Chapter 13

 

Owen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, already second-guessing himself. Was it the wrong time? Would there ever be a right time? Would it only cause her more pain? Could she handle yet another shock right now? Was she ready to talk about her father at all? As the questions swirled in Owen’s mind, Lena gazed at him in concern, feeling increasingly nervous about whatever it was he was summoning the courage to say.

She was still on edge from her discussion with Phelps. Lena had long since perfected the art of hiding her true feelings about a great many things, but she’d never found herself in a situation like this. Years of downplaying her distaste for her father’s business and her guilt over her mother’s death had been a cakewalk compared to the self-control it had taken to conceal her rage and disgust from Jeff Phelps. Lena tried to shake off the residual anger she felt as she watched her fiancé grapple with his own thoughts.

“What is it?” she prompted, feeling simultaneously frustrated at his silence and anxious that whatever he wanted to tell her might bring more pain and chaos to their lives. “Surely it can’t be that bad…”

“It’s not,” Owen said quickly. “I mean... All things considered, it’s really not. I just don’t know if you’re up to hearing it right now.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Yeah,” he nodded and squeezed her slender hand supportively as he quickly organized his thoughts. “There are a couple of things, actually, but first… I told you I asked Nate for his blessing once I’d decided to propose. Remember?”

“Yes.” Luckily, her head trauma hadn’t affected her memory.

“Okay, well… We talked about a few other things that night. He brought up your mother, and I was curious about her. You don’t really talk about her, and I haven’t wanted to push you, but… I guess I was hoping for some insights into how I could help you deal with your guilt.”

“Okay…?”

“He told me a little about her and about their relationship. He said you were a lot like her in many ways. I’m sure he told you that,” Owen smiled softly, and Lena nodded. “He told me about when he first met you both after your biological dad passed away, how he wound up marrying your mom, how things ended…”

“I know all of that,” Lena frowned, wondering what he was getting at. “They had a fight or something, and my mom was driving us to Toronto. I never knew what the fight was about, but my dad always made it sound like it was something they would’ve worked out… if they’d gotten the chance.”

And now they’re both dead... And I’m still here.

“I don’t think it would’ve happened that way, and neither did Nate. From the way he explained it, his marriage to your mother was mostly for the sake of… convenience.”

Owen’s expression was hesitant and apologetic, and it took Lena a moment to really process what he’d said. Convenience? She didn’t have many memories of her parents together, but the few she did have were happy ones. Or were they? Had they been merely the product of a happy child’s optimism and the efforts of a widowed father who had wanted to spare her more pain?

“I don’t understand.”

“He said that when he met you and your mom, he fell in love. But not with her. With you. He wanted to help your mom through a difficult time, but more than anything else, he wanted to be your dad. He said that Celia didn’t want to be alone, so… they got married.”

Lena’s expression was blank as the words sank in. The loss of a parent was a lot for anyone to cope with, regardless of age or maturity. As she’d grown older, her understanding of her part in her mother’s death had changed and evolved, but she’d never been able to shake the belief that she’d caused the accident that had taken Celia Gardner’s life. Her father had seemed equally devastated by the loss, giving Lena no reason to believe that he hadn’t been grieving for the love of his life. But if he hadn’t really loved her, then…

“Why didn’t he ever tell me?” she whispered, more to herself than to Owen.

“He said he didn’t think there would’ve been any point in telling you. He didn’t want to tarnish your memories of her or speak ill of her, and he knew you didn’t like to talk about her or the accident. I didn’t argue that point with him, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it might have made you feel just a little less… indebted to him,” he admitted.

Lena was silently asking herself the same question. On the whole, knowing the true nature of her parents’ marriage might have led her to make slightly different decisions. At the very least, she might not have felt as though she had robbed her father of his true love, and maybe she wouldn’t have come to believe that she was completely responsible for Nate’s happiness.

“Are you okay?” Owen asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Yeah… I mean, I never realized it was like that, but I don’t know what difference it makes now,” she shrugged. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I thought you said you talked to him about proposing a while ago.”

“About a month ago,” he confessed with an apologetic grimace. “It never seemed like the right time to bring it up, and I knew you probably wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it. Not to mention, I would’ve had to make up an explanation as to why the topic had come up in conversation with your dad at all. I couldn’t exactly tell you about the discussion before I proposed. I’m sorry.”

“I get it. So, why now?”

“Because,” Owen sighed. “It ties into the other thing I need to tell you, which is a lot more relevant to the current situation. It has to do with Phelps.” Lena’s expression soured further at the sound of the name, and when she spoke, her voice was significantly less tolerant.

“I’m listening.”

“Alright, so… I’ve explained to you before about the way I learned to read people while I was growing up. Watching for tells in expressions or tone and so on. When we were at Phelps’ place for dinner last week, it was the first time I’d gotten the opportunity to observe him up close in such an intimate setting.” They cringed in unison at the memory of being in the traitor’s house and the catastrophic events that had followed. “I didn’t see much that I didn’t expect to see when it came to Phelps, but… I was watching Nate too.”

“And something was off?” Lena frowned, trying to recall if she’d noticed something out of the ordinary about her father’s behavior that night. Aside from the way he had pushed her to admit her true feelings about taking over GC, nothing stuck out in her mind.

“Well, I noticed something new, I guess. Maybe it was the fact that he was more relaxed than I’d seen him before when Phelps was around or that the setting was more private. I don’t know. But the more I watched him, the more sure of it I was.”

“Sure of what?” She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but Owen heard it anyway and took a breath before answering.

“I think your dad was in love… with Phelps.”

Once again, Lena’s features were twisted in confusion, and her jaw hung open slightly as his words permeated her mind. She was reeling, struggling to make sense of it all.

“I… What?”

“I think your dad—”

“No, I heard you, but I… I don’t understand. What makes you think that?”

“I know what a guy in love looks like,” he replied simply, his expression sympathetic.

“You said that about Logan too,” Lena reminded him.

“Yes, and at that point in time, even he believed it. He and I talked about it, and you were right about everything. But that’s not the issue right now.”

“Okay, but… What is it you saw that makes you think my dad had a thing for Phelps?”

“More than a ‘thing,’ I’d say. It would’ve been easy to miss for a lot of people. I think maybe I just happened to glance at him at the right moments, but once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it. I’m not trying to slander him or anything. I hope you know that.”

“Of course not,” Lena shook her head dismissively, still struggling to piece together the entire puzzle. “I know you’re not like that. It’s just…”

She trailed off, once again becoming absorbed in her thoughts for a few moments. It seemed impossible that her father would’ve been able to keep a secret like that from her for so long, and she didn’t understand why he would’ve felt such secrecy between them was even necessary. And yet, as difficult as it was to believe, it somehow made sense. It clarified her confusion on several matters, not the least of which was why Nate had been so adamant about his trust in Phelps.

Love is blind.

Shakespeare had certainly gotten that right. Nate had loved his daughter deeply, but he’d been blind to the pain and guilt she’d hidden from him for fifteen years. Lena had loved him in return, but she’d been blind to a significant part of who he was. How had she missed it? His casual refusal to date while she was growing up had made her feel anxious, but that anxiety had had more to do with her than with him. Lena suddenly felt she’d been just as self-absorbed as she had silently accused her father of being for so many years.

And Phelps… Love had blinded Nate to Phelps’ true nature, and what Lena had believed to be the hideous betrayal of a friend now seemed infinitely more despicable. Anger, hurt, and guilt churned within her, threatening to explode at any moment. Lena heard the heart monitor beep a warning in response to her accelerating pulse, and her chest ached with the emotion she fought to control. She’d closed her eyes at some point, but the sudden and unexpected touch of Owen’s hand against her cheek forced them open again.

“Talk to me, baby,” he whispered, his own eyes pleading with her not to bottle her feelings. “I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Lena shook her head as the tears spilled over her cheeks. “It makes sense now, in a lot of ways, but I… I don’t understand why he never told me. Did he think I would judge him? Or be ashamed of him? There’s nothing wrong with being gay. He raised me to be tolerant and accepting, so why? Why did he feel like he couldn’t just tell me? And Phelps…”

She was panting with the effort to keep a hold on her emotions, and Owen worried that she might inadvertently push herself into a panic attack, much as he had done in the ER. He moved from the chair and squeezed himself onto the mattress next to her, sheltering her in his arms as gently as possible.

“I’m not sure Phelps even knew how Nate felt,” Owen told her quietly, shushing her as he wiped her tears away. “And if he did, he certainly didn’t return his feelings.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a nurse responding to Lena’s elevated heart rate. She offered a sedative, but Lena declined without so much as looking at her. Her pulse gradually slowed to a healthier speed as she buried her face against Owen’s chest and allowed his warmth and touch to soothe her, but the tears didn’t stop.

For the first time since she’d opened her eyes to a world without Nate, Lena wished more than anything that she could grieve and cry for him the way he deserved. She wanted to give her anger free reign, to throw things, to hunt down the man who had murdered her father and watch him suffer. She wanted to sob and scream at the injustice, the betrayal, the loss… The intensity of it all nearly overwhelmed her, and yet she fought against it instinctively, as though her brain knew that her body couldn’t withstand so much anguish in its present state. Self-preservation was the only thing keeping her from surrendering to her grief.

Her mind didn’t shrink from replaying those last moments with her father, however, and as Lena recalled his expression of shock and heartbreak, the chasm of despair she’d been tiptoeing around for days threatened to swallow her whole.

“I was horrible to him,” she whispered brokenly. “I was disrespectful… Maybe even hateful. He didn’t deserve that.”

“You were angry. You both were. And you had good reason to be angry. That conversation was long overdue, Lena. You couldn’t possibly have known what…” He trailed off as he felt her shoulders shake and a fresh wave of tears soak his shirt. Owen leaned away from her just enough to tip her chin upward, and he waited until she looked him in the eye before he spoke again. “It was not your fault. I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it, but baby… I’m not going to let you blame yourself for this too. There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent this.”

“We don’t know that. If I’d told him about Phelps sooner, if I’d pushed harder and made him believe me, if I’d gone after the proof right away, if…”

“Stop.” Owen’s voice was gentle but firm, and Lena’s lip trembled as she obeyed. “You didn’t do this. Phelps did this. And whether it was with a gun, or a bomb, or even his bare hands… He would’ve done whatever it took to get what he wanted no matter what obstacles stood in his way. This was NOT your fault.”

As they’d done so many times before, their eyes held for what seemed like an eternity, blue and green locked together as though engaging in a staring contest. Owen watched her thoughts and emotions do battle in the stormy seas of her eyes, praying like hell that the right side won the fight. After an indeterminable span of time, Lena’s expression shifted ever so slightly, and he sighed in hesitant relief at what he saw.

Acceptance.

 

 

A knock sounded on the door some time later, and Owen wanted to curse at the newcomer for disturbing them. He’d been going mad with the need to hold her for the past week, and Lena had finally calmed down enough to fall asleep in his arms. His eyes swung toward the doorway where Cook stood with an odd expression. It was cautious and yet somehow also… excited? Owen jerked his chin upward to beckon him into the room.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“I have something I think you and Ms. Gardner need to hear.” As Cook spoke, he held up his hand to reveal a small object Owen had never seen before.

“Now?”

“Yes, sir. It’s urgent.”

Owen’s brow contracted with confusion and curiosity, and he pursed his lips as he looked down at Lena. He hated to wake her, but he knew she would be awake soon anyway and in need of another dose of pain medication. He roused her gently, pressing his lips to her cheeks, nose and forehead without the slightest concern for their audience. Once Lena had stirred and regained enough awareness to listen to what Cook had to say, Owen moved regretfully to the chair at her bedside and gestured for him to get on with it.

“I apologize for disturbing you both, but this is time sensitive. The FBI will be arriving soon to take this into evidence.” Again, he held up the small object. “When we didn’t get anything out of Phelps on the call they tapped on Friday, one of the agents gave me this. It’s a digital recorder, and I was instructed to carry it in my pocket and switch it on if Mr. Phelps happened to approach me again.”

“And he did?” Lena asked, now very much awake.

“Yes, ma’am.” Without another word, he clicked a button on the recording device, and Phelps’ cool, deadly voice filled the silence, only slightly muffled by what was presumably the fabric of Cook’s jacket.

“I thought I’d made myself clear the last time we spoke, but perhaps you need further motivation.”

“I apologize, sir, but there was no opportunity to grant you access to Ms. Gardner’s room. She regained consciousness sooner than her doctors expected, and—”

“I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses. That bitch has been awake less than three days, and she’s already on her way to destroying everything I’ve worked for. I won’t allow it.”

“Yes, sir,” Cook replied in a shaking tone.

“You’re gonna do this, or so help me, your family will pay the price. Is that clear? There’s no way I’m getting into that room alone now, but you can. I want it done. I don’t care how, but one way or another, you’re going to take care of the little bitch in the next twenty-four hours. Understood?”

There was a brief pause and a rustling noise as if Cook had shifted slightly.

“With all due respect, Mr. Phelps, that’s not what I signed on for.”

“You signed on to do as you’re fucking told,” Phelps sneered. “Twenty-four hours, Cook.”

“Then I quit.” There was another pause before Phelps replied, and when he did, his voice was slightly louder, as though he’d gotten in Cook’s face.

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that.”

The recording ended, and Lena stared at the tiny device in shock. She’d had no doubt about the depths of Phelps’ malevolence, but it was still strange to hear him calmly ordering her demise in such a scathing, hateful tone. She’d never heard him sound that way before, and the undeniable reality of her predicament sent a chill through her very bones.

“Fucking bastard,” Owen growled, doing his best to stay calm.

“Yes, but this is good, Owen. He just incriminated himself. The FBI can use that to prove conspiracy to commit murder at the very least. They could get him in custody, and—”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay? I don’t want to get our hopes up only to be disappointed. Cook, you said the FBI is on their way?”

“Yes, sir. I called Agent Ramsey immediately and then peeked through the window. It didn’t seem like a good time to interrupt you, so I waited for the call back.”

“Thank you. Is Ramsey coming himself or sending someone on his staff?” Lena asked. She hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to him yet, and she knew the man had been needing to question her.

“I believe he’s sending a forensic technician, ma’am, but he mentioned he would be coming by to speak with you tomorrow or Tuesday.”

Lena sighed, attempting to conceal a grimace at the pain in her ribs and collarbone, but Owen wasn’t fooled. Rib fractures were slow to heal and very painful, and he knew Lena was due for another round of pain relievers. He reached across her to press the call button and relayed the message to the nurse who answered before turning his attention back to Cook.

“Thank you for your help with this. And for acting quickly,” Owen said sincerely, extending a hand toward him. Cook accepted the gesture and nodded solemnly.

“I apologize again for my part in all of this. I truly meant no harm to anyone.”

“I think under the circumstances, we’ll call it even and start over,” Lena replied reluctantly. “It will still take some time to build trust, but… You’ve put yourself and your family in danger for me. I won’t forget that. Is the FBI going to offer you protection as well?”

“I’m not sure yet, ma’am, but either way, I’ll be here when you need me. I don’t intend to go into hiding.”

The nurse who had checked her vitals earlier that evening entered the room again to administer Lena’s pain medication, and Cook excused himself to return to his post. Lena watched as the shot was injected into her IV and looked at Owen in regret.

“I’m going to fall asleep before the FBI person gets here.”

“I’ll talk to them and get you a full report,” Owen assured her, smiling gently. She nodded gratefully as her eyelids began to droop, and he sighed as he rubbed his own eyes wearily.

It had been a solid week of heightened emotions. Terror, anxiety, grief, anger, relief, joy… He was exhausted, and he knew Lena was too. He also knew that there would be no rest for them while Phelps walked free. As much as Owen would’ve enjoyed a few rounds in the gym with a punching bag, he refused to leave Lena’s side until her new security detail went on duty Monday morning. One guard simply wasn’t enough, as far as he was concerned. With a start, Owen realized that Monday morning was tomorrow.

Fuck, he cursed inwardly. He’d scarcely been away from her for more than an hour in the past seven days. How was he going to focus on the job she’d given him and not on his constant worry that something else might happen to her? The long list of post-operative complications danced behind his eyelids, and his hand tightened reflexively on the bed rail. No number of hulking, suited bodyguards would be able to prevent a decline in her health.

If it had been any other job, assigned by any other person, he’d have told them to fuck off. But it was Lena. He’d made so many promises to every higher power that might have been listening as the doctors and EMTs had fought to keep her alive. He’d vowed to do whatever was asked of him, any favor at any cost. The fact that Lena had asked him to be her acting CEO held a strange sort of irony. It was the job he’d always wanted at the worst possible time.

Another quiet knock on the door prompted Owen to lift his head from his hands and stand to greet the FBI forensic tech who had come to pick up the audio recorder. To his surprise, he recognized the woman immediately.

“Valerie?”

“Hi,” she whispered, having immediately noticed that Lena was asleep. Logan followed her into the room and did his usual scan of Lena’s bandaged form and the numbers on her monitors. “I volunteered to retrieve the evidence so we could keep the chain of custody as simple as possible. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit before now.”

“No, you’ve been busy. Lena and I really appreciate the work you’re doing on the case. Logan said your team has been working around the clock.”

“Yes. I’m waiting on some more test results right now, but they won’t be complete until morning. I thought I could sit with Lena for a while so you two can talk and get things worked out for tomorrow,” Valerie offered. Owen nodded and gestured for Logan to step outside for a few moments.

“Thanks, Valerie. The recorder is there on the table. No one but Cook has touched it, so far as I know, but you can confirm that with him.”

She waved him out the door and took the seat he’d just vacated next to Lena’s bed while he followed Logan from the room.

“So, you listened to it?” Logan asked without preamble. “He ordered another hit?”

“Basically. It had better be enough for them to make an arrest.”

“It needs to be enough to put him in a cell and keep him there until trial. The last thing we need is for his high-price lawyers to be able to convince a judge that the evidence isn’t damning enough to deny him bail.”

Owen sighed in exhaustion. That thought had occurred to him, but he’d been trying to stay optimistic, at least for Lena’s sake.

“I guess we’ll see. Are you ready for tomorrow?” Owen asked. Logan snickered under his breath.

“Are you?”

“You know you’re going to have to at least pretend to respect me, right?”

“I was in the Army, man. I think I can handle a bit of ass-kissing for a good cause,” Logan grinned. Owen rolled his eyes but felt his lips curving upward in spite of himself.

“I’ll leave here early tomorrow morning so I can go home to shower and change.”

Logan nodded, not bothering to suggest that he actually sleep at home as well. He knew Owen didn’t consider it an option.

“Or maybe I could just have you pick up a suit from the apartment…” Owen mused aloud, and Logan snorted in good humor.

“I’m your bodyguard, not your bitch. Get an assistant if you want, but I can’t watch your back if I’m off running errands for you.”

Owen conceded the argument with a casual wave of his hand, and they took a few minutes to iron out the smaller details for the rest of the week before returning to the subject of the investigation.

“Valerie talks like they’re close to a breakthrough, but every time she tries to explain the specifics, I tend to space out. It’s all chemical compound ratios and blast radius scenarios… When she starts talking in chemical equations, I don’t even try to keep up.”

“But they are getting close?”

“I hope so.”

Logan and Valerie left a short while later, and Owen changed into a t-shirt and pajama pants before settling into the recliner. He watched the monitors for a few moments, grateful that Lena was still sleeping soundly. As he set his alarm for the following morning, his mind sorted through the list of tasks on his agenda. It would’ve been easy to get overwhelmed had he not known that Sean would be by his side throughout the day. The true challenge would be maintaining his calm exterior in Phelps’ presence.

If Owen wasn’t careful, Logan would be protecting Phelps from him rather than the other way around.