But working with or for the man trying to destroy his family? Nathan rotated his neck to relieve the tension building up in his spine. That he couldn’t abide.
“That could prove problematic,” Malcolm said.
“You think?” Nathan snapped. Dammit, when were they going to catch a break?
“How did she react to the background check I ran on her?”
“What background check?” Jackson demanded, backing off as Regan delivered their drinks and two fresh bowls of pub mix. “What have you two been up to the last few days?”
“I wanted to know who I was dealing with going forward,” Nathan told his father. “It was a gut feeling.” For the first time in memory, Nathan wished he’d been wrong. He’d liked the Laurel he’d met that first day; he liked the other Laurel he’d taken out to dinner. The Laurel who showed up at the gym to help him exorcise demons he’d never be able to shake had nearly slipped past the defenses he’d been determined to keep in place, but those barriers had crumbled over lunch. She was smart, snarky, tenacious and fun. She made him smile. Had they all been facades? Had he ever seen or would he ever meet the real Laurel? “I had Malcolm run a complete check on her.”
“She’s got a substantial criminal history.” Malcolm dug into his stack of files and pulled out what Nathan assumed was a duplicate to the one he’d left on Laurel’s hotel room bed. “Starting when she was fourteen.”
“Juvenile records are supposed to be sealed.” Jackson opened the folder and skimmed through the details.
“Lots of things are supposed to be sealed,” Malcolm admitted. “Nathan was right. There’s too much at stake not to be prepared for any eventuality. There is a missing gap. Seven months,” he added. “About six years ago, before Laurel Scott appeared. I can’t find any trace of her. It’s like she vanished.”
“That’s probably when she hooked up with Manville,” Nathan muttered. “Reinvented herself.”
“You’re letting anger cloud your judgment,” Jackson said. “I see she was arrested with a Charlie Preston at least three different times from the age of sixteen to nineteen. Did you follow up on him?”
“No.” Malcolm frowned.
“Humor me.” Jackson gestured toward the computer.
“Yeah, sure.”
While Malcolm tapped his way deeper into Laurel’s past, Nathan downed handfuls of salty peanuts and pretzels.
“You wouldn’t be this upset if you didn’t like her,” Jackson said.
“She’s a liar.”
“We’re all liars.” Jackson’s comment struck home. “Get over it. The question I think we should be asking is why is she lying? What does she hope to gain? If she’s working with Alastair, I’d be interested to know why. If she’s working for him—”
“What’s the difference?” Nathan asked.
“If you set your ego aside, you’d see there’s a world of difference. You said you don’t think she realized she slipped.”
Nathan shrugged. “Who knows? Clearly I’m not the best judge of character when it comes to her.”
“I agree.” Jackson closed the file and set it on the seat between them. “Which is why I think I should meet with her myself.”
Nathan almost choked on a peanut. He downed half his shot-tinged beer. “That sounds like a really bad idea,” he managed.
“I’m beginning to think I’m the king of bad ideas.” Jackson leaned forward and peered out the window to the sedan parked across the street. “I honestly didn’t think Evan would keep a tail on me this long. How is anyone supposed to breathe with those two watching my every move?”
“He sounded pretty convinced someone’s setting you up,” Nathan said, feeling a pang of sympathy for the two detectives stuck watching his father night and day. “Maybe he thinks he’ll find out who it is if he’s got his people watching you.”
“Which means Alastair won’t make a move against me. Not directly. Indirectly?” He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe that’s where Laurel comes in. I think I can tell more after I meet her.”
“Well this is interesting.” Malcolm spun his computer around. “Charlie Preston died six years ago. Killed in an electronics store robbery gone wrong. Looks as if he got in with a seriously bad crowd.”
“The timing can’t be a coincidence,” Jackson said. “She lost someone. Sitting back and making assumptions about people isn’t your style, Nathan. If you aren’t comfortable asking her about this—”
“I never said I wasn’t comfortable.” What he wasn’t was impartial when it came to Laurel. He didn’t like being lied to—ironic, he knew, but damn it, he couldn’t shake the feeling there was still something he was missing. Or maybe he just wanted to believe there was a reasonable motive behind her dishonesty and deception. “Maybe it is better for you to reach out. If anything, you might scare the holy crap out of her and she’ll leave town.”
“So we’ve settled that then.” Malcolm cleared the table as Regan delivered their dinners. “Jackson will scope out Laurel and you’ll go off and lick your wounded male-pride. Leaving me to . . . what?” He stabbed a fork into the substantial steak with more force than necessary. “Twiddle my thumbs and wait for my next assignment?”
“Do you want another assignment?” Nathan asked in a way he hoped sounded casual.
“What I’d like,” Malcolm said, “is to feel useful. To do something other than Wikipedia research even Jackson here can do.”
“I should probably take offense at that,” Jackson said as he scooped up the ball of butter off the steaming baked potato and set it on the plate. “But I won’t. Oh, Regan. Can you do me a favor, please?”
“Sure thing.” Regan skidded to a halt, loaded tray hefted over one shoulder.
“Can you send two burgers with fries out to the men in that sedan out front? And a couple of root beers? And add them to my check.”
“Sure thing.”
“You know what they say,” Nathan warned. “If you keep feeding strays they’ll never go away.”
“They’re in a shitty situation, same as we are,” Jackson said. “But back to you, Malcolm. I’m guessing you didn’t bring this up because you’re looking for suggestions. You have an idea as to what you’d like to do?”
“I do.” Malcolm nodded and swallowed. “I want to take over your role in Nemesis, Jackson.”
For an instant, Nathan thought the entire bar went tomb silent. “I’m sorry?”
“How long has it been since Nemesis has pulled a job? Weeks? Nearly a month. Don’t you think that’s going to raise some suspicions now that you’re being watched, Jackson?” Nathan waited for his father to protest, to put an end to the conversation before it went any further.
Instead, once again, Jackson nodded. “You have a point. Continue.”
Nathan rubbed a weary hand over his jaw. What the hell was happening to his life?
“I want you to train me, teach me how you choose your targets, what information you have on them and how you use it. I want to do some planning of my own. Maybe take Nemesis outside Lantano Valley.”
“You want to expand the family business?” Nathan asked.
“I want to do something productive. And while illegal, you’ve started something important.”
“And now seems like the right time to you?” Nathan stared at his friend. What was going on here? Where had this come from? “You just got married. You and Sheila are still packing up the loft, not to mention you’ve got your treatments coming up . . .” That Malcolm suddenly paid more attention to his meal put the conversation into focus. “Didn’t you have a doctor’s appointment today?”
“That doesn’t—”
“Malcolm?” Jackson interrupted. “What’s going on?”
“They’ve moved up my chemo.”
Nathan swore, his appetite waning.
Malcolm shrugged. “It’s not
wholly unexpected, but my latest test results weren’t as good. I swear to God, if I get a whiff of pity from either one of you—”
“Do I look suicidal?” Nathan asked, even as the sympathy and fear swelled within him. “Does Sheila know?”
“I told her this afternoon. Felt like I was piling on especially after the news we got about Lydia. It doesn’t help that she’s realized the party she’s throwing for her on Sunday is going to be the last, but this may center her.” He shook his head and picked at the steamed broccoli on his plate. “You all started something with Nemesis. Something I think can continue. Let me do this. A test run at least. I have to do something with my time since Veronica and the other board members at TIN won’t let me do more than check emails and even those I’m not allowed to answer as long as I’m on medical leave. I’m not asking to do the breaking in, but I can scope out new targets and we can go from there.”
Nathan glanced at his father, who looked as if Malcolm’s news shocked him into remembering there was more going on than their Alastair Manville situation.
“Come with me tomorrow to pick up Lydia’s birthday present.” Nathan made mental adjustments to his schedule. “I’ll give you the rundown on how Nemesis operates.”
“And while you do that,” Jackson cleared his throat and resumed eating. “I’ll pay Laurel a visit.”
“Dad—” It was as far as Nathan got with his protest. He hated that withering warning glare Jackson Tremayne rarely used on his children. “Fine. Just don’t be surprised if she’s nothing like you expect.”
“Not to worry, son.” Jackson toasted them with the last of his drink. “I’m counting on it.”
***
“I’m assuming you’re calling with an update, Laurel.” Alastair’s voice echoed through her cell phone with noise in the background.
“You were right,” she said. “Nathan’s asked for my help in finding the crown.” Laurel stared out her hotel room window into the heart of Lantano Valley. She squeezed her eyes shut. This had to work. Playing him and the Tremaynes against each other was the only play she could see to extricate herself from his control.
“And you agreed.”
“It’s what you want, isn’t it? To stay close?” Laurel tried to keep the loathing out of her voice. “He hasn’t been forthcoming with any plan yet,” she lied. “But as soon as I know—”
“I’m sure you’ll keep me apprised of the situation,” Alastair said. “I’m glad to hear you’ve branched out with the Tremaynes. I understand you had a long chat with Sheila the other day. That’s most excellent and a little unexpected. But our last conversation has me concerned, which is why I took a little excursion to your neck of the woods.”
Laurel swallowed as chills erupted on the back of her neck. “You’re in Lantano Valley?” Her first inclination was to warn Nathan, but Alastair’s throaty chuckle set her frayed nerves even more on edge. She ripped the curtains closed and sank back against the wall.
“I didn’t realize how many lovely little playgrounds Sacramento has for children and families. Did you know there’s one just a few blocks from your daughter’s school?”
Laurel’s entire body turned to ice. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
“Little Joey is certainly turning into a lovely young lady. Here, let me show you.” She heard a click and closed her eyes, dreading the chime before it erupted from her phone. “In case you were wondering, I included today’s newspaper in the photograph. Oops! There she goes, down that slide again. I never understood the appeal of slides, did you?”
Laurel tapped open her messages and stared unblinking at the photo of Joey in her favorite pink overalls, that quirky, crooked smile of hers aimed right at her heart. But for the first time, the fear was outweighed by a white-hot rage that washed over her. Threatening her was one thing. Threatening her daughter? She clenched her fist until her nails cut into her palm. “What more do you want from me, Alastair?”
“Only your continued loyalty, Laurel. Nothing more. I just wanted to remind you what is at stake.”
“Maybe you need reminding that in another month, that evidence you have against me will be moot. Thanks to the statute of limitations, in another month, I’m done with you for good.” Whatever other crimes she might have committed in his name wouldn’t be high on his pronouncement list; those would have to be forgotten unless he wanted to chance being implicated himself.
“You misunderstand me, Laurel. In another month, I won’t need you anymore. But Joey will. I’d hate for you to do anything to jeopardize that future you’re working toward. This is the last time I’ll warn you. Do what you’re told to do and everything will work out fine. You and Joey and Poppy can go on with your lives and I’ll go on with mine. End of story.”
It was the same thing he’d said to her for years; the same words, the same offer, except this time, she didn’t believe him. She’d made her own inquiries down at the L.A. morgue. She’d seen what he did to Johnny Saxon. When all this was over, she’d be one thing: expendable. And so would her daughter. She shivered, squeezed her eyes shut. Sacrificing the Tremaynes for hers and Joey’s safety was her only choice. It was the distraction she’d need to disappear.
“I believe I’ll stick around for another day or so,” Alastair said. “This is such a lovely town with the railroad museum and the capital grounds. A little hot for my taste. I look forward to your next report, Laurel.”
He clicked off, leaving Laurel both stunned and furious. If Alastair thought by threatening her child, her baby, he’d solidify her loyalty, he was dead wrong. If nothing else, his call had only cemented her plans to do whatever it took—even sacrificing the Tremaynes—to finally break free of Alastair Manville and this life she’d been forced to live. “I have to get out of here.” She grabbed her purse and dashed out the door, trying to find some semblance of calm as she rode the elevator to the lobby.
The last person Laurel expected to find sitting in the lobby was Jackson Tremayne.
Her heart pounded. She wasn’t ready for this, didn’t know how to play this, and yet . . . as he got to his feet, she realized she didn’t have a choice. Clearly he’d been waiting for her, as he gave her a surprisingly warm smile. Her foot caught on the edge of an area rug and she tripped. She shifted trajectories and recovered in time to shove her nerves under control.
“Mr. Tremayne. It’s nice to meet you.” She peered around him as she took the hand he offered, quickly donning her professional persona. Was this Nathan firing another shot across the bow? Speaking of Nathan . . . “Are you alone?”
“I am, yes. Nathan’s running some errands for a family celebration tomorrow.” The deep rumble of Jackson’s voice sounded more comforting than she expected. If she had to guess, Jackson Tremayne was what movie stars of today would aspire to become in later years. Distinguished, confident, and with age barely brushing the temples of his hair and wrinkling the corners of his eyes. She could see where Nathan got his stature and his style. She didn’t want to like him; couldn’t afford to, nor could she alienate him. Alastair would not look kindly on that, she was sure. “I believe you and I have some things to discuss.”
Laurel blinked, her pulse skipping a beat. “Do we?”
“About the crown,” Jackson said. Was there a test in his words? Was he trying to fluster her? Confuse her? “Is now convenient for you?” Jackson asked. “Or would you like to come by the house next week sometime? It’s a little late for breakfast, but there’s a diner just around the corner my wife and I used to frequent on weekends when we went antiquing. I could do with a cup of their coffee.”
Jackson Tremayne was offering to take her to breakfast? This couldn’t be a coincidence, not after her recent conversations with Nathan. She didn’t believe for a second he hadn’t told his father what he’d learned about her. “Now sounds great.” Not that she was hungry. Jackson pushed open the lobby door and gest
ured to the nearly empty street.
Because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Lydia, Laurel couldn’t help but ask, “How’s Morgan’s little girl doing?” With the amount of time Laurel spent worrying about Joey, who was happy, healthy, and for the most part well-adjusted, Laurel couldn’t begin to fathom how she’d cope with a terminally ill child. At least she could fight Alastair. How did one fight an invisible foe?
“Lydia’s doing as well as can be expected.” His face locked down as if tapping into any emotion on the topic was too much. “Losing a child is never easy.”
What did she say to that? Sympathy slipped around her heart. Jackson Tremayne would know better than most. He’d lost his youngest son to cancer years before.
Laurel hiked her purse higher on her shoulder as they rounded the corner, the morning sun bright and welcoming, casting warm rays on the neighboring buildings.
“Nathan wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of my meeting with you today,” Jackson said.
“I’d bet Nathan didn’t want you meeting with me at any time.”
Jackson chuckled. “I can see why my son is so taken with you.”
Laurel snorted. “I’m not sure taken is the right word.”
“Trust me. I’ve known him longer. You definitely intrigue him. Everyone has reasons for what they do, Laurel. I’m guessing your reasons for being in Lantano Valley are more personal than any of us realize.”
“If you want me to leave town, I’m happy to.” Well, that was great. She’d flat-out lied to him in less than five minutes. “Once I have the crown.” There it was again, that hesitation, that . . . insecurity that descended whenever she tried to lie to Nathan. What was it about the Tremayne men that pushed her completely off-kilter and made her feel like she was wearing her dishonesty training wheels?
Trouble with Nathan Page 15
