CHAPTER 7—GOODBYES & PAYBACK
Loralei sat on the bedside without moving or saying a word. She was still in shock and didn't know much of what was going on around her. Donovan stood in front of the bedside table speaking quietly into the phone. She was lucid enough to wonder how he kept the enraged anger out of his voice as he spoke. To hear him, one would have never thought he was angry enough to commit murder. Right at that moment, his concern for her was outweighing his rage. When he laid eyes on Farron, he would have all the time he wanted to be pissed off and homicidal. He hung up the phone and turned slowly toward his wife. Donovan kneeled before her, wrapping one arm around her while the other rose up so his hand could caress her soft hair. She had insisted that she was okay, but he didn't believe it. His dark eyes searched her face, but she had yet to meet his gaze. She seemed ashamed, as if she had asked for his brother to grab her. She had let him inside, but never had she asked to be attacked, especially not by his bastard brother. Donovan wanted to kill him; he literally wanted to strangle the life out of him. Or better still, he would hold him down and let Loralei beat the living shit out of him. He hated seeing her so distraught.
"There was a cancellation tonight. Your flight back to Chicago departs at four this morning," he said. She said nothing; she didn't even acknowledge his words at all. He wanted his Loralei to surface and argue vehemently against him. Anything was better than this. "Loralei? Baby, please look at me."
She shook her head and began to cry again. Her tears were silent and pained, not a bit similar to the wailing cries when he first saw her. "I can't, Frank," she whispered. "I let him in. I should have known better. I don't think he would have done it if he hadn't been drinking. I'm fine, I really am, but I'm shaken. I'm not-not even thinking about him. I'm thinking about our baby, Frank. Something could-could have happened to the baby."
His hand moved from her hair to her chin where he gently turned her face toward him. She stubbornly cast her eyes downward. She didn't want to look at him. "No," he whispered. "Nothing is going to happen to the baby, Loralei." He moved the arm encircling her waist so that his hand could stroke her stomach ever so gently. Her hurt and guilt had never gone away when she miscarried so long ago. She had been punishing herself for months, and could never be convinced that she wasn't at fault. Her fear was completely justified, but also irrational. "You said it yourself. The baby moved within you. That should tell you something right there. You have the best of both of us inside you, and if anything, this child will be stubborn."
Her eyes finally met his. A tiny hint of a smile touched her lips. "Definitely. Boy, are we going to have our hands full."
He leaned toward her to kiss her, but his infernal cell phone rang. It was the work phone, and he was in no hurry to get back. He sighed and decided to ignore it for a moment. He kissed her lips very softly. After it was broken, he felt her arms going around him. He held onto her and closed his eyes tightly. Her body was trembling slightly against his. Despite what she said, she wasn't fine. He felt his teeth gritting together harshly. His anger coursed through him, and he would make Farron pay.
She drew away from him after a very long moment. "Go, Donovan, you're needed," she said.
He nodded. "Yes, I am. I'm needed right here, and this is where I'll stay until I see you off."
* * *
Later, at the airport, Donovan handed Loralei her carry-on. Up until a few minutes ago, he had worn it slung haphazardly over his shoulder. Her flight had been called, and they didn't have much time. He wasn't necessarily into long goodbyes, it only postponed the inevitable. He took his wife into his embrace and placed a gentle kiss on her ear.
"I'll call as often as I can," he whispered into her ear.
She nodded and momentarily tightened her hold on his body. "I know you will."
Loralei released him suddenly, forcing her body out of his arms. She was close to calling off the whole deal, but a tiny little life was depending on her, and she wouldn't fail again. She turned away from him quickly. His eyes were on her, and she couldn't look at him, not unless she wanted to start bawling like a spoiled child. She walked steadily toward the smiling flight attendant who waited for her ticket. Just before handing it over, Loralei turned back toward Donovan. She knew he would still be there, watching, worrying. He stood gazing after her, lifting his eyebrow curiously, as if he were asking 'what is it?' Don't you dare start arguing now, he thought.
She smiled a little and placed her hand on her stomach. "Oh, by the way, Daddy, it's a girl."
"A daughter," he spat, puzzled. "How long have you known?"
She chuckled teasingly. "Longer than you." Without another word, she turned away to give her ticket to the flight attendant.
* * *
Donovan and Loralei hadn't come to the airport alone. One man had tailed them since they had left the hotel. The other had already been in the airport searching for another. His dark eyes watched the couple very carefully. He had no idea his luck would run this way. Dominguez was totally unaware that Mateo had a woman, and a pregnant one at that. He had known him for many years, and he never mentioned anything. In fact, Mateo had always had a different woman every week. How long had he been hiding this little secret? He found a weakness, a good one. He wondered where the little woman was going. He also wondered how easily he could find out that information.
Farron had followed his brother and Loralei to the airport. While watching them, he noticed an all too familiar figure. Pablo. Dominguez was looking right at his brother and his wife. Oh God. He had seen Frank and Loralei. Dominguez was heartless. He wouldn't care to harm either Loralei or her baby. In fact, he would probably enjoy it. He didn't doubt that Loralei was Chicago bound, and it would only take a few moments for Dominguez to find out. Another thought struck him. He knew that by now, Frank had discovered what he'd done to Loralei, and he would rightfully be after his blood. However, he would have to approach his brother to let him know his life, as well as those of his wife and child, were in danger.
* * *
Donovan went back to the makeshift office directly from the airport. He didn't expect to see anyone there at this ungodly hour, but he was wrong. Cody had gotten a jump-start on the day and was going through dozens of hours of surveillance from Jake's sojourn the night before. He was trying to identify Dominguez in a sea of faces. Donovan didn't know where he got the patience for it. If he had to do it, he would become a crazed maniac. On another monitor beside Cody, a photo was frozen on the screen. It was a blurry surveillance camera shot taken at a party. There were several men in the photograph, one of them was Dominguez. Every now and then, Cody would run the feed, then glance at the other computer screen. Nothing. Jake had gone to many different hangouts, but hadn't quite seen his target. Something had to give soon, if not, they would all go off running in the streets screaming into the dark night.
Jake burst in suddenly carrying a matchbook in his hand. There was a victorious gleam in his eyes. He slapped the matchbook down beside Cody and exclaimed, "Look at this," he said proudly.
"Wow. Did some girl give you her number," Cody asked without taking his eyes off the screens.
"You can stop looking at that screen. This guy came up to me last night, out of the blue. He asked if I was the trafficker they were all hearing about. He wasn't exactly Dominguez, but he's in the same gang. We're meeting tonight."
Donovan sighed, relieved. A break. Finally. He hoped that it would lead to a swift case closure and a return trip home to his wife. He nodded. "Great news. Good work, Jake."
"Boss, I saw one of the weirdest things about fifteen minutes ago," he said.
He turned toward the agent and looked at him with a lifted eyebrow. "That was?"
"This guy was skulking around the lobby, hiding. When he saw me watching, he ducked away. But I swear to God, he could have been your twin," he said.
Donovan's jaw set and he pressed his lips together tightly. "That was my twin," he spat petulantly. "My brother, Farron. Where did he go?"
Jake backed away from the utter rage in Donovan's eyes. "I'm not sure," he answered. "He was in the lobby."
Without another word, Donovan stalked out of the conference room. Jake and Cody exchanged a look between them [whafuck] before Jake ran after him. Donovan wasn't aware of anything or anyone around him. He didn't hear Jake behind him, asking him to stop. His mind was focused singly on finding Farron and beating the shit out of him. If Jake had just seen him in the lobby, he was probably still there, but he did not understand why. Farron had to know that Loralei had told him what happened. Why was the fucker still around? Didn't he realize that he would tear him limb from limb? Was he that fucking dense? With flaring nostrils, Donovan entered the lobby. It was still early, and there wasn't much activity yet, and if Farron were here, he'd find him easily. He stood in the middle of the room, scanning it, searching high and low. Show your face, he thought, be a man for once in your life.
Jake finally caught up with Donovan. "What the hell's going on," he demanded gruffly.
"Stay out of this, Jake," he spat, fixing him with a cold stare. "This has nothing to do with you."
Farron didn't bother ducking Frank when he saw him. Even from his vantage point, he could clearly see the rage in his eyes. It was as if he were looking at his own demise. Honestly, he couldn't blame him. Perhaps after Frank beat him up, he would listen to his plea and warning. His wife and child were to be targets. Slowly, he came around the corner in plain view of Frank's eyes. His twin fixed him with a murderous stare. Behind Donovan, Jake couldn't help but gasp aloud. The boss hadn't been joking. This dude was his twin, all right, identical. At first, Donovan couldn't even move. He was so enraged that his feet seemed to be planted on the carpet. This man who had fucked up his life beyond all reason and sanity, had dared to lay his hands on his pregnant wife, stood before him as if he had done nothing wrong. Loralei's fucking tears were still drying on his shirt, for Christ's sake, and this man didn't seem to care. He didn't seem to care about anything. Giving in to his rage, his hatred, he flew at his brother.
Farron felt Donovan's hand going around his throat. As if on a will of its own, his body was slammed into the far wall on the other fucking side of the room. He was certain his feet had never touched the floor. When his head connected with the hardwood, he heard an audible cracking noise, and pain began to explode at the back of his skull. Donovan's grip was vicious and choking. His face was drawn into a horrid snarl. At that moment, Farron was sure his twin had literally lost his mind. He released Farron's throat long enough to draw back his fist and smash it into his face. He felt an immediate, but satisfying pain his hand. Farron's head jerked to the side of his body, and the blow forced him to stagger. Donovan stood back, breathing heavily, waiting for his brother to recover so he could hit him again. Jake tried to grab his arm and pull him off, but he jerked free of his grip, and fixed his crazed stare on him. By that time, Farron had recovered sufficiently enough to throw his own punch. It landed squarely, with force, on Donovan's jaw.
More than enraged now, Donovan turned to his brother. His lip was bleeding and his cheek was bright red. He hoped he had broken his cheekbone. Snarling again, he drew back and drove his fist into Farron's face again. This time, he fell to the floor in a punch drunk daze. Donovan pounced on him. Grabbing him by his shirt collar, he hit Farron over and over again, ruthlessly, and brutally. Farron was down for good, his head swimming sickly, his vision graying, and then almost blacking out totally. At that time, Donovan reached for his throat and had his hands wrapped around it. He had every intention of choking him. It was then that Jake jumped in, with the assistance of a few security guards, and began the fruitless task of trying to pull Donovan off the fallen man. Donovan fought back at them, had even begun to fight against his agent. He wasn't finished. The fucker was still moving. His mission would not be complete until Farron could no longer twitch one single muscle.
"Stand up and face me, goddamn you," Donovan roared. "Stand up and fight me. Fight me, not my pregnant wife." He broke free of the men holding him, and he took after Farron again. He grabbed a handful of his long black hair and jerked him up to face him. His face was beaten and bloody, hardly recognizable. "If you ever touch her again, I'll fucking kill you," he said through clenched teeth. "Say something, you bastard. Say something now."
"Donovan, Jesus," Jake spat, "Back off. He's down."
He ignored Jake's sensible plea. "Say something," he spat.
There were only a few words Farron cared to speak, only a few that would get through to his brother. "Your wife," he spat. "She's…she's in danger." After he had choked out the words, he blacked out.
Donovan shook him viciously, glaring down into his face. "What do you mean," he shouted. "Tell me, goddamn you."
The hands were on him again, pulling him away. From far, far away [he had visited that place once before, right after he thought Loralei had died], he could hear Jake's urgent voice, demanding that he let him go.
* * *
Donovan sat in the conference room nursing his hand. He thought he might have broken it, but he could still move it around a little. It would probably become useless to him by nightfall. Security had laid Farron out in the same room [dumb move], but they hovered over him until he regained consciousness. He refused medical attention, but accepted a washcloth and an icepack for his face. One eye was almost completely swollen shut, and he couldn't see out of the other very well. He couldn't believe his brother had consented to sitting in the same room with him. Farron didn't know, but Donovan wanted to talk to him, but only about what he'd said regarding Loralei's safety.
He stared coldly at his twin brother. He wanted nothing more than to fly over the conference table and finish the job. "Why is my wife in danger," Donovan demanded. "What have you done? Tell me, or I swear to God, I'll fucking throw you out the window."
Farron held the icepack against his eye. His head thumped sickly, and he thought he might vomit. "Take a look at that computer screen," he spat, his words obstructed a bit by his swollen bottom lip. "Look very closely. Tell me who you see."
Too flabbergasted to deny his request, he moved over to the second screen that Cody had been staring at all morning. He focused his eyes on the screen, nearly burning them into it. Why hadn't he noticed before? In the very back of the 'gang,' there was a fellow with dark hair slicked back away from his face, and braided into a long ponytail. Sunglasses were shielding his eyes. Donovan turned toward his twin and fixed a stupefied gaze on him. "You," he spat.
"You're looking at Mateo Luis," he said slowly, painfully. "I'm the witness you seek."
Enraged, Donovan flew at Farron again. He didn't hit the other man. Instead, he jerked him by his shirt collar and glowered down into his face. "What did you do, Farron? What the fuck did you do?"
"You're a powerful man, mi hermano," he croaked out. "I suggest you call and have her plane redirected. If you don't, you won't ever see her alive again."
"Why do they want her, Farron? Why her? She isn't a part of this," he spat.
"They want her, Frank, because they saw you at the airport. They think you're me, and that Loralei is my woman. If you don't stop her, they will be waiting at the airport. I cannot say what they will do to her, but I know it won't be fast or humane. I know that they will not hesitate to kill her or your child. These men don't care, especially Dominguez. Do it, Frank, or you will lose her, you will lose them both."
He released his brother and he fell back to the plushy chair with an audible thud. Donovan made a mad dash to the telephone and dialed up the flight control center. Hastily, he spat out his name and security clearance, not wanting to take time to do it. After listening to the bored voice on the other end of the line, Donovan spat, "What do I want you to do," he asked, dumbfounded. "Turn the fucking plane around and bring it back."