One Hour to Midnight (2 page)

If he thought this would satisfy her he was mistaken. Her eyes flashed fire.

"Tonight maybe. In the past never."

"My business is with Veronica, not you." Leon's eyes narrowed as he watched Ricki's friend warily. He'd never expected her to have such a staunch ally.

He looked past Tania and saw Ricki emerge from the nightclub. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice and allow her to evade him.

He knew the moment she saw him standing there with Milas and her spitfire friend. Her spine stiffened, chin lifted at a haughty angle, every line of her body stiff with repudiation, but this time she didn't run.

Long, long legs crossed the cobblestones in ground eating strides, every step another spike of doom in his hopes. That excuse for a skirt coupled with heels high enough to give any other woman a nosebleed, set off those magnificent legs.

He had no business noticing her stunning, female attributes, nor was he thrilled when his near-dead libido stood to attention and shouted;
Hello? Remember me?

He wasn't quite dead. Yet.

"You have one hell of a nerve, Karvasis," she said, enough venom in her voice to kill at ten paces. "What swamp did you crawl out from?"

Thank God she's not a snake.

A grin almost escaped at the inconsequential thought. That would be a mistake, a big, big mistake.

Arriving without warning had been the wisest choice. Had this fire-breathing virago known of his intention she would have vanished. He would have wasted valuable time looking for her. And time was something he could not afford to waste.

It was exceedingly precious.

"Are you muddling me with my brother again, Ricki?" If he thought the question would throw her, he was left in no doubt he'd failed.

"Don't call me that." She stepped right into his face.

If looks could kill, he'd be dead meat. He couldn't afford to let her get the upper hand.

"Then what name would you like me to call you? Which one of many, would suit you best?"

It was dirty and underhand, but the subtle threat made her outrage sputter and die. He caught the cornered glance she directed at the redhead and Milas.

So the best friend doesn't know about me? Or Jordan?

Leon didn't know whether that was a good omen or not.

"What do you want?" Veronica demanded, her tone and attitude far less belligerent.

"I need to talk to you. Will you be home in the morning?"

"Maybe, but then again maybe not?"

He tamped down anger at her deliberate challenge. He knew she was well within her rights to refuse. She had few reasons to feel any kindness toward his family.

"I'll call on you at nine thirty," he said quietly. "Be there, Veronica."

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the redhead bristle and Milas lay a restraining hand on her arm.

Guilt laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.
 

Impatiently, he dismissed it. He could not allow guilt, sentiment or even fair play to railroad him. He didn't like it and Veronica would resent it, but he would do what he had to.

Jordan's life depended on it.

~***~

"So, Ricki," Tania drew out the name in a two long syllables. "What gives with you and Leon Karvasis?"

"Don't call me that!" Veronica sighed, she'd known she couldn't escape a grilling. "And there's nothing between me and that snake."

"Come off it, girlfriend. I was there last night. The heat from the lightning bolts nearly welded Milas and I to the board-walk. Don't try telling me you're not involved. A bit old, but boy is he a dish."

Old? Tania thought Leon was old? She was so way off the mark as to be almost funny.
 

"He is indeed, a dish I mean." The words escaped of their own volition. "And Leon's not old, but he is taken."

"Married?"

A soft sigh leaked past Veronica's lips. "Afraid so. And I have no yen to have darling Julia scratch my eyes out."

"So what does he want?"

Veronica closed her eyes and shook her head, forgetting her friend was unable to see.
 

"I wish I knew. But whatever it is, Tania, it'll be nothing good." The words had barely left her lips when a heavy knock reverberated through the cottage. "I have to go. He's at the door."

"Ring me later. Okay?"
 

Veronica hesitated.
 

"Promise?" Tania insisted.
 

"Okay I promise. I'll call you later."

  
She hung up the phone as a second, louder knock sounded. He was nothing if not prompt. After a sleepless night, she'd toyed with disappearing just to annoy the man now standing on her doorstep.

She hadn't.

Past experience had taught her he'd never leave without explaining, and getting what he came for. She opened the door.

"Good morning."

She nodded. The waspish response on the tip of her tongue died the moment she looked at Leon. Last night in the dim bar she hadn't noticed the changes.

Today they hit her full in the face.
 

His once dark hair now liberally streaked with grey, deep lines carved grooves either side of his mouth, his dark grey eyes filled with a weary resignation and the lightweight jacket hung on his large frame. The passing years had certainly left their mark.
 

Some intense emotion flickered in the depths of his eyes. Compassion and—uncertainty? The Leon Karvasis she remembered was never uncertain, and to see it now unnerved her more than his physical presence.

"I need to talk to you, Veronica. Could we go inside?"

"No!" His use her given name made the denial sharp and instinctive.

She didn't want him in her home. It was her place, the oasis she'd carved from the wreckage the Karvasis brothers had made of her life.

"Will you come for a drive then? Please?"

She nodded. Curiosity and anxiety tied her belly in knots as he escorted her to the car and opened the passenger door. Heart thumping at an erratic pace, she sat in the seat and watched him stride around to the driver's door.

I must be certifiably crazy.

"Where to?" He glanced at her after he'd started the engine.

"Wherever." To her, one place was as good as another. Her hands fisted in her lap. She caught his glance and with a conscious effort of will, relaxed and let them lie loose.

"I passed a small park on the way here." His deep voice ripped at her fragile defences. "Is that okay?"

Unwilling to meet his shrewd eyes, she nodded. With a cautious sideways glance, she watched his capable hands expertly guide the car through tree-lined streets. They rounded a sharp bend just as group of children spilled onto the road chasing after a ball.

Tyres squealed as he braked heavily.

Veronica
,
flung forward in her seat belt, let loose a small cry
.

Leon laid a hand over hers. "It's okay. No harm done. They were in no real danger."
 

"I know." Her gaze remained riveted on his tanned hand.

With a vividness, shocking in its intensity, she recalled holding that hand against the ripe melon of her abdomen so he could feel her unborn baby kicking lustily in her womb. The memory, plucked from her deep subconscious, mocked her resolve not to think of the past.

Leon parked on a grassy verge overlooking the sea.

Through the windscreen¸ the Waitemata Harbour danced and sparkled in the summer sun. Motutapu Island lay straight ahead in a blue haze, sheltered within the arms of the Hauraki Gulf. The pohutukawa trees dotting the foreshore were still tinged with their summer mantle, the ground below, crimson with needle-like petals.

His stillness only served to increase her apprehension.

Leon was never diffident, yet she sensed a distinct hesitation. She glanced at his profile but gleaned nothing. Intuition warned that whatever had driven him break his solemn promise and seek her out was no trifling matter.

"Leon?"

He sighed harshly and opened his door, walked around, opened hers and held out a hand.

Instinctively, she took it, and was jolted by another memory. Heavily pregnant, Leon had helped her from a similar vehicle.

With a ragged breath, she tore her hand away from his and walked toward the shore only stopping when curling waves, sand and pebbles barred her way.
 

She was far too aware of the silent man beside her.

Each quivering breath was laden with the spice of new mown grass, summer heat on salt wrack and the woodsy pine of Leon's cologne. Veronica curled her arms around her body, trying to ward off the primitive sensations, tension sat in her belly
,
as heavy as a brick.

Why does he still affect me like this? After all these years?
 

"Come and sit down." His brisk words cut through her turbulent thoughts; his hand on her elbow warm.

She shrugged off his touch. Being this close was torture enough without any added stimulus. They walked towards a huge pohutukawa, its twisted limbs testament to years of struggle against remorseless ocean winds. Leon leaned down and brushed fallen leaves and needle-like crimson petals from a crude seat built within a buttressed root.

Unable to stand the tension a moment longer, she sat down and turned to Leon. "What's this all about? What do you want?"

"You." He slanted a swift assessing glance her way. "Not you personally, I need your help."

The air was sucked clean out of her, leaving her winded. Somehow she managed to take a breath. The cool, precise words ripped open an old wound. Of course Leon didn't want her, he'd never wanted her.
 
He'd only ever wanted the baby she carried.
 

He half turned toward her on the rough seat, rubbing
a hand across his forehead.

"Why?" Anxiety tasted metallic on her tongue.
 

"Before I explain, can I ask
you
one question?" His keen grey gaze skimmed over her in one comprehensive glance.
 

She nodded, so nervous her mouth and throat were dry.
 

"Have you any close ties, Veronica," he asked, his voice even and unemotional. "A lover? Children?"

For several heartbeats shock held her motionless.
 

"You mean you don't know?" The question burst from her in a rush of searing anger. "I'd stake my life on you even knowing what brand of muesli I eat for breakfast, so cut the crap and tell me why you're here."
 

His betraying flush did nothing to ease her rage.

It might be years
,
but she knew damn well Leon Karvasis never embarked on anything unless he was fully informed.
 

He caught her hand and held it tightly. "I'm here because Jordan is dying."
 

And in one horrifying moment Veronica's fury evaporated.

She turned and looked at him, eyes so wide open they hurt, gaze fastened on his face. The breath caught in her throat and then escaped in a rasping rush.

"Jordan's ill?" she asked in a tortured whisper, grief a barb in her heart. "What's wrong with him?"
 

"He has a virulent strain of leukaemia." Leon raked an unsteady hand through his silver streaked hair, the sun glinting off the gold of his wedding band.
 

Nausea and shock rose up inside her in great debilitating waves. She shook her head in disbelief, eyes closed. Her nails bit crescents deep in her palms. Whatever she'd expected, it wasn't this.

"Ricki?" At his soft question, she opened her eyes.

The sky and sea were still the same smoky blue. It was her mind that painted them grey. She struggled to breathe, blood pounded in her temples and sweat dampened her palms. Each shallow, ragged breath inflicted excruciating pain.
 

Not my baby. Dear God not my baby.

"Without a bone marrow transplant he will die." Leon's harsh, even voice added to her horror and shock.

"But he's only ten. A little boy. How can he die?"
 

 
"Age is no barrier to death." He gave a ghost of a smile. "We've searched but can't find a compatible donor. Statistically, you or maternal siblings are his best chance of a donor match."

Is he hoping I've made another mistake?

When Leon caught her hand in his, she clung to him. The physical contact all that stood between her and a complete meltdown.

"He's in isolation in hospital. Would you come to Melbourne and be tested? And donate bone marrow if you're compatible?"

With a shuddering breath, she fought to assimilate his words. Beneath them, she caught a jagged undercurrent of torment.