SEALed With A Kiss(27)

“What else do you swear to?” he demanded, turning to face her, his hands curled into fists by his side. “That you never once considered aborting our baby? Is that why you didn’t tell me you were pregnant?”

She longed to deny the accusation immediately, but the memory of considering abortion even for a fraction of a second kept her mute.

“I gotta get out of here,” he declared, snatching his jacket off the back of the chair, “before I say something I’ll regret.” With fingers that shook, he jammed his arms through the sleeves as he walked to the door. Feeling lower than a worm crawling deep down in the earth, Ophelia could only watch him walk away.

As he reached for the latch, someone knocked.

With a scowl Vinny snatched the door open.

“Is she sleeping?” asked a familiar voice.

He held the door wordlessly ajar.

Stunned by the remote look on Vinny’s face, Ophelia scarcely noticed her sister, Penny, peering around the door. With a dismissive look that made Ophelia’s veins shrink, he slipped past Penny without another word.

“Hey.” Penny divided a curious look between them as her son Ryan tugged her into the room. “Sorry it took so long for us to get here,” she apologized. “Our flight was delayed.” She sidled up to the bed, dismay registering on her pleasant face as she looked her sister over. “Oh, honey, you look awful.” Blue-green eyes took stock of the cuts on Ophelia’s face.

“I feel awful,” Ophelia managed to whisper past the huge lump in her throat. Her gaze trekked to the little blond head standing at the height of her bed, near her elbow. Ryan peered up at her through rounded, worried eyes. “Hi, buddy,” she crooned, sitting up straighter so as not to alarm him further, and willed herself not to cry in front of him. “Why don’t you come sit up here?” She patted the space beside her hip, prompting Penny to lift him onto the mattress. “Fifi needs a hug,” she added, using the name he’d bestowed on her.

As naturally compassionate as his mother, Ryan leaned into Ophelia, wrapped his sturdy little arms around her, and squeezed her hard. With her nose buried in his bright hair, it occurred to Ophelia that she would never get to cuddle her own baby like this. She’d failed to protect the little life the way she should have. Her face crumpled with misery.

“You hurt, Fifi?” Ryan asked, running a gentle hand over the bandage that encased her wrist as he peered up at her.

She tried once more to hide her tears from him and failed. “I’m hurt,” she admitted in a voice thick with grief.

But it wasn’t Rawlings whom she blamed; it was herself. She’d asked for every ounce of the misery filling her heart. She didn’t deserve her loving husband. She didn’t deserve a happy marriage. Not even the loss of her baby was punishment enough. It was about time she owned up to what a selfish, shallow creature she was. Time she showed some accountability for her actions. Just how she would accomplish such a feat, she didn’t know, but it needed to be done. It was time to make some serious atonement.

*

Vinny slanted his wife a worried look. Seated next to him in the passenger seat of her reclaimed Kia Soul, she’d spoken scarcely more than a word since checking out of the hospital that morning. He’d brought her by his mama’s house so she could say good-bye to his mother and sister, both of whom had been nearly as subdued as Lia. And now they were an hour outside of Philadelphia with hours to go before they reached Virginia Beach. He’d hoped putting distance between her and the man who’d nearly had her killed would bring some color back into her waxen cheeks, a little of that devil-may-care sparkle back to her lackluster eyes. But she remained silent and subdued, almost…penitent, if such a word could be used to describe her.

“You warm enough, cara mia?” The slate colored clouds were starting to dust I-95 with shimmering snowflakes. He had set the heat on high, but Lia still looked like she was freezing. She sat there hugging her injured arm like a bird with a broken wing, suppressing visible shudders. Was it the shock of having nearly been murdered or his harsh words that were eating at her?

“I’m fine.” She stared unseeing at the road before them.

If Rawlings was the problem, maybe she only needed reassurance that he would be brought to justice—and soon. “I told you the latest update from Sergeant Presti, didn’t I?” he asked, recalling that he had, but maybe she hadn’t heard him.

“About the chauffeur?” she replied, proving as astute as ever. “Yeah, you told me.”

Rawlings’ driver, questioned by the police in relation to Lia’s abduction and reappearance, had bolstered their case by rendering statements that implicated his employer. More than that, Lia’s abductor, arrested for car theft, had stowed a Glock in his own car that was linked to the bullet that had killed John Staskiewicz. Finding himself facing murder charges, the kidnapper had fingered Collum as the man who’d hired him to abduct Lia. Phone calls between Collum and Rawlings, retrieved by the FBI, had sealed the lieutenant governor’s fate. The man was being held without bond.