The Wrong Man

by Natasha Anders

  “Why didn’t you just contact me personally?”

  “Because I’m pretty sure you would have downplayed the seriousness of your injuries.”

  “It’s nothing,” Sam said automatically, and Mason laughed, the sound containing little humor.

  “Yeah, a punctured lung and three days in the ICU is nothing.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sure you are. Do you need me to help out with the business for a while till you find your feet?” The offer was tempting, but Mason had started his studies just weeks ago, and taking him away from that would hardly be fair.

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Colby is willing to step up, you know? You just have to trust her.”

  “I do trust her.”

  “Not enough. Give her a little more responsibility. She’ll keep the guys in line.”

  “The woman hides in her office all day long and looks terrified of most of the guys. I was considering making her a partner, but I would never expect her to deal with the CPOs.”

  “She’ll step up because she has to. She just needs the opportunity to prove herself and she’ll handle the guys just fine. Stop underestimating her.”

  The door opened and Craig reentered, gingerly clutching a Starbucks cup. His hair and shoulders were wet. Poor guy. While Mason was still talking, Craig spilled a bit of the coffee, and Sam’s mother berated the man like he was a preschooler. Abruptly exhausted, Sam felt his head start to spin. He lay back and shut his eyes. Mason was still yammering on about something, his mother’s high, sharp voice sent spikes of pain piercing into Sam’s brain, while Craig’s whine irritated the hell out of him. He just wished everybody would leave him alone to recover.

  He needed to get away from all this. Find someplace quiet and peaceful to lick his wounds in private. And as he listened to Mason continue to laud Colby’s abilities, the solution simply came to him.

  “Mase, your cabin’s empty now, right?” he asked, his eyes still shut.

  Mason stopped talking in midsentence, and Sam could almost picture his friend’s puzzled frown.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Think I could stay there for a few months?”

  “You’ll let Colby handle the business?”

  “I will, to a certain extent.” He’d definitely want to be privy to her every decision, but that was what phones and computers and Wi-Fi were for.

  “Then sure, I think it’ll do you good to get away from everything. Let me know when you want to go, and I’ll make sure it’s fully stocked and ready for you.”

  “Thanks, mate, I’ll owe you one. Give Daisy a huge smacking kiss from me.”

  “Take care, bru,” Mason said in farewell, and Sam disconnected the call with a tired sigh. He cracked open an eyelid when he realized that the room was unnaturally silent. He really hoped that he wouldn’t find his mother in a lip-lock with Craig, but the other man was gone and his mother was sipping her coffee and watching him speculatively.

  “So where is your friend’s cabin situated?” she asked calmly, and Sam suppressed a grimace, annoyed to have been caught in a lie.

  “The western Cape in South Africa.”

  His mother gasped. “You’re in no shape to make that trip.”

  “I can’t go anywhere for three weeks, Mum. So it’s not like I’ll be leaving now. And I’ll take the company jet, cushiest mode of transportation imaginable. It’s an idyllic place with beautiful oceans and mountains, lots of fresh air. Mason’s cabin is tucked away in a sleepy little town. No press to hound me. I wish I could leave today.”

  “Who will take care of you? And what about your rehabilitation?”

  “Everything will be taken care of, Mum. Don’t worry.”

  “I have to worry, you’re my only child,” she said, and he cracked a smile. She was a prima donna, but he adored her.

  “I’m thirty-four years old, Mimsy,” he teased weakly.

  “Still my child,” she said resolutely. “And I’d thank you to lie about your age from now on, please. I’m much too young to have a thirty-four-year-old son.”

  He chuckled, and she took his hand. Feeling comforted, Sam drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Does everybody know what time it is?” Lia asked brightly. The group of adorable three- and four-year-olds bounced eagerly in response.

  “Story time!” they yelled collectively. One precocious boy jumped up and did a little dance of excitement.

  “Okay, settle down.” She lifted the book from her lap so that they could all see the cover, and everybody squealed like giddy teens at a pop concert.

  A little girl lifted her hands to her mouth, her eyes brightening with excited tears. “Hungwy Capilla.” Her breathless voice was filled with reverence.

  “That’s right, Bongi, it’s The Very Hungry Caterpillar! Poor Caterpillar is so, so, so, sooo hungry.” The little ones settled back down and waited in anticipation as she cracked open the book. Lia started reading, using everything in her bag of tricks to keep the kids hooked and engaged by inviting them to count along with her. They all knew the story but gasped with every page turn as if it was their first time hearing it.

  Lia loved this. She wished that she hadn’t stupidly listened to her ex-fiancé and given up her job as a teacher’s assistant at the preschool before her nonevent of a wedding. She should have known when he told her to quit—told, not asked, mind you—that their union would never work. But she’d been so stupidly keen to marry and start a family that she’d ignored all the warning bells going off in her head.

  Her position had been filled at the school, but she happily substituted when she could. Today this group’s teacher had to pop out for a doctor’s appointment and Lia had been keen to step in for an hour or so. She wasn’t yet properly qualified, but it had always been her dream to obtain her bachelor of education degree and become a foundation phase educator. She’d kept delaying, thinking that if she married and had her own children, this need to work with kids would go away. So stupid. She loved working with children—it had little to do with her maternal instincts, she just enjoyed watching them grow and learn. The ridiculous sense of achievement she felt when she taught a little one something new was a fix she’d need long after she’d birthed and raised her own children.

  After breaking it off with Clayton, she had looked into obtaining an online degree and unbeknownst to her family and friends was now just starting her second year of the four-year BEd degree. Once she graduated she would be qualified to work with newborns to nine-year-olds. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told her family yet—fear of failure, perhaps. They would be nothing but encouraging, she knew that, but she wanted to do this on her own. To prove to herself that she could.

  She finished the story just in time, because some of the kids were looking drowsy. Definitely nap time. Lia got them all settled down and was busy neatening up the kitchen area when Aisha Yusuf, their teacher, returned from her doctor’s appointment.

  “Hey,” Lia greeted her longtime friend and colleague. “How did it go?”

  “All good, baby’s doing well, I’m doing well.” Aisha’s hand went to the slight swell of her tummy, and Lia suppressed a small surge of longing. It was Aisha’s first pregnancy, and the woman was positively beaming with joy and good health.

  “I could have told you that,” Lia teased. “You look amazing.” She gathered up her purse, and Aisha frowned.

  “Leaving so soon? I thought we could have a cup of tea and chat.”

  “I’d love to, but I’m meeting Daff for a late lunch.”

  “Why don’t you pop around for story time again tomorrow? This lot complains when I do story time—they say my voices aren’t as good as yours.” Lia laughed at that bit of nonsense.

  “Liar. They pretty much adore anyone who reads to them.”

  “Well, I don’t think my voices are as good as yours,” Aisha said, and Lia gave her a hug.

  “Thanks, Aisha. I’ll make time to come around tomorrow mor
ning.” Lia literally had nothing but time at the moment. She tried to keep busy with her numerous charity projects, but her schedule was definitely flexible. Even though they would never say it, she was sure her parents were probably sick of her lounging around without any true purpose. Luckily she had some savings and a generous trust fund that their maternal grandparents had set up for all three sisters, which was paying for her degree and some measure of independence at the moment.

  Lia had dreamed of perhaps renting her youngest sister Daisy’s house, but, even with the trust fund, it would strain her budget. She needed a job. Their town of Riversend was small and offered few employment opportunities. She would have to venture out to Knysna or farther for a decent job, but she’d been in a complete funk since her failed wedding nearly two years ago and couldn’t seem to find any focus.

  God, she felt completely useless at the moment. Maybe that was why she had fallen into bed with Sam Brand so easily. Such behavior was completely uncharacteristic for Lia. She didn’t sleep with strange men. In fact, nobody knew it, but Clayton had been her first lover. Lia had been all for saving herself for marriage—or engagement, as it were. She’d never dreamed that her wedding would fall through. She’d thought Clayton would be her first and last lover.

  She shook her head as she walked toward MJ’s in the center of town. She should be grateful that he wasn’t. Even though she’d had no prior experience, she’d always felt he was a bit lacking in the sex department. And after Sam Brand, she was sure of it. Clayton had been too fast, clumsy, and definitely selfish. Even in her inexperienced state, she’d known how selfish he was. He’d left her nearly there more often than not, which had been completely frustrating. And he’d constantly blamed Lia for the lack of fireworks in bed. Calling her cold and frigid and boring. It had been cruel and had made her feel inadequate and belittled. But she had believed that things would improve after marriage. Looking back, Lia couldn’t believe how naïve she had been. And definitely much too desperate to get that ring on her finger.

  MJ’s was usually close to empty this time on a Thursday, and she could immediately see that Daff wasn’t there yet. She smiled at the waitress and made her way toward the back of the room, to her and Daff’s usual midweek lunch table. This was a fairly new ritual, since Daff had quit her job only a few months ago, but it probably wouldn’t go on for much longer. Daff, who was doing an online course in marketing, would be temporarily managing her boyfriend’s sporting goods store while Spencer focused on launching his new store in the neighboring town of George. Her ultimate goal was to handle all the marketing and advertising for Spencer’s business.

  Lia had already put in an order for two coffees when her sister stepped into the restaurant. She made a beeline for their table, stopping to exchange a few words with the waitress before sitting across from Lia.

  “That man is going to be the death of me,” she complained without preamble, and Lia grinned. Daff liked to bitch and moan about Spencer, but Lia couldn’t recall ever seeing her older sister happier.

  “What’s up?”

  “He’s still being really stubborn about me moving in with him,” Daff said, her eyebrows furrowed and her face dark with displeasure. “I’ve already given Daisy notice.” Daff had been talking about moving in with Spencer for months. The only problem was that Spencer seemed to have other ideas. He was more traditional than Daff and uneasy about the message living together would send to his fifteen-year-old half sister, Charlie.

  “He’s worried about Charlie,” Lia said. It was really sweet how concerned Spencer was about appearances and making sure his sister had proper role models in her life.

  “Charlie’s a savvy girl—it’s not like she doesn’t know what Spencer and I get up to when he’s at my place. Especially since he gets home close to two every morning. I’m getting fed up with sleeping apart. But he absolutely refuses to stay over. And do you know what he asked me the other night? He asked, ‘What would your parents think if we moved in together?’”

  Lia stifled a smile at her sister’s absolute disgruntlement. It was a familiar rant, and Lia let it wash over her as Daff continued to huff and puff.

  “It’s just the way he is, Daff. You have to respect that about him,” she said when her sister finally ran out of steam and Lia could get a word in. Daff’s face softened.

  “I know. And I love him for it. So damned much. I mean, the man is perfect. I just want us to move forward. I wish he’d hurry up and propose already.” Lia snorted at her sister’s words. Last year Daff would have run screaming in the opposite direction if anybody had mentioned marriage to her. But she was eager to take the next step with Spencer.

  “Why don’t you propose to him?” Lia asked curiously. It wasn’t like Daff to sit around waiting for something she wanted.

  “He absolutely forbade me to. Told me he was going to ask me, but only when he feels the time is right. The time was right four months ago. All of this now is just wasted time.” Lia tried hard not to laugh. Her prickly older sister wasn’t the most patient of people, and it was funny to see her like this.

  “Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to come shopping with Charlie and me on Saturday.”

  “Special occasion?”

  “Charlie was invited to a friend’s sixteenth birthday party. And Spencer is being dumb about it—he actually tried to tell her she couldn’t go. Because there’ll be boys at the party.” Daff rolled her eyes. “I had a long private chat with him about trusting her and allowing her to spread her wings, blah blah blah, et cetera, et cetera. I’m so grown-up these days, it’s sickening.”

  Lia laughed. Their waitress, an older woman named Suzy, brought the coffee and a huge glass of red wine for Daff. Lia eyed the glass with a raised brow, and Daff glared at her.

  “Give me a break. I just went five rounds about cohabitation with my stubborn boyfriend, my lease is up in three weeks, and if Spencer won’t let me move in with him, I’ll have to move back home. So I deserve this glass of wine.”

  “Daisy will let you stay longer if you ask her.”

  “I know that, but Spencer doesn’t, and I told him she’s already found a new tenant for the place.”

  “Mason might tell Spencer the truth.” Daisy’s husband was Spencer’s younger brother.

  “I told Daisy I would mail her ugly caterpillars back to her, one broken piece at a time, if she or Mason let it slip.” Lia laughed again. Daff was currently holding Daisy’s ornamental—and sentimental—caterpillar collection hostage. Daisy had nowhere else to store them but in a cabinet at her old house, and Daff took full advantage of Daisy’s fondness for her collection. But everybody—including Daisy—knew that Daff would never really destroy her baby sister’s prized possessions.

  “Anyway, so Saturday? Shopping?”

  “Sure, count me in.”

  Suzy returned for their food orders, and both women gave the menu a cursory scan before ordering, steak and a baked potato for Daff and pasta for Lia.

  “Hey, have you heard about Mason’s buddy Sam Brand?”

  Lia froze and slanted her sister a wary look. Daff was taking another sip of wine and didn’t notice the look.

  “What about him?”

  “He’s coming to Riversend for his convalescence.”

  Convalescence?

  “Convalescence for?”

  Daff choked on her wine and gaped at Lia. “You’re shitting me, right?” Lia suppressed a sigh at the overreaction. Her sister could so often be both dramatic and crude. “Have you been living under a rock the past week? It’s all over the news.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “With what? Reorganizing your underwear drawer? Needlepoint? Baking cakes?”

  Wow. That was scathing even for Daff.

  “I volunteer at the animal shelter, you know that. And at the youth center. And the retirement home. I’ve been helping Mrs. Salie with her Books Are Fun campaign.” Mrs. Salie was the librarian. “And I help out at the day care center when I ca
n.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You should start charging those people for your services,” Daff said with a dismissive wave.

  “That’s not how volunteering works,” Lia corrected primly, blowing on her hot coffee to cool it down. “Now tell me why Sam Brand is convalescing.” She took a sip of her coffee. Still too hot. She blew on it again and took another mouthful.

  “He was stabbed last week. Stabbed saving Laura Prentiss’s life, can you imagine? I mean, I don’t like the guy at all, but that’s pretty cool. And so romantic, apparently. Jesus, Lia!” This last as Lia’s coffee spewed from her lips and dribbled down her chin, fortunately not messing anywhere else. Daff chucked a napkin at her, and Lia dabbed at her face. Gosh, how embarrassing.

  But the news that Sam Brand had been horrifically injured while saving a pop star was disturbing and unexpected.

  “How badly was he hurt?”

  “Daisy says he was in the ICU for three days—punctured lung, shattered bones in his right arm, and one of the stab wounds nearly nicked his femoral artery. The footage is all over YouTube. I watched it last night. Brand completely wrecked the guy, despite being stabbed in the process.”

  “Why did you say it’s romantic? Isn’t it his job?” Lia felt nauseous, and when Suzy chose that moment to bring their food, her stomach very nearly revolted at the sight of it. She doubted she’d be able to eat. The thought of a vital, healthy man like Sam Brand nearly dying so needlessly was repulsive.

  “Sam Brand rarely does the bodyguarding thing anymore. He tends to work behind the scenes these days, but he made an exception for Laura Prentiss, and there have been rumors that they’re an item. Neither of them has denied it, and now it’s come out that when he heard she was being stalked, he insisted on being there to protect her. And he was.” Daff, not the romantic type at all, sighed wistfully, and Lia stared at her. Falling in love had really done a number on her cynical sister.

  “Anyway, Brand’s asked to stay at Mason’s cabin during his recovery, and Mason has obviously agreed to that. So he’ll probably be here in the next month or so.” Lia barely registered Daff’s words, her mind on everything that she’d just learned.