Trouble with Nathan

by Anna J. Stewart

  Who was he kidding? Nathan’s hand tightened around his phone. He wanted her around because he didn’t want to let her go. Not until he knew for sure if there could be . . . more between them.

  The only remaining question was, could he trust her enough to see this through?

  “You convince her we understand, you hear me?” Jackson told him. “I wish she’d confided in us sooner. Find out where Joey is, Nathan. We’ll get her protection.”

  “I’m way ahead of you.” He glanced up and found Laurel lounging against the door frame wearing the same ratty shorts and T-shirt she’d had on at the hotel. “I’ll be in touch once we’ve talked to Mac Price.”

  He couldn’t stop the grin from sliding across his face as he hung up. All that loose, long soft hair tumbling around her shoulders, the guarded suspicion on her face. She’d never looked sexier. Whatever anger he might have felt at her unsurprising confession evaporated the second he caught sight of that sleeping little girl. Laurel needn’t have said a word. The fear, the love, was written all over her face. He’d felt her desperation in her hands as she’d reached for her child. He held out his phone. “Did you want to say good night to my father?”

  She locked her jaw and shook her head. “We’re not talking to Mac tomorrow.” Laurel padded over in her bare feet and grabbed one of the glasses, tossing the amber liquid down in one gulp before asking for another. “I am.”

  “Maybe you didn’t hear me earlier.” He hung up the phone before topping off her drink and shifted to nursing his own. “Your solo days are done. We need each other. Whether you want to admit it or not. And I already booked the plane.”

  “What I need is for everyone to leave me the hell alone.”

  “Seems to me you’ve been alone up until recently.” He capped the bottle and put it away before she decided to chug the last of it. “How’s that working out for you and Joey?”

  Her jaw clenched. “Alone has kept her safe.”

  “Has it? Alone means you have no backup. You threw Alastair’s name at us earlier as a shield. You figured it would piss us off enough we wouldn’t want anything more to do with you. Guess what?” Because he wanted to, he reached out and caught a stray curl in his fingers and twisted her closer. “It didn’t work. We already knew and hadn’t cast you out to the wolves. You’re stuck with us. Now we have you and Joey to fight for, too.”

  “You’re idiots. And stop that.” She batted his hand away before she left the kitchen. “Alastair Manville has a serious hard-on for your father. He wants him in jail, disgraced, and completely powerless. Maybe even dead. He’s not going to let this go. In all the years I’ve been working for him—”

  “And how long has that been exactly?” Nathan followed her into the living room and sat on the sofa while she paced off her energy.

  She stopped moving, stared down into her drink and winced, as if contemplating what to tell him.

  “The truth from here on would be nice, Laurel. If for no other reason than it’s just easier to remember.” The kid gloves had gotten a bit too tight.

  “Four years, six months, and ten days. Give or take.”

  “Almost five years.” His mind wrapped around that idea as he pushed a little deeper. “How’d you end up on his radar?”

  “I suck at housekeeping, remember? And stealing, as it turns out.” There was an odd sense of pride in her voice he found endearing. “I’d case homes by cleaning them then break in when the owners went on vacation. Tell me something. As a wealthy man. Who needs eight Rolexes? No, seriously. It’s disgusting. I could have paid my rent and Joey’s day care for a year for what I could fence one for, so I took a chance and lost.”

  “You got caught.”

  “Son of a bitch’s flight was cancelled so he came home. Thanks to his security cameras and his less than forgiving attitude, I’ve lost five years of my life. Of Joey’s life.”

  And that, he could see, was what hurt the most. “Did he set you up at TransUnited Insurance?” Her shoulders sagged, her body deflated, as if she’d surrendered. “He realized what I should have, that my skills lie in verbal trickery, not physical thievery. Most of the time, anyway.” Laurel tilted her head. “I don’t like doing this, Nathan. If you don’t believe anything else, please believe that.”

  “I believe you.”

  “You do?” Laurel gaped at him. “What on earth is wrong with you? I lie for a living! How do you know I’m telling—”

  “Because I see that same look in your eye as you had when you told me about Joey. You have a tell, Laurel. And no.” He grinned behind his glass. “I’m not going to tell you what it is. What did Alastair hope to gain by planting you at TransUnited?”

  “Information mostly. Insurance policy numbers, the items that were insured, security codes, travel agendas. He likes to collect things. Including people’s souls.”

  Nathan kept his expression passive, recognizing Nemesis’ pattern of preparation for a job. His father had been right. Nemesis had been around longer than he’d realized. Nemesis . . . how much did Alastair know about Nemesis’s current incarnation? A new thread of unease wove through him. What had Laurel told Alistair?

  “He wanted me where I could get the information he needed,” Laurel continued. “I had to move up in the company and that meant traveling. Constantly.” She winced again and Nathan had no doubt she was thinking about her daughter. “I don’t think I’ve spent more than six months at home total since.”

  “What about Joey’s father? Where’s he in all this?”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  He finished his drink as pain shifted across her face. “I want to hear it from you.”

  Laurel winced. “He’s dead. Charlie got caught up with the wrong crew six months after Joey was born. Robbery gone wrong. They left him behind instead of calling for help. I did what I had to do to survive, Nathan. I might regret it, I might be sorry I got caught, but I’m not going to apologize for doing what I needed to provide for my child the only way I knew how.”

  “I don’t recall asking you to apologize.” And he wouldn’t. He knew what it was like to be driven to protect your family. He wasn’t going to begrudge her doing what he’d done—what he continued to do—himself. “What does Manville have on you?”

  “The video of me stealing from him. He threatened to have me arrested which would have thrown Joey into the system. He knew my background before he ever approached me with the tape. He knew I’d do whatever I had to to keep Joey out of foster care. He also saw that I had talents for conning people thanks to those arrest records of mine. The rest is history.”

  “Grand larceny has a five-year statute of limitations. That’s the clock you’ve been running out.” So much was finally making sense. Now that she’d trusted him with the truth, maybe there was something they could do about her situation.

  “I’m so close to being out, Nathan. So close. But now . . .” She tossed her hand up in the air as if she could pluck an answer from the ether. “I can’t do what he wants. I can’t help him destroy your family. Not because of a mistake I made. But at the same time he knows where Joey is. He knows about her school and her field trips—”

  “You’re arguing my case for me. You can’t stand up to Alastair on your own. You’re not alone anymore, Laurel. You see that, right? You’re as much a victim in all this as my father. Let me and Dad and Malcolm help you.”

  She didn’t look convinced.

  “Is it so difficult to believe you can trust us?”

  “Trusting you isn’t what I’m worried about, Nathan.” She seemed determined to keep herself at arm’s length even as she perched on far end of the sofa. “Okay, it’s not the only thing. I’m toxic. Anyone who comes in contact with me gets hurt. Charlie, my daughter, you. And you come with an awful lot of backup, Nathan. The damage I cause could be catastrophic.”

  “I’m getting really
tired of repeating myself. You won’t be alone this time, Laurel.” It was on the tip of his tongue to admit he’d realized he, too, couldn’t go up against Alastair on his own. How did she not see they made the perfect team? “We have a common enemy. You want that evidence he has on you to gain your freedom. I want that crown so I can pull my father free of this maniac and his past. We get those and everyone’s home free. You and your daughter included. Now tell me where Joey is. Dad and I have people we can send to protect her.”

  “You’d do that?”

  He hated the tears in her voice. He hated Manville for putting them there.

  “Of course I’ll do that. If for no other reason than because you’ll owe me one.” Teasing her out of this mood might be the only way to break through. He needed her at the top of her game, and worrying about Joey would be a distraction neither of them wanted. “Besides, who else is going to give me all the inside info I need on Alastair?”

  Laurel shook her head. “He’s evil, Nathan. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Killing a small-time thief was a big tip-off. All the more reason we’re going to talk to Mac Price tomorrow.” He was done pushing. She’d been pushed enough and pressing the issue with Joey wasn’t going to earn him any points. “I’m tired and the plane’s leaving early. Get some sleep.” He stood up and walked over to her, stopping long enough to press a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re safe here, Laurel, I promise. And you should know by now, Tremaynes always keep their promises.”

  He left his glass in the sink, turned out the lights, and found Laurel standing at the foot of the stairs, her hand wrapped so tight around the banister he could see white knuckles in the dim light.

  “She lives in Sacramento with one of my former foster fathers.” Her voice was so tight he wondered why she didn’t snap apart. “Henry Poppington. Do you need the address?”

  “No.” He stroked a hand down her cheek, wanting nothing more than to kiss her again, to take her up to his bed and make her forget all her worries and let go of the responsibilities she’d carried for so long. But tonight wasn’t the night.

  Right now, she needed to trust him more than he needed to make love to her.

  “I’m going to make a couple of calls. By the time she wakes up, she’ll have eyes on her at all times, Laurel. So maybe now you can sleep?”

  She shrugged, gave a short nod, and he felt her eyes on him as he climbed the stairs. “Thank you, Nathan.”

  “Don’t thank me until we’re done with this.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at her. “Then we’ll talk.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Good morning.” Laurel leaned across Nathan and handed her laminated ID over to the guard at the gate of the Crowder Correctional Facility. She tucked the shoulder-length blond curls behind her ear as she smiled at the uniformed officer. “Heather Richards, Richards Insurance Investigations. I believe Warden Harris is expecting us.”

  Nathan took a deep breath, filling his lungs with chilled morning air tinged with Laurel’s perfume. Between the time they’d drunk early-morning coffee and boarded the plane, Laurel’s mussed brown waves and sleepy brown eyes had been replaced by this wig and bright blue contacts. Add a well-placed beauty mark above her lip and a barely made-up face and he wasn’t sure he’d have recognized her. He did, however, know which look he preferred.

  “Miss Richards, yes.” The guard scanned his clipboard. “I’ll let the Warden know you’ve arrived. If you’ll head down this road and park in the visitor lot, I’ll have him meet you at the check-in desk.”

  “Great, thanks. You heard the man, Roland.” She patted Nathan’s thigh and aimed a sly grin at the guard. “We don’t want to keep the warden waiting.”

  Nathan shifted the car into drive, purposely sliding his fingers along the back of her hand. He heard the guard cough before he stepped back into his booth.

  “Amazing how easily embarrassed most people are about public displays of affection,” Laurel whispered.

  “Do I really look like a Roland to you?” The building at the end of the road looked more like a state-of-the-art office complex rather than a correctional facility. Who put this much time and attention into the surrounding area?

  “Count yourself lucky. My first choice was Percy.” She turned off her cell phone before tucking it into her purse and shoving the bag under the passenger seat of their rental car. “Roland Kirkpatrick filled out the website page nicely,” she added. “Kind of rolls off the tongue, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t, actually.” When she’d presented him with his fake ID on the plane he’d almost choked on the laugh. She’d Photoshopped his official Tremayne Investments and Securities picture by adding a good ten pounds to his face and thick-rimmed glasses; the same glasses currently perched on his nose that made his eyes itch. “Next time I’d like some say in my identity.”

  “Are you always this grouchy in the morning?”

  “I’m not grouchy, I’m cautious.” Not to mention a bit jumpy. He’d spent the last two years doing everything he could to stay away from places like this. Walking in voluntarily felt like he’d lit up a Broadway sign daring fate to step in and lock the doors behind them.

  “Before today, I wouldn’t have considered private planes and luxury rental cars cautious.” As he parked, Laurel pocketed Heather’s ID and retrieved the manila envelope she’d filled during the flight. “Working with you definitely has its perks.”

  “You’ve no idea.” Nathan slipped off his belt.

  “Let me do the talking.” Laurel shoved open the door. “You’re my subordinate, remember?”

  “Yeah.” Nathan muttered and climbed out. “I definitely want a say next time.”

  He caught her amused glance when he pulled open the heavy reinforced door and followed her down the hall. A loud buzz echoed seconds before the click of a door sounded and a middle-aged man with cropped dark hair and equally dark eyes greeted them. He struck Nathan as more college professor or bookworm than prison warden in his tweed jacket and beige slacks. “Miss Richards. Warden Harris. Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Warden.” Laurel shook his hand. “I appreciate your time this morning. I know visiting hours don’t start for a few more hours. My partner, Roland Kirkpatrick.”

  “I understand you’re under a tight time frame.”

  “Yes,” Laurel said. “There’s a statute of limitations issue with one of the crimes Mr. Price is suspected of being involved with. We’re hoping to put it to bed by the end of the week.”

  Nathan had to give her credit. The key to a good con was sticking as close to the truth as possible.

  “I’m not familiar with Richards Insurance Investigations,” the warden said as he gestured to the desk clerk who set a visitor sign-up sheet on the counter. “Neither was Mac when I asked him about it.”

  “So you said on the phone. Which is why I brought this.” Laurel handed over the envelope. “This is a rundown of our case so far and where we suspect Mr. Price fits in. I’m what the industry considers a last-resort option,” she added in a lowered tone. “My clients come to me via word of mouth, not advertising. I’m sure you understand, given some of the people I need to deal with. We’re hoping Mr. Price can point us in the right direction in regard to some fraudulent bonds that have hit the market.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he can,” Warden Harris said. “Mac isn’t normally inclined to meet with people he doesn’t know.” Warden Harris accepted the paperwork but gave no indication he planned to open it. “It surprised me that he agreed, but then again, I think his curiosity got the better of him. He doesn’t get many visitors these days. Anything to add to the day’s excitement is a welcome distraction.”

  “So I understand. Did you need me to sign in?” Laurel asked.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, yes. Mr. Kirkpatrick, as well, please. And we’ll need to photocopy your IDs.”
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  “Of course.” Nathan followed Laurel’s lead, handed over his ID, and clicked open a pen to sign below Laurel’s unreadable signature. She had grace under pressure, that’s for sure. He didn’t register a flicker of unease on her face as she accepted their IDs back. All the more reason Nathan preferred the silence—and darkness—of venturing into homes on his own. He’d much rather deal with electrical wiring and burglar alarms than people.

  “If you’ll follow me.” The warden said when his desk clerk gave a nod of his head. “I’ll have Mac brought into the visitor area.”

  “Thank you, Warden.” Laurel gave Nathan a passing nod before she followed their escort, her practical plain black suit and sensible shoes a stark contrast against the dull white and grays of the walls and linoleum.

  “This is a nice facility,” Nathan said as they were led into the visitor room. “It feels more country club than prison.” Definitely not the gloom and doom he’d been expecting given the cement and glass exterior. He found the grounds beyond the windows to be beautifully manicured and kept; the bright white walls and large plate glass—bulletproof no doubt—provided an actual view aside from bars. Mac must have cut one hell of a deal to get himself transferred here.

  “Crowder Correctional focuses on rehabilitation over punishment,” Warden Harris said. “I was a psychologist in private practice for a number of years before I was offered this position.”

  “Well, I’m sure the inmates appreciate the attention to detail.” Laurel shot Nathan a “shut up already” look as Nathan touched her arm and guided her to the tables and chairs in the center of the room.

  “I’m afraid I have meetings for the rest of the morning,” Warden Harris said. “But if I can be of further assistance—”

  “You’ve been more than helpful already,” Laurel said as she took a seat. “I’m hoping after today, we’ll put this case to bed once and for all and you’ll never have to see us again.”