Out-Foxxed. Debra Webb
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past she so badly wanted to forget.
Maybe that was what tonight’s desperate lovemaking had been about.
No, she argued. Tonight with David hadn’t been about the past. Tonight had been about her needs as a woman. Nothing else.
The telephone rang. She heard the annoying clatter from the living room. She’d long ago turned off the ringer to the bedside extension. If work called, they used her cell phone, not her landline.
She stood, grabbed the bottle of wine and trudged off to the living room to answer the call. If it was Veronica, then Sabrina might just have to kill her.
After a long swallow directly from the bottle, Sabrina grabbed the receiver. “This better be good,” she threatened.
Silence.
Well, hell. “Hello?”
More of that thick silence.
She hated when this happened. When she started to hang up, she head the sound…a whisper of air as if someone had taken a breath.
Dammit.
“I know you’re there. If you don’t want me to hear you, then hold your breath.” She waited three more beats before she hung up.
A quick glance at the clock confirmed her suspicions. 3:30 a.m. The call came at that same hour every time.
And she knew it was him. She couldn’t prove it, of course. But she knew.
Damn him.
Eric Drake. The Dragon.
The mere thought of his name sent shivers chasing one another over her skin.
She had worked hard to put him behind her, to get over him, but the wound had never completely closed. She’d let him so deep inside her that she wasn’t sure it was humanly possible to completely evict him.
He’d been her Interpol counterpart, her lover, her everything…and that had been a mistake.
One she would never make again.
She headed back to bed, sleep and the effects of the wine clawing at her now. She surrendered to it, let it push thoughts of him from her mind.
The shrill ring of the phone split the air once more.
Swearing, she rolled over and snatched up the receiver. “What?” If this was him… Why the hell did he do this? Why didn’t he just leave her alone?
“Sabrina?”
Oh, hell. Her sister.
“Leslie, sorry about that. I thought you were someone else.” Then she remembered the time. She sat bolt upright, the haze of sleep and wine dissolving instantly. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mom. You need to meet me at the hospital.”
And just like that Sabrina’s great night was over.
THERE WAS SOMETHING about the medicinal smell of a hospital that made Sabrina think of running away. It wasn’t that the people inside the hospital were sick or dying, which, of course, was depressing enough. No, she was pretty sure it was more likely because for as long as she could remember, her mother had required regular hospital admissions. Growing up, she and her sister had spent many nights holding vigil at their mother’s hospital bedside.
Not due to any physical ailment. Nope, her mother had been and still was, to some degree, a hypochondriac. Janelle Fox could suck the very life out of other human beings with her neediness. Everything was all about her.
“She’s really sick this time, Sabrina.”
Sabrina didn’t doubt her sister’s assessment, but somehow, standing here in this hospital in Kansas after all these years of watching their mother pull this crap, it was hard to be sympathetic.
Leslie, her only sibling, had always defended their mother. Maybe because she was the oldest and somehow felt it was her job. Whatever the reason, Sabrina was the third wheel in this relationship. Especially since their father had passed away.
“What’s the diagnosis?” Sabrina hated that her skepticism showed, but, hey, she’d scarcely had any sleep.
Leslie Fanning shook her blond head in slow contempt. “I don’t know why you even came.” She had the same hazel eyes and tall, lean physique as Sabrina, but their personalities heralded from opposite universes.
Sabrina shrugged. “I don’t know why you even called me.” She leaned against the cold, white wall and folded her arms over her chest. She wasn’t going to take any holier-than-thou crap from her sister this time. The episode three months ago had been the last straw.
“You are unbelievable, do you know that?” Leslie hissed. She glanced around the corridor to make sure no one had heard her hushed outburst. “Our mother could be on her deathbed and you wouldn’t care.”
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