Replica rt-1

by Jenna Black

  Nadia did not like where this was going. “Let me get this straight: you’re asking me for money.”

  “Dollars,” he clarified, as if that somehow made it better.

  Nadia’s heart thumped indignantly in her chest. A girl of her age had absolutely no use for dollars. If she needed anything from the black market, she’d get it through her parents or Gerri or some other intermediary. Which Nate knew perfectly well.

  “And where are you expecting me to get those dollars from?” she asked in her most glacial voice.

  Nate stopped giving her puppy-dog eyes, his stare turning challenging instead. “Don’t play coy. You know what I’m asking.”

  “You want me to steal from my parents.”

  “Borrow,” Nate corrected. “You know I can pay you back. It’s just, I need the dollars now, and it’ll take me a while to restore my supply.”

  “I’m sure my parents would understand completely,” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm. If Nate knew half of what she’d been through already because of him, would he still ask her to do this? He would never forgive her for her betrayal of him, but it gave him barely a moment’s pause to ask her to steal from her own parents. She’d never thought of him as a hypocrite before, but this was making her rethink her opinion of him.

  “I’m sorry to have to ask,” he said, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. His eyes flashed with something that looked much more like anger than regret. “I’m trying to find out who murdered me. Don’t you think that’s a little more important than what trouble you might get in if your parents find out you’ve dipped into their money?”

  For the first time since she’d gotten old enough to know better, Nadia let go of the reins controlling her temper. She shot to her feet, grabbing her almost-forgotten cup of cocoa from the side table. Then she flung the contents right in Nate’s face. The chocolate geysered out of the cup, soaking not only his face, but his hair and chest as well, droplets spotting the rug beneath his feet and the chair he was sitting in. Nadia even felt a few drops hitting her own skin.

  Stunned at what she had done—even though it had been at least partially premeditated—she stood there with the cup still raised, staring at the mess she’d made. Nate blinked chocolate out of his eyes, then winced. She supposed now he was wishing he hadn’t decided to spike her drink. She didn’t imagine chocolate and Bailey’s felt too good on the eyes.

  She lowered her hand back to her side, then put her empty cup down. She bit her tongue to keep from apologizing as Nate rose slowly and silently to his feet, chocolate dripping from the end of his nose.

  “I’ll get you the dollars,” she said, not looking at him. “You knew I’d do it before you even asked. Would it have killed you to acknowledge that asking me to steal from my parents is a big deal? Couldn’t you have just asked nicely instead of trying to guilt me into it?”

  She expected Nate to snap at her, or act offended. After all, he’d never been good at taking criticism, no matter how well deserved. But for once, he surprised her.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. But Nadia, I love Kurt, and he’s in danger because of me. I took him out of the life he’s always known, and I promised I’d protect him. It’s eating me up inside that he’s going through this hell because of me, and I’m just—” Nate’s voice choked off, and he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes, he seemed calmer. “I’ll try to stop being such a jackass,” he said. “But I miss him. And I’m scared for him. And I’m … angry. That’s no excuse for taking it out on you, I know. You’re the only true friend I have right now. I’d give you a hug, only I don’t want to get cocoa all over you.”

  Nadia’s throat tightened, and she wanted to scream out her frustration. Who was she to take Nate to task for his behavior, when she was here acting as Mosely’s spy, when she’d just thrown her cocoa at him not just because she was angry, but because it was her best chance to get Mosely’s tracker planted on him? Maybe in the end, the two of them deserved one another.

  “I’m going to go shower and change,” Nate said. “Maybe it’ll give us both a little time to cool off, and then we can talk again.”

  Nadia nodded her acceptance, too burdened by guilt to speak.

  * * *

  Nadia’s nerves buzzed with tension as the bedroom door closed behind Nate’s back. He was comfortable enough in her presence that he didn’t close the door all the way. She could hear him moving around in his bedroom, hear sounds she interpreted as him slipping off his clothes and leaving them in a heap on the floor. Then the clink of metal touching down on wood, which she hoped was him taking off the locket.

  Holding her breath, she prayed he’d close the bathroom door more tightly than he’d closed the bedroom one, or there was no way she could get the locket without being caught.

  The sound of a door snicking shut seemed to indicate her prayers had been answered. No doubt Nate was going to try to make the shower quick, knowing she was waiting for him, which meant she didn’t have much time to work up her nerve. If she was going to do this, she had to get moving now.

  As she’d guessed, Nate’s clothes lay in a heap on the floor, and the locket rested on top of a heavy walnut dresser. Keeping a wary eye on the bathroom door, she edged toward the dresser and picked the locket up in hands that shook just a bit. Her mouth was dry, and every beat of her heart pumped a new wash of guilt into her blood. Her eyes prickled, and she blinked rapidly to keep herself from crying. Guilt and tears were not luxuries she could afford.

  The locket was still warm from contact with Nate’s skin. Nadia pressed on the clasp, and the locket popped open to her picture, which she took a moment to regard with a critical eye.

  She’d known that Bishop had put a picture of her in the locket, of course. Hard to pretend it was a gift from her if her picture wasn’t in it. But she’d never actually looked at it before, and she felt an uncomfortable stirring in her gut now that she did.

  There were thousands of pictures of her available on the net. Even if she hadn’t been semiengaged to the Chairman Heir, her status as daughter of a president made her a favorite with the press. Most were posed shots, where she wore her practiced Executive smile. Some were the embarrassing, unflattering shots the press loved with mean-spirited glee. Things like the picture of her at the age of three, all dressed up in pink velvet and ruffles, with her finger up her nose. The press had just loved that one—as if it somehow should have been embarrassing for an Executive three-year-old to act like a three-year-old.

  Of all the thousands of shots Bishop had to choose from, he had chosen the very shot she would have if she’d actually had to choose herself.

  It was a true candid shot, one she’d had no idea was being taken at the time. Although he wasn’t in the picture, Nadia remembered that she’d been talking to Nate. It had been the occasion of his eighteenth birthday, a gala ball that made the wedding reception that led to his death seem like a small family gathering by comparison. Nate and Nadia had been cornered by the Terrible Trio, who had, as usual, flirted and simpered and fed Nadia a steady stream of sly, backhanded compliments.

  Nate had the glibbest tongue of anyone Nadia had ever met, and for every backhanded compliment the Trio had handed her, he’d handed them one right back. Only his were so smooth and elegant none of the Trio had ever guessed they were insults. Only Nadia had recognized what he was doing, and her eyes glowed with that knowledge when the photographer snapped the shot.

  Instead of her usual practiced smile, she wore an expression she would almost call impish. There was life and vivacity in her expression, a sense of contained energy that in some ways resembled Nate’s. She looked beautiful, and intelligent, and somehow very real.

  Was it just dumb luck that had caused Bishop to pick that particular photo, or did he know her better than she’d ever realized?

  You’ll never know, because you’re going to help Mosely capture him, and he’s going to die.

  The thought broug
ht guilt flooding back into her system, and Nadia carefully picked at the edges of the photo to dislodge it so she could slip the tracker behind it. The photo came loose, and she lifted it out, expecting to see nothing but the metal back of the locket. What she did see made her gasp and drop the little photo of herself.

  If she’d been a little less naive, Nadia might have guessed that Bishop wouldn’t give Nate a locket with only her picture in it. It was a love gift, after all, even if the boys needed her picture in it for camouflage. Maybe she should have been expecting to find a picture of Bishop behind her own. But even if she had, what she saw would have shocked her.

  It was a picture of Bishop, all right. Only it wasn’t a head shot like Nadia’s—it was a full-body portrait. And he was naked.

  A proper Executive girl would have averted her eyes the moment she realized what she was looking at, but though Nadia told herself to cover up the photo at once, she found herself unable to move, even to tear her eyes away.

  The photo was tiny—it had to be to fit in the locket—and yet there was more than enough detail to flush Nadia’s cheeks with scalding heat. She’d known about the tattoos on his arms and torso, as well as his facial piercings. It was hard not to know about them when he made a habit of wearing mesh shirts when he wasn’t in his livery. But she hadn’t known that the tattoos had continued down below his waist. Nor had she ever had reason to know he’d been pierced in places she hadn’t even realized it was possible to be pierced.

  She told herself to quit gawking, but she couldn’t seem to follow her own advice. She knew what the male anatomy looked like, of course. Executive girls were supposed to be demure and innocent, but as long as the net existed, they would never be as pure as the nineteenth-century misses they were supposed to emulate. Nadia and her friends had spent many a stolen moment looking at photos and videos their parents would heartily disapprove of. But that wasn’t the same as seeing a photo of someone you knew.

  The sound of the shower turning off finally shocked Nadia out of her paralysis. She was running out of time. She hastily covered the image of Bishop with her thumb as she used her index finger to pry the edge of the photo up. Urgency made her fingers clumsy, and she almost dropped the tracker as she tried to slip it in behind Bishop’s photo. If Nate caught her at this, she would be completely busted, no way out. She couldn’t afford the nerves any more than she could afford the guilt.

  She managed to wiggle the tracker into place, then gingerly snugged the edges of Bishop’s photo back in, painfully aware that her fingers were brushing over the image of his naked body. She bent to retrieve her own picture, glad to cover the photo that was turning her into such a klutz. The locket was only designed to hold one photo at a time, and it was a tight fit to get both photos and the tracker back in. If Nate opened the locket and looked at Bishop’s picture, he might notice how tightly the locket’s contents now fit.

  Finally, she got everything back in and snapped the locket shut. She put it back on the dresser just in time, slipping out of the bedroom just as the bathroom door started to open.

  * * *

  About the last thing Nadia wanted to do on this already incredibly long day was put on her public face and play the role of the dutiful Executive daughter at one of her mother’s dinner parties. But unless she could manufacture another bout of flu, there was no getting out of it. Entertaining was one of the chief responsibilities of Executive spouses, and Nadia’s mother took her responsibilities very seriously.

  Even when hosting the smallest, most informal of Executive events, Esmeralda was stressed for days in advance as she tried to make sure every detail of the evening was carefully planned out, with backup plans and backups for the backups. Today’s dinner was worse than most, however, thanks to Nadia’s visit to the security station, which the press was still gleefully harping on. A handful of guests—including the Rathburns, naturally—who had previously accepted the invitation called to make their excuses, leaving Esmeralda in a state of high anxiety as she hurriedly rethought her carefully conceived seating arrangements.

  Nadia tried to be helpful and tried to put real thought into questions such as whether Edward Brandywine could be seated within hearing distance of Marvin Hamilton without danger of a loudmouthed political debate that would make nearby guests uncomfortable or whether it would cause murmurs if Rebecca Kay were seated near Mark Rickman, who was rumored to be her lover. Decisions such as these would be a big part of her life once she was married, and because of her exalted spouse, they could have serious social and political ramifications. But how could she treat seating arrangements as important with all that was going on in her life now?

  Being continually scolded for her distraction didn’t help Nadia’s temper any, and when she tried to explain herself, hoping for at least a modicum of sympathy from her mother, she was sorely disappointed. She didn’t even get in a full sentence before her mother cut her off.

  “You have to learn to compartmentalize, Nadia,” Esmeralda told her with a frown of disapproval. “Everyone has turmoil in their lives, but you mustn’t let it interfere with your obligations.” Nadia opened her mouth to protest that her particular turmoil was worse than most, but her mother didn’t let her get a word in edgewise. “Before Gerri was born, I hosted a dinner party less than twenty-four hours after I had a miscarriage. I smiled and chatted and supervised as if I hadn’t a care in the world, then went to bed and cried for three hours straight when it was over.”

  Nadia had no idea her mother had ever had a miscarriage, much less that she’d had to carry on in the face of it as if nothing was wrong. Her mother just didn’t share personal information like that, not even with her own daughter.

  “How did you do it?” Nadia asked in a small voice.

  But her mother shook her head. “I just did it. There’s no great magic trick involved. You learn by doing. I know it’s not easy, but I have confidence in you. You’ll find a way.” She rearranged the seating chart yet again. “Now, tell me what you think of this,” she said, handing the chart to Nadia.

  Their moment of mother-daughter bonding was apparently over. Which was just as well, because Nadia had something more important to talk about anyway. She’d made a big deal with Nate about having to steal money from her parents, because that was what she’d have had to do if she weren’t reluctantly in league with Mosely. But since she was cooperating, and her family approved of her doing so, there was a much easier way.

  Nadia put the seating chart down without comment. “I need dollars,” she blurted, unable to think of a graceful way to ease into the subject.

  “Excuse me?”

  Nadia had originally imagined unburdening herself to her mother, telling her all the details of her arrangement with Dirk Mosely—and telling her the exact threats that Mosely had made. But her mother had once again made it clear how little patience she had with human frailty, and Nadia just wanted to get this whole ordeal over with as fast as possible.

  “To keep up the charade that I’m helping Nate, even though I’m really stabbing him in the back. I need to give him some dollars.”

  “I … see.” Esmeralda picked up the seating chart, as if she couldn’t stand for her hands to be idle for a moment.

  Nadia found herself practically holding her breath, hoping her mother would ask her questions. Hoping she would show some interest, or even concern. She had to know Nadia was going through hell right now and could use her mother’s comfort. But Esmeralda Lake had never been much for nurturing.

  “You’ll want to talk to Gerri tonight,” she said, leaving all the questions unasked. “She uses the black market more heavily than your father and I do, so she’ll likely have more dollars available.” There was a definite hint of disapproval in her mother’s voice, and Nadia felt a moment of smug satisfaction that for once it was directed at her perfect sister instead of her.

  The satisfaction faded almost as soon as it had appeared. If Nadia failed to appease Mosely, it was Gerri and her children who wou
ld suffer the most for it, and she was ashamed of herself and her petty jealousy.

  “All right,” she agreed. “I’ll ask Gerri.”

  There was another awkward moment of silence, as Esmeralda seemed to be at a loss for words. Then she turned her attention to the seating chart again.

  * * *

  Gerri lived in another one of the three buildings of the Lake Towers, so it was relatively simple for her and Nadia to slip out of the party during the cocktails-and-mingling portion of the evening before dinner was served. If their mother hadn’t approved the plan in advance, she would have been furious with her daughters for shirking their duties as hostesses—though technically Gerri was a guest. As it was, she gave them both a pointed look when she saw them heading for the door, a look that told them in no uncertain terms that they’d better hurry back. Gerri acknowledged her with a nod.

  Gerri’s apartment was silent and dark, though somewhere in the children’s wing Rory and Corinne were probably still awake in the care of their nanny. Gerri led Nadia to her home office, where she opened a wall safe and withdrew a couple banded stacks of dollars. There were plenty more inside the safe.

  “Will this be enough?” Gerri asked as she stuffed the dollars into a manila envelope.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Nadia admitted. Unlike their mother, Gerri had actually wanted to know what the dollars were for, and Nadia had told her the whole story—except for the threat Mosely had made against her children. Gerri had the right to know, but Nadia didn’t have the heart to tell her. There wasn’t anything Gerri could do about it, and Nadia wasn’t going to take chances with the kids’ lives, so there was no purpose to making her worry. Nadia felt guilty for keeping the secret anyway.

  Gerri tapped the edge of her desk with her nails, making an annoying little clicking sound as she studied the contents of the safe and frowned.

  “It’s hard to know,” she murmured. “If he were using the dollars for the black market, I’d have some inkling, but for this specific purpose…” She shook her head and handed the envelope to Nadia. “It would have been helpful if you could have asked him how much money he needed.”