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He pretended not to see the unsightly bruise and swelling beneath her eye. “He left this morning for the Caribbean to check on the hurricane damage.”
She nodded toward the TV. “The news covered his farewell wave as he boarded the plane at Andrews. He looked very resolved. I’m sure that singlehandedly he’ll slay the hurricane like a dragon. Sir David the Dauntless.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t flatter you, Vanessa.” He slipped a blood pressure cuff on her arm.
“Neither does this bruise on my cheek, which you’ve so admirably tried to ignore. Was David afraid I might need reconstructive surgery on my cheekbone? Is that why he sent for you—to assess the damage and give him an estimate on repairing it?”
“I came because it’s time for another blood-level check.” He removed the blood pressure cuff and replaced it with a strip of rubber, which he wrapped tightly around her biceps to form a tourniquet. “And David thought that perhaps more rest might be required before you’re fully recovered.”
“ ‘Rest’? You mean seclusion?”
God, no! she screamed. Silently. What good would it do her to scream out loud?
The Secret Service agents would come running. She would accuse George of trying to kill her a second time. Her guards and the assistant who’d shown George in—she looked like the kindliest of grandmothers in her baggy sweaters and SAS shoes but was undoubtedly one of David’s well-placed spies—would look upon her with pity for being so far gone. She would be drugged and carted off anyway.
There was no one to help her. She was trapped. During the press conference she had tried signaling for someone to come to her rescue. Hadn’t anyone who knew her well noticed that she wasn’t wearing her mother’s wedding ring?
Apparently not. Not Gray, anyway. Spence had disappeared, but his loyalty was strictly to David anyway. She remembered her father’s whispered promise that he had everything under control, but where was he this morning?
“I want to call my father,” she said as George swabbed the inside of her elbow with icy alcohol.
“I’ll phone him for you later. Make a fist for me so I can draw some blood.”
“I want to call him now,” she said in a voice made shrill with fear.
She threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Unmindful of her nakedness, she reached for the telephone on her nightstand. Nervously, she juggled the receiver and wound up dropping it. She dropped to the floor on all fours and scrambled to pick up the telephone.
“Vanessa, for God’s sake!” George placed his hands around her waist and tried to pull her up.
“Let go of me, you son of a bitch!”
She fought him, but he knocked the phone from her hand and hauled her to her feet. She flailed her arms. Curling her fingers, she tried to rake his face with her nails. “I won’t let you do this to me again.”
“I’m only trying to help you.”
“You lying hypocrite,” she hissed. “Stop pretending. We both know why you’re here. You’ve been ordered to put me out of commission again, right? At least until the evidence of my husband’s abuse has healed. Bad press for the First Lady to be sporting a shiner after a domestic quarrel, huh?”
Again she struggled, but his arms held her fast. “Don’t work yourself up, Vanessa, or I’ll have to sedate you.”
“If he asked you to, would you kill me, George?”
“Jesus, no!”
“Liar. You tried up at Highpoint. What’s he got on you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re covering a murder for him, so he must have a secret on you. What is it, George?”
“I don’t know anything about a murder.”
“Oh yes you do. But you won’t tell because David’s got you, doesn’t he? I know him, you see. That’s the way he operates. What ax is he holding over your head? Something to do with Amanda? That would get you where you hurt most, wouldn’t it? You’ve always been so fond of that insipid wife of yours. Or has David threatened the lives of your children? He’s good at that too. Take it from me, he’s—Ow!”
Without her noticing, he’d reached for a prepared syringe and driven the needle into her thigh, depressing the plunger before she could stop him. “I’m sorry, Vanessa. You gave me no choice.”
“You had a choice, George. We all have choices. Damn you!” she cried, her voice cracking. “Damn you and David to hell.”
* * *
