Even now, she smiles at me from her seat across mine on the private plane. She didn’t complain when she learned that Finch would be coming with us on our honeymoon, and that immediately put me on alert. Her favorite pastime is complaining about Finch, but not one word about her has slipped past her perfect lips. My dog is sleeping at my feet now, and my sneaky wife is flipping through a bunch of bridal magazines.
I leave my seat and take the one next to her. She doesn’t jump away or insult me as I expected. She smiles at me, so I lean in and kiss my wife.
“My mom said she’s flying down in two days to see the doctor.” There’s a mixture of nerves and excitement in her voice. Those big brown eyes land on me as if I have all the answers in the world.
I want nothing more than to tell her whatever she wants to hear.
“Yes, and you should go with her for support, but I want to know if you have a business plan for Corine’s Creations.” I take the magazine from her and look through it.
“I do,” is all she says.
“Can I see it? I know a thing or two about starting a business.” Her eyes widen at my words, and I wonder what I could have said that alarmed her so much.
“Well, I’m not ready to show it yet.”
“Let me see. I can help you.”
“Later.” She shifts in her seat. “I want it to be mine, and I don’t want any funny business.” She looks away when she says it, and I arch an eyebrow.
“Can you show me the damn business plan?” I snap. “I only want to help you.”
“I’ll show you later. It’s on my laptop.”
“I’ll see you back at the penthouse.” I kiss her temple. She leans into me and puts her hand on my chest. “Unless you need me to stay.” I eye her brother, who is pacing the hallway.
“No. I’m going to visit with Mom for an hour, and then I’m going to nap. I’m exhausted.”
Things with Cori’s mother happened quickly. She was evaluated and cleared for surgery a few days after arriving in Chicago. She had her operation on Friday.
It was an experimental surgery where the scar tissue that had been compressing Annette Lamb’s sciatic nerve and surrounding soft tissue was removed.
He took healthy nerve tissue from one of her legs, reconnected and decompressed the damaged nerve.
She will require extensive physical therapy, but if she heals well, she may be able to take her first steps in a couple of weeks.
“Your mother looks good, and the doctor said the surgery was seamless. She will be fine.” She doesn’t respond, but I can tell she’s doing her best to control her emotions. She purses her lips together and looks at the ceiling while she dabs her eyes. Devin is useless. His baby sleeps in the stroller, and I worry things will escalate when I leave. “I can stay if you need me.”
She gazes into my eyes, and I wipe a stray tear.
“No, it’s okay. I know you have business. I’m only going to be here for an hour. I’m exhausted.”
That’s not surprising. We’ve been in the hospital for the past two and a half days, and she spent most of yesterday with her mother. She cried practically all last night. The only thing that calmed her was when I slipped inside of her.
“Okay, but this is the last of the business. I promise.” I kiss her softly. On my way out, I stroke Ruby’s cheek, careful not to wake her.
“If there are any issues between you and my wife, I’m going to handle it.” Devin has enough sense not to talk back.
Instead of taking a cab, I take the ten-minute walk from Northwestern Hospital to our condo on East Delaware. Chicago is a direct contrast to Shadow Cove and its surrounding small towns.
No one here knows or is suspicious of me. No one pays attention, and no one cares. There’s so much anonymity, and I like that. But there’s a certain peace in living in a small town. No one looks into those areas. They’re perfect to build an empire and live in plain sight.
Instead of going to my unit on the fourteenth floor, I go to my other unit on the sixth. Preacher and King are already there waiting for me when I arrive.
Preacher is staring out the wall of windows, but I’m certain King is ready to head back home to his wife.
“Let’s get down to it.” I take a seat at the table, in front of the three laptops that Preacher has set up.
“I have a paper trail on the Brennans. One that I’ve created, of course.” Preacher rubs his hands together. “I’m talking false transactions, bank statements, and several illegal shipments. I planted a few nuggets and will lead the feds right to some of the Brennans' actual customers. No one big. They are too small to be used as witnesses against them. When they’re arrested and behind bars, we can end them.”
