Chapter 20
Rowan stepped out of the conference room and turned on his cell phone. His first official debriefing had taken just over five hours, though he suspected there would be further questions about Gianni’s involvement when the time came.
Most important, they’d gotten the official word from the Italian government: Enzo’s diplomatic immunity was being waved. He would have to stand trial for his crimes in the United States.
Eleven missed calls.
He scowled, scrolling to see the numbers.
Most of them were from Becky.
His heart picked up in his chest. Her early morning departure had hurt him more than he thought possible. He took a deep breath as he returned her call.
“Rowan?”
“Hey…”
“Where the hell have you been?”
“My debriefing.”
“I left you messages…”
“My phone was turned off.”
“Can you come?”
He broke out in a smile. “Really?”
There was a pause on the line. “You didn’t check your voicemail.”
“No…”
“Gwen had a seizure this morning. She’s been having headaches, and she’s all swollen. She has eclampsia, Rowan. They tried controlling the seizures with medication, but it didn’t work. They just took her in for an emergency C-section.”
He began to run. “Oh my God. How far along is she?”
“Thirty-three weeks.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Please hurry, Rowan. I’m scared for her.”
The flight was just over an hour, but it felt a hell of a lot longer than that. When Rowan got to the airport in Washington, he’d pulled out his badge and done his damnedest to convince the manager at the ticket counter that securing a seat on this plane was a matter of national security.
The lie didn’t even scathe his normally strict conscience. Everyone he loved was held in the balance, and he would do whatever he could to tip the scales in their favor.
The thick dark clouds that had stuck to the windows of the airplane as they cruised now disappeared, revealing a whirling mass of snow and rain.
His mind wandered to the baby, his tiny niece or nephew.
Anthony had weighed almost eight pounds when he was born, and Rowan thought that was incredibly small.
He could only imagine the size of a thirty-three week preemie.
Poor Colin and Gwen. They didn’t deserve this. Rowan didn’t know what he’d do if it was his kid, if it was Becky having the baby. The thought made his spirit roar up protectively, the idea of her carrying his child at once overwhelming and erotic.
He shifted in his seat.
He loved her, that much he knew. And he certainly wanted children now that he knew what it was like to be a father.
He and Becky could get married and have the life he thought was impossible for him just months before.
A life filled with love and real emotion, ups and downs and a true companion with whom he could weather the storm.
If she would give him the chance.
He’d just have to convince her.
A smile tugged at his lips as he imagined life with Becky, her flaming red hair swinging around her as they argued.
It certainly wouldn’t be boring.
Hell, it would be awesome, and he knew it.
He imagined waking up next to her every morning, falling asleep by her side, sharing the moments and the memories in between. They could be happy together.
But she was keeping an emotional distance from him he needed to break through, and he wasn’t even sure of its source.
He frowned. An eligible bachelor, he was not. Some women might have a problem with that. His mind snapped back to Becky’s earlier accusations that he had real feelings for his soon-to-be ex-wife. Nothing was further from the truth, but what could he do to convince the woman he really loved?
The cab pulled up outside Brigham and Women’s Hospital and Rowan stepped out, already dialing Mass General and ringing Enzo’s room. A genuine smile lit his face, having just completed another call with FBI headquarters.
Enzo’s voice was as crisp and authoritative as always. “Yes?”
“It’s Rowan.”
“Ah, I was wondering if we’d have a chance to say goodbye before I headed back to Rome.”
His smug tone only forced Rowan’s smile wider. “About that. You’re not going back to Rome.”
“Of course I am. I have diplomatic immunity, Mitchell. There’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me.”
“Unless your own government sold you out and waived your privileges.”
“They would never.”
“Hang on a second.” Rowan stopped at the information desk. “Gwen Mitchell?”
The young woman typed into her computer. “Room 317. Take the green elevator to the third floor.”
“Thanks so much.” He put his phone back to his ear. “Cosmo turned himself into police this morning.”
Enzo didn’t respond.
“Turns out, he knew a few things that really shed some light on the rash of art thefts on the East Coast over the last couple of years. I’d say his information was downright compelling.”
“Really.”
“Sure was. Compelling enough to convince the Italian government to revoke your immunity and allow formal charges to be filed.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
Rowan stepped into an elevator. “I know for a fact, there are two armed police officers parked outside your door who are going to arrest you any minute.”
Enzo’s voice was a low growl. “I thank my lucky stars you’re not really Anthony’s father.”
“That’s funny, because I thank mine you’re not really his grandfather.”
He hung up the phone with a satisfying click.
“Knock, knock,” said Rowan as he nudged open the hospital room door.
“Come in,” said Gwen.
She was sitting up in bed, a tiny bundle nestled in the crook of her arm and a radiant smile on her tired face.
“Oh my gosh, she’s here with you.” He put a bouquet of yellow flowers on the table. “She must be doing well.”
“She is.”
He hugged Gwen over the baby’s head. “I’m so glad. What’s her name?”
“Joan Dorothy, after my mother and your grandmother. We’ll call her Joanie.”
His grandmother had practically raised him and Colin, and the namesake moved him deeply. “That’s awesome.”
“Do you want to hold her?”
“I’d love to.” Before Anthony was born, Rowan had been terrified of infants. Gingerly, he took Joanie in his arms. “She’s so tiny.”
“Four pounds two ounces, but healthy as a horse.”
The baby’s eyes were closed, her tiny face perfectly formed. “She looks like you, Gwen.”
Colin’s voice chimed in behind him. “She’s got my chin.”
“And your nose,” said Gwen, smiling.
“Congratulations,” said Rowan, opening his free arm to embrace his brother. “She’s beautiful.”
Colin bent and ran his finger along the baby’s cheek. “She’s already got my heart on a string.”
Gwen sighed. “You and me, both.”
“How are you feeling?” Rowan asked her.
“Pretty good. Tired.”
“I heard you had a seizure.” He handed the baby back to her mother.
“Yes, I heard that, too. I don’t remember it, though. I remember the ambulance, then the operating room, then she was here.”
The door opened and Becky walked in carrying a cafeteria tray covered with food. “Okay. I got your ice cream, your eggplant Parmesan and a double side of bacon. Colin, are you sure you didn’t want…” her voice trailed off as she looked up and saw Rowan. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How was D.C.?”
He nodded. “Good. They got Cosmo to turn on Enzo for Marco’s murder and the thefts. The Italian government waived Enzo’s immunity, so he’s going to stand trial for all of it.”
“What about shooting Gianni?”
“Enzo will be charged, but I suspect Gianni and Tamra will be gone before it comes to that.”
Becky scrunched up her face. “Too bad they couldn’t help put him away first.”
“It’s okay,” he said, moving to take her hand. “He’s going down anyway, and they need to get on with their lives. We all do.”
“What about Leonardo?”
“Tamra was thrilled to learn he’s really her father, and Anthony’s grandfather. They’re working on finding a new normal, I think.”
“Walk with me?” she asked.
He nodded. “We’ll be back.”
They wandered past the empty nursery, down a long stretch of maternity rooms, each bustling with activity. “I don’t like the way we left things.” Becky looked at the floor, gathering her courage. “I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about you lying, and the dream, and I’m sorry.”
“If you called out some guy’s name, I’d be pissed, too. But those kinds of dreams don’t really matter. All that matters are the dreams we make together, about our future, about what we want. Those are the real dreams.”
“I don’t know if I can trust you.”
He stopped walking and turned to her. “How can you say that?”
“You’ve told so many lies…”
“For work. I’ve told so many lies for work. I never lied to you about who I am, or how I feel about you, about what really matters. Think about it.”
Her mind backpedaled over her memories, every lie he’d ever told coming under scrutiny. The owner of the cabin in the woods. Working for Enzo, and the theft of The Lady in the Blue Dress. Each time he was untruthful, he was protecting his identity as an undercover agent.
“You know I’m right,” he said. “You can trust me, Becky. Today, tomorrow, and every day after. I love you.”
He had said it so many times, but it was the first time she let herself really believe it. She swallowed it up, the knowledge making her glow from within. Her voice was a whisper. “Me, too.”
The words were out, and her heart sang with joy. Rowan would be hers to love after all. He kissed her gently, with a tenderness that nearly brought tears to her eyes.
Pulling back, he smiled and said, “You are the love of my life. I couldn’t ask for more than what we have together.”
She rolled her eyes and giggled. “That’s so corny.”
“It’s true. And you’d better get used to corny, because I’m going to be laying it on you full force for the rest of my days.”
Her brows snapped down. “The rest of your days?”
“Yep.”
“Is that supposed to mean…”
“Marry me, Becky.”
Her jaw dropped open. “You’re already married.”
“A technicality. Will you wait for me?”
He’s serious.
With the knowledge came an answering certainty. She wanted to marry Rowan more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. Her eyes stung, threatening. “How long are we talking?”
He squinted one eye. “I’ll be honest with you. It could be a while.”
“Can we live in sin in the meantime?”
“Of course.”
She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. “Then yes, I’ll marry you.” He lifted her off the floor in a tight embrace and kissed her soundly on the lips.
“When do I get to meet your family?” he asked.
“Ooh, yikes!”
“What’s wrong?”
She clenched her teeth and bared them. “I’ve never brought anyone home before.”
“Never?”
“I never liked anybody enough.”
“Well then I’ll be the first.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Just don’t mention your wife, or my father might have a heart attack.”
“That’s probably a good idea. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“One older sister, Meghan. She’s married with a daughter. She caused enough family drama when she ran away from home at sixteen. I don’t think my parents can handle a married fiancé, too.”
“How long was she gone?”
“Fifteen years. She was pregnant when she left town with her boyfriend Liam, who was wanted for arson. But that’s another story all together.”
“Did he really do it?”
“Come home with me. Meet the crazies, and I’ll tell you all about it.”