The Heart of the Jungle, стр. 67
George had been outraged at the plan. Though he had sold his interest in the mine to David several years prior, he had been the one to broker the deal for its initial purchase. He had brought David in, being unable to afford the investment on his own. He reasoned it was only proper he should have a stake in the diamond too.
David had been stunned when George had suggested it. Further, when George explained he could never consent to the manner in which they intended to liquidate it and their plans for how to disburse the proceeds, David had flown into a mad rage.
In the heated exchange that followed, a lifetime of friendship was snuffed out in a flickering instant. David had called him a greedy, money-hungry swindler, and that had nearly broken his heart. "I've sorely misjudged you, George MacQuery. Your obsession with wealth has consumed you and turned you into a monster. You're not the man I thought you were, and it sickens me. Get out of my house," David had raged at him.
After all these years, it still stung. Poor, simple, misguided David.
It wasn't about money. Money was just a means to an end. No, George MacQuery thought, it wasn't about money at all. It was about stature, power, security---those were the true benefits of wealth.
George had grown up in poverty. The hardship and helplessness of his youth had taught him nothing except that men who had money had power, and men who didn't had none. Though he'd achieved some measure of affluence with his legal practice, it was not enough. Not even close.
True, his standing and the security he'd achieved were a world apart from the hardships of his youth, but the diamond represented a whole new level of influence---one he had dreamed about all his life.
As much as he loved Chris, the sentiment just wasn't equal to the opportunity to fulfill that lifelong ambition, to realize his most cherished dream. It was a costly trade, but one he was willing to make.
Soon Watson would arrive with Brunner in tow and he could put his final plans in motion. By the end of the day, the Heart of the Jungle would be his at long, long last.
As he turned the key in the lock, effectively imprisoning Chris and Brianna, he sighed heavily. He deeply regretted what was soon to come, but there was just no other way. The best he could do, in honor of the paternal affection he felt for Chris, was to offer him a peaceful exit.
CHRIS lay comfortably on his side on the soft bed, curled around his sleeping child. He twined his fingers through her soft red curls and smiled tenderly. His heart was overflowing with the sight of her. She'd grown and changed so much in the past ten months. Gazing at her, a bittersweet sense of longing for the lost time stabbed into his chest. How much he had missed.
The baby chubbiness had begun to give way, and he could see in her maturing features signs of the child she was becoming. She looked so much like Jeannie. Her eyes, wide spaced, were rimmed with long, thick lashes, and when she smiled, deep dimples appeared upon her cheeks.
Her mouth worked as she slept, and he traced a finger gently over her face, grinning in delight as it caused the corners of her lips to turn up.
It still worked, he thought, recalling the long hours he'd sat in the rocking chair caressing her in just this way to summon that heart-melting smile.
His eyes grew heavy as the happy memories and a strong sense of peace overcame him. As he drifted off to sleep, his last waking thoughts were of Jason Kingsley.
The man evoked powerful feelings. He could not deny it, but there was a terrible price to pay for such strong emotion. The past year had been horrific, and he just couldn't face the burden of so great a risk again.
Whatever had begun between them could not be allowed to flower and bear fruit. He had endured too much pain, too much hardship, and all that he had left he must keep in reserve for his daughter.
Despite his ebullience, despite the miracle of his reunion with Brianna, despite the perils he had overcome, when sleep finally took him, it was not an untroubled slumber. His heart was heavy with regret and loss. If not for the awful timing, what might have been with Jason Kingsley... might have been wonderful.
AS THEY sat in the cab waiting in the long, sinuous line for the ferry, Frank conversed in hushed, urgent tones with the Seattle field office.
When he finally disconnected, he turned to Jason. "They have an address.
It took some digging---the property is registered to a holding company in his late wife's name---but he's there, all right. It's off of Harbor View Drive on the west side of the island."
They had been waiting for the arrival of the ferry for more than an hour, and Jason was practically climbing out of his skin, the urgency and helplessness growing with each passing moment. "It's a thirty-minute ride," he said morosely. "What if we're already too late?"
Frank squeezed his hand reassuringly and continued. "The field office is working as fast as they can. Pulling together resources takes time, kid. I don't know what you're so antsy about anyway. We're going in strictly to provide intel." He gave Jason a warning look. "You're not on the payroll anymore---may I remind you---so it's damn lucky you still have friends in the bureau here. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the operation. The rule