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She wanted to plead with him to stay, but knew it would make no difference. She stiffened her shoulders and glared at him, refusing to give him permission to hurt her further.
“After the baby’s born,” he said in a voice she barely recognized as his own, “tell him or her…tell the baby how much I loved their mother.”
Even now he hadn’t the courage to say it to her face. He didn’t have the courage to look her in the eye and tell her he cared, as if doing so would weaken him.
“Is that all you have to say?” she asked coldly.
“Yes.” He started to turn away and she climbed off the mattress.
“I’d like to add one thing.”
Zane turned back. She walked over and stood directly in front of him, her chest heaving. Her eyes filled with tears as she struggled to hold in the emotion. His features blurred until he was unrecognizable.
Then, with all the strength she possessed, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face.
* * *
The pain in his chest felt like a tight knot. Zane loaded his gear into the back of the pickup and resisted the urge to glance toward the house. It wasn’t the way he wanted to tell Lesley goodbye, but perhaps this was best after all. It would be easier to adjust to his death if she hated him. God knew he’d given her enough reason to do exactly that.
He’d made few tactical errors in life as big as this. Only a selfish bastard would abuse Lesley. She offered him paradise and in return he was giving her hell.
He recalled when he first introduced the subject of marriage, how he’d mentioned that their union would be monetarily beneficial to her. Lesley had thrown the mention of money back in his face, yet it was all he had to leave her. That and her hate.
Regrets multiplied a hundredfold. He’d been unfair and cruel to the one person who meant the most to him. All he could do was pray that someday she’d find it in her heart to forgive him.
When he couldn’t bear to not look any longer, he glanced toward the house. Toward Lesley. Toward the child he would never know.
Pain clenched at his heart with regret so deep, he couldn’t breathe. He was leaving behind everything he would ever love. That had been Lesley’s greatest gift to him.
Love.
He’d found it in her arms. And now he was voluntarily walking away from the only happiness he’d ever known.
He had to leave while he still could. He had to get away. Had to kill Schuyler if he ever intended to have peace. Doing away with the terrorist was the only way out. It was either Schuyler or him, and all the odds were with the other man.
Zane opened the truck door and was ready to climb into the cab when Lesley appeared on the porch. She walked over to the white column and leaned against it as though needing its support.
He hesitated, his hand on the steering wheel.
Neither moved.
Then, with a sob, his wife rushed down the stairs and raced across the yard.
Zane caught her around the waist and hauled her into his arms. His body absorbed her sobs. He closed his eyes and clung to her.
“Kill the son of a bitch,” she whispered.
“I will,” he promised.
“Then come home to me.”
His throat constricted. As much as he wanted to Zane couldn’t make that promise.
* * *
Carl felt he was probably making another one of those colossal mistakes that had marked his relationship with Candy Hoffman from the moment they’d met. But he had nowhere else to turn.
He parked outside her house and sat in the pickup. Her house was dark, but then, what did he expect at four o’clock in the morning?
