Chapter Six

River crouched down to take his daughter in his arms. “Hello again, Pickle.”

Berry, all dark curls and a huge smile, giggled. “I’m not a pickle, Daddy!”

“Yeah you are, big pickle. Hey, Linds.” He stood, Berry in his arms, to greet his ex-lover, who smiled at him gratefully.

“Hey, River. Listen, I cannot tell you how grateful I am for this.”

He waved her thanks away. “It’s always a pleasure, don’t be silly. Let’s go grab some breakfast. I know airport food isn’t that great, but I know somewhere we can go—if you have the time?”

Lindsey, a sweet, dark-haired woman, nodded at him, but there was something in her eyes that made him curious. “Of course.”

As they ate breakfast in a diner an hour later, she told him. “Stage IV,” she said simply, and River’s heart broke.

“No. Oh God … Linds.”

“Just my luck, eh? Just the tiniest lump, barely able to feel it, but apparently, it’s deep and spreading. Liver, lungs, brain.”

“Jesus.” River took her hand, and she squeezed his back. “Sweetheart … listen, we can do something. Sloan Kettering or anyplace in any country that can treat you, we can do that.”

Lindsey touched his face. “You are the sweetest man, River Giotto, but I’m afraid it’s way past that now. It’s okay, I’ve made my peace. It’s just …” She cut her eyes to Berry who was eating a huge stack of blueberry pancakes, a look of great concentration on her face. “I hate the thought of leaving …” She looked back at River with tears in her eyes. “And I know you didn’t ask for any of this, for us, for her but …”

“Lindsey, it would be my honor, my privilege, and my absolute responsibility. I hate that you feel you have to ask. Of course … of course …”

Lindsey’s shoulders slumped and she let the tears fall then. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am. I was so scared that she would be left alone.”

“Never. Never ever,” River said with feeling and drew Lindsey into his arms, hugging her tightly. “We are a family. An unusual one, yes, but then I don’t know what normal is. You have my word, Lindsey. Berry will want for nothing, especially love.”

They talked for hours. Lindsey told him the doctors had given her a few weeks. “If I’m lucky. I need to go say my goodbyes to everyone, but I don’t want to traumatize Berry. If I may … I’d like us to be together at the end.”

“Of course. Look, I could travel with you. Take care of Berry. Then we can all be together the whole time.”

Lindsey looked at him in surprise. “You would do that?”

“Of course. I understand why you want to protect her from the worst but believe me, she’ll figure it out later and wonder why you went away when you could have been together. Trust me, honey, we can do this.”

Lindsey started to cry again. “You are a remarkable man, River Giotto.”

Later, when Lindsey and Berry were taking a nap, River called Carmen and explained the situation. “Can I ask you to pack me a suitcase and have it brought here? I don’t want to waste a moment with them both.”

“Of course … oh, it’s just so sad. Listen, don’t worry about anything. And I’ll … get a room ready for Berry when you come back.”

River closed his eyes. “Thank you, Carmen. I know this is a strange situation. I hate to say it, but I don’t think we’ll be away for long.”

After he hung up, he glanced over at his ex-lover and their daughter sleeping. There was no question in his mind that he would go with them to say goodbye to Lindsey’s loved ones. He would make sure they traveled in luxury and were spoiled rotten by everyone. He had no idea how they were going to tell the child that Mommy wouldn’t be around for much longer. How the hell did you make a five-year-old understand?

His heart throbbed with pain and he stepped outside the hotel room to smoke a cigarette on the balcony. Man, he felt like life was just running away with him, as if he had no control. Work, family, his failing eyesight.

And his father’s diaries and the woman who was transcribing them for him. Sunday Kemp. Even her name made his cock harden. He’d watched her leave his home a few times, known she’d sensed him there, seen her shy wave. He’d even heard her tell him to come talk to her.

If only she knew …

But for now, he had to concentrate, and maybe being away from Colorado for a few weeks would help clear his head. Maybe she would have finished transcribing his father’s journals by then, found out about the horror of his family history, and would have left by the time he got back with Berry.

Maybe he would be able to stop thinking about her.

Maybe …

New York …

Angelina Marshall rolled over and slipped out of bed. Brian Scanlan watched her with a critical eye as she shrugged into a silk robe and headed for the shower. “You’ve lost more weight.”

Angelina ignored him. It was true, she had lost weight, but she didn’t see it as a negative. She could fit into every high-end designer sample and looked good doing it. Her high cheekbones were perhaps more prominent that she’d like, and the constant battle with the gray pallor of her skin was a nuisance, but otherwise, she knew she was a beautiful woman.

If she wasn’t, then how was it that Brian kept bedding her? And the rest of them. Angelina didn’t particularly enjoy sex; she just enjoyed the power it gave her over men.

“So?” She went to the table where six lines of fine white powder lay scratched out on the glass. She snorted two lines then nodded at them. “It’s good. Enjoy.”

Scanlan was already getting dressed. “Not my scene, but thanks.”

Angelina smirked. “Since when? You’re the biggest cokehead I know.”

“Not anymore. I need a clear head.”

“Ah. Is this the missing journalist skank?”

She didn’t notice his eyes turned from gray to ice white. “She’s not a skank. But yes, I have to keep my concentration if I’m going to find her.”

Angelina sat back on the couch, crossing her legs and letting her robe fall open. “Surely her leaving town was a clear message. She’s not interested. And why on earth would you still pursue after you tried to kill her?”

“I did not try to kill Marley,” Brain hissed. “That was an error.”

“You shot her in the gut, didn’t you? Some mistake.”

She barely had time to react before his hand was around her throat. “Firstly, I didn’t shoot anyone. My hands are clean. Secondly, Marley wasn’t the intended target and the man responsible has been dealt with. Thirdly, you keep your whore mouth shut or maybe something bad will happen to you.”

Angelina wasn’t frightened. In fact, his roughness turned her on and she looked at him with new respect. “Fine.”

He released her and went back to getting dressed. Angelina licked her lips. “Why don’t you forget getting dressed and come fuck me again?”

Scanlan stopped, considering. “Get over here,” he said finally, and she obeyed him. He pushed her down onto the bed, unzipping his fly, not bothering to take any other clothes off. “Suck me,” he ordered, and she obliged, taking him into her mouth and drawing on him, teasing his tip with her tongue. She smiled when she heard his groan, but then as she heard him call out another woman’s name—Marley! Marley!—her anger erupted and she bit down … hard.

With a scream, he cuffed her hard, sending her sprawling to the floor, her jaw on fire. “Fucking bitch!” He kicked her hard in the stomach, then, grabbing his jacket, he tucked his wounded cock back into his pants and stormed out.

Angelina rolled onto her back and smiled to herself. The bruised jaw was worth it. Firing up that psycho Scanlan was more exhilarating than any sex. She’d met him a few years back and recognized the same narcissistic tendencies in him that she relished in herself. She loved the violence in him—it inspired her own bloodlust. When he’d had his object of affection shot, Angelina had laughed. Yeah, so maybe he hadn’t meant to kill Marley Locke, but Angelina had been on the end of Marley’s sharp intelligence once too often and she had crowed at the thought of the young woman—the way-too-beautiful for Angelina’s tastes young woman—brought low by an assassin’s bullet. She’d even managed to bribe her way into Marley’s room as she lay in a coma after the shooting. Staring down at her nemesis, she’d wondered why Scanlan was so obsessed with her.

But then, Angelina knew obsession. Her stepson, only a few years younger than herself, was hers. River. Beautiful, vulnerable, brilliant River. Angelina had deliberately pursued Ludo in order to get to his son, managing to seduce the old man just so she could get close to the boy. But River had had more about him than she’d realized. Behind those astonishing green eyes was a man who knew what he wanted—and he’d seen right through Angelina. When she’d made her move, after Ludo’s death, River had rejected her outright, his loathing for her a raging, angry thing.

No matter. In time, he would be hers. It had been a couple of years now and news from Colorado had traveled to Manhattan. River was losing his sight, or at least partially. She knew him enough to know it would kill him to be unable to paint.

Maybe it was time his loving stepmother paid him a visit to comfort him in his hour of need. Angelina laughed to herself. Yes.

Maybe it was time.