Trouble with Nathan

by Anna J. Stewart

  “That’s Laurel’s putting-the-pieces-together look,” Nathan said. “See how her face is all scrunched up? I saw it earlier today when we spotted Manville outside SylEctus.”

  “I’m looking at SylEctus’s records right here.” Laurel folded the file cover back to hold the pages in place. “They rented six units at Klein Storage four months before the fire, including two on either side of the unit rented by Chadwick Oliver. When did Kolfax lose his job?”

  “April first,” Gage said. “The Monday after Brandon’s funeral. Took some of the sting out of a bad weekend.” He squeezed Morgan’s knee.

  “And your trip to the warehouse was . . .” Laurel asked Nathan.

  “Ten seconds before the place went boom.”

  “Right. Those pictures Rylan took at Kolfax’s apartment. Do you still have them?” Nathan pulled out his phone and Laurel leaned against him as he flipped through. “There. Make that bigger.”

  “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

  Jackson and Gage sniggered. Morgan smacked Gage on the arm.

  “That pay stub from SylEctus is dated three days before the warehouse explosion.”

  “No way of knowing who that check was made out to,” Nathan said.

  “We aren’t a court of law, remember?” Laurel said. “We can bluff. Back at your house, Gage, you said Kolfax had been targeting the Tremaynes since he hit town months ago. Not only Morgan, right, but all the Tremaynes?”

  “The note Evan Marshall saw when all this first started was about the family. And the foundation.”

  “Rylan was right.” She stared into Nathan’s eyes. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. This has all been one big chess game. And we’ve all been set in place.”

  “There you go talking about chess again,” Nathan muttered.

  “No, listen to me. Alastair’s calculated every move, from Catherine’s death two years ago to siccing Kolfax on Morgan, and setting up that meeting with Jackson the night the crown was stolen.”

  “Sending you in to spy on us.”

  “And that.” Laurel cringed. “He thinks he’s got the board set, but I think I’ve figured out a way we can blindside him, take away his ammunition by having Nemesis make a return appearance. But it can’t be any of you.”

  “It has to be someone without any known connections to any of us,” Jackson said. “Someone with the training and ability, but who will work with us, no questions asked.”

  “Someone we can trust,” Malcolm called.

  Laurel nodded. “Maybe someone with his own grudge against Kolfax?”

  “Rylan Price,” Nathan said. “You think he’ll do it?”

  “Are you kidding? The man we met today would jump at the chance.”

  “We just need to give him a target,” Jackson added.

  “We’ve already got one,” Laurel said. “The crown.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I get where you’re going to have Nemesis strike publicly while all of you have solid alibis,” Morgan said as she added a second egg roll to her plate. “What I don’t understand is this whole crown situation. How did your print get on that display case in the first place, Dad? You haven’t seen Alastair in decades.” She looked around at the suddenly quiet crowd as Malcolm pulled the reheated cartons out of the oven. “Where would he have gotten your fingerprints?”

  Laurel reached for a fork and nearly knocked over Nathan’s beer.

  “Klutz,” he teased.

  Laurel stared at the bottle, mind spinning. “The shot glass.”

  “The what?” Sheila frowned. “Nathan, your girlfriend’s not making sense again. Translate, please.”

  “Jackson, that photograph you gave me with you and Alastair and Mac.” Laurel faced Nathan’s father. “You were each holding shot glasses.”

  “Sure. Yeah, I remember.” Jackson nodded slowly, as if he had caught her train of thought. “They were giving out shot glasses for those of us who ran with the bulls in Spain.”

  “Ran with the—” Morgan shook her head. “That’s it. I give up.”

  “When Nathan and I were in Alastair’s office, I noticed a collection of shot glasses on his desk. In a case. Like they mean something to him. One of the glasses was upside down and another was coated with something. It could have been fingerprint powder.”

  “Glass is a good surface for prints,” Nathan added. “Wouldn’t be hard to transfer them from there.”

  “Doubt you could pull more than one clean print,” Malcolm said as he nudged Gage out of the way so he could grab for the orange chicken. “Answers that question.”

  “It also explains the discrepancy with the print.” Nathan nodded. “Alastair wouldn’t have any way of knowing about that scar on your thumb. As far as he knew, the print should have been a lock.”

  “I guess we owe mom for having you attempt to carve a frozen turkey.” A sad smile stretched Sheila’s lips.

  “Is that enough to take to the authorities to get them off Dad’s back?” Morgan asked.

  “Not unless you want them questioning why Alastair would frame your father in the first place,” Gage said. “Turning over this evidence could turn the spotlight on Nemesis.”

  “Gage is right.” Laurel said. “This isn’t just about proving you didn’t steal the crown, Jackson. We have to prove you aren’t Nemesis, either.”

  “Yeah, well, kind of hard to disprove something that’s true.” Malcolm popped open the sweet and sour chicken and dumped some onto Sheila’s plate. “Well done though, Laurel. What’s wrong?” He asked his wife as Sheila’s eyes went wide.

  “Oh, God.” She covered her mouth. “I’ll be right back.” She ran up the stairs and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

  “What was that about?” Malcolm asked, moving to follow.

  Morgan darted in front of him. “She hates poultry.” She aimed alarmed eyes at Laurel.

  “Since when?” Malcolm tried to push her aside. “Just last week she almost ate an entire rotisserie chicken.”

  “Must be the sauce.” Laurel grabbed another container and served herself. “Or maybe it’s paint fumes. It does smell a little funky in here. Like turpentine,” she lied. “Malcolm, why don’t you go open some windows in the studio?”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll just—” He continued muttering to himself as he disappeared.

  “I’ve seen Sheila dive-bomb half a turkey when she thought no one was looking.” Nathan shot confused eyes between Laurel and his sister. “What’s up?”

  Jackson sat down on one of the stools, the dazed shock making Laurel smile. It wasn’t every day a man learned he was going to be a grandfather minutes after being exonerated of a crime. “When is she due?” he asked

  “Due?” Nathan asked. “Due for what? Laurel—mmmhrmfff.”

  Laurel stuffed an egg roll into Nathan’s mouth as Malcolm returned and headed upstairs. This time Morgan didn’t try to stop him.

  “What was that for?” Nathan grabbed Laurel’s bottle of water.

  “I think she’s telling you to shut the hell up before you ruin Sheila’s surprise,” Gage said. “You’re going to be an uncle. Again.”

  “Oh.” Nathan blinked. Had Laurel not already been head over heels, watching the expression of joy and shock spread over Nathan’s face would have done the trick. “Oh, man. But Malcolm said . . . he didn’t think he could—”

  “Neither did she.” Morgan bounced on her toes beside Gage, all signs of anger long gone. “It’s going to be harder to keep this baby a secret now that we all know.”

  “It’s even more important we do,” Jackson said. “I want this thing with Alastair over with. Now. Before anyone else gets hurt. Tell us what you need from us, Laurel. And we’ll make it happen.”

  “Only one thing I need from you, Jackson.” Laurel embraced the fear. Here we go. “I need you to get
Alastair Manville to Lantano Valley.”

  ***

  “I can’t believe you want to invite Alastair Manville to dinner.” Nathan couldn’t help but think Laurel had finally snapped under the pressure. He held the door open for her as she dropped out of his SUV, a little too much wine and too little sleep finally catching up with her.

  “That’s only part of my plan, remember?” Laurel mumbled as she dragged her purse behind her. “I made notes here somewhere.” She dug around in her purse as he locked up the car and supported her up the stairs. “Nemesis is going to have a busy Friday night thanks to a list Malcolm gave me. Busy, busy, busy night.” She grinned up at him and he couldn’t help but grin back at that dimple in her chin that appeared.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “I’m pleasantly pain free, true.” Laurel nodded with enough emphasis that she tripped up the last stair. “Friday night is going to be ah-may-zing.”

  “If you and Sheila can convince the editor at the Lantano Valley Times to hold off on their story.”

  “Are you underestimating my powers of pert-sway-shun?” Laurel snorted.

  “I don’t think that’s a word.” He unlocked the front door and poured her inside.

  “I like to get creative with my vocabu-lary-lary. Trust me. They’re getting invited to a private dinner with the commissioner-er, the D.A. and your family in exchange for waiting an extra twenty-four hours.”

  “You’ve just covered all the angles, haven’t you?”

  “Mmmm. Tried. I should have called Joey tonight. Distracted.” She sighed as Nathan propped her up against the wall so he could turn on some lights. “You distract me. I miss my little girl, Nathan. Do you know how long it’s been since I hugged her? Three months.” She took a shuddering breath as tears exploded in her eyes. “She’s so little. She’s not going to be little for long and I’ll have missed so much of it.”

  Nathan’s hatred for Alastair plumbed new depths, burning slow and steady in his belly.

  “You’ll have her back soon. And we can call her tomorrow, okay? It’s too late tonight.”

  “You’re a nice man, Nathan.” She reached out her hand as if to pet him as he passed. “Nice, nice man. Your family, too. Too nice for someone like me. I’m not nice.”

  “I beg to differ.” He didn’t like the mental road she was on. “What makes you think Alastair’s going to bring the crown with him if he does come?”

  “Pffffshaw!” Laurel waved away his doubts and nearly toppled onto her nose. “Your father’s issuing the invite and offering the use of his private plane. His ego can’t take the challenge. But!” She stuck a finger in the air. “Just to be sure, Rylan is going to snip snip snip some wires in Alastair’s home alarm system before he comes down so Alastair—hey, I said that right!” She giggled. “So Alastair doesn’t think it’s safe to leave it behind. Can’t leave it at the office cause we flooded it, can’t leave it at home unprotected. He has to keep it with him if he wants to use it against your dad. He won’t leave town without it and boom! Got him.” She smacked her hands together.

  “Easy peasy.” Nathan sighed. If only he could view the plan with wine-colored glasses. “We’ve got a day or two to hammer out the details.” Nathan nudged her toward the stairs. “There’s nothing more you can do tonight. Let’s get you to bed.”

  Laurel beamed up at him with sleepy eyes, slapped her hands against his chest and pursed her lips. “’Kay.”

  “Good to know your limit is four glasses of white.”

  “Shhhh.” She tried to touch his lips and missed by a foot. “It’s a secret.” She was trying for sultry and came across as adorable. “How about some coffee, nice man?”

  “How about bed?”

  “Even better!” She batted him away when he approached, the soft sound of her laugh lilting through him. “Wait. Do you even own a bed?”

  “I do. A really nice one. Big, roomy.” He caught her around the waist, spun her around and dumped her over his shoulder. “Sturdy, too. Wanna see?”

  “Nathan.” Her kicks and swats barely stung as he climbed the stairs and carried her into his bedroom. “Oh.” She pushed herself to the side, twisting her body so she could see upside down and around him. “Okay. That is nice.”

  He might not have much in the way of furniture, but the California King had been a must.

  He flipped her onto it so that she bounced, but instead of following her down, he flicked on the bathroom light and went to bring up her bags. When he returned, she was flat on her back in the center of his bed, arms splayed out as if she were making snow angels in the down comforter. “This is cushy,” she mumbled and held out her arms.

  He planted a knee on the edge of the mattress and hauled her into a sitting position, making quick work of her sweater and shirt. She frowned. “This isn’t what I had planned for tonight.” She caught his arms and pulled him close. “I thought we were going to take our time.”

  He kissed her, gently at first, a brushing of lips, a barely there teasing of his tongue across her silky skin. She lifted weak arms to his shoulder and he felt her go lax, the soft moan that escaped her throat sounding anything but amorous despite the hardening effect she had on him.

  “You’ve had a long day.” He pushed himself up and stripped off her jeans, tossing them onto the chair by the window along with her shoes before pulling out one of his T-shirts. Seeing her there, in the middle of his bed, wearing nothing but a plain white cotton bra and matching bikini panties, he sighed. Sometimes being a good guy really sucked.

  Making quick work of the bra, he dragged the shirt over her head and rolled her under the covers.

  “No fun,” she mumbled. “Didn’t even drink that much.”

  “You drank enough.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes and nuzzled her neck. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Wait.” She flailed her arms, despite barely being able to keep her eyes open. “Not alone. Please. So tired of being alone.”

  Would he ever be able to say no to her? He stripped, keeping his boxers on, and crawled in beside her, his heart filling when she rolled into him, snuggled her head into the crook of his shoulder. She curved her body into his as she dropped away. He stroked her hair, willing his body to relax, for the tension and desire to ease and for sleep to claim him too. She was doing so much to find the crown, to get her daughter back. Before tonight he hadn’t been 100 percent convinced either he or his family factored in, but he was now. If only she wasn’t keeping a part of herself from him; as if she didn’t dare trust him with her whole heart.

  His jaw ached from clenching. If only he could convince her she’d found a place with him, with his family. Maybe he needed to talk to Poppy, even Joey. He could do with some secret ammunition to convince Laurel she’d found a place with him. But as long as she had her own promises to keep, she wouldn’t see—wouldn’t allow herself to. He sank deeper into the mattress and Laurel let out one of her sleep sighs against his shoulder. But he’d take what he could get. For now.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “If this is how you get before a dinner party”—Laurel stretched her arms above her head to grasp the top of his headboard as she let out a satisfied sigh—“we might need to reevaluate your decision to retire from a life of crime.”

  Nathan rested his chin on her naked belly, circling his index finger around her navel as she drifted down from what he hoped was a memorable climb. He pressed his lips against her warm skin as she dropped her hands into his hair. “I do feel an overabundance of energy.” He had since the dinner confessional at Sheila’s the other evening. “But it’s looking like Nemesis is retiring after tomorrow night.”

  “Are you sure about that? Seems like an awful waste of potential.”

  He loved the wistful sound in her voice, the dazed, relaxed tone he’d been waiting for. “Tell me something.” He shimmied up her naked body, taking e
xtreme pleasure in watching her eyes dilate as her arms and legs drew him in. “What do you want to do?”

  “Right now?” She bit her lower lip. “Guess.”

  He smoothed her tousled hair out of her face and when her gaze skittered from his, he caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “You know what I mean. After all . . . this. What do you want to do?” When she didn’t answer, he pressed harder. “Laurel?”

  She skimmed her bare feet up the backs of his calves. “Why do we have to talk about the future? Can’t we just enjoy this?”

  “I thought you were a planner.” Maybe teasing it out of her would work.

  “About some things, yes. What about you?” There was that grin he loved so much. “What do you want to do?”

  “Ah, deflecting, okay.” He brushed his mouth over her lips. “I’m thinking of buying Fielding’s Gym. I want to open it up to groups, host all different types of classes, give kids a place to come if they want to hang out. Learn to box, self-defense. That kind of thing.” An idea he’d been mulling since Lydia’s party. He wanted his nieces and nephews to know how to defend themselves if need be.

  “Okay.” She sighed.

  “Okay?” He shifted over her and stared into her sultry eyes. “That’s it?”

  “You’re an adult, Nathan. You can do whatever you want to do. I’m sure you’ve thought this out.”

  “It means quitting the family business.”

  She frowned. “And you want me to talk to your dad for you?”

  “No.” Well, maybe. “Laurel, I want you to help me decide what to do. I want you to have a say. I want you to stay.” The instant he said the words he knew he’d never been more serious in his life. He’d never wanted anything more. “You and Joey and Poppy, too. I want to start a life with you.”

  Laurel sighed, shook her head, and attempted to roll away, but he locked his arms around her, keeping her in place. He was done letting her evade. He wanted an answer.

  “Why is it so hard to accept that I love you?”

  “Because it is.” She shoved at him, determined hands strong against his shoulders, and he rolled off her and onto his back. “Stop it, Nathan.”