Gage walked over and pried Kelley’s demanding hands back, placing them in her lap as he counted out the bricks and divided them evenly between the three children. Kelley looked up at him, eyes wide. “I want to make Lydia a garden.” She started sticking the bricks together with more force than necessary. “She likes flowers. They make her feel better.”
Cedric and Aiden glanced at each other, as if they didn’t know what to do.
“Hey, guys.” Nathan set his mug on the table and dropped down between them. “My desk at work is completely empty. I’d really like it if you’d build me something. Something no one else would ever think of.” He rested his hands on the backs of their heads. “Do you think you could do that?”
They nodded, and the fact they weren’t jabbering as usual made his heart ache. Children were smarter than most people gave them credit for. Children who had dealt with serious illnesses were even more so. But in Nathan’s experience, it also meant they felt more.
“I guess I can finally call Chris and give them the all clear to bring Joey and Poppy down.” Nathan didn’t think he’d ever looked forward to anything more than the promise of seeing Laurel reunited with her daughter. “Maybe I’ll wait until Laurel gets back before I do that. We can call them together.”
“Laurel left?” Gage’s brow knitted.
“She’ll be back.” Nathan entered the kitchen, his already insane evening turning more surreal as he spotted his father, Sheila, and half the Juliano family wrist-deep in baking projects. Nico and Angela Fiorelli’s coping mechanism had become a family affair save for Malcolm, who appeared to be staying far out of the way. Hands were coated in flour, tables were strewn with baking trays and bowls of rising dough. Heads turned in brief greeting before they returned to their assigned tasks.
“There you are.” Theresa Juliano abandoned the giant pot on the stove and focused her motherly attention on Nathan. “Where’s that beautiful girl of yours?”
“She took my car back to my place,” Nathan said, barely registering Gage’s frown before the former cop left the kitchen again. “She wanted to call her daughter.”
“Joey, isn’t it?” Theresa clasped Nathan’s face between his hands and gave him a nod of approval. “I’ve been brought up to speed. You’ll be a good daddy to that little one.”
The thought made him smile. “I hope to, ma’am.”
“Good.” Theresa squeezed his cheeks before she returned to the stove.
“Okay, Drew.” Nathan took the one empty space at the counter and slapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “What do they have you—”
“Nathan.” Gage’s clipped tone shot through him from the doorway. When he looked at his sister’s fiancé, he found Gage in solid cop mode. Unease pricked the back of his neck.
“Where are you going?” Nathan jogged to catch up with Gage as he walked out of the house, his father, Malcolm, and Drew behind him. He found Gage beside the SUV.
Nathan froze. “That’s my car.” He turned in a circle, eyes scanning the area as his heart started to pound. “Where’s Laurel?”
“What does this mean?” Gage flipped the wiper on the windshield up and pulled something off the glass.
Nathan’s ears buzzed. “Burt.” He reached for the monkey. “That’s Joey’s favorite toy. Where’s Laurel?” He shoved Gage out of the way and plowed toward the door, wrenching it open and found his keys in the ignition and . . .
A silver briefcase on the driver’s seat.
“Oh, God.” He bent double, hands planted on his knees as every ounce of breath evaporated. His skin went clammy. His hands shook as he popped open the case. The Crown of Serpia stared back at him. “Son of a bitch.”
“Nathan?” Jackson moved in behind him, resting a hand on Nathan’s back.
“He has Laurel.” The air in his lungs burned, as if every breath threatened to torch him alive. “Manville. Dad, he took her.”
“How long has she been gone?” Jackson demanded. When Nathan could only stare at that godforsaken crown, Jackson pulled him up and shook him. “When did Laurel leave, Nathan?”
“About an hour? I lost track of time and I didn’t think . . . Dad.” His hands flexed around the monkey. “What if he has them both?”
“Malcolm, call the airport,” Jackson ordered. “Check on the plane.”
Nathan barely heard him. Voices buzzed around him. People moved in and out. Hands attempted to comfort, to guide, but all Nathan could do was crouch, clutching Burt in his hands, his only tether to Laurel.
“I’m on the phone with security at the airport,” Malcolm said as he rejoined Jackson and Nathan. “Your pilot was found unconscious in the hangar. The plane’s gone. It took off a half hour ago. Flight plan says San Francisco.”
Nathan’s entire body had gone steel cold. The rage built, a slow simmer that threatened to overtake any sense, any control. “He’s got my family, Dad.” He thought he’d understood his father’s reckless behavior before. Until this moment, he hadn’t had a clue. The terror paralyzed him. “He took my family.”
“And we’re going to get them back.” Jackson grabbed hold of his arm and hauled him to his feet. “You hear me, Nathan?” Jackson gave him another hard shake. “I promise you, we’re going to get them back.”
***
Laurel jerked awake, grabbing hold of the armrests on either side of her as she dragged in a breath. She clutched at her burning throat. Her neck ached, felt bruised. Slowly, her eyes focused. The fog in her brain lifted.
Alastair watched her from across the narrow table, his cold, thin face parchment pale in the light of what she now realized was the cabin of the Tremayne plane.
“Where’s Joey?” She croaked as her pulse kicked into overdrive. “Where’s my daughter?”
“She’s fine. For now.” Alastair waved a dismissive hand before clutching at the thick-stemmed glass filled with what she assumed was Jackson’s favorite brandy. “Ah, Mr. Blasden, excellent.”
Laurel stared at the dark-haired man, pinprick beady eyes aimed at her. The same chilled eyes that had stared through the van’s window at her less than a week before. The too-tight black T-shirt and loose dark cargo pants spoke of military mercenary rather than the ex-con she knew Alastair’s henchman to be.
Alastair motioned Blasden forward as if granting him a royal audience. “I believe you two know each other.”
“I almost didn’t recognize you without your bat.”
“Say the word and I’ll be happy to reintroduce you.” Laurel’s stomach pitched and not because of the turbulence.
Blasden chuckled before his hand whipped out and cracked her across the side of the face. She tasted blood.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she shifted into survival mode, jumping to her feet, but Blasden grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her down, ripping her hair from the roots as he shoved her deep into the chair.
“Enough,” Alastair said as if they were two naughty children at play. “We want her presentable when the time comes.”
“You have the crown,” Laurel gasped, feeling the side of her face begin to swell. “You were free and clear. Why take me? Why take Joey? And how—” How had he gotten ahold of her daughter? A new panic grabbed hold. “Poppy?” she whispered. And Nathan’s men. “What did you do to them?”
“Mr. Blasden was kind enough to keep an eye on your daughter during her travels,” Alastair said. “He’s exceptional when it comes to wires and gadgets like carbon monoxide devices. They can be so tricky, so temperamental, especially in those old vacation homes. Luckily for you Joey was removed from the house before any lasting damage was incurred.”
“You killed them?” Her stomach lurched, more violently his time, and she feared she’d be sick. Poppy. She sobbed, covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. “He was innocent. He didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“You should have thought of that before you went back on our deal, Laurel.” Alastair sipped his drink and leaned back in his chair. “Decisions like that make anyone you care about fair game. Just as with Jackson. I find it amazing”—Alastair pulled out his phone and set it on the table in front of him— “how love turns so many people blind. You never honestly thought this was about some ridiculous crown did you, Laurel? True, it was the perfect item to use against Jackson given our past, but it was only my means of putting my real weapon in place. You.” He toasted her. “And you played your part as the pawn perfectly. You fell even harder for Nathan than I anticipated. More importantly, he fell for you. I honestly could not have asked for better, so thank you.” He shifted his attention to Blasden. “Is everything ready at the site?”
“All you have to do is hit 1-9-7-5 once you’re ready to set it off,” Blasden’s gruff voice sounded rough to her ears.
“Excellent.” Alastair looked almost relaxed as she smiled.
“Set what off?” For a horrific instant she assumed he’d rigged the plane to blow, but that was ridiculous. Whatever game he was still playing wasn’t over yet. Not until . . . “This is about Jackson. About your sick need for revenge for something he had nothing to do with.”
“He set things in motion.” Alastair’s face shifted, as if he was trapped in a past he couldn’t escape from. “Now I’m finishing what he started. You see, there’s a particular type of pain I want to inflict on my old friend. A torture so specific he cannot begin to imagine or anticipate. Even now your beloved Nathan is working on a way to find you, to rescue you and your child. There’s no chance he won’t take and there’s no way he’ll be coming alone. I want you to imagine that panic, Laurel. I want you to tell me what lengths you would go to in order to reach the people you love in time.”
Laurel shook her head.
“Nathan will come for you and in true Tremayne form, his father will be by his side. And when they come, all the pieces will be in place. And before I die, I’ll have the pleasure of witnessing Jackson be unable to save his son. Just as there was nothing he could do to save his wife.” He closed his eyes as if in some sort of addictive high. “That sweet pain will wedge itself so deep inside his soul he’ll believe he’ll never pull out of it and just when he doesn’t think he can take any more?” Alastair touched his phone. “I’ll end his suffering. And then, finally, I’ll be able to rest.”
She’d underestimated Alastair. They all had. All she had to do was focus on that sickly curving smile on the old man’s lips to see the depth of his madness. A madman who had no fear of death.
“He won’t come,” Laurel lied. She was trembling so hard she was afraid her spine might snap. Whatever fear she felt for herself vanished. She didn’t give a damn what happened to her, but she wasn’t going to let this man use her to lure Nathan to his death. She knew Nathan, loved Nathan enough to know that given the choice, he’d save her daughter first. Because he’d promised. “Not Nathan and not Jackson. I’m not that important to them.”
“Oh, my dear.” Alastair shook his head as he lifted his phone to his ear. “If only you had time to work on that tell of yours. I spent the last few hours watching you. Outside that house tonight, there was no mistaking what I saw on Nathan Tremayne’s face. I know, because I loved someone that much. It’s a weakness. It’s a vice. And it’s one the Tremaynes will pay dearly for.”
***
“Okay,” Jackson hung up his cell and leaned his hands on the dining room table. “That was the Tahoe Police Department. Ben, Chris, and Poppy are in the hospital with carbon monoxide poisoning. The officer I talked to says it looks as if the safety valve in the cabin was tampered with. The good news is someone left a few of the windows open, otherwise they’d all be dead.”
“What about Joey?” Nathan gripped Burt tight in his hands.
“She’s gone. They’ve issued a statewide Amber Alert, but it looks as if it’s been hours since she was taken.”
Nathan’s jaw ached. Pointless. Wherever Alastair had Joey, it was out of sight. He’d have expected the report. All the more reason for them to do the unexpected.
“Drink your coffee.” Sheila set a fresh mug in front of Nathan, stroked a hand down his hair before squeezing his shoulder. “We’ll find Joey. And Laurel. She’s a fighter, Nathan. Honestly, I’d be more worried about Alastair at this point. I’m betting she’s trying to find a way to chuck him off that plane.”
“Your sister’s right,” Jackson said. “We’ll get them back, but first we have to come up with a plan.”
“I have a plan,” Nathan said. “I’m going to kill him.”
“How requires a plan.” Sheila sat in the chair next to him and curled her legs in. “Oh, hey, Gage.” She sipped her tea. “You didn’t hear that.”
“Kind of hard not to.” Gage continued to scour Bay Area law enforcement sites on the Internet. “But count me in.”
“I can’t let her down,” Nathan said. “I promised her I’d keep Joey safe. Keep her safe.” The most fragile thing about Laurel was her ability to trust. He couldn’t let her down. Not now.
“None of us saw this coming, Nathan,” Jackson said. “Although hindsight being what it is, I suppose we should have.”
“I can’t lose her.” He looked at his sister. “How do you and Morgan do it? How do you love Malcolm so much even knowing you could lose him?”
“What choice do I have?” Sheila shrugged and Nathan watched as Malcolm came up behind her, an expression of tenderness on his face so evident, Nathan hurt for them and the fight they were about to undergo. “A day, a year, a lifetime,” Sheila said. “I’ll take what I can get.”
“It also helps that I knocked her up.” Malcolm dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
She jumped, sloshed her tea over her hands as she faced her husband. “You know?”
“You puked at the smell of chicken. Plus these guys are terrible at keeping a secret.” He pulled her to her feet so he could take her seat and then tugged her onto his lap. “Ironic given your stint as Nemesis. That reminds me. I don’t suppose you’ll be in the market for a Jag?” He arched a hopeful brow. “I’m looking into minivans.”
Sheila snuggled into his arms. “I didn’t want to add to the pressure you’re already under.”
“Pressure?” He pressed his hand against her still-flat belly. “Woman, I defied the odds and got you pregnant after chemo. I’m feeling like freaking Superman right about now, which is incredible medicine. This little one just gives me another reason to fight.”
“I think I’ve got a start to our plans.” Jackson lifted the crown out of its foam padding and plucked out an envelope. He opened it, glanced at the contents, then tossed it onto the table. “Tomorrow night, nine o’clock. Where it all began.”
“Where’s that?” Nathan asked, but his father knew. He could see it on Jackson’s face.
“You’re calling the cops, though, right?” Sheila shot upright, the alarm in her eyes making Nathan wish she hadn’t heard the conversation. “You’re not going by yourselves.”
“No cops,” Jackson said. “Not yet. No offense, Gage.”
“None taken,” Gage said. “But say the word and I can give them a heads-up.”
“Dad—” Sheila tried again, but Malcolm tightened his hold and silenced her.
“The Lantano Valley police can’t do anything to help. Not this quickly and not without asking a lot of questions none of us want to answer. Besides, this family is my responsibility,” Jackson announced. “Laurel and her daughter are as much a part of it as anyone. Laurel made me a promise and she’s done everything she can to keep it. We owe her nothing less.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you leave them on their own.” Sheila snapped. “I just meant for God’s sake make a plan. It’s obvious Alastair’s been working on one for ages.”
“Even longer than we realized, gi
ven how he got ahold of Joey,” Jackson agreed with a somber nod. “But you’re right, Sheila. We need a plan. Ideas?”
“Yeah. It’ll just take a phone call,” Nathan said and picked up his phone.
“Then make it.” Morgan walked down the stairs, arms wrapped tight around her torso as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Lydia’s gone.” She swiped a hand hard under her eyes “She just—stopped.” She let out a shuddering breath as Gage walked up the stairs and took her in his arms. She grabbed hold of him, sobbed, and then shook herself free, angling laser beam eyes at Nathan and their father. “You go and you bring Laurel and Joey back, you hear me? I’m not losing another member of this family tonight.” The tears overtook her as Gage walked her back up the stairs. “You bring Laurel home.”
Chapter Twenty-three
If Nathan had to spend another hour in this metal contraption of Rylan’s he was going to lose what was left of his mind.
“Some way to spend my last days before chemo.” Malcolm spun around in his chair in the back of possibly the ugliest, grungiest RV Nathan had ever laid eyes on. On the outside, at least. The exterior was meant to deceive, but it was the interior and its resemblance to a NASA control center that boosted his confidence. Their day-long confinement, on the other hand, along with massive amounts of takeout, had produced a rather ripe odor that didn’t seem to be easing even with the top windows open.
“How on earth do you drink that stuff?” Nathan asked as Malcolm poured himself a good portion of an energy drink Sheila had sent with him, a putrid green concoction that made Nathan’s stomach turn.
“I’m motivated,” Malcolm said. “How else do you think I convinced Sheila to let me come along? Other than promising not to step foot outside. I have got to get me one of these.” He looked like a kid on his first trip to Disneyland. “This motor home is seriously tricked out. Rylan, man, you ever need another partner—”
Trouble with Nathan Page 33
