The Merciless Travis Wilde

Chapter TEN



ALMOST A MONTH later, on a gray, rainy morning, that was all he could think about.

Risks.

The kind he’d always taken.

Not the kind he was taking now.

He’d been a wild kid, the same as his brothers. But none of them had ever done anything cruel or stupid and—predictably—their streaks of wildness had eventually been channeled into positive stuff.

Jake, flying helicopters and now running El Sueño as well as his own ranch.

Caleb, taking the darker route into secret government service and now taking on law cases that drew headlines.

He, Travis, flying jets and then going into big-time finance.

Risky things, all. But still, with an edge of predictability to them.

Not anymore.

This wasn’t predictable.

What he felt for Jennie.

What he believed she felt for him.

It made what had existed between him and the girl who’d written him that Dear John letter years ago, laughable.

She had never been a serious part of his life.

They’d come together as much because of his glamorous status as a fighter pilot as her flashy looks. He’d never really looked ahead and envisioned her as part of his real life.

Jennie was already in his real life.

She wasn’t just his lover, she was his friend.

Hell, she was his roommate.

Her toothbrush hung beside his.

They were—it still amazed him—they were living together, and they hadn’t been apart for more than a few hours each day for the last three and a half weeks.

So, yes, this was a very different kind of risk.

It involved putting aside an entire way of life, one that was free of restraint or rules or obligations to anyone but himself.

It involved, he thought, staring out his office window on a rainy morning, something he’d never imagined himself doing.

Living with a woman.

It wasn’t that he’d never considered it. The thought had certainly crossed his mind before, not often, but there’d been times it had, at the start of a relationship...

And, man, he’d always hated that word—relationship—but that was what this was, a relationship.

He and Jennie were living together.

And he loved it.

Coming home to her each night. Starting the day with her each morning.

He loved it.

Travis rose from his chair, tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and paced slowly around his office.

Talk about a shocker...

Until now, living with a woman had never gone beyond casual speculation.

The simple truth was, the excitement of an affair faded. The fun wore away. The prospect of spending all his time with one woman pretty much 24/7 lost its appeal.

It had never been the fault of any of his lovers.

It was just the way things were.

Man wasn’t meant for monogamy. He wasn’t, at any rate...

He paused at the floor-to-ceiling, wall-of-glass window, and stared out at the gray Dallas skyline.

Turned out, what he’d been meant for was Jennie.

They went to sleep in each other’s arms and woke that same way. They ate together. Talked about mundane stuff like where to have dinner, complicated stuff like global warming. They went out, stayed in, listened to music, did all the things couples did and bachelors didn’t...

And he loved it.

Especially coming home to her at night, when just seeing her smile, having her go into his arms, was more than enough to smooth whatever jagged edges the day might have left in its wake.

Jennie was living with him.

She had been, for almost a month.

The excitement? Still there. The fun? Of course. But there was more than that to it.

Being together was...He searched for the word.

It was joy.

The arrangement, for lack of a better word, had come about without plan.

It had started that Sunday when they’d gone to Six Flags.

They’d gone for a drive afterward.

Then they’d stopped for supper at a little Thai place he knew. The place was six tables big, with no pretensions at being anything but a Mom-and-Pop joint where the decor rated a zero but the food was Bangkok-perfect.

It turned out Thai food was new to Jennie.

How you could get through college and grad school without having Pad Thai or Tom Yum Goong was beyond him, but then he remembered those overly-protective parents who’d raised her to be cautious about everything, and he understood.

Sex. Roller coasters. Thai food.

He teased her, asked her if there was anything more he was going to introduce her to and she looked at him in a way that was suddenly completely serious.

Then, she laughed and said if there were, she’d let him know.

If she were six decades older, he’d have said she was working on a bucket list.

She wasn’t, of course.

She was simply a woman learning about life.

He’d ordered for them both. Tom Kha Gai. Red Curry. Pad Thai.

“Oh, my,” she said, after she’d tasted the soup.

“As in, ‘Oh, my, this is good’? Or, ‘Oh, my, I don’t like this at all!’”

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!”

She was what was amazing, he’d thought, watching her.

They ate from each other’s plates and talked all through the meal, about Texas and New England, nothing special, and when they left the restaurant, he’d driven her to her apartment.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he’d said, at her door.

“I don’t want that, either,” she’d said softly. “Come in, just for a while.”

He’d taken a deep breath.

“I have a better idea,” he’d said, no planning, no preparation, but as he’d said the words, he’d known they were right. “Pack something for tomorrow. Come home with me.”

She’d hesitated, long enough so his heart had almost stopped beating.

“I can’t,” she’d finally said.

“You can do anything that makes you happy,” he’d said softly. “Unless being with me won’t make you happy.”

Silence.

Then she’d gone up on her toes and kissed him.

She’d packed a summer skirt. A T-shirt. Sandals. Underwear. Makeup, shampoo, what he thought of as girl stuff, though he knew better than actually to call it that.

A man didn’t grow up with sisters without learning something.

Finally, she’d put her laptop computer in its case, added a couple of books and a stack of printed notes.

“Ready,” she’d said, and again, without planning or analyzing it, he’d heard himself suggest she add a few more things to what she’d packed.

“You know, just in case you, ah, you decided to stay a few days...”

It had been one of those time-stands-still moments, he silent, she staring at him through wide eyes.

Then, with typical Jennie-directness, she’d said, very softly, “Are you asking me to live with you?”

With untypical directness, at least when it came to women, he’d said, “Yes.”

She hadn’t gone back to her place since that night, except when he’d driven her there so she could pick up more of her things.

He’d tried to take her shopping. At Neiman Marcus, of course, but she wouldn’t let him.

She was independent, his Jennie, so he compensated by buying her gifts, then telling her, eyes wide with innocence, that whatever he’d bought was on sale and couldn’t be returned.

He’d done it again last night, handed her a gift-wrapped small box at dinner at the Thai place that had become a favorite.

She’d opened the box, gasped at the gold bracelet and heart inside, and looked at him with shining eyes.

“Travis. I can’t—”

“You have to,” he’d said. “It’s that damned no-returns policy.”

Her lips had curved in a smile.

“I love it,” she’d said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he’d said, and without warning, he’d suddenly imagined her opening an even smaller box, one that held a diamond solitaire.

Their food had arrived at that moment, and they’d spent the rest of the meal talking.

Actually, he’d done most of the talking.

He’d found himself telling her about the ten thousand acres of land for sale in Wilde’s Crossing, about how he was considering buying it.

“I love what I do,” he’d said, “and I’ll always go on doing it, but ranching is in my blood.”

“Must be the Viking DNA,” she’d said solemnly but with a little smile in her eyes, and he’d laughed and then, without planning to, he’d heard himself ask, very casually, how she felt about open spaces, about horses and dogs and kids, which were pretty much the staples of ranch life...

And realized he was holding his breath as he waited for her answer.

“I grew up watching old John Wayne movies,” she’d finally said, in a small voice. “My father owned every one. And—and I used to think how wonderful if must be, to saddle a horse and ride and ride and ride without ever reaching the boundaries of your own land, and then to ride home to a house full of love and laughter, to the arms of a man you adored...”

Her voice had trembled. Her eyes had darkened. He’d reached for her hand.

He’d come within a heartbeat of saying that she could, if she married him, but a crowded restaurant wasn’t where a man wanted to tell a woman he loved her.

Besides, the look on her face troubled him.

Something was wrong.

Jennie definitely had a secret, and it was not a good one.

He’d sensed it before, several times, but he’d never pushed her to reveal it because, back then, he’d still believed in separation. In independence. In being responsible for oneself and nobody else.

Not anymore.

She had a secret that made her unhappy and, by God, it was time he knew what it was so he could deal with it.

Had she been in jail? Was she on the run for a crime? Was somebody after her?

Impossible things, all of them, but there was a darkness haunting her, and she had yet to share it with him.

Didn’t she realize that whatever it was, he would deal with it?

That he would go on loving her?

Because he did love her. He adored her.

And she loved him, too.

He could see it in her smile. In the way she curled into his arms at night and responded to his kisses in the morning. It was even in the way she said his name.

It was time to say the words.

Tonight, he was going to tell her that he loved her. And after she’d told him she loved him, too, he would ask her what was causing her such anguish.

Her headaches, painful as they were, never brought such sadness to her eyes, but her headaches seemed more frequent.

“Have you taken your medicine?” he’d say, and she’d say yes, she had, and then she’d change the subject.

Except, last night, a muffled sound had awakened him.

The place on the bed beside him was empty.

He’d risen quickly, gone into the bathroom, found her huddled on the closed toilet, trembling, her face white, teeth chattering.

Terror had torn at his gut.

“Sweetheart,” he’d said, going down on his knees before her. “What is it?” No answer. He’d reached forward, swept her tangled hair back from her face. “Is it a headache?”

“Yes,” she’d whispered.

“Did you take a pill?”

Another yes.

He’d risen to his feet.

“I’m calling my doctor,” he’d said, and she’d grabbed his arm and gasped out, “No! I don’t need a doctor!”

The hell she didn’t.

But he hadn’t wanted to upset her, so he’d scooped her into his arms, carried her to bed, brought her a cold pack—he’d started keeping them in the freezer—and held her in his arms until she’d fallen asleep.

Dammit, he thought now, as he sat down behind his desk again.

He’d been so caught up in thinking about how much he loved her, how he was going to tell her so, tonight, that he’d lost sight of what he should have done first thing this morning.

She didn’t want to see his doctor? Okay. He couldn’t force her to do it, but his physician was an old pal. He and Ben had gone to the same high school, played on the football team. They’d gone to the same university, taken some of the same undergrad courses before Ben went into medical school and Travis set his sights on aerospace engineering..

He’d go see Ben, tell him about Jennie, tell him the name of the meds she was taking and find out if there wasn’t something a lot stronger and better.

No way could he go on watching the woman he loved suffer...

The woman he loved.

It felt so good to know that he loved her. To know he was going to tell her he loved her—

His cell phone rang.

He grabbed it, didn’t take time to check the screen.

“Honey?”

“Sweetie,” his brother Jake purred. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Travis sat back.

“Jacob. What’s up?”

“From hot to cold in less than a minute. Travis, my man, you’re breakin’ my heart.”

Travis laughed.

“Okay. Let’s start again. Hey, Jake, great to hear from you. How’re things going?”

“Tonight’s what’s going,” Jake said. “I thought the three of us could get together at that place near Caleb’s office.”

“Yeah. Well, sorry, but—”

“Trav. You were the one accusing us of ditching the Friday night stuff but we got together last week and the week before, and you were the guy who was missing.”

True. Very true. Travis rubbed his hand over his forehead.

“The thing is, I, ah, I have something going on...”

“Does it involve ‘honey’?”

Jake’s tone barely masked his laughter—and his curiosity.

Travis took a deep breath. What the hell, he decided, maybe it was time.

“Tell you what. I’ll meet you guys there. I won’t stay long. I...” Deep, deep breath. “I have to get home. To Jennie.”

“To who?”

“Her name is Jennie,” Travis said quietly. “And I guess it’s time you guys knew about her.”

Jake finally located his tongue, hanging somewhere in the vicinity of his chest.

“Sounds good,” he said.

Then he hung up the phone, called Caleb and said, “You are never going to believe this but it looks like Travis is hooked.”

“Hooked?”

“As in, he’s coming by tonight.”

“So?”

“He won’t stay long. He has a woman waiting for him. At home.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Caleb Wilde laughed.

“Uh-oh,” he said.

Jake grinned. “Ain’t that the truth?”

* * *

A few hours later, Travis paced the living room of his penthouse.

He’d gone home early.

Stupid thing to do.

Today was Jennie’s late day at the university. She wouldn’t be home for another half hour, which was more than enough time for him to have second-guessed himself a hundred times.

Telling Jake he’d meet him and Caleb tonight. What for? He was going to tell Jennie he loved her. He wouldn’t want to leave her after that.

Okay.

Okay, no problem.

He’d take her with him. Introduce her to his brothers...

No. Forget that. He’d tell her he loved her. Then she’d tell him what it was that, when he least expected it, stole the joy from her smile.

Travis ran his hands through his hair.

Dumb thing to do, piling on so many heavy things for one eve—

The elevator hummed. Made the soft thump it always made when it stopped.

He swung toward it.

The doors opened.

Jennie stepped from the car.

“Sweetheart,” he said...

And stopped.

God, the look on her face! It was one of such sorrow that he forgot everything, ran to her, took her in his arms and drew her into the room.

“Jen? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

She was lying. He could see it. He could feel it, too. She was trembling.

He scooped her up. Carried her to a big leather chair. Sat down with her held tightly in his arms.

“Honey. Don’t lock me out. I know there’s something you’re keeping from me—”

“I love you,” she said. “I know I’m not supposed to tell you that but—”

He could have sworn he felt his heart take wing.

“Jennie. My beloved Jennie. I love you, too.”

“See, I’ve studied the dynamics of—of—” For an instant, her eyes lit with happiness. “What did you say?”

“I said I adore you. I love you. I want to marry you. I want us to have kids, raise horses, do whatever makes you happy as we grow old together...”

A sob burst from her throat.

“No! I can’t.”

“Jennie—”

She shot to her feet.

“I can’t marry you,” she whispered.

“Of course you can.”

She shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. There’s something I—something I haven’t told you. I should have. I know I should have, but—”

Travis stood and gathered her into his arms.

“Whatever it is,” he said softly, “we’ll deal with it.”

She made a little sound, something between a laugh and a sob.

“We can’t deal with it.”

“Of course we can. I can. Is it a legal problem? Caleb will help us. Is it something in your past? Whatever it is—”

“I’m sick.”

“I know. The migraines. We’ll take care of those, too. My doctor—”

“Travis.” Jennie took a deep breath. Travis tried to draw her closer to him, but she kept a distance between them by flattening her hands against his chest. “I—I have—I have...” She shut her eyes, then opened them again, and looked into the eyes of her lover. “I have a tumor,” she whispered. “In my brain.”

He stared at her while he tried to process her words.

“A tumor? But—”

“In my brain. And there is no ‘but.’ It’s been there for months, and it’s been growing.” She drew a shallow, sharp breath. “My symptoms—”

“The headaches,” he said hoarsely.

She nodded.

“Travis. I’m—I’m dying.”

The room tilted. He thought he was going to pass out but he couldn’t, he had to be strong for his Jennie.

Besides, it couldn’t be true. He told her that she must have been misdiagnosed.

She got her briefcase. She had a file in it. Reports, scan results.

The diagnosis was accurate.

He told her how foolish it was to rely on tests from one hospital.

She spread the reports over the dining room table.

The tests had been repeated in three different major medical centers.

He stared at the papers. An icy hand seemed to close around his heart.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally said.

“I should have. I should have let you know the truth so that you wouldn’t—you wouldn’t have become involved with—”

He grabbed her. Silenced her with a kiss that tasted of terror and panic and desperation.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you! Do you think knowing this—this thing is inside your head would have kept me from loving you?”

She wept.

He wanted to weep with her, but his brain was whirring. He needed a plan.

Minutes later, he had one.

“I know people in Germany. In the U.K. Hell, I know people all over the world. We’ll fly to Europe—”

“Travis. My beloved Travis.” Her voice broke as she looked up into his eyes. “It’s all over. I’ve just come from my doctor. He says—”

Travis slammed his fist against the table.

“I don’t give a good goddamn what your doctor says! I’m not going to let this happen. I refuse to let it happen. I love you, love you, love you—”

She rose on her toes. Kissed him. Kissed him again and again, until he responded.

“Make love to me,” she pleaded. “Now. Make love to me—”

He took her there, in the living room, with passion, with tenderness, giving her all that he was.

She gave him all that she was in return.

At the end, she cried. And fell asleep in his arms.

He held her tightly to him, felt the beating of her heart, the warmth of her breath.

“I will not let you die,” he said, his voice low and hard and fierce with determination. “I—will—not—let—it—happen!”

Finally, exhausted, he slept...

* * *

And dreamed.

Jennie was standing next to him. Leaning over him.

She was weeping.

“Goodbye, my love,” she whispered, “goodbye.”

Her lips brushed his forehead.

He stirred. Came awake...

And found himself alone.

“Jennie?” he said.

He went from room to room. There was no sign of her.

Panic beat leathery wings in his chest.

He called her on her cell phone.

She didn’t answer.

He ran for his car. Drove to her apartment.

She wasn’t there.

He checked her office on campus.

Nothing.

God, dear God, where was she?

He went back to his place, driving like a madman in case she’d somehow materialized somewhere in those empty rooms, but she hadn’t.

Where could she have gone? Who would possibly know? That woman at the bar that night. Edna? Barbara? Brenda. That was it, but how in hell could he find a woman named Brenda in a city the size of Dallas?

“Think,” he said aloud, “think!”

There had to be someone who’d know what she would do, where she would go...

Her doctor.

He would know.

But who was he? Where was his office? Dammit to hell, why didn’t he have that information?

Maybe she had an address book. An appointment calendar. If she did, maybe the doctor’s name and address would be in it.

Travis went through Jennie’s things. Tore her stuff apart. Found no address book or appointment book or anything else.

Wait a minute. Would the medicines she took have the doctor’s name on the bottles?

He knew where she kept the tablets. Some were in a little silver pill box she carried in her purse. The rest were in his medicine cabinet.

Yes. There they were, but the only thing on the labels were the unpronounceable names of the meds, and the name and phone number of the pharmacy that had filled the prescriptions.

There were a frightening number of prescriptions.

He phoned the pharmacy. Spoke his way up the chain of command but nobody would tell him the doctor’s name or anything beyond the fact that the law protected a patient’s privacy.

There had to be a way...

Travis pumped his fist in the air.

There was. His pal. Ben Steinberg. Surely he could get the name of Jennie’s guy out of the pharmacy staff.

He thought about phoning, decided against it, got in his car and raced to Ben’s office, caught him just as he was leaving.

“Ben. I have to see you.”

“Travis? Are you sick?”

“No. My friend is sick. My friend...” Travis swallowed hard. “The woman I love gets these terrible headaches...”

“Ah.” Ben smiled. “Well, tell her to phone my office and—”

“You don’t understand.”

Ben looked at him. “Man,” he said quietly, “you look like hell.” He hesitated. “Okay. Come into my office and fill me in.”

* * *

Travis did.

When he finished, Ben’s expression was grave.

“Did she say what kind of brain tumor it is?”

Travis shook his head.

“All she’d tell me was that she was—that she was—”

Ben nodded. “Yeah. Okay. You need to find her but I don’t see what I—”

“If I find her doctor, maybe he can tell me where she’s gone.” Travis reached in his pocket, took out a vial of tablets, handed them to his friend. “I called her pharmacy. They won’t give me the doctor’s name. But they’ll give it to you.”

Ben nodded again. He thought about ethics, and patient confidentiality, and the fact that a woman named Jennifer Cooper had made it clear she didn’t want the man who loved her to be with her as she died.

Mostly, though, he thought about the fear, the desperation in the eyes of an old friend.

Then he reached for the phone.