Deadly Games - Cate Noble [67]
Add to that the fact Harry knew Rocco had probably given her the standard spies-like-us-can’t-have-families excuse when they’d first started dating. Of course, Harry also knew Rocco must be rethinking certain issues because Harry had overheard him talking marriage with Dante Johnson.
Time to think fast, act faster. “Does Rocco know you’re pregnant?” he asked.
“No! And I have no intention of telling him.”
“I understand your position. But, honey, he does have a right to know. We’re talking about a baby here. A life the two of you created. Your romantic relationship may be irretrievably broken now that you know about this Brandy creature, but then again, impending fatherhood may be the wakeup call Rocco needs. How about we try to reach him?”
“Now? I … I can’t talk to him. Not when I’m upset like this.”
You couldn’t call him before this, either. Oh, yeah, Harry knew all about her idiosyncrasies.
“Then I’ll call him,” Harry said. “I’ll step outside, or go in the kitchen so you don’t feel a part of it, but, honey, you can’t possibly keep this to yourself.”
“I’m not sure if that’s the right thing to do.”
That wasn’t a no. Harry stood. “Let me handle it. You just lie down and try to relax. I’ll go in the kitchen and, um, make you a cup of tea. You’ve got tea bags, right?”
In the kitchen, Harry filled the teakettle and set it on the stove, then poked through her cabinets and found tea and sugar. The longer he postponed making the call, the more anxious she’d be.
Finally, he opened his phone and began pressing a long string of numbers, followed by END. Then he held the phone to his ear.
“Yo! Rocco. It’s me.” He raised his voice. “It’s Harry. Yeah, lousy connection.”
He took a deep breath. “Look, I just talked to Gena. And, man, you need to call her. ASAP.”
Harry paused. “I’m serious, dude. Yeah, I know what the problem is, but you need to hear it from her.”
Another pause. “Fine. Let me spell it out. Gena’s pregnant. And she needs your help. What? Of course it’s yours, you big dumb fuck! Gena would never lie about— Tell whoever’s yelling to be quiet. Oh, Jesus, you’re with Brandy right now?”
The teakettle started whistling. Harry plucked it off the stove. “Hell no, I’m not going to tell her you said that! I know for a fact Gena’s never been with anyone but you. You know what? Forget I called. In fact, forget we’re friends!”
Harry closed his phone with a snap and tossed it on the counter. Gena’s sobs drifted in from the other room. She’d heard every word. Perfect. He poured hot water over the tea bag.
Then he pulled his wallet out and extracted a small paper envelope. He dumped the powder from it into the teacup and brewed a weak but sweet tea. The powder, similar to a date-rape drug, worked better with alcohol. He’d need to increase the dose to achieve the same effect.
The drug shared most of Rohypnol’s amnesia-inducing qualities with one important difference. The last thing said to a victim stayed with the person, making it excellent for persuasion.
He carried the tea in to Gena and sat beside her on the couch. “Here.”
She ignored the cup. “He … was with her?”
Harry nodded. “How much did you overhear?”
“Enough to know Rocco doesn’t believe it’s his baby.” She swiped her eyes. “Is that what he said?”
“He said, ‘It’s not mine,’ but that may have been for Brandy’s benefit. Once he’s away from her, he’ll probably call and—”
“I don’t want to speak with him. Ever.” Gena straightened her shoulders. “I’ve changed my mind about going home. In fact, the sooner I get to Texas, the better. My father won’t be pleased, but he’ll certainly take the news better than—” Her voice cracked.
“Here. Try a sip of this.” Harry held the cup to her mouth.
Gena’s father would have a cow to learn his daughter was pregnant outside of marriage. Armstrong women didn’t do that. Especially not when Daddy hoped to hook her up with the rich heir one ranch over. Armstrong women married well, and then hired nannies to raise their young. Gena wouldn’t