"I knew it. I just... somehow, I just knew it was Frank. That chickenshit bastard. Everyone would think he was too cowardly to do something like that but he's always been ruthless when it came to getting whatheneeded." Lauren shook her head, laughing harshly in a way that pained Thomas more than his chest wound. "He always thought I was pathetic, a pushover and that I was nothing unless I wasuseful."She drew out the word furiously. "What are you- wait. I don't know if I want to... shit!" Lauren angrily stood up, and he watched her pace back and forth across the room. "You know, I was looking back over a couple of scrapbooks my mom had made me- stuff like birthday parties?" He nodded carefully. "I looked for any pictures with Frank in them and I realized- the only birthday of mine he ever celebrated was one where theNew Yorkerwas doing a story on him. I didn't realize at the time how mad mom was at him for bringing in a photographer. Frank put me on his lap and helped me blow out the candles on the cake. I was so excited he was there. I remember wishing that he would be there for my birthday the next year. That was my wish." Taking a deep breath, she sat carefully on the bed next to him, her warm leg brushing his thigh. "And now he tried to murder the person I love most in this world. Once again," Lauren hissed, "for his shitty stocks!"
Thomas was still, other than gently running his hand up and down her shaking arm. "He is still your father, and this is terribly painful. I am sorry." But her answer stopped his attempt at comfort.
"Is that how you felt about your father?" Lauren's tone wasn't as angry, but it required an answer.
"I..." he floundered for a moment. He didn't even remember uttering any thoughts about the man who'd given him life out loud. "He was a name. I'm sure- I do remember being excited when he'd come to visit us when I was a little boy. My mother would attempt to list my accomplishments- she knew that was the only thing about me that would catch his interest, but..." Lauren squeezed his hand, then bringing it to her cheek and holding it there.
She laughed bitterly. "Our taste in dads totally sucks."
Thomas slid his hand from her cheek to her chin, pulling gently to make her look at him. "I will tell you that you did not deserve Frank as a father. I suspect you would say the same to me. But at this point, my only concern can be for your safety. I will not tell you what I intend to do. I do not wish you to ever ask me." He leaned in closer, forcing her gaze to his. "Do you understand, my sweet wife?"
For the first time when discussing the harsh and serious reality of this side of their life together, Lauren didn't cry, didn't give him a look of painful heartbreak. This time her gaze was level, expressionless. When she nodded, he realized with a painful twinge that she looked a bit like Clara. And then he vowed she would never have a reason for that expression again. "Yes, Thomas," she said calmly.
Pulling her closer and ignoring the corresponding surge of pain in his side, Thomas kissed his bride lingeringly. They sat together, watching the sun set over the park just outside the windows.
Finally, he asked, "Did you really yank out my chest tube?"
Chapter 45 – I Shall Wait, Darling. But I Fully Intend to Ravish You
In which consummation is not quite as easy as Lauren and Thomas might hope.
"Be sure to forward the Italian stock reports before you..."
Lauren sighed, moving the tray to her other hand to open the door to her husband's temporary bedroom. While the new Number One of Jaguar Holdings' financial division was in no shape to be heading back to the office, it didn't stop him from Zoom meetings from his bed. For hours. In fact, she had to smother a smile at the sight of her stern-looking spouse in a dress shirt and jacket hiding his plethora of bandages and pajama bottoms. Waiting until he ended the meeting and disconnected the call, Lauren placed the tray on his lap.
"Thank you, darling," he pulled gently on her hand until she bent to kiss him. "And where is Straker?"
"Chuck," Lauren playfully popped the "k" at the end of the bodyguard's name, "is sleeping in the guest bedroom upstairs for the first time in like 48 hours. But Aimes is in the hallway and your guy who looks like a boxer?"
Thomas suppressed a smile, "Michaels?"
"Yeah, he's cruising around outside and intimidating the neighbors," she laughed. "Here..." Lauren busied herself, laying a cloth napkin over his lap and pillow behind him. "Will you please take a pain pill with dinner?"
"Don't need it," Thomas grunted, painfully moving higher. He growled as his insolent wife rolled her eyes. "Careful little girl, I'm quite capable of heating your shapely bottom."
Leaning forward with a saucy grin, Lauren murmured, "Just as soon as you can catch me... Sir." Instantly darting out of reach, she gave him a wink over her shoulder as she headed for the little cluster of pill bottles.
Truth be told, Thomas was healing much faster than any men with an abdominal gunshot wound should be- especially since he drove himself relentlessly. In fact, they'd indulged in a make out session that morning that was far too steamy, given that he was pale and a little clammy when she made him let her go. But it didn't change the fact that every time the light sparkled off her wedding ring, Lauren was suffused with need for her beautiful husband. And the unabashed hunger in his cobalt gaze told her he felt the same.
"It's been three days, you slut!" Lauren lectured herself while filling a glass of water, "Control yourself! What the hell kind of wife are you?" But taking the water and medication back to the bed, she melted as Thomas looked up at smiled at her, the real smile that deepened the fine lines around his eyes.
"How are you, darling?" Thomas took her hand again, "You are eating with me, do get comfortable." He patted the bed next to him with a mischievous wink, and Lauren nodded, forcing a smile.
"I'll sit with you, but I've- I ate already."
Now, her husband put down his fork and stared at her coldly. "You're lying to me."
"What? No!" Lauren gasped, "I'm-"
"I've not seen you eat once since I've come home from the hospital." Thomas's voice was calm, edging toward cold. "And I've seen you thrash in that recliner-" he nodded at the chair she slept in by the bed, "when you're asleep so it's either extremely uncomfortable or you're having trouble resting." He relented slightly as he viewed his wife's head, bent and looking at the tray in his lap. He hated to see her misery when he scolded her like this, but it couldn't be more obvious that the only one getting care in their home was him. "Lauren. Lovely girl, look at me." Thomas despised the unfamiliar feeling of guilt that suffused him when his sweet wife looked up at him, faking a smile with a trembling lip. "Sweetheart," he said kindly, "I'm getting better. I'll be fine."
"I know," she answered, surprising him a little. As if it was obvious that he, Thomas Williams, Number One of Jaguar Holdings could do nothing less than completely recover. "I just... I know that. You're too stubborn to do anything else." Lauren managed a watery little smile.
He frowned, one arm lifting - still with a tremor, she noticed - to run his thumb along her cheekbone. "Then what is it, lovely? Aside from all the obvious possibilities," Thomas added with a grimace.
Her wet purple eyes finally met his. "I killed people. I murdered Kingston, and the shooter."
"You didn't-"
