What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG)

by CJ Roberts

  Nic’s stomach churned. Taking several deep breaths, he tried not to puke. “I can’t fucking believe this. On top of the stalker, I’m being blackmailed. And the bastard is using Rachel to get to me.” If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

  “How does the blackmailer even know about Rachel?”

  Good question. Only Vivian and Rémi knew the truth, only they knew he was responsible for what had happened to Rachel. He’d told Kaden he had a sister, although he suspected the bodyguard knew much more than he let on. But it couldn’t be one of them. Someone else had dug into his life. “Except for my will, the only place our names are linked is in our medical files.”

  “So much for confidentiality.”

  He had two choices—pay the blackmailer the ten million dollars or come clean about his past, to everyone. Both options sucked, but the second was unthinkable. Lauren would hate him. His career would be destroyed. And without a movie star’s income, he’d have no way to support Rachel and the ranch.

  Nic’s voice hoarsened. “I need to call Vivian to see if I even have that kind of money. One way or another, I’ll take care of this, Rémi. Just please make sure Rachel is protected.”

  “Give me some credit, man. I haven’t been off the force that long.”

  The corner of Nic’s mouth kicked up. “Still, you can’t watch her 24/7. Want Kaden to hire someone to help you out?”

  “I was thinking of asking my cousin Tommy. You remember him, right?”

  “He went to the police academy with you?”

  “Yep. I’d trust him with my life.”

  “It’s settled then. I’ll call you back as soon as I know something more.”

  He ended the call and almost instantly his phone beeped, signaling an incoming message. What now? He opened the message and swore. He couldn’t take much more of this shit.

  You aren’t taking me seriously, so I’m upping the ante. Talk to Rachel about the note she got. Get rid of the WHORE and pay the $10 million or she’s DEAD and so are you.

  Whoa. The stalker and the blackmailer were the same person. Below the text was a shot of him, lying on the ice covered in blood. The stalker must have taken it at the arena when he’d passed out. The caption read:

  Bang! Bang! You’re dead. :)

  A hard ball formed in the pit of his stomach. The stalker could have fucking shot him that day instead of taking a photo. Christ. The ball grew larger. She could have shot Lauren or Jason.

  He continued to scroll the message. As a photo of Lauren going down on him appeared on the screen, his heart faltered. He recognized his room in the background. How the fuck? Had the picture been taken through the window? No, the angle was all wrong and he had privacy film on all the windows. He tried to scroll again, but the message ended with the photo. Dropping the phone, he smashed his fist on the desk.

  The stalker had put a camera in his room.

  Christ. This changed everything. Kaden was right, he had to get Lauren to leave. As another wave of nausea threatened him, Nic hung his head between his knees. Hearing a gasp, he looked up and saw Lauren at his office door. She ran to his side and rubbed his back. “Are you feeling sick again? Should I call the hospital?”

  “I’ll be okay. Give me a minute.” After taking a few more deep breaths, he sat up.

  “You’re white as a ghost. Did you get another message?”

  Nic looked away. What had he done to this woman that her first thought was about what new disaster was falling down on them?

  “Tell me what happened.”

  He couldn’t let this go on. He had to make a decision, before one was forced on him. He could protect Rachel, or he could protect Lauren. But not both. Nic rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. What the fuck had he done to get them all in this situation? He’d never meant to hurt anyone, yet he was going to end up hurting everyone. This whole thing was going to blow up in his face.

  Given that he probably didn’t have the money to pay the blackmail, Lauren had to go. But first, he had to tell her the truth about Rachel. And if she ended up hating him? Maybe that was for the best. Pain stabbed deep in his chest. Before the day was out, maybe he would lose the woman he’d been waiting for his entire life.

  Standing up, he took her hand. “I’ll tell you, but this might take a while, so let’s go downstairs where we’ll be more comfortable.” Kaden was working out in the exercise room, and since his workouts always lasted a couple hours, Nic would have plenty of time to talk with Lauren in private.

  In the living room, he took a seat on the couch and patted the spot beside him. Once she settled down, he stared straight ahead at the fireplace, unable to meet her gaze. This was it. A shudder of apprehension slithered up his spine like a snake. Yeah, that’s exactly how he felt—like a snake.

  “You can tell me anything. It’ll be okay.”

  He closed his eyes. Nothing would ever be okay again. Once Lauren learned the truth, she’d be out of his life faster than Gaborik on a breakaway in a tied Stanley Cup game. He opened his eyes but continued to stare at the fireplace.

  “This is very hard for me to say, to admit. So I’m just going to start at the beginning.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “My sister Rachel lives in Montréal where she runs a ranch for disabled children. They come and ride the horses and it helps them physically as well as emotionally. All the services are free.”

  “Where does the money to run the ranch come from?”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Oh, I see,” she finished quickly, her checks blooming prettily. His heart ached. How would he get through another day without her smiles, her laughter, the soft music of her voice?

  Steeling his heart, he pressed on. “Today Rachel received a blackmail letter from the stalker. Either we pay her ten million dollars within the next five days or she will hurt Rachel and ruin me.” Not the whole truth but close enough.

  “Ten million dollars! Not exactly chump change, is it?”

  “The thing is, I don’t even know if I have that kind of money available. I’ll need to check with Vivian. After expenses, everything I make goes to Rachel to fund the ranch and programs for the children.”

  Lauren sat up. “Vivian manages your money?”

  He’d better explain. “Remember when I told you about meeting Vivian when I first came to L.A.?”

  “You became a client of the agency she ran with her husband, David.”

  Nic felt his lips kick up at the corner. Lauren had definitely been paying attention. “They took me in hand, even going so far as to front me the money to buy this building. Anyway, as people began to take notice of me, it became clear Hollywood had certain expectations I needed to meet if I wanted to make it big. After much discussion between the three of us, Nic The Lover was hatched.” He chuckled ruefully. How could you love and hate something so much at the same time?

  “Hollywood wanted a charmer, a true ladies’ man who’d be talked about in all the tabloids and on talk shows across America. I needed to be seen at all the right publicity events and in all the right clubs. The image needed to be fed.” Sarcasm had started to lace his tone so he took a deep breath.

  When Lauren stroked his back, he kissed her softly on the cheek. “Don’t feel sorry for me, chérie. I chose this life, and it hasn’t been bad. I’ve gotten more than I ever expected from it.”

  Taking her hand in his, he went back to his explanation. “Maintaining that kind of lifestyle is expensive, but I didn’t want it to affect the amount of money I was sending home. Vivian and David had already proven to me they were savvy investors, so I agreed to let them manage all my money, which allowed me to focus all my energy on the business of making money.”

  “Vivian and David knew about the ranch and Rachel?”

  “Yes. They understood why I needed to be a big star.” Embarrassed by his youthful naiveté, his cheeks burned. “They even took me to a hippo-therapy ranch outside L.A. so I could see how this type of therapy could benefit Rachel. That�
��s when the idea took root: with the money I made, I could build a ranch Rachel could run when she got older. Vivian and David helped me develop a business plan, and six years later, when Rachel turned eighteen, the ranch opened for business.”

  “Everything was going great. I was making loads of money, and with Vivian and David’s help, my money was making even more money for the ranch. My image was exactly right, and I was firmly entrenched in the industry. Then David died, the economy tanked, and Hollywood tightened its greedy fists. To be able to send the same money home to Rachel, I now have to work nonstop. I make as many movies as I can, I go to all the publicity events, and I get all the sponsors possible just to make ends meet.”

  He glanced at Lauren and shook his head. “The more money I make, the more money I need to make. But whatever. I doubt that Vivian can put together ten million from my investments in five days.”

  Lauren peered intently at him. “There’s something I don’t get. Why would you even want to pay the blackmail? So what if your sister runs a camp for disabled children? That’s a good thing. Not something to hide from.”

  “Yeah, well. That’s the second part of what I wanted to tell you.”

  Lauren squeezed his hand. He took a deep breath. “When I was in eleventh grade, my parents had to go to an important dinner for my father’s work on the same evening as Rachel’s ballet recital. They left me in charge; all I needed to do was get her to the recital on time. A bunch of my friends came over, we ordered pizza and started playing video games. When the time came to take Rachel to her recital, I was winning a game and refused to stop. I told her, ‘Give me five more minutes, then we’ll go.’”

  “Sounds like you were a typical teenage boy stuck babysitting his little sister.”

  He shook his head. “A half hour later, when I finally won the game, I went to get Rachel. She was huddled in the corner of her room, tears streaming down her cheeks. Feeling like the biggest shit ever, I promised her she wouldn’t be late.”

  The support and compassion in Lauren’s eyes had his stomach flipping and flopping so much he thought he might puke. She moved closer and put her arm around him as if sensing what he was about to say next. He allowed the embrace but turned his head to stare out the window before continuing.

  “We jumped into my mom’s old Taurus and took off. I had fifteen minutes to make a twenty-five minute drive in the rain and the dark. Two miles before reaching the auditorium, I took a turn too fast and skidded. The car hit the gravel on the shoulder of the road and flipped.”

  Lauren gasped and her arms tightened around him.

  “We smashed into trees lining the road. My head hit the steering wheel. I heard Rachel calling me, but it took a few moments before I could turn my head. Then I saw the blood. Drops of it splattered on the beige leather seats.” A shudder shook his body. “Big smears of it on her pink tutu, on her face, her arms, her legs…. Christ. She’d been thrown forward; her legs were crushed between the dash and her seat. Blood was everywhere.” He sucked in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut against the Technicolor images that had been burned in his brain thirteen years ago.

  “But do you know what was worse than the blood?” When she shook her head, he continued. “Her voice. She kept saying over and over again, in a pitiful, falsely cheerful voice that everything would be okay. But I knew. Christ, how could I not? I knew everything wasn’t okay and never would be again. And sometimes, I still hear that voice saying, ‘It’s okay, Nic. Everything’s going to be all right.’” He covered his ears with both hands and leaned over until his elbows rested on his knees. “Even when I turn the music up real loud, I still hear it.”

  Lowering his hands, he paused, taking several calming breaths. Lauren stroked his cheek. Taking her hand in his, he kissed her fingertips, tasting the saltiness of his own tears. “It took the fire department two hours to pry her out of the car. By that time, she’d lost a lot of blood and hypothermia had set in.” Pulling out of Lauren’s arms, he turned to face her. He had reached the moment of truth. Watching her carefully, he said the words that damned him.

  “The doctors did some tests and discovered her spine had been injured. We’d hoped that once the swelling went down, she’d be okay, but she wasn’t. Rachel was only nine years old, and she’s been paralyzed ever since. She’ll never dance or run again, because of me.”

  Lauren’s eyes filled with the disgust he’d feared. Nic sat frozen, unable to blink, unable to turn away.

  He’d been wrong about her. Oh God, he’d been so wrong.

  18

  Lauren’s eyes widened in horror at Nic’s story of two young lives irreparably damaged. Poor Nic. Poor Rachel.

  He jerked back as if he’d been tasered and looked away. “So there you have it—the ugly truth about Nic The Lover. I ruined my sister’s life.” His tone was hard when he turned to her, eyes narrowed. “Do you still think I’m a ‘good’ guy now?”

  Her gut twisted at the naked pain clouding his gaze. Were Jason to be injured like that for any reason, guilt would tear her apart. Nic had been carrying his remorse for the last thirteen years.

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you, to both of you.” Lauren wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.

  For several moments, he held himself stiff, but then he relaxed and hugged her back. “It still hurts so much.”

  “I remember every time Jason’s been injured as if it were yesterday. But there’s something I’ve learned after eight years of being a mother: I’m not responsible for every bad thing that happens to the people I love.” She cupped his face and forced him to look at her. “And neither are you, Nic. It was a horrible, tragic accident, but an accident all the same.”

  He shook his head. “No. It was my fault. My selfishness and stupidity cost her everything. Christ. I didn’t even think to make her to sit in the back.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “They were devastated. And when the bills for the hospital care and surgeries began coming in, the arguing and fighting started. I could hear them from my room, and I knew they blamed me.”

  Lauren’s throat tightened in sympathy for the boy he’d been. “I’m sure they blamed themselves, not you.”

  Nic leaned back against the couch and stared out the window. “My mother might have blamed herself, but my father blamed me.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  When Nic met her gaze, his jaw was clenched tight, but his eyes were full of regret. “I do. He told me. Every fucking day.”

  She shook her head, still unable to believe what he was saying. “Could you have misunderstood?”

  Nic rubbed his jaw. “He said I’d ruined everything, that I’d killed our family. And he was right. After the accident, everything started falling apart. He started drinking, and after a few months lost his job. By summer, we declared bankruptcy and moved back to Montréal. At least there we had medical coverage, and my sister could get the treatment she needed.”

  “Nic,” she said gently. “He wasn’t right. It’s not your fault he started drinking. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have lost his job, and he would have kept his health insurance.”

  Nic rose from the couch and started pacing. He paused in front of the window, then shook his head. “You don’t understand.” His voice was rough, raw, and Lauren’s chest ached at the sound of it. “What happened to Rachel devastated him. He drank to ease the pain, to get through each day. Every time he looked at Rachel, he cried. You have no idea how it feels to see your dad cry because of something you did. And every time he saw me, he got angry. Sometimes my mom tried to intervene, but I finally convinced her not to try. The last thing I wanted was for her to jump in and get hit.”

  “He hit you?”

  His back still to her, Nic shrugged. “Can you blame him? I didn’t.”

  Damn right she blamed his father. “No child deserves to be abused.”

  After letting out a long breath, he turned away from the window and crossed his arms. “T
hings didn’t get much better in Montréal. We ended up on welfare, so I quit school and got a job at a fast food joint. When I brought my first pay home, my father laughed. He told me that the pittance I made didn’t earn me more than a cot in the garage. That he didn’t want a no-good high school drop-out living in his house. That all I did was eat and shit like a dog, and that I was lucky he didn’t tie me to a post in the yard.”

  Bile rose in her throat. “How could a father be so cruel?”

  Nic’s eyes circled the room. “I deserved it.” Before she could respond, his gaze landed on her face. “Two years later, I found him dead in the garage. He got his revenge; I still have nightmares about it.”

  Lauren recoiled in shock. “Oh, God. That’s horrible.” She reached out to him, but dropped her hand when he shot her a don’t-touch-me look.

  “It tore my mother apart. She kept telling me that my father was wrong, that she didn’t blame me. But every night, she cried herself to sleep.”

  “She loved you.”

  “I know.” Nic rolled his shoulders and began pacing again. “But now that she’s gone too, Rachel is alone. Except for Rémi.”

  “No, Nic. She still has you.” Injury or not, she was certain Rachel loved her big brother. No one in their right mind would blame him. What had happened to the Lamoureux family was tragic and sad, but it wasn’t shameful. Nic had no reason to cave in to the stalker’s demands. If done right, Nic could bring all of these secrets out into the open in a positive and effective manner that wouldn’t be career-destroying.

  Nic turned and braced his forearms against the window. Lauren rose and, pressing her body against his back, began to rock him in a soothing rhythm, hoping he’d understand there was no chance she’d hate him. If nothing else, he was her friend, and he always would be. “You’re a good brother, Nic.”

  Nic scowled at her over his shoulder.

  “I mean it. It was an accident.” She took a step back when he turned, smirking. He started to say something, but she cut him off. “Okay, you used poor judgment, but what teenager doesn’t? You were young, and you made a stupid mistake.”