"By then, I'd met Tanya. She was from a poor family. Her old man was a mean drunk and liked to beat on her. I figured it wouldn't be long until he started doing more. So I asked her to leave with me, and she said yes. I was seventeen."
"So, you ran away?"
''We went to New Orleans. We rented a dumpy little apartment near the French Quarter. I landed a job at one of the upscale restaurants. Cleaning toilets, I think." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "But I liked the sparkle of the place. I liked the people. The music. The glitter." He shrugged. "I worked two jobs and went to school at night. My second job was as bartender in a five star hotel. I was good and moved up fast. I took classes at night. I was arrogant and ambitious and a little bit reckless; I wanted it all, and I wasn't afraid to go after it.
“That's when I met Race Roberson. He was managing a club on Bourbon Street. He was from New Zealand—or so he said—and wore two thousand dollar suits. He tossed around a lot of cash. Drove a fancy car. Let me tell you, this farm boy was impressed as hell. We became friends. We partied together. Eventually, he hired me to manage his club. A few months later, one of the historic buildings down the street came up for sale. The owner had filed for bankruptcy and the place was going at a steal. It was the perfect location for a restaurant. I had the experience. Race Roberson had the capital."
He sighed. ''We became business partners. Had an attorney draw up a simple partnership document for us. We bought the building and began renovating it. Three months later we opened The Tropics. It was a jazzy club and restaurant. Lots of dark wood and palms. We hired the best chefs in the city. The best bartenders. The place was going to be a huge success. I was working a lot, maybe eighty or ninety hours a week. But I loved it. I was in my element. I knew Tanya wasn't happy about my being gone so much, but I always figured once the place was running smoothly, I could hire an assistant manager and cut back on my hours.
"Race took care of the books. We had a CPA, and it wasn't until after the place was open for six months that I was told we hadn't yet turned a profit. I was stunned. Race had called a meeting with me and the CPA. I couldn't believe we weren't making money. The place was doing a great business. Sure, labor and food costs were high, but not that high.
"Race and the CPA and I sat in the office above the restaurant and came up with a business plan. Ways to cut costs and increase profits. Once the CPA left, Race and I had a few drinks. He sat down at the desk and asked me if I wanted to burn the place and collect the insurance money. I didn't consider myself naive, but I couldn't believe he was asking me that The Tropics was my dream. I told him I could make it work. I just needed more time. I told him not to bring it up again."
Lying back on the pillow, Nick looked up at the ceiling, surprised that even after so many years, talking about it got his heart rate up. "I should have stopped trusting him at that point. Race Roberson was a little too slick. Instead, I went back to my routine of eighty hour weeks. I started watching the costs a little more closely." He ground his teeth. "Two weeks later the restaurant burned to the ground."
"Oh, Nick."
''Tanya and I had a nice house in the Garden District. I got the call at five in the morning and rushed over. But the place was fucking gone. I couldn't believe it. I suspected Race had something to do with it. I went over to his place in Metairie ready to knock his head off. But he swore to me he hadn't done it. He said the place was old. The wiring was probably bad. He was a damn good liar.
“The next day I found out one of the cleaning crew had died in the blaze. A guy with a wife and two kids, for God's sake. The police had a lot of questions. The fire marshal and ATF got involved. I cooperated fully, hut I never mentioned that Race had suggested we torch the place for the insurance money. I didn't want to cast any suspicion.
"A few days later the fire marshal ruled the blaze arson. Some type of accelerant had been used. Two weeks later, two detectives came to the house with a warrant for my arrest. They searched the house. Cuffed me while Tanya screamed her head off. They took me down to the station. I knew I was in trouble. But there was no doubt in my mind it would be cleared up. I wasn't too worried. I made the mistake of thinking all I had to do was tell the truth. I spent the night in jail. I hired a lawyer.
"But Race Roberson was one step ahead of me. He'd already given the police a sworn statement telling them I had suggested we torch the place for the insurance money. Then I found out the police found a container of naphtha paint thinner at my house--the same kind of accelerant that had been used to start the fire. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.”
Nat stared at him, her chest tight with outrage. "But you had the truth on your side. You had a lawyer. Didn't the truth come out during the trial?"
He closed his eyes briefly, then continued without looking t her. ''I'd been incredibly blind," he said. "It wasn't until the trial that I found out Tanya and Race had been together."
"Oh, no ... "
"She and I had been having problems. Serious problems. Brand was only two years old. I'd been working a lot of hours, leaving her alone all hours of the day and night. ... "
"But you were working to make your dream come true. To make her dream come true. She was your wife. Your partner."
"Not her dream, Nat. Mine. And I was blinded by it." He grimaced. “That made Tanya an easy mark for Race Roberson. All he had to do was flash a little cash, take her for a ride in his Jaguar, pour on the charm, and he had her eating out of his hand. So, while I was working like a fool, he was coming on to my wife. He convinced her I was sleeping around with one of my waitresses. He told her she deserved better, that I was going to leave her. Then he seduced her."
Nick let out a breath, surprised that even after all this time the betrayal hurt. "He told her I'd approached him about torching The Tropics. He said if the restaurant burned, she should tell the police the truth. That she shouldn't feel any loyalty to me. He told her he was going to Los Angeles to start over. He promised to take her and Brand with him. By then, she was crazy in love with the guy."
"During the trial, she sat in the witness box, crying her eyes out, and told the court Race had told her I'd approached him about torching the place for the insurance money. Her testimony and the accelerant that had been found in my garage pretty much sealed my fate. She had no idea she had been manipulated. Two days later, I was convicted of arson, conspiracy to commit insurance fraud, and manslaughter."
Nat felt gut punched. "I'm sorry."
"I swear, I couldn't believe it. I was in shock. My wife. My goddamn best friend. I knew I was in deep trouble, but it was too late. My lawyer did her best, but she wasn't very experienced. Two weeks later, I was sentenced to twelve years in Angola."
It made her sick to think this man had had to endure something so brutally unjust. "I can't image how awful that must have been."
''Twelve years seemed like an eternity to me. They cuffed me in the courtroom. In front of my wife and son. I couldn't believe that was the end of it. That I was going to prison for twelve years when I hadn't done a goddamn thing to deserve it.” He turned tortured eyes on her. "I swear, I thought that sentence was going to kill me. I was outraged and furious and I didn't have anyone to blame but myself."
"What about an appeal?"
"My lawyer went through the motions and filed an appeal, but it was too little too late."
"For God's sake, Nick, you were innocent."
“That's what every guy in that prison was saying, Nat. I was just another con running his mouth. Pretty soon, I just stopped saying it."
Outrage was like a giant hand squeezing her chest. “There wasn't anything anyone could do?"
"Nope. I got put into the population two days later." As if remembering, he closed his eyes briefly.” It was tough. The things you hear about prison ... I can tell you that being there was a hell of a lot worse."
"I can't imagine."
''The adjustment was the bard part. There's an entire underground society inside a
prison. People fucking with you twenty-four hours a day. No privacy. The isolation. The humiliations. Always having to watch your back." He shook his head. "Don't get me wrong. Most of the guys there deserved to be there."
"Not you."
"Not me. And I let them know it at every turn. I was filled with rage and bitterness. I got into fights. Just about got myself killed a couple of times."
"You had every right to be angry. What they did to you was unspeakable."
"Yeah, well, what could I do? That ten-by-ten cell was going to be my home for the next twelve years. I could either make the best of a bad situation, or I could keep going like I was and end up dead." He glanced down at the tattoos. "I was two years into the sentence before I finally accepted the reality that I wasn't going to be getting out anytime soon. I'd made a couple of friends by then. Guys I could count on to watch my back. I got into a routine. I worked laundry and spent the rest of my time pumping iron and running laps at the track. I finished the degree I'd started.
"Tanya came to see me a few times. She brought Brand. But, God, it was hard. I was furious with her. I hated her for what she' d done. But she had been manipulated by the same man who'd manipulated me. What could I say? She was the mother of my son. My only link to Brand. I didn't want my boy in that prison, but Nat. I swear to Christ I didn't have the strength to tell her not to bring him. He was the only thing that kept me going most days.
"The last time she came to see me was the day she told me she was filing for divorce and moving back to Bellerose. I was three years into my sentence. Nine more to go, and it felt like a million. Tanya was broke. The house had been repossessed by the bank. Race Roberson had long since gone to Los Angeles. She walked into the visitor room and just laid it out for me.
“It didn't hurt because I loved her. I hadn't loved Tanya for a long time. But it killed me because somehow I knew I wouldn't be seeing Brand again. I don't know how I knew that, but I did. He was five years old, and I loved him more than my own life."
Closing his eyes, he scrubbed his hand over his face and blew out a breath. "A year later, two corrections officers and the chaplain came to my cell. It was late, after lights out, so I knew something had happened. I had always figured it would be Tanya. Or maybe Pop. They took me into an interview room, and the chaplain told me Brand had drowned."
Chapter 25
Even though it had been more than two years since that terrible day, recounting it made him break into a cold sweat. Nick had relived that horrific moment a thousand times since. His mind could conjure up the same brutal punch of shock. The way the chaplain's eyes had skittered away. The corrections officers shifting uncomfortably and wishing they were anywhere but in that tiny room with a man who was about to come apart at the seams.
"Just like that, my beautiful little boy was gone,” he heard himself say. But he could hear the change in his voice. The black grief, the residual bitterness, the sharp edge of hatred that had darkened his heart for so long.
"I felt like a part of me had died. The only part of me that was decent and good."
Pulling the comforter to her breast, Nat sat up and turned to him. He saw tears on her cheeks, realized he'd made her cry. Raising her hand, she touched the side of his face. "I'm so sorry,” she said softly. "About Brand. About your having to go through that."
He pressed his cheek against her hand, liking the way her palm felt against his face. "I didn't mean to lay this on you tonight."
"I asked. As terrible as it is, I'm glad you shared it with me."
He smiled and thumbed away a tear. "I wanted you to know I'm not a criminal."
''What happened to you is heartbreaking and incredibly unfair."
"Life is heartbreaking and unfair sometimes. I mean, one moment we're at the top of the world, cruising, on autopilot. The next, Fate steps in and just sucks the air out from under our wings and we crash and burn."
"You survived."
"I was still alive-at least on the outside. But I'm not the same man I was the day I walked into Angola. I'm not the same man I was before I lost my son." Taking her hand, he lowered it from his face and looked at her. "I'm bitter, chere. I have a lot of hate inside me. I don't think I'm the right man to heal you."
"I'm not looking for someone to heal me," she said.
"We're all looking for someone to heal us. At least all of us damaged souls." He smiled in an effort to soften what he had to say next, but wasn't sure he managed. "I'll never trust another human being. I'll never give my whole heart. I'm not even sure I'm capable of loving anyone."
"You've been hurt. Betrayed--" .
"You deserve a man who can give you everything," he said firmly. "I don't have anything left to give."
"You're kind and generous. You have dreams--"
"I let go of those dreams a long time ago, chere."
They were propped against the pillows, facing each other. The bedroom was dark, but light from the window offered just enough light for him to see the hurt in her expression, the sheen of tears on her cheeks.
"Being with you," he whispered. "Like this. It was incredible. Better than I can ever make you believe. But I don't want it to change the way you feel about me."
"You can't tell me what to feel."
"Nat, I'm broke. The farm is in a shambles. I work in a goddamn bar half the night. Pop's Alzheimer's is getting bad."
For the first time, she looked angry. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I know you're not the kind of woman who sleeps with a man on a whim. Because you're vulnerable, and I'm a son of a bitch for taking advantage of that."
"Would it be such a bad thing if I admitted to caring about you?" she snapped.
"I just told you I will never trust you. I will never love you."
"I don't believe that."
"I'm a convicted felon. I spent six years in prison. I saw things I don't let myself think about. I did things I'll never admit to. Those years tainted me, Nat. They took away my decency. My humanity. They made me dirty."
"You're wrong."
"You've already had your life tom apart. You deserve a good man. A whole man. Nat, I'm trying to be kind by telling you this before things go too far. You don't want to get tangled up with me."
"You don't get to choose who you get tangled up with."
"Once we find the person responsible for these murders, whatever you and I have ... we've got to let it go. Believe me, it's the kindest thing I can do for you."
"You think running away from your feelings is somehow noble?" she asked.
"Noble is the last thing I am, chere, but five years from now, you'll be thanking me."
"You don't know what you're talking about." She started to rise, but Nick was across the bed and grasping her hand before her feet hit the floor. "Wait," he said. "Don't be angry."
"I want you to leave." She shoved at him, tried to shake off his grip.
But Nick was ready. Grasping both her wrists, he rolled her onto her back and came down on top of her. For a moment the only sound came from their heavy breathing. Her eyes were large and dark and filled with hurt. Hurt that he'd put there. Of all the things that had happened between them, that was the one he was the most sorry for.
"I'm the worst thing that could happen to you right now," he heard himself say.
Her hair was fanned out on the pillow behind her. It looked like silk in the dim light. At some point she had stopped struggling. She was staring at him, her eyes wide, her mouth partially open. He knew it was wrong, but he wanted her. That need was like a thousand needles pricking his skin.
"Who are you trying to convince, Nick? Me or you?"
The heady pull of lust taunted him, made him want things he was a fool for considering when she was so close he could see the sheen of moisture on her lips. Grinding his teeth against the unwanted emotions exploding inside him, he sat up and peeled the comforter off of her. She tried to cover herself, but he didn't give her the chance. Bracing his arms on either side of her, he lo
wered his weight onto her and crushed his mouth to hers.
The need to possess was more powerful than his need to protect. He knew he was a bastard for giving in to those needs. But Nick had never claimed to be a saint. He had never even claimed to be a good man.
He knew this would hurt her. Knew it would hurt him, too, if he wanted to be honest about it. But it wouldn't be the first time he'd sold his soul to get what he wanted.
He kissed her long and deep and hard. She didn't struggle, but she didn't kiss him back, either. He wanted her to kiss him. Damn it, he needed her to want this.
Wedging his knees between hers, he parted her legs. A sound escaped her when he moved against her. His penis nudged her opening. She was wet, but he felt her body go rigid beneath him.
"If you want me to stop, you had better say so right now," he ground out.
Surprising him, she began to move against him. Her arms went around his shoulders, her nails raking down his back. She opened her mouth and let his tongue inside, returning his kisses with equal ferocity.
Closing his eyes against a barrage of emotions he didn't want to feel. He slid into her heat and tried not to think of anything at all.
# # #
Nat jolted awake to the peal of the doorbell. She sat bolt upright, her heart pounding. Beside her, Nick was already out of the bed and stepping into his jeans. A glance at the alarm told her it was almost four A.M. The time of night when a knock at the door could only mean bad news.
"Are you expecting someone?" he asked as he zipped his fly.
Nat slipped into her robe and belted it at her waist. "No."
His gaze lingered on hers a moment too long. “If someone’s looking for trouble, I'll be right behind you, out of sight, okay?"
She walked into the hall and took the stairs to the living room. The first thing she noticed was the flicker of police lights coming through the front window. A surge of worry sent her running to the door. Flipping on the lights, she flung it open, found herself staring at Alcee Martin and Matt Duncan.
Depth Perception Page 26
