The Coptic Secret by Gregg Loomis Read Free Book Online Page A

are. Even though I knew I had a baby coming, I did not want to ask you for help, to look like I needed anyone nor was I willing to give up what could be the only part of you I would ever have."
    "By your choice." There was no brittle edge to his tone, only a happy recitation of fact.
    "Had you not nearly died, I would probably never seen you again," she said with uncharacteristic emotion. "I would have been very foolish. If you wish me to go, I will."
    Instead, he spread his arms again, releasing his son. Cigarette in hand, Gurt came to the bed and embraced him. Lang smelled a mixture of stale tobacco and soap with the smallest hint of some sort of flower fragrance, the one he associated with her. The memories flooded back: Rome, London, Seville, the Languedoc of France. All the dangers they had faced. And the wild, uninhibited, noisy sex. He had missed the former almost as much as the latter.
    "Go? Try it and I'll chain you to the bed," he said with a smile.
    As though with a will of their own, his hands started moving across her back, down her sides to her hips.
    She gently pushed back. "Later. When Manfred is not here."
    The first lust he had felt in longer than he cared to remember had not made Lang forget the boy. "No harm in him seeing his parents' affection."
    Gurt cocked an eyebrow. "Affection'? Another minute and you would have had me across the bed."
    The growing discomfort from the catheter made Lang painfully aware of how right she was.
    He leaned back into the pillows. "Exactly what do you have in mind? I mean, I better be planning on you staying this time."
    He was afraid to bring up any arrangement that smacked of permanence. She had left his life twice before when he had.
    "Manfred and I will be here at least until the hospital releases you. Longer if you wish."
    Lang's eyes were riveted on his son, the child he was beginning to regard as miraculous as any held by one of Rubens's Madonnas. "I can't wait that long. Whoever blew up my condo is going to try again. I'm a sitting duck here."
    "What do nesting birds have to do with it?" She was looking for a place to stub out her cigarette. She finally settled on a glass beside the bed before she returned to the chair. "There are men outside that look like policemen."
    "They are, City of Atlanta. You lived here a year or so. Would you trust your life to the Atlanta police?"
    She gave a toss of the head. "You do not have to. That is one of the reasons I came."
    It was not bravado. She had saved his life more than once. After winning the agency's women's shooting competition, she had demanded a face-off with the male champion. She had humiliated him.
    "You have a weapon?"
    "I had no plans to protect you with a nail file."
    "Manfred?"
    "He will stay with Francis for the time being."
    Francis, keeper of Lang's dog and now Lang's son. The priest was making his bid for sainthood.
    Or institutional confinement.
    Francis.
    Lang recalled his friend's reaction when he had told him he thought he had dreamed of Gurt. "Francis, he..."
    "He called me hours after you were admitted to the hospital. The doctors were not, er, optimistic."
    Lang realized Francis had kept in touch with Gurt, maybe even knew about Manfred. He should feel annoyed, piqued that his friend had kept this information to himself.
    But he was far too happy.
    And too tired. His first few days back in the world had fatigued him far beyond anything he would have anticipated. He fought the gravitational pull of his eyelids as long as he could.
    Then he slipped into sleep.
    VI.
    Park Place
    2660 Peachtree Road Atlanta, Georgia A Month Later
    Today was the first time Lang had seen his previous home since the blast. He had decided to rebuild section by section, starting with the tiny kitchen. A new wall oven was to be delivered from Home Depot today. So far it had not arrived.
    The condominium association had replaced the exterior glass through which was a magnificent view of the city's premier avenue, a long stretch