“I guess he wasn’t all I thought he was,” Veronica said finally.

With a sigh I gathered her into my arms. Something inside me begged me never to disappoint her like Anderson had.

“Nobody’s perfect, Ronnie,” I said softly as she pulled away. Why was she pulling away?

“I thought he was. I thought he was perfect. Why didn’t these photos run in the United States?”

“It’s hard to say. The media isn’t always as objective as we’d like them to be.”

“And if I didn’t know about this after all my research, what else didn’t I know?” Her calm voice quavered, betraying the agony beneath her words.

“Probably a lot.” I had some strong opinions here but decided this wasn’t the time to bring it up. The fact is that many politicians are corrupt or crooked or easily seduced. Usually sexual deviances are just the tip of the iceberg. I was a bit irritated that Veronica had put this man on a pedestal in the first place.

“You don’t understand, Cy.” She dropped her head into her hands. “This guy and his volunteers were my family when I didn’t have one.”

“I can understand that. But the fact that you are in education should tell you that things aren’t always what they seem. You’ve learned to look at people and ideas from all sides before drawing conclusions.” Right? She had to do that. It was part of the core of knowledge. Critical thinking meant you didn’t hedge your bets.

“You mean like what I thought about you?” She motioned toward the back of the plane. “Or Dekker? Yeah. I’ve been really good at drawing conclusions.”

When dealing with women, you have to tread carefully. Somehow I expected this was one case where she wouldn’t necessarily want me to agree. Then again, if I sugarcoated the truth, how was I helping her learn?

“But you know better now,” I replied.

She looked up sharply, fire in her eyes. I knew it. There was no right way to play this one.

Veronica stood and stalked toward the back of the plane, then plunked herself in a chair by the window.

Okay, that conversation was done. I wasn’t going to follow her back and smooth things over. She was wrong. She even admitted it. How mature to throw a fit like that.

Besides, I had other problems. One was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey in the bathroom. And the problem was that he was still breathing. Not good.

Maybe I needed to cut Veronica Gale loose once and for all. Just drop her off at her precious university while she still believed that Anderson ’s only sins were sexual. It had been a mistake to send her to the newspaper. What was I thinking? This kid had one hero-one! And I imposed my will to make her see what a fool she was.

And yes, she’d been wrong about me. But why did I care? Lots of people had misconceptions about Coney Island Bombay. I never cared before. And it wasn’t like I wanted her to know what I really was. So why did I want her to see me differently?

I got up and moved past the sulking Ronnie toward the tiny bathroom where Dekker was.

“Hello, Arje,” I said as I closed the door and sat down on the toilet seat.

Dekker glared but said nothing. Mainly this was because of the duct tape covering his mouth. He was pissed off, but it didn’t matter. I had him tied up pretty well. So what made me reach over and rip the tape off of his face?

“So, you probably know you are going to die,” I said as simply as I could.

“But I’m not dead yet, Bombay. Why is that, I wonder?”

“You can thank Ronnie for that. She gets a little freaked out by violence.”

Dekker grinned. “Yeah. Funny how she ended up around us.”

I toyed with asking him what he thought he knew about me, but changed my mind. “What is it with women anyway? Why do they question our need for fighting?”

Arje looked at the door, then at me. “I don’t know. Never really had a relationship with anyone other than whores. And they were paid to keep their mouths shut. But I know what you’re saying.”

I leaned back against the wall. “I like fighting. I enjoy competing. I know it’s barbaric.” And I did too.

Dekker sighed. “And I like war.”

I looked up at him. “Yes, but you also like killing innocents along with soldiers.”

He nodded. “You’ve heard the rumors, then. I’m surprised someone like you would believe everything you read.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I growled.

“I just expected more from you, that’s all.”

“So you are saying that you don’t kill innocent people? I guess you are just misunderstood.”

“No, I’m not saying that, Bombay,” Dekker said slowly. “You of all people should know that sometimes bad things happen to good people. It’s the nature of war.”

I let his words chill me for a moment. He was right. No matter how careful or just any war was, sometimes innocent people got killed. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“The way I hear it, and my sources are good, you”-I pointed at him directly-“don’t seem to mind it when an unarmed woman or child gets in the way.”

Dekker’s face darkened with something I couldn’t read. “Believe what you want.” He turned his face away, indicating the conversation was over.

I replaced the duct tape over his mouth. “That’s right. I remember why I’m going to kill you.” As I stood up, I paused. “Thanks, Dekker.”

What the hell was I thinking, talking to him like that? Man, Veronica Gale was really messing with my head. I needed to get rid of her, then get rid of Dekker, find my RV and immerse myself in carnival sawdust and stale corn dogs.

Chapter Twenty-seven

We landed at the Cedar Rapids, Iowa, airport several hours later. The pilot would get the plane refueled by the time I returned for Dekker. I’d like to say that, as the plane taxied to a halt, Veronica and I made up and had sex the entire time. I’d like to say that. But I can’t. We barely spoke. I don’t know why I was being so stubborn about this. But then, she was being stubborn too.

The saying Two wrongs don’t make a right popped into my head. I ignored it as I rented a car and loaded Ronnie’s things into the trunk. We drove in silence to Iowa City. It was an unbearable twenty minutes. I decided I’d take her home, then get rid of Vic and go home myself.

The only time she spoke was to give me directions to her apartment. We pulled up in front of a Victorian house with a wraparound porch. To my complete surprise, a very attractive young man about Ronnie’s age came out the front door and hugged her. Who in the hell was that?

“Hi.” The guy came up to me and shook my hand. “I’m Drew. Thanks for bringing Veronica home.”

Home? Home was with this guy? Whoa. What was going on here? I looked at Ronnie. She stood there with her hands on her hips. What did that mean?

I shook his hand, trying to control my temper. “Cy Bombay. And it’s no problem. She’s all yours.” I shot a look at Ronnie, who threw her hands up in the air while Drew grabbed her luggage.

“You failed to mention Drew,” I said evenly.

She grinned. “I guess you can’t pigeonhole me either.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t know everything about me, Cy Bombay. You think you have me pegged, don’t you?” Her anger was rising. At least, that was what the red color climbing her neck said. “It makes me so angry that you could be mad about Drew when you play your story so close to the vest!”

“What story? I don’t have a story!” Okay, so I did. And it was a whopper. But that was beside the point. I’d been up-front with her about my life, my education and my history with women.

“Well, for one thing, why do you have a Dutch mercenary tied up in the bathroom of your private jet?”