After the doctor and her nurse left, Zandra got dressed, then walked out of the examination room. She was heading down the bright corridor toward the reception area when she passed a corkboard covered with snapshots of patients’ newborn babies.
She’d walked by that corkboard countless times before without giving it more than a passing glance. But today for some reason, she felt compelled to stop.
As she stood there staring at the collection of photos, a deep ache of longing spread through her.
She put a hand to her stomach.
For the first time ever, she allowed herself to entertain the thought of bringing a child into the world.
Not just any man’s child.
Remy’s.
*
Remy sat across from Sam Keegan in a leather booth located at the back of a coffee shop on West Jackson Boulevard. Keegan had called him that morning and asked to meet in person. In case the mayor was having him followed, he wanted to look like he was following orders, doing what he’d been told.
Remy waited until the waitress had poured their coffee, winked and sashayed away before he spoke. “It’s done.”
Keegan met his gaze across the table. “You’ve started investigating the escorts?”
Remy nodded, his gut churning with guilt.
“You’re doing the right thing.”
A grim smile twisted Remy’s mouth. “Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll start to believe it.”
Keegan was silent, lifting his coffee cup to his mouth and sipping the black brew.
“Does the mayor know that Zandra is an old friend of mine?”
“No,” Keegan said flatly. “And I didn’t volunteer that detail. If he finds out on his own, I’ll just explain that you’re the best person for the job because she’d never suspect your involvement.”
“Jesus.” Remy closed his eyes, rubbed a hand over his face and swallowed hard as guilt and self-loathing burned like bile in his throat.
“Kennedy’s holding a press conference tomorrow to announce his run for mayor,” Keegan informed him. “It might be a difficult day for Zandra.”
“She won’t be here,” Remy muttered.
“Oh? Where’s she going?”
“I’m taking her to London. We leave early tomorrow.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” Keegan sipped more coffee. “Her father’s a strong candidate, like I told you before. The knives will be out for him soon.”
Remy smiled darkly. “Should one of those knives happen to get rammed into his aorta, I’d be ever so grateful.”
Keegan chuckled into his cup. “Guess you’re still not gonna tell me why you hate the old man so much, huh?”
Remy didn’t respond.
When Keegan first came to him, he’d been tempted to tell him about Landis Kennedy’s violent past. The revelation would torpedo the man’s campaign before it even began. But giving Keegan that kind of ammunition would also thrust Zandra into the harsh glare of the media spotlight, forcing her to relive the nightmare of her childhood. He couldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t.
Gripping his coffee cup, he brought it to his mouth and drank, grimacing as the strong brew hit his queasy stomach.
“By the way,” Keegan said casually, “I recently spoke to someone over at BCNR.”
Remy showed no reaction to the mention of the Board for Correction of Naval Records.
“There’s been some talk of reinstating you.”
Remy went still, but didn’t lift his gaze from his coffee.
Three years ago, he would have jumped at the chance to be reinstated into the navy. But no longer. He couldn’t go back. Too much had happened. Too much damage had been done.
Keegan watched him. “You have nothing to say?”
“No.” Remy drank more coffee.
Keegan sighed heavily. “Well, that brings me to the other reason I wanted to see you today.” He paused, waiting for Remy to set down his cup and meet his somber gaze. “Lieutenant Shaughnessy was found dead last night.”
The news jolted Remy like a live wire pressed to wet skin. Stunned, he fell back against the booth and stared at Keegan. “Where?”