Page 171 of Receiving His Mercy
But the only person at fault was Aadan.
Oh, and Isabel, who was currently being held without bail awaiting her trial for helping the kidnappers. She was facing some serious jail time. She’d asked several times to see Caren, but Travis wasn’t having a bar of it.
Isabel was claiming that she’d been forced to help the kidnappers. However, she’d also been found with a huge envelope of money on her. So no one was buying that.
Oliver had visited her a few days ago to apologize for Isabel’s role in her kidnapping. Not that she expected an apology from him. Poor guy had looked terrible. And it wasn’t his fault. He’d tried to visit Isabel in jail, but she’d refused any contact with him.
They hadn’t heard anything from the FBI or Interpol yet about Aadan and whether he had been killed in the fire.
But she just knew he had.
Which brought on a whole raft of emotions. Relief and sadness were the strongest, which was confusing as hell.
After fussing over her a bit more, Travis sat at his desk, getting back to work. Meanwhile, Caren picked up her E-reader. She couldn’t concentrate on much lately, so she was sticking to more light-hearted stories.
About an hour later, her phone ringing startled her, and she dropped her E-reader.
Travis glanced up with a frown as she looked down to see who was calling.
Shit. She wasn’t ready for this. She was too . . . vulnerable. Too unguarded. Her breathing grew more rapid, which didn’t help the pain in her ribs.
Suddenly, her phone was pulled from her hand.
“Who is calling you?” he asked, staring down at her phone with a frown.
“The home where my mother is being looked after,” she told him.
Travis nodded and to her surprise, he answered the call. “Hello, this is Travis Andrews. No, she’s busy. You can tell me, I’m her fiancé.”
Oh, she liked it when he called himself that. It sent butterflies through her stomach.
As soon as they’d returned to New York, he’d bought her an engagement ring. It was huge. A large deep blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds.
It certainly made a statement.
They hadn’t gone to Vegas to get married yet, because she’d had a little bit of panic every time he’d mentioned getting on a plane.
She wanted to marry him . . . she just needed a bit longer to settle herself.
“Fine. Yes. There’s nothing you can’t say to me . . . yes, all right. I’ll tell her.”
He ended the call, scowling at the phone.
“What is it?” she asked, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice.
“That was the director of the home,” he replied. “Mr. Peterson. Don’t know what he wanted, he wouldn’t tell me anything since I’m not on the approved list of family. He wants to talk to you.”
“Bloody hell,” she grumbled, dread taking hold of her.
“Don’t do it,” he said. “I don’t want you to call him back.”
“I have to call him back,” she replied, even if she wished otherwise. “I should find out why he’s calling.”
“Why? Did she ever care about you? Look after you?”
No. Her mother hadn’t once cared about Caren. Though she knew that those were rhetorical questions since he already knew the answers.
“I should still see what he wants. What if she’s ill or something?” she said.
