“It’s okay. I brought you all the way out here. You should know why.” She studied him. “A few months after the accident, after Nic died, things got pretty bad for me. It took years of therapy and a lot of different meds for me to function normally. As I got older, it got better. Then this year, at the start of summer, I began having nightmares again. Seeing Nic. Reliving the accident . . . panic attacks like the one you just rescued me from.”
“Like PTSD?” Tanner frowned.
“Exactly PTSD. That’s what they tell me.” She gave a feeble laugh and flipped Gwin’s soft ears. “It may never fully go away. I’ve been seeing a shrink in San Francisco. Last week I drove, and I was fine. This week, between the stupid meds that make me feel like crap, and the flashbacks, today I knew I wasn’t going to make it, so I called the house.”
“You didn’t want to talk to your grandfather, did you?”
“No.” Fear flickered again. “Please, Tanner, you can’t say anything. Your mom knows, but I don’t want to tell Hal.” She lowered her head.
His mom? Well, that figured. Mom was intuitive, always looking out for others. Tanner was too preoccupied with pushing people away to pick up on their problems.
Natalie stifled a sob and he slid an arm around her and pulled her against him. Crying women were his weakness. “I don’t think not telling him is an option, Mouse. He’s going to know something’s up at some point.” Hal already did, but Tanner wouldn’t tell her that.
Her defeated sigh blew across his chest. “I thought coming here might help. I thought if I faced things, I’d finally get over it. Sounds good in theory, but now that I’m here . . . I’m scared I’ll get worse. But I didn’t want to deal with telling my parents and I—”
“Your parents don’t know about this?”
“No.” She lifted her head, her face ashen in the light of the truck’s cab. “You don’t know them. Don’t judge me.”
Don’t judge me.
That’s exactly what he had been doing since she arrived.
Assuming she was some stuck-up society snob who cared only about herself. He never imagined that she might have issues, might be dealing with her own wounds, same as the rest of the world.
Same as him.
Guilt pinned Tanner again and told him he needed to ask her forgiveness.
One day.
Natalie moved back to her side of the seat. From what he remembered of her parents, and his brief conversations with Bill Mitchell about Hal and the winery, Tanner could hardly blame her for keeping secrets.
“I’m not in any position to judge you, Natalie.” He reached back and lifted the lid of the cooler he always carried with him. The water bottles wouldn’t be cold at this hour, but they’d be wet. He cracked the lid and handed one to her. “Should you call your doctor or something?” He wouldn’t be responsible for anything happening to Natalie Mitchell. Hal would string him up from the nearest tree.
“I did. He said I’m fine to go home, not to drive, of course. And to take it easy the next few days.”
“You know how to do that?” Tanner lifted a brow and tried out a grin.
“Not really.” Her soft laughter made him relax a tad.
“Didn’t think so.” Tanner ran his tongue across his bottom lip and started the engine. “Looks like it’s lockdown for you, Miss Mitchell.” His mind scrambled over pieces of her puzzle, tried to put it together. “Why did you really come here, Natalie—to Maoilios?”
She hesitated, nailed him with those sad eyes, and shrugged. “To prove myself to my father.”
Twelve
SHE’D FINALLY SAID IT.
The answer she knew Tanner had not been expecting.
Natalie could see confusion written all over his face.
“Explain.”
She sighed, stared at him through the semidarkness, and tried to voice her thoughts. “My whole life, I’ve never felt good enough in my father’s eyes. Nicole was the smart one, the pretty one. The perfect one. I was always running to catch up. Of course everything was a competition with her. Since her death, I’ve felt that pressure even more. To be everything my parents expect me to be. Not the miserable failure I actually am.”
“You’re not a failure.” Tanner scowled. “What does this have to do with Maoilios?”
“Well, my father has pretty much written the place off. You know that.” She brightened a bit, still bolstered by the challenge. “And I’ve always gone along with everything he does. You probably know that too. But this time . . .” A smile shook off the dark thoughts. “I don’t know, Tanner, something about saving Maoilios, bringing it back to life . . . I feel like it’s my redemption.”
“Do you really believe that saving Maoilios will get rid of the past?” he asked quietly.
The pointed question surprised her. Everything about their conversation tonight surprised her. Made her say things she hadn’t intended. Made her feel . . .
“I don’t know. I’d just like to do something right for a change.”
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “And your father doesn’t think you can do it.”
“No, he doesn’t,” she whispered. “He’s never had faith in me. You don’t know what it’s like to look at your father and wonder . . . wonder if he will ever love you again. Wonder if he ever really did.”
Tanner slid his window down and turned his head. He sat like that for a moment, not moving. Not speaking. Finally he faced her. His eyes hinted at a haunting memory. “You’re wrong, Mouse. I know exactly what that feels like.” He pulled out of the parking lot and didn’t press further about her father. Probably just as well. She’d bared enough of her soul for one night.
She ran a finger over the photograph of Jason and Jeni taped to the dash. “They’re good kids.”
“Yeah, they are.” Tanner tightened his grip on the wheel.
“Do they ever see their dad?”
“Nope.”
“Where is he?”
Tanner’s reticent sigh said he didn’t want to talk, but he shot her a sidelong glance. “Seattle. He’s a drug addict.”
“Oh. That’s awful.” She couldn’t imagine living with that kind of legacy.
He let go a muted groan. “To be fair, he’s been clean a few years, or so he says. Been in rehab, got his life together apparently. He lives near my dad and I gather they’re close. All I know is, my sister wouldn’t let him near the kids. Far as I know he hasn’t seen them since she left him to come here.”
“And now?” Natalie didn’t know whether to bring it up or not. “Your sister’s condition, is she . . .” Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to ask.
“Yes, it’s that bad and no, he’s not getting them,” Tanner snapped. “Not if I can help it.”
Natalie let the subject drop. She drank water and watched the lights from oncoming cars until she couldn’t stand the silence. “What happened today?”
“What?”
“Earlier, you said, after the day I’ve had . . . What kind of day did you have?”
“Oh.” He stared at the dark road ahead. “We lost a couple of tanks. The wine went bad.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure.”
Natalie rested her head against the seat and registered the way his jaw tightened. Like he was giving her further proof that the winery should be shut down. “I’m sorry. Is it a significant loss?”
“Nothing we can’t survive. It happens, but it sucks. Could be bacteria. Something got in there somehow. I supervised the cleaning of those tanks myself. And the formula wasn’t new. I was thorough with my calculations. It’s frustrating.”
She stretched out her arms and yawned. “I’ll try to get through the rest of your files this week. We need to get some of your ideas put in place. You know, a tasting room on-site, tours. I didn’t get down to see that barn the other day.”
His skewed look surprised her. “Maybe you should worry about yourself first. Those facts and figures aren’t going to improve no matter how long you stare at t
hem. Given your current state, are you sure going against what your father wants is wise?”
Natalie laughed. “Oh, I’m sure it’s absolute insanity. But it’s given me a purpose, Tanner. Worrying about the winery gives me something to do.” Worrying about herself wouldn’t change a thing. “I know you’re skeptical, but I really don’t want to see this place close. I’ll do whatever I can to stop that from happening. But it will be easier with your help. You’re going to have to start trusting me.”
“Ha.” Tanner scowled as he changed lanes. “According to your grandfather, I have trust issues.”
Natalie gasped in mock surprise and they shared a smile. “I did pick up on that.”
A smile settled on his lips. “All right. Let me get through harvest first. I’m not great at multitasking.”
“How long does harvest last?”
“All depends on the season and the crop yield. Could be a month or more, give or take. We’ve got a smaller yield this year and we were a couple weeks in when you arrived. This is the last week of picking. And I can’t wait for a full night’s sleep.”
“I hear that. Maybe I should get out there and help you.” The thought of taking a selfie picking grapes in the middle of the night and sending it to her father made her giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Tanner shot her an amused look.
“Nothing.” She’d keep that one to herself.
When they hit a stoplight, he foraged in the back again, yanked on a Mexican blanket, and sent Gwin to the backseat. “Here. Wrap up in that. You can sleep if you want.”
She pulled the heavy blanket over her legs. “Do I detect a hint of concern?”
“No concern. Just don’t want to have to dig a hole for you out back anytime soon. I’m a busy man.” His smile was positively wicked and far too devastating.
“I’ll do my best not to keel over during the next while then.”
Tanner’s laughter filled the space between them, filled a bit of the empty spot in her heart. “At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor, Mouse.”
“Warped as it is. It’s about the only thing keeping me going.”
“You’ll get through this.”
Some days she doubted it. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
Natalie stared at his sincere expression. For a moment, she forgot that thirteen years stretched out a childhood friendship that had no business being resurrected.
“What?” A smile crested his handsome face.
Natalie smiled back. “You do the knight-in-shining-armor thing quite well, Mr. Collins.”
His laugh sent small flames shooting through her veins. But she couldn’t tear her eyes from him.
“Don’t look too closely.” Tanner’s smile slipped. “There are major chinks in the armor, Mouse. Major chinks.”
Thirteen
FBI LEGAT, PRAGUE
JEFFREY MITCHELL SPLASHED THROUGH PUDDLES AS HE headed toward the American Embassy, his heart thumping in time with his heavy steps. He’d expected the call days ago. Expected the summons that came first thing this morning. Part of him wanted to take those written words back, say he’d made a mistake, had a chance to think, reconsider.
He flexed his fingers underneath the white plaster cast he’d been wearing for weeks, due to come off tomorrow. A broken arm, four cracked ribs, and a couple of chipped teeth. A fair price to pay considering he figured he wouldn’t be coming out of that last operation alive.
He’d been the lucky one.
The loss of three men on his team kept him up nights and haunted his days. For all his training, when it came down to it, he had no idea how to get through the aftermath. But his mind was made up. He wouldn’t put anyone at risk again.
He was done.
But after waiting outside the legat for fifteen minutes, he reconciled with the truth. He was about to walk away from the only life he’d known for the past thirty years.
“He’ll see you now, sir.”
Jeffrey followed Colin Brant’s secretary into his boss’s office. She ushered him to a chair, offered coffee—which he declined—shimmied out, and closed the door behind her.
Brant was hanging up the phone. “How’re you doing, Mitchell?”
“I’m alive.” Some days he didn’t want to be.
“You’ve been cleared medically.” Brant leaned over his desk, bushy black brows knit together. “So let’s talk about this letter.” He tapped the thin envelope against his desk.
“My resignation. What’s to talk about?” Jeffrey swallowed the self-inflicted sentence like castor oil, stared out the window watching storm clouds creep across the skyline.
“Why not a leave of absence? Paid, of course. You’d continue with counseling—”
“No amount of counseling will change my mind, Brant,” Jeffrey growled. “Those men died because of me. I panicked. Let me save you the trouble of firing me, let me walk.”
Brant gave a low chuckle. “You’re fifty-six years old. What do you plan to do with your days? Sit around playing Tiddly Winks?”
Jeffrey shrugged. “Will there be an investigation?”
“No. I’ve read the report. I believe you did everything possible to salvage that mission. Bit of bad luck, bad timing. You’re one of the best men I’ve got over here, Mitchell. Don’t throw away a stellar career over one mistake. What you’ve been through—”
“I let you down, sir. Let everyone down.”
Failure.
His old friend had come to stay again.
This time, Jeffrey would let him move in.
“Don’t make any rash decisions. It’s too soon. Why not take a few months off?” He smiled amenably. “Take a break. Go on a holiday. Doesn’t your family have a vineyard out in California?”
“Yeah.” The last place he’d be welcomed.
“Get yourself a plane ticket. On us.”
“You’re serious?” There had to be a catch. He didn’t deserve a second chance. And the FBI was not known for giving them.
“Jeffrey, you’ve always been too hard on yourself. I’m not accepting your resignation and that’s the end of it. What are we now, October first? Take three months. We’ll talk in the new year. If, at that point, you still don’t feel you can handle another assignment, we’ll reassess. All right?”
Only because he hadn’t yet managed to come up with a long-term plan that didn’t involve tying cement blocks to his feet and plunging into the murky waters of the Vltava, did he agree with Brant’s suggestion. He stood on shaky legs, managed to choke out a few parting words.
He couldn’t stay in the Czech Republic. Couldn’t return to his flat in London. Too many memories there. Pretty much all of Europe was out of the question. Which meant he might actually have to consider California.
Later that evening, after a couple of beers and more than several second thoughts, he picked up the phone and dialed a number he hadn’t used in years.
The housekeeper answered and took his request. Eventually the line crackled. “Bill Mitchell.” His brother’s voice boomed down the line and Jeffrey almost hung up.
Jeffrey had always prided himself in being even-tempered. Few people had the ability to make him want to slam them against the nearest wall. His brother sat at the top of the short list.
“Hey. It’s Jeff.” A long silence made him wish he’d listened to his gut and not called.
“So you’re not dead.”
“Nope, not dead.” He attempted a laugh. “How are you?”
“Busy. We’re entertaining.”
“Well, I won’t keep you then. I called because I’ve got some vacation time coming and—”
“Have a good trip.”
“Bill, wait. Don’t hang up.” Jeffrey gripped the receiver and sucked in a breath. “I was thinking of going to see Dad. Do you think . . . well, how would he take that?”
“It will probably give him another heart attack.”
“Dad had a heart attack?
” Fear chilled him.
“Happened over a month ago. Didn’t keep him down for long apparently.”
“You should have called me.”
“Oh, yes, I probably should have. Except nobody knows where the devil you are and you haven’t bothered to check in with me but once or twice since Mom’s funeral.”
Can’t imagine why.
Jeffrey squeezed his eyes shut and took measured breaths. “How is he, really?”
Bill snorted. “Fine, from what I can tell. They kept him in the hospital a few days, but according to Natalie, he’s in better shape than most teenagers.”
“Natalie? Is she out there?”
“Yes. She needed a vacation, so I sent her on a little fact-finding mission.” Bill’s disgruntlement floated down the line. “The old man seems to be running Maoilios into the ground.”
Jeffrey studied the scar on his right forearm. “I find that hard to believe. Dad loves that place. It’s always done well.” Bill had a tendency to exaggerate. Things couldn’t possibly be that bad.
“Not anymore. They’re barely getting by. Of course Natalie has gone all sentimental on me and insists the place can turn around.”
Jeffrey raised a brow. Good for Natalie.
His brother muttered something to someone, probably one of his lackeys, although Jeff supposed “staff” was the politically correct way to address the hired help these days. “Look,” Bill continued. “Since I have you on the phone . . . Dad isn’t getting any younger, and frankly, I don’t have the time or the inclination to clean up his mess. Despite what Natalie thinks, I’m recommending we shut down the winery. Sign your shares over to me, I’ll have the money wired to you by the end of the week, once the paperwork is processed. I think this is the best option for all of us.”
Jeffrey sat in silence. “Are you for real?” Some things never change. His brother’s gall was one of them.
“What?” Bill chuckled. “The feds pay you that well, little brother?”
“What about Natalie? She’s the majority shareholder.”
“Natalie will see reason.”
Something in his brother’s tone raised the hairs on the back of his neck. And cautiously confirmed that California was exactly where he needed to be. “I’m not selling you anything, Bill. Enjoy the rest of your evening; sorry I disturbed you.” Jeffrey clicked off and headed for the minibar.
The Memory of You Page 12
