by Alicia Dean
No. She couldn't let that happen. Something had to be
done before the money ran out. She just wished she knew
what the hell that something was.
When Heath entered the kitchen the next morning, his
mother was limping around, making breakfast. "Mom! What
are you doing?"
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She swiveled on her crutches as naturally as if she'd been
wearing them since birth. "Oh. You're up. Your brother's still
in bed. I'll have your breakfast ready in a jiff."
"No way. Sit down." He took the carton of eggs from her
hand. Bacon was already sizzling in the skillet. "I'll make
breakfast. You're hobbled."
She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Now, watch it,
buster. A little broken ankle's not gonna hobble me." She
took the eggs back from him. "Sit. Let me cook. I'm perfectly
capable of taking care of my boys."
Heath had learned long ago not to argue with her, so he
poured a cup of coffee and let her have her way. "You in
pain?"
"No, hon. No pain. Just a pain in my butt because it takes
longer to do all the things I want to do."
"So the injury didn't stop you, just slowed you down."
She turned and flashed him a smile. " Barely slowed me
down."
Heath didn't understand how she could be so jolly, so
happy, under the circumstances. Her husband of forty years
had cheated on her. Had a child with another woman. Heath
hadn't spoken directly with his mother about it, and he didn't
particularly want to know details, but he needed to get it out
in the open.
"Mom, I need to talk to you."
Something about his tone must have conveyed the gravity
of the situation. She turned, her expression one of wariness.
"Yes?"
"How can you be okay with this?"
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"With what?"
"Dad. The affair." Heath rose and went to stand beside
her. "How did it not tear your marriage apart?"
She was silent for a moment, then she picked up an egg
and cracked it on the edge of the skillet before dropping the
contents onto the melted butter. She picked up a second egg
and did the same. "I am not okay with it." Her voice was low
but steady. "I could never be okay with that kind of betrayal,
but I tried to understand as best I could. I loved your father
more than anything else in the world. He was lonely, had
faced death, saw his friends die in front of his eyes." She
shrugged. "I could understand how something like that could
happen. Don't you?"
Heath shook his head. "No. He made a commitment to
you. You were a good wife to him."
"Yes. And he was a good husband. Everything's not black
and white, Heath darling. You have no idea what your father
was dealing with over there. He was so very young. People
aren't perfect. They make mistakes."
"Yeah, and nearly forty years later, his mistake is coming
into our lives. And he's not around to face the music."
"Heath!" She looked at him, eyes wide. "Don't speak ill of
your father."
"I'm sorry, Mom. You've had years to get used to it. I
haven't."
"Yes, but I'm the one he cheated on. If I can handle it, I'd
think you can."
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"It goes against everything we were brought up to believe.
All those years, him shoving loyalty down my throat. For
what?"
She flipped the eggs over, her movements jerky, as if
using the spatula as a fencing sword. When she turned to
Heath, he could see she'd lost her patience. "I'll tell you for
what. Because it's what he believed. And, for the fact that he
raised three beautiful, kind sons, and if you ended up getting
an extra dose of loyalty because your father wasn't using all
his, then I reckon that's something you should be thanking
the good Lord for."
Heath stared back at her for a moment, then turned and
headed for the kitchen door, but halted before he reached it.
He wouldn't walk out on his mother, wouldn't be that
disrespectful. After all, she wasn't the one he was really angry
with. And since the guilty party wasn't here to explain
himself, it was best to just drop it.
He walked over and put his arms around his mother. At
first, she stiffened against his hug, then her body relaxed,
and she hugged him back.
"I'm so sorry, son. I'm sorry your father couldn't be
perfect. But mostly I'm sorry you had to find out that he
wasn't. Please don't think it didn't hurt me. It did. And trust
me, I'm proud as can be that you're not like that. Proud of
you for being a man of principles. Just remember, your father
loved you, and he'd want you to forgive him."
"I know," Heath said, but he didn't promise he would.
Maybe it would happen someday, but that day wasn't here
yet.
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"We're having Christmas dinner early," his mother said.
"So you can eat with us before you head back."
"Good. I would have hated to miss out."
"I still don't get why you have to meet that man on
Christmas day. Doesn't he realize it's a holiday?"
"He does, but he doesn't celebrate it."
"Yes, but you do."
"I'm sorry, Mom. It's business. Very important business for
the company. I have to be there."
Besides, he was certain by then, he'd be ready to flee.
Amelia dished up his breakfast and handed him the plate.
She sat across from him at the kitchen table and watched
while he put away eggs, hash browns, bacon and toast.
In a not so subtle attempt to steer the conversation away
from sensitive matters, she said, "So, tell me, son. How are
things going for you? Your company doing well? I know you
had a hard time deciding to give up being a police officer."
She was right. It had been a difficult decision, but after
years of seeing his fellow officers risk their lives—and some
lose them, only to see the same assholes back out on the
streets—he'd had to call it quits. He was no longer able to
sleep at night, knowing everything he'd done that day had
been for naught.
In truth, the picture wasn't quite that bleak, but he drove
himself crazy thinking it was. After a particularly disturbing
incident, he'd finally turned in his badge.
He and his partner, Joe, went out on a domestic
disturbance call and found a coked-out thug pounding on his
wife. Before they could cuff him, he pulled a gun and shot
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Joe. Heath wrestled the suspect to the ground and disarmed
him, then called for an ambulance.
Once Heath cuffed the guy and was performing CPR on
Joe, trying to keep him alive until help arrive
d, the wife went
into a rage, kicking at Joe, screaming at the two of them,
telling them not to take her husband to jail. It was all Heath
could do not to finish what her old man had started. His
partner lay bleeding on the ground after she'd called them for
help, and now she was furious at him, the man who'd saved
her ass.
Joe survived, but Heath's love for the job hadn't. The thug
was back on the streets the next day. Not long after, he beat
his wife to death. That had been enough for Heath. He'd left
the force and never looked back.
Heath finished chewing, then swallowed the food with a
drink of coffee. "It's going well. I like what I do. Business is
good."
"Is it dangerous, this security work?"
"Nah. Concerts, frightened women in divorce proceedings,
the occasional celebrity in town, stuff like that. Nothing to
worry about."
"Well, you do know how I like to worry."
Heath grinned. "That, I do. A mother's curse, right?"
"Right." She grinned back. "Maybe someday, you'll have a
child of your own to worry about. You have a girlfriend? Any
women in your life I should know about?"
An image of Nicolette flashed through his mind, but he
quickly banished it. "No. No one serious. I date once in a
while."
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"You must be lonely. I wish you lived closer. Wish you and
Clint both did. Especially when—" She gave him a stern look.
" If you give me grandchildren. I don't want to see them only
on the holidays, you know."
"I tell you what, Mom. When I have kids, I'll make sure
you see them once a month, how's that?" Heath felt confident
making that claim. He didn't believe he'd ever have children.
Unlike his baby brother, who'd been married twice and was
currently engaged, he'd never met anyone he wanted to
dedicate the rest of his life to, much less procreate with. Well,
other than Nicolette. And that had been a foolish college
dream born of youth and misplaced optimism.
"Don't lie to me, young man. I won't forget your promise."
Before Heath could respond, footsteps sounded at the
doorway. Alex and a stunning blonde walked in. She wore
dark blue jeans and a form-fitting blue T-shirt. To Heath's
untrained eye, her outfit appeared expensive and probably
had been designed by someone with a name Heath couldn't
spell or pronounce.
Alex made the introductions. Heath's suspicions were
confirmed; this was Sydney, his future sister-in-law. Heath
instantly disliked her, and he couldn't help but wonder if
Alex's third foray into marriage would end as disastrously as
the first two.
He sighed and inwardly chastised himself. Maybe he was
just projecting his own dismal outlook of happily-ever-after
onto his brother. It wasn't Sydney and Alex's fault that
Heath's Mrs. Right married his best friend.
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Alex and Sydney joined him at the table while his mother
rose to make eggs for Alex.
"I'll just have dry toast and a fruit cup," Sydney said, her
tone insinuating that eating anything else would be
preposterous.
Heath tried to make small talk, but he liked Sydney less
and pitied Alex more with every second that passed. His
appetite waned, but he forced down as much of the breakfast
as he could. He knew too well the fate of those who tried to
leave Amelia King's kitchen without heartily partaking of her
food.
Shutting out Sydney's incessant complaints, his thoughts
drifted back to Nicolette and how quickly his time with her
ended. There was no way he'd see her again unless he made
the effort. From what he gathered last night, she wouldn't be
receptive even if he decided getting in touch with her was a
good idea, which he definitely knew wasn't. His heart and his
libido said it was a super-duper idea, but neither of them had
a habit of making good decisions.
Clint entered the room. Heath barely acknowledged him
when he sat down at the table. Heath should make an effort
to be better company for his brothers. Clint had driven over
five-hundred miles. Alex was on the verge of marrying—
again—and all Heath could think about were his own
problems. Selfish bastard.
"Mom said you went with Nicolette to a ceremony for Rudy
last night?" Clint said. "How was it?"
Out of the din of chatter, Heath realized this remark was
directed at him. He halted in the act of forking a piece of egg.
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"I didn't go with Nicolette. I saw her there. It was a nice
ceremony. Rudy would have been proud."
Clint didn't reply as he dug into his own breakfast.
Apparently, the eldest King brother had issues of his own. He
seemed not to be in a talkative mood, which suited Heath just
fine. The room fell into silence, save for the sound of forks
against plates until Alex rose from his chair.
"Excuse me, Mom. Breakfast was wonderful. I'm going
upstairs to shower and change."
Amelia didn't turn as she responded, continuing to scoop
bacon onto the paper towel so it could drain and stacking
more pancakes onto the growing pile. "I've got breakfast for
the girls. You can spend time with them while Zoe's setting
up."
Amidst a bevy of shuffling noises and more chatter, Alex
left, then Sydney. A few moments later, Amelia turned her
spatula over to Clint and retrieved her crutches before also
leaving.
Heath stood and carried his dishes to the sink, then
headed to the doorway. Before he could escape, Clint's voice
stopped him. "Hey."
"Hm?"
"What's going on with you? You're a hundred miles away.
Everything okay?"
Didn't he wish. If he were a hundred miles away, he
wouldn't be dealing with all the bullshit. Well, that wasn't
entirely true. If he were a hundred miles away, or even a
thousand, he would still know what his father had done, and
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he would still be pining for a woman he could never have.
Heath decided to give his brother a condensed version.
"Yeah, everything's fine. Trying to adjust to all the
changes. You know. A lot's happened lately."
A lot had happened all right, but Heath knew there was
much more to come. The thought had his insides twisted up
like a pretzel.
[Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Four
Nicolette alternated between staring out her kitchen
window at the too-slowly rising sun, to peering at the clock on
the microwave as she waited until she assumed Heath was
out of bed and she wouldn't disturb him.
Heath. Bed. Damn.
She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat.
She'd slept in a cold, empty bed for so long that the image of
lying next to a warm body—Heath's body—initiated a longing
deep within her. She imagined opening her eyes to find him
lying next to her, shifting against him and hearing him
murmur in his deep, husky voice. Feeling her hands run over
his chest...a tingling starting between her thighs...
Stop it! She could not think of Heath that way. She still
wasn't over Rudy's death, and even if she were ready to start
something up with a man, it could not be Heath. Not ever.
Heath was her friend. Nothing more.
She sighed and took a sip of her coffee, then stood to pace
restlessly across the kitchen floor. Sleep had eluded her last
night, her stomach a tight knot of fear as she lay awake,
staring at the shadows that played across the ceiling.
This was the first time the blackmailer made physical
contact. In the four months since all this started, he'd left
notes, made phone calls, given her instructions, nothing
more. She'd made the drops as instructed—always at a new
location—and never run into him. Until now. First the phone
call to Louisa's home, now the scare in the parking garage.
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He was escalating. He'd asked for one payment a month in
the beginning. Now he wanted his next payment two weeks
after the last.
The money was drying up, and would soon run completely
out. Rudy's life insurance wouldn't be enough to keep the
blackmailer satisfied for long. Would he go through with his
threat and kill someone she loved? Although, there weren't
that many people in her life he could go after.
God. She'd never really thought about how alone she was.
She hadn't felt the lack of family as deeply when Rudy was
alive. He and Louisa had been all she needed. Nicolette had
never been very good at cultivating friendships. She'd learned
from her childhood to keep people at bay. The less others
knew about her, the better.
How different would things be if she knew where her father
was? Would he be a loving, protective kind of dad who would
shield his little girl from all the unpleasantness? She hadn't
seen him since she'd left for college, but the father she
