No One Lives Forever by Jordan Dane Read Free Book Online Page B

seven tomorrow morning. If I decide to help you, I'll be packed and ready to go. If not, you're on your own."
    He raised himself off the sofa, letting her know the meeting had ended.
    "As you say, I have run out of options. Until tomorrow, then." Jasmine stood and reached for his hand, taking his fingers in hers. "If you decide to join me in this fight, do not take a weapon. With customs and airport security such as it is these days, I've had to make special arrangements." A faint smile quickly faded. "I know you are a man willing to risk a great deal out of loyalty. You have proven this before. Please, I beg of you, don't turn your back on Nicholas."
    Christian returned her gesture with a reassuring squeeze of her hand. He watched Jasmine walk toward the elevator and listened as it rumbled to the ground floor. Raven stood silently by his side.
    In many ways, he wanted to believe Jasmine. To believe her meant he had all the pieces to the puzzle of his past. His biological father had a name, such as it was. But staring into Jasmine's dark eyes, he'd felt the pull of a dark chasm, filled to the brim with corruption and lies. The woman had grown accustomed to living in such a realm, accepted it. Yet he could not. He felt completely unprepared to enter the world of his so-called father, Nicholas Char-boneau.
    It was one thing to free a man needing his help, but was it his fight? Even if Fiona confirmed Charboneau to be his father, how much would he risk to uncover the truth about his past?
    "It's hard enough to talk to Fiona these days . . . in that place. Now this." He shook his head and pulled Raven to his chest, filling his senses with her warmth.
    "Nicholas Charboneau. Just when I thought I'd seen the worst."
    Christian's gaze fogged with the image of a face he knew well. Next stop, a long-awaited confrontation with his mother, Fiona. And this time she'd have to tell him the truth.

CHAPTER 4
    Day four
    Fiona had no need to fear the never-ending damnation of hell. She lived it, each and every day, cut off from the wealth and privilege—and freedom—she left behind.
    Christian could only imagine what it must be like for her to live in a minimum security prison located in downtown Chicago. Beyond the metal bars, the world spun along without her—the charity events, gala openings, and life in general. But her world had stopped dead still, marred forever. For her, nothing would ever be the same again.
    As he walked through the door marked for visitors and took a seat, bland gray walls closed in on him. The room smelled of sweat and an indefinable musty odor, masked by industrial pine cleaner. Walls had been stripped bare, functional in their simplicity. Rules of conduct were posted and screwed into painted cinder block, printed in blue, the only real color in the room. Dull mediocrity and guilt weighed oppressive in this place.
    God, you deserve better, Fie! If I could switch places —
    He knew Fiona hated it, her home for the next five years with good behavior. The judge had been lenient in exchange for her voluntary confession to the arranged murder of her husband, Charles Dunhill, over twenty-five years ago. No evidence would have convicted her. She came forward, unwilling to deny her guilt any longer. Perhaps the judge aligned his sympathies on the side of Fiona, given the fact she killed her husband to save her illegitimate ten-year-old son from the man's murderous wrath.
    All things considered, his life had been built on a foundation of murder and lies. He had grown weary of the burden. But he couldn't fathom the depths of her regret.
    He sat in a metal chair, staring through Plexiglas at the empty seat that would soon hold his mother. A myriad of fingerprints dotted the dingy surface, a quiet reminder of the desperation and longing within these walls. His thoughts turned to Fiona.
    He yearned to see her . . . and dreaded it at the same time.
    An annoying buzzer, followed by a slamming door, preceded footsteps echoing