My breath heaving, I demand, “Where is he?”
“Gone.”
“No, he can’t be. He wouldn’t.” I plead for him to tell me this is some sick joke.
Caleb takes a few steps back, spreading his arms wide in some mocking gesture of openness. “Come on in, Kitty. Oh, I mean, Emma. Feel free to look around. He’s gone.”
I unconsciously step inside, and though the house is huge, I can feel that it’s empty. He’s not here. Somehow, his presence, or lack thereof, has changed the very air in the place.
“Why?” I can feel tremors sneaking through my body, my mind refusing to accept the truth right in front of me.
Caleb is triumphant, mocking. “He left you. Got what he needed, I suppose. Nikolai called this morning with the final arrangements, and Nathan’s plane left about” —he looks at his watch— “an hour ago. Maybe less.”
I collapse to the floor, trying not to sob. “He knew. He came tonight. It was a kiss goodbye, wasn’t it?”
Subtly, I can see Caleb’s cruelty cracking. I don’t think he’s necessarily a bad guy. He’s just protecting his brother against what he perceives as a threat.
Me.
It’d be hysterical if I wasn’t breaking apart. The thought that I could hurt Nathan, be a danger to him . . . when the truth is, I was the one at risk all along.
Claire warned me. I just didn’t listen.
I should’ve listened.
The squeak of brakes behind me gives me a flash of hope, and I turn, my heart hoping it’s him and that this is all some awful misunderstanding.
But it’s not Nathan.
It’s Claire’s sedan, and she jumps out, rushing around the car and up the stairs.
“Emma!”
“He’s gone,” I say hollowly.
She drops to her knees at my side in the middle of the foyer floor, gathering me to her and cradling me like a child as the tears flow freely. “I know, I know.”
I pull away. “What do you mean, ‘you know’?” I search her face for answers and see the hesitation. “Claire, what do you mean?”
She bites her lip. “He told me tonight. You went backstage, and he said he was leaving, asked me to take care of you like I always have.”
“You knew? And you just let him go? Oh, my God, Claire. You should’ve stopped him or told me!” I’m ranting, my voice getting stronger.
“I thought it was for the best. This is all my fault. You should’ve never been caught up with all this in the first place.” She looks at Caleb with disgust, and Caleb looks back, the feeling mutual. “This was a way to get you out of it. So no, I didn’t stop him. If he had feelings for you, he wouldn’t have bailed on you like this. That’s not what a good guy does, Em. You’ve gotta see that, right? Nathan Stone is not a good man. He used you and then he left you.”
“You know what?” Caleb growls, unable to hold his tongue as my sister runs down his brother. “I don’t give a fuck who—”
“He left me.”
It shuts Caleb up.
My sadness grows hotter, slow degrees of anger adding to the hurt to make a bitter stew of confusion.
“Come on, honey. Let me get you home.”
Claire helps me stand, ushering me out the door, and as we pull out of the drive, I glance back one last time.
Caleb is in the doorway. He’s wearing his cocky bastard persona again, but I can see the concern in his eyes.
He gives me a little two-finger wave and shuts the door as Claire turns out of their driveway.
Chapter 27
Nathan
I squirm in the plush leather seat of the plane I’ve chartered to take me to Brazil, but my discomfort has nothing to do with the luxurious cushioned seating in the G280 but something else.
“Mr. Stone?” the flight attendant, a pretty raven-haired woman who I’ve been told is fluent in Spanish and Portuguese, says. “Is everything okay, sir? Would you like some refreshments before take-off?”
“No, thank you,” I reply, adjusting myself one more time.
Reaching quickly for some kind of polite excuse, I point toward my combat boots. “Been awhile since I’ve worn these.”
“Ah. Well, sir, if you don’t mind the advice, I’d shuck ‘em,” the attendant says with a smile. “We’ve got a few hours until we stop in Vieques to refuel. No reason to be uncomfortable. It’s not like you’ll offend the other passengers.”
She chuckles but stops when I don’t smile. Other than her and the pilots, I’m the only person on board. My local security staff will meet me in Brazil.
I wish I didn’t have to use this small plane that requires a refueling, but it is what it is. My destination doesn’t have a runway capable of landing a larger plane.
“In any case, sir, once we hit our cruising altitude, the bench seats are great for catching a nap as well,” the flight attendant says before making herself scarce. I don’t even watch her go, turning my attention to what’s going on outside the cabin windows, where the ground crew is doing final prep so we can take off.
I feel like hell. I know I’m doing the right thing, but that doesn’t make it easy.
This morning, Emma slept in my arms peacefully and I knew it. I was even able to whisper the truth to myself.
I love her.
I’d watched her for almost an hour, memorizing every freckle, every sleepy sigh, and the lush curves of her body. She’s all sweetness and softness, inside and out.
But that’s why, after absorbing as much of her as I could in that single kiss, I held back from telling her. It’s why I kept the peace with Claire and begged her to take care of Emma.
I know Emma won’t understand, but ironically, in my enemy, Claire, I could see understanding. She knows what kind of man I am, what I would do to her sister. Yes, I’d love Emma with a passion that would sear the very pages of history with the heat of our bond.
But in the end, I’m not good for Emma. Whether it’s through my own inner darkness, my failings, or a hail of gunfire from one of my family’s enemies, I’d destroy her.
So I have to do it now when it’s an easier break, for her and for me, even though my body is revolting against me, trying to rise up out of the seat and go back to her.
Because it’d be so easy. Even as the engines fire up, part of me wants to get out of my seat and run across the tarmac and jump into my car.
I want to pull her in close and tell her how I feel, that I want her to move in, to be my woman . . . to be my wife. I want to have that comfortable life, to raise a few kids . . . hell, maybe even finish raising Caleb.
But I can’t. Because despite every happiness that such a life would bring me, there’d be that poison festering just below the surface, deep in my psyche. Giving up on understanding what drove my father, giving up what set me upon the life path that I’m on . . . I could ignore it for a time.
But it’d explode eventually, poisoning our lives. So my gut roils and my heart breaks at what I’ve done, knowing it’ll hurt her.
But I have to.
It’s better that she be merely cracked now than shattered later.
I’m turning into my dad, after all, despite my fiercest battles against that ending. Despite all my promises that I’d be different, I’m running his company, chasing down some dangerous adventure for treasure and truth, and most damning, leaving behind those who love me. Not just Emma, but Caleb too.
There’s no such thing as a happily ever after. Not for a bastard like me.
I’m not throwing myself a pity party. I’m just mad that, even in death, my father has set me up to be alone, obsessed, and to never get the happily ever after I once wanted.
I thought it was beyond my reach, but with Emma, for the first time in a long time, I’d hoped.
And the death of that hope is a bitter, jagged pill to swallow. But I won’t do that to her.
She deserves better than a distracted man, one torn between the past and the future but never truly living in the present, a man not able to
promise her much beyond material things.
She doesn’t value those in the least. No, Emma wants the real stuff . . . my heart and soul. By the time this is over, however, I’m afraid I’ll be too stained to be of any use to a woman like her.
This is for her own good, and maybe in time, she’ll see that.
The engines get louder, and within moments, we’re taxiing. Even though it’s unnecessary since the plane’s small enough a raised voice would work, the pilot comes on the intercom. “Mr. Stone, if you’ll make sure your seatbelt’s tightened, we’ve got clearance for takeoff.”
I double-check my strap and sigh, trying to put Emma out of my mind as the jet accelerates and I feel myself pressed into the cushion. It’s different from an airliner, where liftoff happens slowly. Instead, it feels like we’re in the air with a rocket strapped to our back almost immediately, the New York skyline disappearing by the second.
Within minutes, we’re at our cruising altitude and over the ocean, speeding at roughly six hundred miles an hour toward Puerto Rico before refueling and jumping to Brazil.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to come back from that jungle.
It’d hurt less.
Chapter 28
Emma
The next morning, I feel like I’m hungover, even though I didn’t drink. Last night feels like I was swept up in a whirlwind of emotions, from joy at finally having my dream come true of being on stage in a big way to the complete letdown of having Nathan leave me.
I barely even remember Claire shuffling me out of Nathan’s house and Caleb’s little two-fingered wave.
I won’t be doing anything today or any other day for a while, I think as I sink down into my nest of bedding. I scrub at my puffy eyes with the frayed edge of my memory quilt, making a promise to myself to wash it later, even though I know I won’t.
He left me. I can’t believe he actually did that.
I’m not really hurt right now, though I’m certain that painful emotion is coming. I’ve moved from shock at Caleb’s pronouncement to full-fledged anger at this point. “Ugh,” I tell the empty room, kicking the covers off in a hissy fit my toddler self would’ve been proud of.
Hearing the noise, my bedroom door creaks open and Claire peeks in. “You up?”
At my nod, she comes in slowly, like she’s afraid I’m going to go rabid and bite her like a damn raccoon. Actually, considering the amount of makeup I left on the quilt, I probably have some serious trash panda eyes going on.
I sit up and she sits on the edge of the bed beside me. “So, where are we this morning? Sad, mad, plotting revenge? I’m pretty good with the third option, have some rather creative ideas already, if you’re interested.” Her smile is tentative, her eyes worried, and it’s almost like we’ve done some version of this before. Other than Carly, Claire’s been my go-to girl for every broken heart I’ve ever suffered.
“How fucking dare he?” I spit out. “I mean, I know I fucked up, but I came clean eventually. And he was mad and felt betrayed, but we were working on it, you know? You just don’t bail without a word. Who does that?” I ask her, ranting as my arms flail this way and that to get out some of the energy buzzing through my veins.
Claire presses her lips together. “Okay, so we’re in the mad stage.” Her brow furrows. “I’m not sure what to tell you. I feel like you majorly dodged a bullet here, an actual literal bullet. So if his running is what gets you free from a situation I should’ve never put you into, so be it. I hate, truly hate that it’s hurting you, but I think it’s for the best. And his bailing is just another sign, one of many, that he’s not the man for you.”
I flop back, arms spread so wide my hands hang off the sides of the bed. “But he is the one for me. That’s why I’m so furious. I’m willing to fight for it, but he’s not. I’m willing to give him time. Hell, I would’ve understood if he’d at least told me he was going alone. But I can’t let him walk all over me like this. I’m not really some obedient little dog that’ll just wait for its master to return.”
Claire’s eyes pop wide as she screeches, “Excuse me . . . what?”
I shake my head. “Not like that. Well, kinda. But not really.” That doesn’t reassure her at all, so I try to explain further. “It was part of the cover story when the tree fell, a way to save my ass from Nikolai. I told you Nathan pretended I was his girlfriend. But we also pretended I was his . . . submissive. Nikolai made a joke about my being a dog, literally said ‘woof, woof’ to me. And it was stupid and so wrong on every level. But later, it was funny because it’s so obviously not true in the least. But it was our inside joke, you know? We have those. Even with our trying to dig out of the damn pit we were in, there are a million little things that only we understand that connect us.”
“I don’t know what to say. That’s a lot of information. A dog? A submissive? Emma, what the fuck? I don’t think an ‘inside joke’ is something you build a relationship on, especially not one like that.”
The tears come again. Big crocodile tears of sadness streak down my face, dripping in puddles on my T-shirt. She doesn’t get it. “He’s ticklish, but only on his right side. That’s why his tattoo is on his left. He was scared he’d jerk when the needle hit that spot. But when I scratch him there, he’ll goof around and kick his leg like a happy dog. It’s cute. He likes mimosas when he eats orange chicken, even though it’s a breakfast drink with a dinner food. And now that’s how I eat takeout too. We like to face the wall when we spoon because it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist and it’s just us in this cocoon.”
Claire looks stricken the more I spill. “Fuck, honey. I didn’t realize.” And I think she understands for the first time. “I already feel like such a shit sister for getting you mixed up in this, and now you’re . . .” She looks at me, and I know she must see a complete and utter mess because that’s what I feel like.
She sighs, looking at the ceiling for guidance. “I can’t believe I’m fucking saying this, but if he’s it for you—which to be clear, I don’t think he is, and I think he’s more dangerous than you give him credit for—you should talk to him when he gets back. I’m not exactly a relationship expert, but it sounds like it’s at least worth a conversation. For closure. And maybe a tiny bit of revenge though?” She holds her finger and thumb up an inch apart.
It’s a big give on her part. To say that I should talk to him is damn near a one-eighty for her, considering she’s been trying everything in her power to get me to never see him again.
I hug her and she pats my back, mothering me even all these years later. “Come on, you need a shower.”
I force myself up and to the bathroom, and eventually, the water from my shower splashes down on my head as I replay everything. The fog clears in my mind, and I know what I need to do.
I have to follow him.
I hurry back to my bedroom, where I grab my backpack. Luckily, the archaeological field trips in school mean I’ve got some appropriate gear, including, most importantly, a ‘three-day’ rucksack. Not quite as large as a backpacker’s frame pack, I’m still able to fit everything I need inside.
Not that I’m packing heavy. I’m heading to the Brazilian jungle, not the north end of Iceland. Thankfully, I’ve got some quick-drying cargo pants, a few tank tops, and even a button-up that has SPF in the fabric. All relics of my undergrad days, but they still fit.
I’m just slipping on my boots when Claire comes back in, scaring the shit out of me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Claire asks, looking me up and down. Her eyes widen in recognition, and she starts shaking her head before I can even answer. “Oh, hell no. I said to talk to him when he gets back. There is no fucking way I’m letting you go after him.”
Any sweet sister moment we’d had is wiped away with the hostility in her voice.
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I reply, double-knotting the laces of my boots before standing up and picking up my bag, throwing it over a shoulder. “Excuse me.”
“Are you listening to me?” Claire asks, planting herself squarely to block me in the kitchen. “I said you’re not going!”
“And I say you need to get the hell out of my way,” I reply before forcing my voice to lower. “Listen, you wanted me to follow him, learn what he’s up to, right? Well, I have. I can do that even better if I’m by his side on this trip. But that’s not why I’m going. You’re so wrong about him. I know you are. I can feel it.” I place my hands on my heart.
Claire grumbles, “I think your hands are in the wrong spot. I’m sure you feel something for him, but at most, it’s one hand on your heart and one on your vagina. To point, neither are on your head, because you are not thinking with your damn brain. I didn’t tell you to fall in love with him!”
“But I did, and that you can’t change!” I cry out. It’s the first time I’ve admitted that out loud, though I’ve known it for a while now. It hurts that the first time is to Claire and not to Nathan himself.
“You’re not thinking straight,” Claire shouts back, “and I can’t do anything to help you if . . . no, when he gets his ass in a sling out of the country!”
“I don’t care,” I reply, placing my hands on the counter. “Claire, I love you. You’re my big sister, and you want to take care of me, but you’re wrong about Nathan. He’s not the bad guy you think he is.”
Claire pleads. “This isn’t the theater or an archaeological dig. This is real, actual dangerous stuff, Emma. Nathan Stone is an international criminal. You want to know the sort of shit people like him get up to? If I had the opportunity, I’d drag your ass down to my office, show you the files. Spend two hours in my closed case files, and you’d never go near someone like Nathan ever again!”
Power Play Page 25
