The Drake Unwound Complete Collection (The Drake Series Book 9)(44)

"You and high heels," I said. "I'll have to make sure you always wear them when we go out so you'll remind me of our first meeting in the bar."

I helped her into the car and buckled her seatbelt while she sat with her eyes closed, smiling. She actually giggled when I adjusted the shoulder belt, and my hand brushed her breast. She opened her eyes and stared into mine.

"You're drunk, Ms. Bennet. I’ll have to find a way to take advantage of you tonight."

"Mmm," she said, closing her eyes again. "I like it when you take advantage of me."

"You'll be an even easier lay, with all that wine in you."

"An easy lay?" she said with mock-affront. "May I remind you that you went to a lot of effort to finally succeed in ravishing me?"

I laughed and went around to the driver's side. "I did go to a lot of effort. You're worth every ounce."



Once back at the apartment in Chelsea, I helped Kate with her coat and heels, and carried her to the living room. I lowered her to the couch, and went to the kitchen to pour her some water and get her two aspirin.

"Take these," I said, handing them to her. "Drink up. I'm going to f*ck you when I get back from seeing Maureen. I want you wide-awake and responsive. No falling asleep or I might have to spank your cute little round ass."

She leaned her head back against the couch. "I didn't like it when you spanked me at the dungeon party," she said. "I thought I might like it, but I didn't."

"That was a punishment spanking,” I said. “It's not supposed to feel good. I'm glad you don't like it. We would likely never have clicked if you had enjoyed it."

She nodded, and took the aspirin, then drank down the rest of the water.

"I'll make you a cup of coffee before I go. I want you to sober up a bit." I went to the kitchen and prepared her a cup and then kissed her goodbye. "Wait up for me. I probably won't be too long."

"I will."



I left Kate alone on the couch and took my car to NYP to see Maureen. In my pocket was the picture of my father receiving the medal of honor in Vietnam and a news clipping telling the story. I would give it to Maureen and ask that she show it to Liam and make up some story about how the man in the photo was a relative without directly naming him or his relationship to Liam. I wanted him to know who his forefathers were. If I couldn’t know Liam, I wanted him to know about me and especially about his grandfather. Neither of us were inconsequential men. I thought we were both men of which he could be proud.

As I arrived at NYP, I felt certain that Maureen would grudgingly take the picture and news clipping, show them to Liam and just keep the details sketchy. After all, I was undergoing a medical procedure that was meant to save her son’s life. I felt it was the least she could do.

Sadly, I was wrong.



I met them on the ward and went in to see Liam.

“You can see him now, when he’s sleeping,” Maureen said, “but after this, I don’t want you to come back. I’m only letting you see him now in case he dies before you leave for Africa.”

I nodded without really thinking about it, so glad to have the chance to see him without having to sneak around. The three of us gowned up and went into Liam’s room. He was as pale and fragile as before, his skin so thin it seemed almost translucent, and he had so little body fat that I could see veins in his scalp and the outline of his skull.


I stood by the bed and watched him breathe, filled with a profound sense of loss. Here was my father’s grandson—the grandson he never knew about or met. Here was the son conceived with the woman I though I’d spend the rest of my life with.

I’d blown it so badly.

I took Liam’s hand and mercifully, he didn’t wake up, for Maureen stepped closer when she saw me, and I knew she didn’t approve of me touching him. For God’s sake—did she think I was contagious or something?

We finally left the ward and went down to the café. We each got a coffee and then sat at a table by the window.

“What’s that?” Maureen said when I reached into my pocket and withdrew the envelope.

“It’s a photograph of my father,” I said and handed it to her, “receiving the Medal of Honor for saving the lives of two soldiers in a helicopter crash. I want Liam to have it. I’d like you to show it to him so he knows what kind of man his grandfather was.”

She took the envelope but didn’t even bother to open it, staring at it like it contained a contract for her soul directly from Satan. She glanced up at me and then at Chris, who frowned. She shook her head, shoving the envelope back at me.

“I can’t take this. Drake, I told you. Chris is his father, not you. All you contributed was a single cell. Chris has been there right from the beginning.”

“How can you say that? That single cell is why Liam is alive today,” I said, anger welling up inside of me.

“It’s also because of you that he has cancer in the first place,” Chris said from across the table.

I fisted my hands, biting back an angry retort. “Life’s like that. The good comes with the bad.”

“Drake, why are you doing this? I though you agreed to say out of Liam’s life.”

“Until he’s old enough to understand—“