Long Road Home(23)

“How did you know I was going to D.C.?” she demanded.

Silence greeted her question. “Damn it,” she swore, throwing the phone down.

She began to pace in agitation. How could she do what she vowed she’d never do again? How could she not do it? Manny was everything to her. Could she trust Northstar to keep his word?

Of course she couldn’t trust him, but she had no other choice than to comply with his directive. It was his careless discarding of her that gave her hope that he was through with her. He needed her now, but there was always someone waiting in the wings to take up the cause.

Sadness twisted in her chest. Manny wanted her to trust him, to hand everything over to him and let him take care of it. As tempting as the idea was in theory, the bastards he worked for made it an impossibility. By going to Manny with the truth, she’d be placing their lives in the very hands she fought to keep Manny from.

No, she’d have to pull on the cloak of the assassin one more time, or the people Manny trusted would end his life.

Her mind raced, analyzing the situation. In order to pull it off, she would have to convince Manny that he had won. He could in no way suspect that she would run or that she was planning the unthinkable. It would take the performance of her life.

No. She wouldn’t lie to him. She would merely tell him the truth. The complete and utter truth. Her stomach lurched at the idea of ever speaking aloud the horrible images that haunted her every waking moment.

For the first time in three years, she would be completely honest with someone.

Her lip curled in distaste. Grief settled over her as she slowly began the transformation back into the person she hated most. The cold-blooded killer.

Chapter Eleven

When Manny stepped out of the bathroom, Jules’s eyes riveted to him. Even as she tried to look away, she found she couldn’t. He wore a pair of gym shorts, and his bare chest was damp. His dark hair was in disarray and wet. He crossed the room and picked up a folded shirt from the chair.

She watched, fascinated, as he raised his arms to pull the shirt over his head. Muscles rippled in his abdomen and chest, bulged and contorted in his arms. He lifted his gaze to hers as he let the shirt fall to his waist, and she flushed guiltily, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his gaze caressing her face, studying her. “I can call for takeout.”

Her stomach rumbled in response. Though the thought of food made her feel sick, she knew it was because she hadn’t eaten in so long. The few bites of the pancakes Manny had made for her had settled like stones in her stomach. She nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Any preference?” he asked as he flipped through the thick phonebook.

“No, you choose.” Her stomach heaved again as she considered how she could possibly pull off what Northstar wanted her to do.

Manny picked up the phone and called in a delivery order for sandwiches and drinks then hung up. He turned to her, his expression determined. “I want to have a look at your injuries. You shouldn’t even be out of the hospital, much less running all over the damned country.”

She scooted back on the bed in alarm. This she hadn’t counted on. He stood over her, his expression neutral. “Just lie back. This won’t take long.”

Gingerly, she reclined on the bed, and his fingers gently pulled up her shirt to bare her stomach. He frowned as he looked down at her chest. “Jesus, Jules. You look like you got in a fight with Easter egg dye.”

“Thanks,” she muttered.

His fingers probed and ran lightly over her belly and out over her ribs. She hissed in pain when he hit a particularly tender spot.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, his eyes full of regret. “Does your head still hurt?”

“Right now, there isn’t too much of me that doesn’t hurt,” she said truthfully.

He frowned. “I have some Tylenol in my bag. I want you to take some.”

He dug out two pills then filled a plastic cup with water and handed them both to her. He watched as she downed the tablets in one swallow then took the cup back from her. “Rest until the food gets here,” he ordered.

Not about to argue, she leaned back into the pillows, her eyes closing. It felt good to let Manny take care of her. Even if it was only temporary.

Manuel watched as Jules sank into the bed, her eyes fluttering closed. She looked beyond exhausted. Pale, fragile. Like she could break at any moment.

How much had she sacrificed for Mom and Pop? For him? He wished he had the full story. He sat there for several minutes watching the rise and fall of her chest. A knock on the door startled him momentarily. Jules’s eyes flew open in alarm, and he put a finger to his lips.

“Food,” he mouthed silently at her.

She nodded but kept her eyes trained on him as he drew his gun and walked cautiously to the door. He peered out the peephole to see a young guy, no more than a teenager, standing in the hallway.

Not taking any chances, he called out, “Set the food down. I’m sliding a twenty under the door. You can keep the change.”

The boy didn’t so much as blink an eye. He plopped the food down then collected the bill Manuel stuffed under the door. “Thanks, mister,” he called before hurrying back down the hall.

Manuel waited several moments then carefully opened the door and stuck his head out. Seeing the hall empty, he bent down to retrieve the sack and the two drinks.