Page 60 of Judas

“Come back, Ahava,” he pleaded, knowing she needed this intimacy as much as he did.

She shook her head, standing, “No, I can’t.”

He watched as she walked around the room like a woman on a mission. She changed her clothes, ran a brush through her long hair, and swiped beneath her eyes in an attempt to wipe away the streaks of mascara trailing down her face. When she was finished, Eliza turned to face him.

She motioned for him to follow, “Get up, love. I need your help.”

He moved to the edge of the bed to sit, motioning for her to come to him. Eliza obeys and positions herself to stand between his thighs.

Wrapping his arms around her legs, Judas hugs her to him, resting his face against her stomach, “I will help you do anything you need, but you don’t have to do anything at all if you’re not ready.”

Eliza ran her fingers through his long, silky hair, gripped the strands, and pulled his head back to look up at her, “I am ready.”

She had never been more radiant than she was in that moment, of this Judas was absolutely certain. Where just earlier she was wrapped in sadness and regret, now she glowed with resolve and determination.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Sucking in a sharp breath, she releases it in a long sigh, “Every single person he has victimized deserves tears shed for their pain, but they also deserve vindication. That’s exactly what we’re going to give them. I gave them all the tears I have to give today, now I’m going to take their abuser and I’m going to ruin his life.”

With that, Eliza released his hair and walked from the room.

Judas smiled as he watched her go. Two things were crystal clear in his mind. First, he loved that woman more than he ever thought possible and, second, that was a plan he could absolutely support.

Chapter forty-four

High heels and Italian loafers clack against the stark white tile of the hallway as Eliza and Judas round the final corner and approach Paul's hospital room. Judas' eyes cut slightly in her direction only to find fierce determination on his lover's face. Their strides slow and Judas raises a chin to the bodyguard stationed outside the door.

"Good morning, sir," Travis nodded back.

"Last night?" Judas asked.

The guard's shoulders raise then fall, "All quiet. No visitors all night…and Mr. Arthur seemed to sleep well."

"Is he awake?" Eliza's sharp tone cut across them.

"Yes ma'am. For a while now, I believe he is getting dressed and preparing for the press conference," he reported confidently. "Bobby should be back from his break soon, as well."

Judas patted the man on the shoulder in gratitude, "Travis, good job. Why don't you go to the cafeteria and get yourself a cup of coffee." His eyes cut quickly to Eliza, "I've got it from here."

As the former defensive lineman strode away, Eliza pushed the door to Paul's room open without preamble. The time for niceties was coming to an end and she wasn't going to play the game much longer. But, she had to be patient and that was something she was lacking.

The door of the private room swung wide and Paul startled as Eliza and Judas appeared. Her father continued to shrug on his suit jacket, "Well, good morning Darlin'. How are we doing out there? Big crowd?"

"It's starting to build," Eliza mused.

Paul turned to Judas, "And security…we're all good? The whole team is here, right? I'm pulling ahead fast in the polls, and we're going to ride this wave all the way to the capital."

His glee made Eliza's stomach churn.

"Yes, sir," Judas glanced quickly in her direction. No matter what was going on in her mind, he noticed she was doing an excellent job keeping her emotions in check. "Everyone is here and accounted for."

The enormous smile encompassed Paul's entire face. Clapping his hands together, gregarious laughter erupted from his chest, "Wonderful! Jude, my boy, tell Bobby to grab my bag. I think the people of Texas are ready for my return."

Stifling a chuckle, Judas waved the bodyguard into the room. Eliza's eyes darted nervously and fell on him as he handed Bobby the leather duffle bag and Travis reentered the room. She needed to give her dad one more chance. The small voice in her head reminded her he was her father and he would tell her the truth.

"Dad," she blurted. "Before we go out, we really need to talk about what happened that night. The police say Uncle Chet shot you. Why would he do that?"

Paul spun on his heel, his face ruddy and she thought her father's head might explode at such an invasive question. But, asquick as he was to anger, his demeanor shifted back just as fast. "Honey, I don't have any idea why they would say that. They're wrong…I mean," he stuttered, "I…I have no idea what kind of wild story is being told."

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