Free Black Ops 03 - Deadly Games by Cate Noble Page B

he could have lined up a shot and taken them both out with the same bullet.
    Except that would’ve been too damn pain free.
    On the other hand, if he only shot Gena …
    Ka-pow.
He would have made it a messy head shot. Lots of spray and splatter.
Hey, Gena! Still wanna give Rocco a piece of your mind?
    Harry’s cell phone vibrated again. This time it was Edguardo. Harry activated the wireless earpiece to answer.
    “You still see them?” Edguardo asked.
    “Yes. They got waylaid by some old biddy.”
    “Now what?”
    “Let’s hold our positions. They can’t stay here forever. Once they leave, we’ll follow at a distance, seewhere they’re headed. With luck, they’ll each drive their own car.” That would make it a little easier to separate Gena from Rocco.
    “Keep me posted,” Edguardo said.
    “I’ll call you when I see some action here.” Harry disconnected.
    Rocco showing up by himself at least kept the odds in their favor.
    Now Harry just needed to figure out how to get Gena alone.

Chapter Nine
     
    Rocco had followed Gena out the front entrance of the hospital. An elderly woman, who seemed very confused, interrupted them, asking for directions. He stepped aside, allowing Gena to assist the woman.
    He welcomed the break. Needed it to pull his mangled wits together.
    Seeing Gena again had slammed a fist in Rocco’s chest. Certainly he’d expected an emotional punch; he had thought of little else since leaving D.C.
    Their shared history spanned from supreme ecstasy to bitter strife to an unresolved ending. And it felt like he’d revisited every moment, good and bad, during his flight here.
    What caught him unaware just now, however, was the tsunami of regret and its vicious, resentful undertow. All the things he wished he’d said and done differently collided with the brick wall of all the things he wished
she
had said and done another way. His way.
    Gena also looked … not like Gena.
    When Rocco had first arrived at the hospital andasked for Gena Armstrong, he’d been directed to Helen Newton, the administrator of New Beginnings. Helen had been perched on a bench near intensive care, trying to watch the medical pandemonium unfolding nearby.
    She had eyed Rocco with open disdain when he’d walked up and said, “Ms. Newton?”
    “This area is off limits to the press.” Helen had responded coldly. “Go away and leave us alone.”
    “I’m not a reporter. I’m a friend of Gena Armstrong’s.”
    That had gotten Helen’s attention. “How close?”
    “Ex-fiancé.” Only a slight lie, but more expeditious than the truth.
    The commotion at the nurses’ station drew Helen’s gaze once again.
    “Oh, God! Lupe’s dead,” Helen had whispered, crossing herself. “I need to go handle this. Maybe you can get through to Gena. She’s refused to leave.”
    Helen had nodded toward the ICU’s doors just as they swept open. A woman had stood inside, her shoulders held too stiffly.
    Gena.
    Rocco almost hadn’t recognized her. And it was more than the fact that her hair was shorter than when he’d last seen it. Touched it. Four long years ago.
    This woman was practically a stranger. She was still drop-him-to-his-knees gorgeous, still blond. A shade of blond anyway. Beneath the soot her hair appeared tawny gold and barely brushed her shoulders.
    The Gena he used to know kept her hair middle-of-the-back long and platinum. On rare occasions she’d worn it in a ponytail, but usually Gena Armstronglooked like she’d just stepped off a fashion runway. Her PhD in beauty-pageant training, she’d teased. Even in bed, after gloriously wild sex, she’d looked perfect.
    This Gena looked vulnerable. Any make-up she’d had on previously was either cried off or buried under dirt and dried blood. This Gena didn’t even wear earrings, he’d noticed, when she’d tucked her hair behind her ears. Ears she had rarely let show because she thought they stuck out. Ears Rocco had loved to—
    Part of him had wanted to