Deadly Little Secrets Page 0,95

Not here. Leave me with something.”

She felt, more than saw, his nod. He squeezed her arm and let her go. Blinded by tears, but with her head held high, she made for the elevators like they were the last lifeboat leaving the Titanic.

Dav shook his head over her departure. How two people could so thoroughly screw up a budding relationship was beyond him. As much as it pained him to admit it, though, he could do nothing to help. They were stubborn people, both of them. Meddling from him would only make things worse. He’d found that out to his pain, many times. Getting in between Ana and Gates would only end in disaster.

There were at least a few things he could do, though, to ease the pain he’d seen in Ana’s eyes. He had already been on the phone, insuring that the dress was paid for and that additional private security was watching over her. There wasn’t much more he could do.

“So,” he said as he came into Gates’s private room. “You have sent her away.”

“It’s for her own good,” Gates rasped, his throat still showing the effects of the intubation for surgery. “That shot, and the shot at the compound the other night weren’t aimed at you, Dav. They were aimed at me. Drugs or not, I’ve been thinking, running through every incident for the last few years. I came up with at least six times that I could have been the target, when we assumed it was you.”

“We were complacent, which means stupid,” Dav grunted. “Obviously. I have already had calls to assure me that certain parties were not involved in this.”

“The Central American group?”

“Among others, yes. They want to be sure I don’t pull any funding or stop the three deals we have in the works. They don’t want me to think they had anything to do with it.”

“Good, I guess. More avenues to talk means fewer errors.” Gates coughed a little, then lay rigidly still to absorb the pain the cough caused.

“The Saudis have also called, expressed their concerns.”

“The desalinization plant.”

“Precisely. Ohmad bin Serra offered to send his private physician and a bevy of nurses to see to your care.” Dav smirked over that. “I declined on your behalf. I think Dr. Anderson can manage you at the house, don’t you?”

Gates nodded, closing his eyes to the pain. “When can I get out of here?”

“Tomorrow, to my amazement. Modern medicine seems to believe you should arise and go, lest your insurance not pay,” Dav said, letting his opinion of the health care industry show in his sarcasm. “In the meantime, you need to think. Forget the how of it, leave that to the police. Think about the why of it. This was well planned, well executed.” He shifted to look out the narrow window. “It was meant to kill.”

“It would have too, if I hadn’t pushed off to get into the car. I was higher, maybe by three inches, just for that moment.”

They sat in silence for a moment, as they both absorbed how close it had been.

“Who’s with you while I’m out of it?” Gates broke the impasse.

“Queller and Jones,” Dav smiled. “They’re annoying.”

“Overstimulated.” Gates smiled. “They’re still new to all this.”

A nurse came in to check on Gates, gave Dav a meaningful look, and tapped her watch.

“I’ll go now, let you get some rest. Think about the why.” Dav collected his raincoat and headed for the door. Without turning back, he said, “And Gates?”

“Hmmm?”

“Remember that she’s smart, and very good at what she does. She’s going to figure out what you’ve done in sending her away. Whatever chance you had with her will be shot to hell if you don’t acknowledge that.”

Gates didn’t answer, so Dav departed, off to face the maelstrom of media, business challenges, and emotional turmoil Gates’s injury had stirred up.

It was never silent in a hospital room. The whirring, beeping, and crackle of the overhead speakers, with their endless announcements and calls to various people made sure that Gates couldn’t be alone with his thoughts. Gifts and flowers had begun to arrive. Dav had sent Gates’s assistant Alexia over to deal with them, write thank-you notes, and disperse the flowers appropriately. Gates had asked her to deliver the enormous basket of fruit, towering over her head, to the surgeons’ break room.

“Sir?” Alexia knocked and came in. “There’re more flowers and so on, but I’m sending them out to the house. I hope that’s okay with you.”

“Fine,” he said, just