“Glad to hear it,” the man said, still smiling amiably. He leaned back just a bit, a shaft of sunlight lighting his face. “Well, I can’t thank you enough for coming. I’m Charles Harrison. Come on, hop in.”
Nick’s throat thickened as he stared. He knew that Charles Harrison III was seventeen years his senior; his thick dark waves were peppered with silver and his eyes were bright blue, with deep laugh lines crinkling the corners. They had the same nose, the same square jaw. . . . Seeing this man in person had him suddenly choked up. He hadn’t expected to react so viscerally. It was the damnedest thing.
Nick cleared his throat as he climbed into the backseat, closed the door, turned to his big brother, and finally managed to say, “Good to meet you too. Call me Nick.”
Chapter Four
The conversation on the way to the hotel Charles had chosen was pretty one-sided: it revolved around Nick. Charles was genuinely curious about him, asking about his family, his background, his career. The irony wasn’t lost on Nick. He knew Charles wanted to know about him just because he’d appeared from nowhere like an angel of mercy to possibly help his son. But Nick was uncomfortable. He was wary of how much to reveal.... It was a goddamn tricky situation, and he was the only one who knew why.
Charles had been about sixteen or seventeen when Nick’s mother worked in the house. Would he remember her? Nick wondered. He might. Or, like so many wealthy kids, the household staff might have been invisible to him, so maybe he wouldn’t remember her. Nick didn’t know which option was better.
He’d decided to keep himself at an emotional distance, coming at the situation as if it were a case to be investigated. But he was just as curious as Charles—hell, more so, by a mile. He was the one with a million questions . . . but how to ask them without seeming suspect?
“Almost there, sir,” Bruck said from the driver’s seat.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Charles replied. “Appreciate it.”
Nick had already noticed that Charles talked to and treated Bruck well, that there was obvious mutual respect between them. The way a man treated his employees said a lot about his character; Nick found himself relieved that his newfound oldest brother seemed—so far, anyway—to be a decent guy.
Nick looked out the window as Bruck turned off the parkway, noting they were entering a town called Great Neck. There were lots of trees, though they were all still bare, and it seemed pretty busy. So far, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected Long Island would be like, but it seemed like any other suburban area. Maybe nicer, in fact. He’d read up on the town he was staying in when he was situated in his hotel room.
“If I mentioned this already, forgive me,” Charles said. “I chose a hotel that had upscale suites, because I want you to be comfortable for as long as you’re here, and I honestly have no idea how long that will be. I’ve also placed a hold on the room for future visits. This may take a couple of trips. I have no idea.”
Nick just listened. It was interesting hearing what a powerful man could do, both with his funds and his generosity, if he wanted.
“The hotel’s in the heart of a fairly busy town, so you’re within walking distance of plenty of restaurants, shops, lots of things. Rented you a car. The hospital is in the next town, about three miles away. Hope that’s agreeable to you.”
“It’s more than agreeable,” Nick said. “It makes sense, and it’s more than generous. Thanks for that.”
“I want you comfortable here, and not to worry about expenses in the slightest. I didn’t want you to have to be concerned about a thing. It’s the very least I can do. In fact . . .” He reached into his inside blazer pocket and pulled out his wallet, then took a gold card from it and held it out to Nick. “This is a company corporate card. I want you to have it for as long as you’re here. Use it for everything. When you go out for meals, gas up the car—”
Nick just glanced at the card held between Charles’s fingers. “Not necessary. But thanks.”
“I insist,” Charles said, his gaze not wavering. “You were willing to come here, willing to miss work and disrupt your life . . . and I can’t tell you how thankful I am for that. So this”—he waved the credit card once—“is something I can do for you.”
“I was willing to come do this,” Nick said, “once the registry people called and explained what was at stake. Before I ever talked to you, before you offered the hotel and everything. You know that.”
Charles nodded. “And I appreciate that.”
“I have a job,” Nick said. “Insurance will cover the medical. While I’m here, I can pay my own way.”
“May I be blunt?” Charles said plainly. “You’re a police officer.”
Nick grinned, fighting the urge to laugh at what he was sure might follow. “Go right ahead.”
“Safe to say you don’t make six figures, am I right?” Charles asked.
Nick gave one short nod. “So?”
“You’re obviously a proud man, and being one myself, I respect that. But the expenses attached to this may go higher than you’re counting on,” Charles said. “Like I told you on the phone, if your insurance won’t cover all of it, I will. End of story. But when you add to that your living expenses, for as long as you’re going to be here, over several visits . . .” He exhaled a long breath. “It’ll add up. Just let me cover it.”
“I don’t like the feeling of being bought,” Nick said, with more of an edge to his voice than he’d intended.
“You said you’d already decided to do this on your own,” Charles pointed out. “So I’m not buying you. I’m just trying to help. Because I can.” His intense gaze held Nick’s. “I’m sure by now you’ve read an article or two about me, and you know I can.”
“Won’t deny that. But you don’t know me,” Nick said. “I’m only here for a week or two this trip.”
“And you’re not planning to eat for a week or two?” Charles quipped.
Nick chuckled. “It’s just . . . what if I took that card and rang up hundreds of thousands of dollars, knowing it’s likely on there?”
“You won’t do that.”
“How do you know?”
“I know that now.”
“Oh, you talked to me for twenty minutes, and you know me now?” Nick snorted derisively. “You’re a big-time CEO, but you have a side gig as a mind reader?”
“COO,” Charles corrected. “My father’s the CEO—still a shark, and sharp as a tack.”
At the offhand mention of Charles II, Nick stilled. Their father.
Mistaking Nick’s sudden stillness for compliance, Charles took off his glasses and rubbed the lenses with a microfiber cloth. “Why do you think I wanted to meet you right away, talk to you first? It’s midday on a Wednesday. I run a sizeable company. You don’t think I’m busy?” Charles put his glasses back on with a seemingly casual motion, but pinned him with a cunning look. “I’m pretty good at reading people. So yes, after talking to you face-to-face for twenty minutes, I’m pretty certain that you wouldn’t do something like run up a corporate card on bullshit or take advantage of my generosity.”
Nick didn’t want to admit he was impressed, but he was. Charles was a formidable man. He was polished, obviously bright, and he had impeccable manners . . . and was currently radiating power like a goddamn forcefield.
“Besides . . .” Charles flicked a nonchalant glance away, out the window. “If someone did pull anything, do you really think . . .” His eyes shot back to lock on Nick’s. “. . . that there wouldn’t be repercussions? I don’t take betrayal of my trust lightly. Someone who would take advantage of my good nature . . . would pay for it.”
Nick grinned. The wolf had bared his fangs, and he wasn’t intimidated. The opposite, in fact: he felt a surge of respect. In his research on the family, he’d read about how Charles Harrison III was a smart, tough businessman, a born leader. Well-liked, highly respected, but well known as a shrewd negotiator with sharp insight, and not someone to be trifled with. It was fascinating to
watch how Charles subtly but surely let those qualities reveal themselves. Charles wielded power well—he was a quiet man who carried a big stick. Nick had to admire that. But he also had to make some things clear.
“I am an honorable man,” Nick said. “Honor is everything to me. I also expect decency of anyone I deal with. So we’ve got that in common too. You’ve got no worries.”
Charles’s nod was an almost imperceptible tip of his chin. “I sensed that.”
“I’m not here for a free ride. I’m not here to bilk the billionaire who needs my help. I never would’ve known you were rich if you hadn’t insisted on contacting me.”
“My point precisely. You’d already agreed to it. Clearly you’re a good man.”
“I’m here to see if my bone marrow can help your son get better. That’s it. We’re clear on that?”
“As crystal. And I thank you for that.”
Nick eyed the card Charles still held. “Feels wrong.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“Do it your way or else, though. Right?”
“No, of course not.” Charles raked a hand through his thick hair. Nick wondered how much of the silver he saw in the dark strands had been brought on by stress over his son’s illness. “Nick, you’re helping us. I may seem pushy, and you know what, sometimes I am. My wife tells me so all the time, just before she knocks me back into place.” Nick noted how Charles’s sharp gaze seemed to soften at the thought of her. This guy clearly was crazy about his wife. “But I just want to help you in return for what you’ve agreed to do, and show my gratitude.” He sighed. “I do respect your position, but try to understand mine. I just want to—”
“I know. I get it. We’re talking in circles now.” Nick sighed too. Looked like the stubborn gene was also something he shared with this imposing man. “Look, you already set up my hotel room. I’m sure that’s on your tab, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you rented a car too, you said?”
“It’s waiting at the hotel for you—concierge will have the keys.” The corner of Charles’s mouth quirked. “Hope you don’t mind fast rides.”
Nick’s brows shot up. “Why? What’d you do?”
Charles couldn’t hold back the grin. “I might have picked something fun for a guy like you to tool around in. Just try not to get a speeding ticket.”
Nick snorted out a laugh. “You’re so trying to buy me.”
“No!” But Charles laughed too. “Hey, you want me to send the Porsche back and get you a sensible Nissan Sentra, I’ll be more than happy to do so.”
Nick laughed fully now. “Jesus. What guy in their right mind says no to a Porsche? You play dirty.”
Charles merely grinned and shrugged.
“Look. I appreciate the hotel, and the car sounds like fun,” Nick said. “But I can carry my weight with the rest, all right?”
Charles shook his head. “Indulge me. Take the card. If you don’t use it at all, that’s fine. But if you actually find you need it for something, I’ll know you have it.”
“Charles, listen—”
“Please.” Charles’s voice was soft but firm. “Let me do this.” His eyes flashed, a glimmer of frustration that Nick knew wasn’t aimed at him. “It’s the only thing I can do, and I . . . I need to feel like I’m doing something. So please. Just take it. Humor me.”
Nick sighed. He felt for the guy. All his money and power, ultimately, wasn’t going to save his son’s life. For a man like Charles Harrison III, to feel helpless must have been one of the most alien, harrowing things he’d ever felt in his privileged life. And he did seem like a decent guy. With a curt nod, Nick took the card and, without even looking at it, shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.
“Thank you,” Charles murmured.
“I’m probably not going to use it even once,” Nick said.
“That’s fine.” Charles scrubbed a hand over his jaw, then rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “Though I’d rather you use it to have breakfast in bed every morning, a meal out whenever you feel like it, and room service whenever you want. It’s twenty-four-seven at the hotel, I checked. And there’s a minibar in your room too, so . . .”
Nick’s brows lifted at that. “Maybe I’ll use it once or twice, then.”
“Do it,” Charles urged, a grin breaking through.
“I was kidding.”
“I wasn’t.”
“We’re here,” Bruck told them.
Nick glanced out the window. It was a little busier here than he’d thought it would be. People were out and about, the streets were lined with stores and restaurants, and cars went by steadily. Bruck pulled up to a corner property, a modern façade whose banners announced THE PARKER HOTEL. Daffodils and crocuses lined the driveway and entrance. At least he wasn’t staying in a lousy hotel.
“When’s your first appointment with Dr. Greenberg?” Charles asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“I don’t mind,” Nick said. “Look, this is about your kid. You want to be involved in every step I take with this thing, that’s fine with me. If it were the other way around, I’d probably be climbing the walls with worry.”
A muscle twitched under Charles’s eye as he murmured, “You have no idea.”
“So yeah, ask anything, any time. I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon at two. I have no idea what it’s about. I think it’s just asking me a million startup questions, taking some blood.... I have no clue.”
“Do you want someone to go with you?” Charles asked. “I can be there if you want. Or my wife, Lisette. I know I’m biased, but she’s one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet in your life. Or—”
“You’re serious.”
“Yeah, sure. If you want company, just let me know. I have a pretty big family,” Charles said.
“So I heard,” Nick mumbled.
“I can meet you at the hospital if you—”
“Not necessary. But thanks. Tell you what, I’ll call you after and tell you whatever you want to know, fill you in on whatever happens, okay?”
“Sure.” Charles flashed a grin, then got out of the SUV. Nick did the same. Bruck was already slamming the trunk door shut, Nick’s bags in his strong hands.
“I can do that,” Nick said.
“Already got ’em,” Bruck said, heading for the entrance without a look back.
“Guy’s a tank,” Nick said under his breath.
“I wouldn’t mess with him,” Charles whispered back, winking.
Something fluttered through Nick’s chest. This guy, this powerful stranger, was joking with him and he . . . Nick liked him. Respected him. It felt weird to feel any kind of kinship with him, but he did. Maybe he was making it up in his head because he knew the truth about their connection? But damn . . . Charles was a good guy.
“I have one request,” Charles said as they walked side by side to the wide glass front doors. “It may seem too much, and I understand if you say no.”
Nick chuckled. “Just ask.”
“We’re having a family dinner tonight at my home,” Charles said. “We don’t often have both of my brothers and my sister over at the same time, but the whole clan will be there tonight. It’s something of a celebration because a match was found. So I was wondering if you’d join us.” He held the door open for Nick.
As he walked through, Nick’s heart skipped a beat and his stomach went woozy. Jesus. Shit. Meeting them all at the same time? He didn’t know if he was ready to handle that. “Um . . .”
“I know it may seem strange. But all of this is a little surreal, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea,” Nick murmured.
“So. Yes, there’s a lot of us. My wife and I have four kids, as I think I mentioned when we first talked. My middle brother is married, but no kids. My sister is married and has three kids, and my youngest brother and his wife have two kids. So that’s what, seventeen of us all together? But the food will be great because it always is, and my pain-in-the-ass f
ather won’t be there, so everyone will be pretty relaxed, and my two brothers are a hell of a lot more fun than I am. . . .”
Nick could barely breathe.
Then Charles rubbed his jaw, an unusual sign of ambivalence. “The thing is, Myles would like to meet you himself. If that’s all right with you. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, to be honest. I mean . . .”
Nick drew a deep breath. His heart was pounding. But he was no coward. And besides, he’d get to meet them all at once and draw his own conclusions. What kept tugging at him was wanting to meet Myles. If the kid was his nephew, and the transplant didn’t work, and he was dying . . . he wanted to know him.
Curiosity won out. He decided to jump in, right then. “Why not. I’ll go.”
“Yeah? Great! Okay. Bruck will come back to pick you up at—”
“No way. You said there’s a Porsche waiting for me?” Nick scoffed. “I’ll drive myself, thank you very much. Give me your address for my GPS.”
“Ha! Absolutely!” Charles looked delighted. “Dinner’s at six. Bring nothing but yourself.”
“Do I have to dress up or anything?” Nick eyed Charles’s carefully tailored suit.
“Hell no,” Charles said, laughing. “Civilian attire only. But be warned—there’ll be nine kids there, from ages fifteen to two. Hope you can handle that.”
Nick grinned, but it faded as something hit him. “In all seriousness, if your son wants to meet me, then I’m honored to meet him.”
Charles’s eyes rounded and he nodded slowly. “Awfully good of you to say.”
“But you know . . . the thing is, I’m not guaranteed to . . .” Nick sighed. “What if I’m not . . . what if I came all this way and I can’t help him? To get his hopes up and then . . .”
Charles’s square jaw set tightly. “We can’t think that way. We have to be positive.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a cop. I deal in reality, not wishful thinking.”
“The power of positive thinking is stronger than you might believe.”
A pang hit Nick’s heart. His mom often said things like that to him. Thinking of her now, out of nowhere, made him ache. He mentally shook it off. “Charles . . . you seem like a good man, really. I hope like hell I can help your son, and you’re being great about everything. I just don’t want you guys to be disappointed if . . .” Nick didn’t realize how deeply he meant that until the words tumbled out of his mouth.
It Might Be You Page 4
