Trouble with Nathan

by Anna J. Stewart

  “What’s Malcolm’s prognosis? I only read that he’s been sick,” Laurel asked. He certainly didn’t look sick, not with the way he was racing around the backyard with the puppy and his niece and nephews.

  “It’s a recurrence of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma,” Veronica said when Sheila didn’t appear to hear the question. “Sheila, did you hear me? They said probably. There are no absolutes, you know that.”

  “I, it never occurred to me.” The astonishment in Sheila’s voice was only rivaled by her rapid-fire blinking. “Good Lord, we’ve only been married a month! Wait.” She pressed her fingers against her forehead and closed her eyes. “I’m trying to count back to see . . . but . . .” She turned pleading eyes on Veronica and Laurel, who felt the bond of friendship tightening. “Malcolm starts chemo in a couple of weeks. I can’t be pregnant!”

  “Who can’t be pregnant?” Morgan said as she and Theresa pushed out the front door and stepped onto the porch as tears sprang into Sheila’s eyes. “Sheila?” Morgan dashed over and crouched beside her. “Are you?”

  “Maybe?” She covered her mouth and sobbed. “Oh, maybe.”

  “Kitchen, now. The lot of you.” Theresa held the screen door open and waved them inside. “This is a conversation for inside. Move it.” Laurel shifted out of the way as Veronica and Morgan each grabbed one of Sheila’s hands and pulled her to her feet. When she retook her chair and picked up her wine, she felt eyes on her. She glanced over her shoulder at Theresa, hands planted on her ample hips, pinpoint stare aimed directly at Laurel. “Well?”

  Laurel swallowed the wrong way and almost choked. “Well, what?”

  “You, too, young lady.”

  “Ah, no.” Laurel shook her head. “This is a family—”

  “Yes, it is.” Despite the stern declaration, kindness shone in Theresa Juliano’s eyes. “Now march.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Who put you on dish duty?” Nathan poked his head around the corner into the kitchen as Laurel set the last service platter to dry on the counter. “You’re a guest, you shouldn’t be cleaning up. And besides, I think there’s about to be fireworks—”

  “I need to go.” Laurel had forgotten how to breathe hours ago as she sat among the women in Nathan’s life unable to contribute to a life-altering conversation that only heaped more dread and guilt on her weary shoulders. Alastair had her pinned to the Tremaynes like an insect under glass: she didn’t have a choice, not if she wanted to secure her future with her daughter. She’d spent most of her life lying to someone, to a mark, to Poppy, even to herself, but there was something different about the Tremaynes, about Nathan; different enough that the guilt creeping around her heart would be difficult, if not impossible, to dislodge, “I can’t stay.”

  “What’s wrong?” The concern that flashed across his handsome face as he came toward her only added to her suffering. She couldn’t be here, couldn’t look into all those trusting, accepting faces knowing the damage she was doing to them; the damage she’d already done. “Did someone say something—”

  Yes, someone said something. Someone—everyone—said everything she’d ever wanted to hear her entire life. And it terrified her to her marrow. “I just don’t belong here. I’ve already called a cab.”

  “Don’t you feel well? I can drive you back to the hotel—”

  “I feel fine, Nathan. I just can’t be here anymore.” She tried to move past him, but he’d moved in and grabbed hold of the sink behind her and locked her in place. She had to get out, to think. Rethink. Every time she looked at one of them now, all she saw was a target on each of their backs. Nathan, Jackson. Kelley. Sheila . . .

  “You’re running.” He inclined his head, his piercing gaze peering so deeply she ducked her chin, squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re scared. I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

  The hand she pressed against his chest was meant to push him away, but instead she found her fingers had a mind of their own as they curled under, grabbing hold of that superhero shirt of his. “Let me go.”

  “No.” He let go of the sink and grabbed hold of her arms, keeping her in place as he moved closer, so close she almost couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.

  “I can’t do this anymore.” There had to be another way. She had to find another way out; she couldn’t use Nathan or his family like this, but they had to be warned. Maybe she had enough time to get out of Lantano Valley and back to Sacramento and Joey and Poppy before Alastair found out. Maybe they had enough time to disappear . . . “Nathan.” She hated the tears that burned in her eyes, coated her throat. Such weakness, emotion. It always got her into trouble and Nathan could possibly be the worst trouble she’d ever been in. “You have to let me go.”

  He caught a finger under her chin and lifted her face, waiting until she opened her eyes before giving her one of those damned smiles of his. “It looks to me as if the only thing I have to do right now is this.”

  Laurel shook her head even as his mouth descended. She wanted to pull away, to push him away, but instead she leaned forward, tightening her grip on his shirt as he kissed her. His mouth was so soft, urgent, commanding, and for a moment, she let herself forget all the lies, all the secrets hovering between them. It couldn’t matter she wanted him. Falling into bed with Nathan Tremayne would make her already complicated—and dangerous—situation even worse. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy this last moment with him. When she slid her hand up his chest and around to the back of his neck, she sank into him, letting his tongue sweep in and seduce hers in a dance she knew would have to end in a matter of moments. She memorized every second, every sensation of his touch and kiss.

  His hands shifted, smoothed, seduced, as they skimmed down her arms to rest on her hips, his fingers inching their way under the hem of her shirt. Laurel moaned—or was that a whimper?—as she drank in more, hooking her foot behind his calf and pulled him hard against her. She’d wanted this. From the moment they’d met she’d wanted to know what it felt like to be in his arms, to have his attention, all his attention, on her and her body and now that she knew . . .

  A horn blasted in the distance, a reminder, a warning. She scraped her fingers against his neck as she pulled away, turned her head so he wouldn’t see, maybe so he wouldn’t hear what she needed to tell him.

  Now that she knew she wished she didn’t.

  “Talk to me, Laurel,” Nathan whispered as she shoved her way out of his embrace. “Trust me. Whatever it is, we can work on it together. You belong here. With us. With me.” His words might as well have been a bucket of ice, dousing her in reality as she darted away from him and grabbed her bag. “No, I don’t. Believe me when I tell you this is the last place I belong. I thought working together would be okay, but it won’t be.” She had to find another way, any way, to break free without causing such massive collateral damage. She couldn’t drag Nathan even further into Alastair’s crosshairs. “I’m really sorry. For all of this. Trust me, Nathan. It’s better if we go our separate ways. Tell your father I’ll be in touch with him about Mac Price, okay? But from now on”—she held up her hand and stopped him even as her heart screamed at her to trust him, to tell him—“just stay away from me.”

  “Laurel—” He made to start after her.

  “Stop!” Laurel ordered. “Nathan, I’m trying to protect you. Protect your family.” Protect mine. If today had taught her anything it was that it was time to take her life back. And she’d be damned if she’d let Nathan put himself or his family at risk to pay for her mistakes. Maybe taking herself out of the equation meant Alastair would have to regroup and replan, maybe even start over. They’d be ready for him this time. They’d have to be, as he’d be angrier than a bull on a rampage. “You can’t trust me, Nathan. You never could.” She hurried down the hall, pulled open the front door, and out of the corner of her eye caught sight of Jackson and Malcolm in the living room.

&nbs
p; She didn’t need to look at them to know they’d heard every word. Now was her chance; this was an opportunity to break free once and for all. They might hate her for it, they might never forgive or even understand, but she couldn’t think about that now. Not when she had to find a way to vanish once and for all. But she was too late. She’d hesitated too long and gripped the handle tight in her hand as Jackson and Nathan caught up to her at the same time.

  “What’s going on?” Jackson asked. “Laurel, what’s wrong?”

  “She’s running,” Nathan accused with a sharpness that made her wince. Well, she’d gotten what she’d wanted, hadn’t she? He was angry enough to let her go.

  “Why?” Malcolm asked. “I thought you—”

  “Stop it, all of you! I’m not who you think. I’m not what you think.” The hell with it. She rose up to her full height and spewed the one admission she knew would stop them in their tracks. “I work for Alastair Manville.”

  ***

  Laurel sat curled up in the chair in her hotel room, every item she owned out on the bed. She should be packing. She should be halfway out of town leaving the Tremaynes, leaving Nathan, leaving every moment she’d spent under Alastair Manville’s thumb behind her.

  Instead she’d logged onto the computer to call Poppy and Joey and the relief she’d felt when Poppy answered had her grabbing hold of the table to keep from collapsing. Poppy knew something was wrong; he always knew, but he didn’t push and when she asked him to take the computer in so she could see Joey—who was already sound asleep, Burt perched at the top of her pillow like a simian guardian angel—he’d agreed.

  Her baby. In her own room. A room Laurel hadn’t helped decorate; hadn’t bought her the books that lined her shelves or the dolls that lived in the house in the corner. She’d missed the Elmo stage and the fights over staying up late and hadn’t heard Joey’s pleas for another bedtime story. All those lost years, all the hours she’d spent talking with her daughter over a view screen instead of across a table. She wanted them back.

  She jumped to her feet and began ripping the photos off the wall, letting the pictures of Nathan, of his father, sisters, the notes, her ideas, drift to the floor like forgotten, dreary snowflakes.

  Her lungs burned. She had money in the bank. Not a lot, but enough to make a new start, buy new IDs. She still had some contacts from the time she’d lived with Charlie. Maybe one of them could help her disappear.

  She wanted to go home, yet going home would put her daughter and Poppy in the most danger possible.

  She crumpled the last newspaper articles in her fists and looked back at the bed. Her empty suitcase taunted her. The clothes lay heaped on one another as if in surrender to whatever fate she sentenced them to. They felt more like costumes than reflections of her real self. Whoever that was.

  Laurel sagged back into the chair at the table and picked up the fake IDs she’d finished laminating before she’d headed out to Nathan’s this morning. Heather Richards. Laurel sighed. Yet another person she could use to hide Laurel Scott behind. Heather wasn’t connected to TransUnited or any other identity Laurel had assumed over the years. Heather was one she could pull out when she needed extra distance from whatever situation she was in. A few clicks of the computer keys, a quick update to the website Laurel maintained and Heather went from diamond expert to insurance investigator in the time it took to reload the page.

  Sure TransUnited might get her past the gates of the prison and into the visitor’s room, but using the actual company she worked for could raise alarms she didn’t want to set off. Besides, as far as she knew, Alastair hadn’t caught wind of Heather Richards. If anything, this would be a good test as to how strong that cover name was.

  Yet another identity. Yet another batch of lies. She’d made the right choice, leaving Nathan behind. Somehow she’d convince Alastair all was well, that she was still following orders, especially if she could find a way to ditch her tail. She did better on her own. She didn’t have to worry about someone else letting her down.

  When things went badly, she’d only have herself to blame. Her blood pumped so fast through her veins her head spun.

  Letting her emotions get the better of her would had gotten her into trouble. Five years of mounting pressure had finally exploded and all it had taken was a backyard barbeque, two puppies, a miniature Wonder Woman, and a man who thrived amidst all of it.

  Where was her out? She had to find one without any help from anyone. Without putting anyone else in danger.

  She reached to turn off her computer when a knock sounded on her door. She sighed. Her own damn fault for not bolting out of the hotel as soon as the cab dropped her off.

  She walked to peer through the peephole, her heart doing its traitorous little dance as she saw Nathan staring back at her, hands shoved in his pockets, the determined and angry expression on his face weakening her resolve to never speak to him again.

  “Go away, Nathan.” She pressed her forehead against the door, hand hovering over the bolt.

  She shouldn’t want to see him. Shouldn’t need to see him. How had this happened? How had she come to care this much?

  “Open the door, Laurel.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Laurel? Let me in.”

  “I can’t.” But her voice was nothing more than a whisper.

  “You’re not a coward, Laurel. You wouldn’t have told us you were working for Alastair if you were, so open the damned door. You owe me that much.” Anger sparked and cleared her eyes.

  “Owe you?” She opened the bolt and yanked open the door. “I don’t owe you a damned—”

  His left brow arched.

  “Shit.” She sighed. “I’m really off my game tonight.” She should slam the door in his face. She should have left while she could. Instead, she stood back and let him pass. What the hell? Tonight couldn’t get any worse.

  Nathan strode inside and stopped short, drawing his gaze around the room as he stopped in front of her desk. “Did you really used to work as a housekeeper?”

  “Funny.” Her room looked as if a bomb had gone off. She wouldn’t laugh. But she managed a weak smile. “Let’s get on with this then.”

  “Get on with what?”

  “With me lying to you about working for Alastair. That I came here in order to get close to your family, to find out information and report back to him.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but we figured that out a while ago.”

  That wasn’t a blow to her ego at all. “You did?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Mmmm.” He nodded, turning in a circle toward the desk. “What we don’t know is”—he leaned down and narrowed his eyes at her computer screen—“why.”

  Laurel dived for the laptop. “Don’t—” Nathan caught her flailing arms, pulling her close as he scanned the image of Joey sleeping, the glow of her teddy bear nightlight setting her daughter’s face in a halo of light. Laurel couldn’t stop the sob that escaped her. “Leave her out of this, Nathan.” She couldn’t bear it if her child became someone else’s target.

  “I don’t think I can. She’s beautiful,” Nathan said as he loosened his hold and, instead of pushing her away like Laurel expected, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her in. “What’s her name?”

  “Joey.” Pride filled her voice, her lungs, as she accepted the momentary truce for what it was. “She’s six. Will be next month.” She’d missed four birthdays already. How many more would she be forced to miss? Some days she didn’t know how she remained standing.

  “Joey, huh?” Nathan’s lips quirked. “Let me guess.” He reached over and plucked up her recent purchase from Pages Unlimited. “Little Women?”

  She didn’t want his understanding. She didn’t want his kindness. She didn’t want him to like her. She wanted . . . she wanted— “Nathan.”

  “Did Al
astair threaten her?” He released her, replaced the book and sat on the edge of the desk, all hint of anger and irritation gone from his face.

  She was so tired of the lies, so tired of shouldering the fear alone. She was so . . . tired. “Yes.” Please let this be the right choice. “A few days ago and again this morning. Before the van. He thought I needed an added incentive. As if staying out of prison and losing my daughter wasn’t enough.”

  “The van.” The light in Nathan’s eyes exploded with understanding. “Well, that explains that. No one comes between a mama and her cub.”

  “Don’t—” She didn’t think she had it in her to hope anymore.

  “Finish packing, Laurel.” He stroked a finger down the side of her face. “Then meet me downstairs.”

  “Wh-where am I going?”

  “To my place.” He headed to the door. “If you’ve pissed Alastair off there’s no telling what he might do. Now hurry up. We have a lot to talk about.”

  ***

  “No, Dad, I think we’re okay for now.” Nathan kept his voice low as he finished pouring two glasses of Scotch while Laurel unloaded her belongings into the sparsely furnished guest room upstairs. “Yeah, I’ll get you that information sometime tomorrow. For now I think she just needs to feel safe.”

  He needed her to feel safe. It was the only way he was going to get her back on board so they could move forward. He might be trying to convince her she couldn’t do this alone, but the truth was, he needed her. Not to get ahold of any information she had about Nemesis—clearly the burglar wasn’t her main focus given the havoc she’d wreaked on her stalking wall. He didn’t need her so he could access data they may or not be able to use in finding the crown. He needed her because as of this moment, he wasn’t convinced he could pull this off on his own. Her experience with Alastair would be an added weapon in the Tremayne arsenal. She was good with people, whether she wanted to admit it or not, and despite her sketchy history with the truth, she knew what they were up against. She was the perfect ally in this fight.