their security could have bested Fernando’s.
This isn’t like where my father died. It had a tiny “family room” with hard chairs and a view of a parking lot. The only food came from a vending machine. The taste of Doritos will always be associated with fear and death to me. Grief unfurls along with those memories, opening its taloned fists to offer me that flavor on my tongue. I sip the excellent coffee to chase it away. Sniff the top of James’s head to clear it of the scent of that place…this place.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggest to James.
He smiles at me.
“You got a tooth coming in there, baby?” I ask, leaning closer. His top gum is red. Looks like it. We are in for a rough few days until that tooth pops out…and also because of the whole Robert’s hovering near death, Peter has run off with a cache of zero days, and all the other mayhem.
We take Blue out so he can do his business and we can enjoy fresh air. The day has warmed, and my coat is overkill so I carry it over my arm. James faces out from his carrier, while Blue sniffs out this new territory. The campus is winding paths and natural plantings, the city beyond a gray haze in the heat.
A phone buzzes in my coat pocket and again I fish out the flip phone. A text from Mulberry. I’m thirty minutes away. Meet me at the hotel when you can.
Okay, I text back.
When I get back to Robert’s room. Brock is in the hall speaking with a burly man in a dark suit. The guy screams security. He watches me like I’m a threat—so he’s not dumb.
“Mrs. Maxim,” Brock says as I approach. “This is Mateo, he will be on the door for the next shift.” I smile at him. His lips twitch. Not friendly. That’s fine.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask Brock. “Privately.”
He nods and gestures toward the lounge, which is empty at the moment. I walk in first with Blue by my side and he follows, closing the door. “Okay,” I say. “We’ve known each other for a long time. Let’s get honest, Brock. What is going on?”
His jaw tightens for a moment but he nods, like he agrees with me. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why he is so willing to risk everything for you.”
The words surprise me on several fronts. First, I didn’t think Brock was going to be this honest. And second, I didn’t think Robert ever risked everything for me. He always has control of every situation. It’s kind of his thing. He’d never put all his chips on the table unless he was guaranteed to win, right? Also, I was talking about the fake coma, not our relationship.
“I don’t think he is risking everything for me.” Blue taps my hip like he agrees.
“I thought we were being honest.”
“I am.”
His gaze drops to James who’s still in his carrier, facing out. I can’t see his expression, but something about it makes Brock turn away. He goes to where the coffee urns and muffins are arranged on the sideboard, his back to me. I watch his strong shoulders move under his dark shirt as he pours himself a cup. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
“I get it that you’re brave and sexy—that you’re unique. But what he’s done for you makes no sense. He’s given up his fucking life to have you.” Brock turns back to me. “That’s not like him. He doesn’t do that.”
“Exactly,” I say, seizing on his slip. “That’s how I know he’s faking it.”
Brock’s eyes close and he takes in a slow breath as if gathering his will to not scream at me. “He. Is. Not. Faking. It.”
“Yeah, well. As you said, it would be totally out of character for him to actually risk himself for another person.”
“That’s not what I said.” Brock’s eyes open. “I said it didn’t make sense to me that he’d risk everything for you.”
“Is there someone it would make sense for him to risk everything for?” Brock’s gaze flickers down to James again. “His son, who tried to kill him?” I ask, my voice edging higher.
Brock shakes his head. “No, I’m tired. I’m sorry. Wisely or not, he loves you. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m just upset.” He looks into his coffee cup. He looks very human all of a sudden. Not like a block at all.
“Brock.” I take a step forward. “You’re either an incredible actor or Robert Maxim is really…”
His eyes meet mine, the deep brown shining. “Exactly. Do you think I’m an incredible actor, Sydney Rye?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “And he couldn’t pull this off without you.”
“No, he couldn’t.”
“Were you in on it last time he faked his own near death, in DC?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t you see why I don’t believe him? Or you?”
“Yes. It’s like the boy who cried wolf.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s a horrible story.” Huh? “The kid, and let’s remember this is a child.” Brock raises his brows, his voice raising with them. “Pretends a wolf is attacking him what, twice, and then the third time his family and community, even his own mother, ignore his pleas and what happens.”
“He gets eaten by the wolf.”
“Right, that’s pretty horrible.”
“I guess it is,” I say. “But it’s an allegory, teaching kids not to lie.”
“Or they will be abandoned by their communities and eaten by wild beasts.”
“Isn’t that kind of what happens—metaphorically at least?”
“Would you abandon James for lying?”
“There is nothing that would make me abandon my son.”
“And that’s pretty normal for a mother. For anyone who loves another. No matter how strained the relationship, it’s impossible to let them just get eaten by wolves.” We stare at each other for a long moment and it’s clear we’re not talking about the fable anymore. “You needed him Sydney, and so he came to save you.”
“I needed him because of him,” I say. “His allies came at me to silence me. He’s the reason I’m in danger.”
Brock takes a step toward me and we are only about three feet apart now, not quite throat-punching distance but just a short step away. Blue moves up, so that he’s closer to Brock than me or James. A wolf that has our back…
“You’re in danger because of you, Sydney. Because of who you are and what you fight for, because of the obsession you create in others.”
“The obsession you don’t get.”
“I get it, I just seem to be immune to it.”
I huff a laugh. “You’re not inspired by my legendary acts of vengeance?”
Brock’s lips twitch. “No, I think you’re sloppy and dangerous and that’s why people are trying to kill you.”
“Why are they trying to kill Robert then?”
“Because he’s powerful and they want what he has. And in this case Robert was shot because of you, because one of his best men became a rival.”
“You think Peter…or whatever the fuck his name is…wants me?”
“I think he made that pretty clear. That he would be willing to destroy himself for you.”
“I hardly think he’s destroyed himself,” I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes again. Brock is hella dramatic. “That’s if I even believe that he’s not still working for Robert.”
Brock’s jaw clenches as if he’s got a secret in his mouth he doesn’t want to let out.
“Tell me,” I say, seizing on the opportunity.
There is a full-on war happening behind Brock’s clenched jaw. He shakes his head, as if deciding, no, he won’t be telling me.
“This is my life, Brock. Tell me.”
His eyes meet mine, hardening. Brock doesn’t say another word, he just turns and leaves the room. The door swings shut on automatic hinges. James claps as though he’s just watched an excellent show. And maybe he has…then again, maybe this is all real.