have helped Jonathon Mercer.”
“I would have,” Sandra admitted. “But if my father had told me what Trygg was from the beginning...”
She gave in to the urge and settled her chin on her knees. “So many died, Booker. I can’t help thinking that if my father had only trusted me, your men, Emily and your baby...”
“Time to move on, Doc,” he said, studying the horizon. “Time to live our life for ourselves.”
“I don’t know if I can, Booker. Not yet.”
“I flew out to meet with them, you know. Your parents.”
“You flew all the way out to Amsterdam?”
“Your father and I had some things to settle. About Trygg. My men. You.”
“My father never discusses his family.”
“He loves you, Doc. He didn’t tell you about Trygg because he was trying to protect you. Kate was supposed to be the point person on Trygg but it never materialized. If they hadn’t pulled her from the project, Trygg would’ve killed Kate just like he killed Jim Rayo’s wife and all the others.”
Sandra frowned, but said nothing.
“By the time Kate left, it was obvious to your father you worshipped the ground Trygg walked on. And at that time you and your father were barely on speaking terms. If he had told you that Trygg was a traitor, would you have believed him?”
Her head shot up. “Yes,” she defended.
Booker’s eyebrow rose.
Sandra sighed, then let her chin drop to her knees again. “Probably not.”
“You need to talk with him, Doc. You need to forgive him. Life is too short to carry that kind of anguish inside.”
Tears pricked at her eyes; her breath lumped in her chest. She would, too. She loved her father too much to do anything else. Still, she would need time to trust, but hopefully, that too would come.
“Doc, you didn’t spend your whole life living up to Andon’s memory. You spent your whole life living through your father’s guilt,” Booker pointed out softly. He draped his arm over her shoulders, pulled her close. “Guilt that he is finally coming to terms with. Don’t you think it’s time you come to terms with your own and not take the twenty-five years it took your father?”
The lump thickened until it rose to the back of her throat. “And you? Your guilt is gone?”
He took her chin, tilted it until they were nose to nose. “I’m working on it.”
“How?” Her breath caught, and love jolted through his chest, squeezed his heart.
Instinctively, he drew her closer until they were chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. “I contacted my grandfather.”
“You did?” One hand went to his chest, stopping him from drawing her in, from making her believe.
The other went to her stomach, to protect, or maybe to wish...
“Why did you see your grandfather?”
“I don’t know,” Booker admitted. His hand slid up her spine, absently massaging the tension from her shoulders. “After I talked with your father, I found myself on my grandfather’s doorstep.”
“Was he happy to see you?”
“Shocked would be a better word,” Booker replied. His grandfather had not changed much over the years. Thin and frail, with very little hair, but the same sharp blue eyes.
“What happened?”
“He wants me to run his company. He’s been saving it for me in case I came around.”
“Are you?” she demanded, her eyes wide, unbelieving again. “Coming around, I mean.”
“Who knows?” He paused, then pulled back until their eyes met. A grin spread slowly across his mouth.
Her heart bumped.
“Yes, actually. I am.”
“You lost me, Booker.” Sandra shook her head, confused. “You’re going to run his company?”
“My grandfather offered to make his overseas headquarters here in Taer. Fifteen hundred people will be given jobs, and more than twice that number will relocate from the States,” Booker acknowledged. “It will mean a lot of traveling, since the main headquarters will remain in Texas. Six months here. Six months there.”
“That’s quite a bargaining chip.”
“Both will have a research department.”
Sandra quirked an eyebrow. The sadness drowned in a thick haze of sudden anger. “I have a job. I don’t need you to find me one, Booker.”
“You’re going to continue to work for Jarek as his royal physician?”
“Most likely. He needs someone to replace my father, at least temporarily.” But she wasn’t sure. There was more than just herself to consider now. “I certainly don’t want to work for you. Or be anywhere near you for that matter. I don’t think we can go back, Booker. Too much has happened. There’s still too many secrets. And even more regrets.”
Fear clamped in his gut, twisting his insides. “I