by Joni Hahn
“That you’re crazy if you think Natalie Meeks is playing you. Have you seen the way the woman looks at you?”
He pulled back his head. “What do you mean, the way she looks at me?”
His phone rang. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled it out and stared at the screen.
Natalie Meeks.
His gut immediately went into panic mode, wondering if she was safe, if she’d discovered more injuries.
His mind followed a second later, wondering what kind of con she planned to pull on him today.
Holding up the phone so Rose could see who called, he pressed the speaker button. “Hello?”
“Can you guess who this is?” Her soft voice held a humorous lilt. Talking and loud music blared in the background.
He shared a frown with Rose. “Meeks?”
She gasped. “How did you know?”
A reluctant grin blossomed on his face. “Caller ID, maybe?”
“Oh, shoo-“ The line went dead.
Rose chuckled. “What the hell was that?”
He frowned at his phone. “I don’t know. Did she sound… drunk to you?”
His phone rang. Rachel Monroe. He held it up to Rose before pressing the speaker button.
“Hello?”
“Do you know who this is?”
He looked at Rose and grinned. “Meeks?”
“Dammit, he still knew it was me.” Her voice sounded distant, like she spoke away from the phone.
Rose sputtered with laughter. Riordan didn’t know what to think. This sounded so unlike the Natalie Meeks he knew, he wondered if he talked to another imposter.
“What are you doing?” Her voice sounded nearer this time, though a little slurred.
Really? She called just to talk?
“I’m having a beer with Rose.”
He wanted to laugh with her, but what he’d learned today sat forefront in his mind. She was the daughter of the man that had put him away. The daughter of the man that wanted him gone.
She screamed into the phone. His heart took off like a rocket.
“Meeks? Are you okay?”
Peals of female laughter sounded in the background. Dammit, she’d scared the shit out of him.
“Meeks. Where the hell are you?”
She spoke away from the phone again. “Rachel, where am I?”
Rachel spoke in the background. “D.I.R.E.”
Natalie spoke into the phone. “D.I.R.E.”
Rose busted out laughing. Riordan couldn’t contain his smile. It hit him that she’d had alcohol on top of her painkillers. She would have one helluva headache tomorrow.
“Meeks, are you drunk?”
“No. Absolutely not. I only had one drink.” She sputtered with laughter, the others joining in. “And, then one after that, and one after that.”
Rose roared with laughter. Riordan couldn’t help but join him. He liked this Natalie Meeks. A lot.
Crunching sounded over the line. “Cassandra made some killer nachos, Riordan. Did you know Jocelyn used to live in the past?”
He couldn’t contain the humor in his voice. “Yes, I did. How is your leg, Meeks?”
Her voice sounded matter-of-fact. “It doesn’t hurt a bit right now.” Another screech ripped over the line. “OMG, is he twerking?”
He? There’s a he there?
Rose spoke in a low voice. “Damn, I miss all the fun.”
Riordan scowled at him before speaking in a clipped voice. “Sounds like you have quite a party going-”
“It’s crazy, Riordan. We just came out to the pool to enjoy the evening and next thing we knew, there were agents everywhere.”
Jealousy, pure and lethal, singed his nerve-endings. How the hell could he be jealous of her spending time with other men when he thought she was trying to deceive him?
Damn, he did need a psychologist.
The background noise faded on the line. Her voice sounded whisper soft. “I miss you, Riordan.”
Pressing the speaker button, he turned it off and walked away from his bike and Rose. His heart thundered against his ribs, the smile vanishing from his face. Surprise washed away the jealousy, his gut telling him her words rang true.
However, his mind told him he couldn’t be wrong about her, he’d been deceived too many times in the past to fall for something so obvious again.
Yet, he wanted to believe.
“I slept in your bed this afternoon,” she said, her tone seductive.
Frustration warred with the raw hunger rushing through his blood, making him hard. She’d slept in his bed – while he worked in San Diego.
You don’t want her, remember? She’s working against you.
“I wished you were there with me.”
Running his fingers through his hair, he paced the helicopter pad beside the office. “What is this, Meeks? You didn’t want to have anything to do with me the other day.”
She sighed into the phone. “I was trying to do the right thing, Riordan. I’ve made so many stupid mistakes… you have no idea.”
God, he could relate. Was it a coincidence she had a change of heart the same day they brought in Richey? He knew all about stupid mistakes. He just couldn’t tell if his mind or his body made one now.
“Riordan, I’m so tired of trying to be someone I’m not. Trying to do what I’m supposed to do instead of just being me. I don’t even know myself anymore.” She gave a sad chuckle. “Wow, that sounds selfish, doesn’t it?”
Maybe Dan Meeks had forced her to get close to him. Maybe she didn’t want to do this at all.
Then again, maybe Rose was right and she really did miss him.
“No Meeks, it doesn’t sounds selfish at all.”
“You’re just being nice because I’m hurt.” She chuckled softly. “I know I have to act the part of a senator’s daughter and professional doctor. It’s what’s expected of me.”
Her voice came across stronger, more determined. “But, you know what, Mr. Saint?”
“What, Meeks?”
The loud music and voices returned in the background. “Not tonight.”
#####
Natalie lay on her side by the pool, head in her hand. Two male agents bobbed in the water below her, flirting outrageously. Jocelyn sat to her left, sipping a margarita and talking to one of the technicians that worked with her.
On her right, Rachel and Cassandra sat with their feet in the water, talking to the nurse that worked on her leg and another female agent. Several others talked and splashed in the pool, while Theory of a Deadman played over the speakers.
She couldn’t recall having so much fun, and all while she hid from a madman. The night would’ve been perfect if Riordan had been there.
Cassandra laughed at something Rachel said. Natalie didn’t know if she’d seen a more perfect woman than Cassandra Naylor. Wearing a baggy D.I.R.E. t-shirt and shorts, Natalie felt dumpy and plain in her company, her wrapped leg adding to her lack of appeal. Even Barbie would feel inadequate next to Cass, she had no doubt.
Not that Cassandra had been anything but nice and fun. In all honesty, she’d been very attentive to Natalie by mixing her drinks and bringing her food so she wouldn’t have to walk too much.
She could see why Riordan had fallen in love with her.
Cass had told her the story of her father and Aidan, how he’d given her the strength to escape her father’s oppression. Her story rang of true love, just as Jocelyn and Rachel’s stories. They each wore an engagement ring, a smile, and a confidence she hoped to find one day.
“Right, Natalie?” Cassandra winked at her.
Shaking her head as if to clear it, she said, “I missed that. Sorry.”
“I said, what happens at D.I.R.E., stays at D.I.R.E.”
She tilted her head toward the mildly hot agents below her.
They had nothing on Riordan.
“I had always thought Mitchell ran a tight ship,” she said. “If this kind of thing goes on all the time, I might apply.”
Rachel shook her head. “This is all your doing, Natalie. We never have parties like this. I can see why your friends wanted to hang out with you in college.”
Her? Miss boring and conservative doctor?
She waved away her compliment. “I had nothing to do with this.”
The blonde agent below her said, “So, you weren’t responsible for sending out a text from Rachel’s phone that said party at the pool in ten?”
Jocelyn laughed. “Yes, she was – and the one that said BYOB.”
Natalie had to admit that she’d felt no pain earlier. The pain medication she’d taken had helped the margaritas to loosen her tongue, and obviously, her fingers. Now that it had started to wear off, she felt rather self-conscious. She didn’t know these people. Her actions could get back to her father and the papers in no time.
The agent stared into her eyes. “I may have to take her in for a private interrogation.”
“Keep your wet dreams to yourself, Haskins.”
Natalie looked over her shoulder. Riordan stood behind her, looking angry, gritty and unbelievably hot in biker boots, black t-shirt and jeans.
“Riordan. I thought you were in San Diego?”
He frowned down at her. “Obviously.”
Rachel shot up from her seat by the pool. “Tris.” She rushed to Tristan, who stood beside Riordan. “I thought you weren’t due back until Monday?”
“Saint called in a favor.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I couldn’t resist an opportunity to see you.”
Natalie’s gaze shot to Riordan who stared at her, jaw clenched. “You called Tristan?”
Bending over, he helped her to her feet. Lifting her in his arms, he walked away from the party without a word.
“Goodnight, Natalie.” Cass called out to her, a chorus of the same from the others.
Waving to them over Riordan’s shoulder, she said, “I can’t believe you’re here.” She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.
He carried her into the elevator. “We’re going to get some things straight, Natalie, once and for all.”
A sense of foreboding came over her. His tone didn’t hold a hint of affection or desire. He sounded all business.
“I like your strategy, Riordan. Attack while she’s injured and high on alcohol and painkillers.”
His gorgeous smile flashed, making her grin. She rubbed her hand along his beard.
“Secret Agent stuff 101. Strike while they’re vulnerable.”
Softening her voice, she said, “I’m always vulnerable around you.”
Stopping in front of his door, he ran his thumb over the security panel. The door popped open.
Walking inside, Riordan kicked the door shut behind him and headed straight for the bedroom. He set her on the bed and stepped away, his arms crossed over his chest.
Her stomach knotted. The romantic toss on the bed and subsequent ravishing she’d envisioned wouldn’t happen. He’d come to take care of business. She wanted to cry.
Sitting against the headboard, she propped her injured leg on the mattress and lifted her chin. “Let’s do this.”
He gave a brief nod. “No screwing around. I want the truth, Meeks – whatever that may be.”
He expected her to lie. Whatever this was about, it wasn’t good. He had come here because she’d told him that tonight would be different. Tonight she wouldn’t be the conservative, straight-laced doctor. Tonight he would get the real Natalie.
“Okay. I ask the same of you, Riordan.”
“Agreed.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Frederick Richey.”
She frowned, confused. “Who the heck is Frederick Richey?”
His gaze bore into hers, hard and studying. “You don’t know?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Should I?”
“Rose and I picked him up today. He’s sitting in a cell at the San Diego office.”
Fleeting hope fluttered in her chest, a sense of dread on its tail. “Is he responsible for the bomb threat? The fire?”
“No.”
Shaking her head, she held her hands palm up. “So, what does he have to do with me?”
“He’s been living under my identity for the last year and a half.”
She gasped aloud. Identity theft happened all of the time but, to live as someone else…?
“Oh, my gosh. That would take some major planning, careful maneuvering and good acting.” Bracing her hands on the bed, she shifted positions. The pain had slowly worked its way back into her leg.
He pointed at her. “You’re right. Someone planned out every detail and coached him.”
Coaching involved preparing someone for a role... “Are you saying he used your identity to commit a crime?”
“He’s been working as a Vice President in Luke Powers’ Management Company, sent inside to infiltrate Powers’ trust, and steal his research and development.”
Luke Powers. One of her father’s greatest foes.
Oh… no…
She shook her head several times. “You don’t think-”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
Her mouth dropped open. Good God, he thought she’d lied to him, that she’d infiltrated his trust and D.I.R.E. in the same way Richey had gained access to Powers’ management company. He thought she’d used him to help her father.
Her heart shattered. If he only knew how much she cared, how much she loved him, he’d never consider it.
Because she did. Love him. Immensely.
Tears pooled in her eyes. “You really believe I could do something like that? To you, of all people?”
His strong, protective stance withered. His arms dropped to his sides, his frown disappearing above wide eyes.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out, Meeks. Were you involved?”
She was such a fool. Riordan would never trust, least of all her. She had the wrong last name, the wrong profession, the wrong feelings for him.
He knew how to handle hate. He couldn’t handle love.
Still, she wanted to be nowhere else but in this room, with him, knowing he could never trust her. Knowing it would never work.
Bracing a hand on the nightstand, she stood up. “I’m sorry to disappoint you but, I didn’t even know you existed a year and a half ago, Riordan.”
She walked to the edge of the bed and stood before him. “Contrary to what you believe, I don’t know my father’s business and I don’t want to know. All of my life, I’ve tried to separate myself from his career, to escape his corruption and greed.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “But, it follows me everywhere…”
Tears filled her voice. Dammit, she didn’t want to cry. Neither he, nor her father, were worth it.
“…like a shadow, haunting and dark. I can’t escape it, no matter what I do.” She rubbed her eyes with her forefinger and thumb. “I had accepted it, chalking it up as my cross to bear.”
She looked up at him. “Until you. Until you forced me to see what I had become – just a ghost of the real me.” Turning away from him, she limped to the bathroom. “I may be a fraud, Riordan, but I’m not a criminal. I’m sorry you couldn’t see that.”
He reached for her. “Meeks…”
She skirted away, pain shooting up her leg. She had to get her acetaminophen.
“No, Riordan. I don’t want to hear anymore. I think we got to the gist of the issue – you’ll never be able to trust me. So, let’s leave it at that.”
Reaching the bathroom doorway, she stopped but didn’t face him.
“Find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I’ll be gone tomorrow.”
Riordan stared at the closed door, wondering how the hell he’d gotten here. He’d set out to get answers on her involvement with Richey and ended up fighting back such intense self-loathing he wanted to puke.
Right now, he didn’t care if she had sent him to Mongolia herself, he… needed her. Knowing she had shut herself off from him pissed him off. He wanted to rip off the door
from its hinges, throw her over his shoulder and onto the bed.
He sat on the mattress and rubbed his hands down his face. As soon as he’d uttered the words ‘were you involved,’ he’d wanted to grab them out of the air and stuff them back inside his big, fat mouth.
Back in San Diego, away from her, the idea of her involvement seemed plausible. Logical.
Holding her in his arms, with her fingers in his hair, impossible. Ridiculous.
She’d bared her soul to him, left herself wide open for him to see and he’d pushed it off as insignificant.
Paul Warner probably wouldn’t have done that.
He spat a raw, succinct curse. What the hell was wrong with him?
This freaking phobia he had about trust had caused him to lose the one woman that had ever really meant something to him.
She cared about him. Why, he couldn’t fathom. He’d been nothing but a proud, arrogant jackass.
Leaning back his head on his shoulders, he squeezed his eyes shut. He had some major sucking up to do and no freaking idea how to do it.
Standing up, he clenched his fists. He had to fix it. Somehow, some way, he had to get her back. He had to prove that he trusted her.
Going to the bathroom door, he reached for the handle then stopped. Her rejection scared the crap out of him. Working in the field, spending time in prison, he knew what to expect.
When she’d told him to leave, that hurt cut deeper than any whipping he’d ever received.
“Natalie.”
He tried the brushed nickel handle. Locked. He could repel it and barge inside but he didn’t want to frighten her.
“Can’t you at least show me a little respect and do as I ask, Riordan?” Clogged with tears, her voice sounded small, tired.
He leaned his forehead against the door. Dammit, he’d done this to her. “Natalie, open the door.”
This time her voice came through angry and sharp. “Are you really that stubborn, Riordan? Or completely daft? I’m not opening the bloody door.”
He smiled to himself. There was his copper-haired spitfire.
“I think we both know I am that bloody daft, Natalie.”
No response.
Letting out a frustrated breath, he slumped his shoulders. Enough of this shit. He was taking over.
Holding out his hand, he repelled the handle. The door shook in its hinges before it flew back against the wall.
