“So by confessing to being Nemesis, you hoped to throw the cops off the fact you actually are Nemesis.” Malcolm couldn’t have looked more dubious if his father-in-law had just told him he’d purchased property on the moon. “You wanted the police looking at you, but not too hard.”
“I gambled on the hope that being tailed by the police would throw whoever is behind this off,” Jackson said.
“Given this conversation, it clearly didn’t pay off. What about you, Nathan?” Malcolm asked. “Did you have something to do with this?”
“Until a few days ago, I was as much in the dark as you,” Nathan told him and bit back his own frustration. “I’ve been assured there’s an explanation. Right, Dad?” Clearly now was the appropriate time to come clean.
“I’m well aware how difficult I’ve made things.” Jackson crossed his legs as he sat in the high-backed chair situated between matching cream-colored love seats in the Tremayne sitting room. There wasn’t much else not crated or boxed up, making the entire house feel more like a museum in flux than a living area. “Not only on the business, but on you three. But yes, Malcolm. Your analysis of the situation is spot-on. When Nemesis, or rather you, Sheila, and Nathan, stole those paintings at the art gallery last month, I was caught on video across the street at the museum. It’s the perfect alibi.”
“It’s the perfect alibi to clear you of being Nemesis,” Sheila clarified. “Except they found your prints on the display case that displayed the crown.” Sheila rested her chin on her hand, the perfect picture of calm. “Even though you didn’t steal it.”
“It’s a good frame, even with the doubt about the print,” Jackson said. “Trust me when I say it’s no coincidence the Crown of Serpia is dead center of this mess. Now those two have me in their sights.” He gestured to the late-model sedan housing two detectives parked outside the house. “Which means I’m out. Nathan’s going to have to take point. Just be careful. I’m betting Evan suspects something’s not right.”
“He said as much,” Nathan confirmed, wishing his father had talked to him about putting all of them in the D.A.’s, not to mention Laurel’s, crosshairs. “The sooner we find the crown and return it to the authorities, the sooner this will all get cleared up.” The sooner Nathan could get back to his own plans for the future. Plans he had yet to share with the rest of his family. It wasn’t that he didn’t think they’d understand. He just hated the idea of letting anyone down, especially his father and sisters.
“Wait a minute.” Sheila rubbed her fingers into her temples as her calm dissipated. “What does this crown have to do with Nemesis? Who would want to frame you for something like this? Did we make some new enemy I’m not aware of? Could Chadwick be pulling some strings we didn’t know about?”
“My father might be many things,” Malcolm said. “But even he isn’t clever enough to realize we’re the ones who sent him to prison. This feels personal. Calculated. Planned. Jackson?”
“You’re two for two,” Jackson admitted, looking into his disappearing wine. “This situation is very personal. I did what I could to keep you all out of this after that arrived at the office about a month ago.” He jerked his chin toward the padded envelope on the coffee table. “A calculated error on my part. Go ahead,” he urged Nathan. “There’s nothing more I can do with it. I reached my technological limit opening the envelope.”
Nathan squeezed the packet and dumped out its contents. “Looks like a burner phone. One you can pick up at any convenience or drug store.”
“I received a call on that from an old acquaintance a couple of days before we stole Chadwick’s paintings. A former acquaintance who wouldn’t want anything to do with law enforcement, believe me. We arranged to meet in the alley next to the museum, but when he didn’t show on time and all hell broke loose at the art gallery, I realized I’d walked into some kind of setup. The only solution seemed to be to get myself on camera and play out whatever happened.”
“Yeah, well, that solution opened up a whole new can of worms,” Nathan muttered.
“My mistake was thinking a conversation with him would put a stop to this vendetta he has against me. And by extension, all of you. He’s not going to stop, which means we have to figure out his endgame.”
As far as Nathan was concerned, his father had made other mistakes, like not confiding in the children who could have helped him from the beginning, but Nathan bit back that retort as he flipped the cheap device over in his hand and popped open the back. “I should be able to track the SIM card . . . well, shit.”
“Let’s see?” Malcolm leaned forward and held out his hand. “Huh. Tricky. The number’s been eradicated. Takes a delicate touch to do that without destroying the card or the information stored on it.”
“Think you can do something with it?” Nathan asked.
“Yeah.” Malcolm handed him back the phone. “I take it there was more to this phone than a simple call. What else is there that had you running to the commissioner?”
“I didn’t go running to the commissioner.” Jackson’s sour tone made Nathan’s lips twitch until he clicked on photos and saw a collection of images that chilled his blood. “I purposely put myself on law enforcement’s radar so the person who set me up would back off,” Jackson continued. “I assumed he wouldn’t want to deal with someone who’s being watched by the police. Not that I expected a tail twenty-four/seven. Second . . . Nathan?”
Nathan flipped through the grainy yet oh-so-definitive photos contained on the phone, his father’s voice fading to a dull buzz in his head. Morgan, Gage, and the kids playing on the front lawn at the Fiorelli house on Tumbleweed Drive. Morgan and Kelley shopping at the mall. Drew walking home from his job at J & J Markets. Gage and Drew at the park playing softball with some of Gage’s cop friends. Sheila and Malcolm coming out of Malcolm’s doctor’s office. Sheila and Malcolm embracing soon after they’d exchanged vows at the last-minute wedding ceremony a few weeks prior. Nathan exiting Lorenzo’s Café with his morning coffee.
“What’s this all about, Dad?” It took every bit of control he had not to snap the phone in half. “What the hell is going on?” The anger might have taken hold if terror hadn’t been clawing at his throat.
“Let me see.” When Nathan hesitated, Malcolm stood and ripped the phone out of his hand. Nathan couldn’t remember ever feeling as if fury was circling a room, but it descended with all the force of a tornado as his brother-in-law viewed the pictures.
“Malcolm?” Sheila reached for him then shrank back when Malcolm shook his head, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “Dad, please.”
“There’s a particular kind of terror that strikes when your family’s being stalked because of something you’ve done.” Jackson seemed calm, but after thirty-two years Nathan recognized restrained fury in his father’s voice when he heard it. But it was the undertone of fear that unsettled him most. “You cease thinking as clearly as you should, and yes, before you ask, Nathan, I tried calling the only number listed in that phone’s address book. It’s been disconnected. And as if those weren’t bad enough”—Jackson reached for a larger manila envelope on the side table and tossed it onto the coffee table—“this was waiting for me yesterday morning on the front porch.”
“After you spoke with the police.” Nathan pulled out a selection of photos, but there was no preparation for the images that slid into his hands.
“This would be that nighttime excursion the three of you took to Chadwick’s warehouse?” Jackson asked.
“You mean the warehouse that exploded?” Sheila asked, all innocence. “Yeah, I think I remember that. I lost my favorite dress thanks to that debacle. Great idea of yours, Nathan.”
“No kidding.” Nathan flipped through the prints, replaying the night a few weeks ago when he and Sheila, with Malcolm’s help, had broken into a storage facility in the hopes of discovering a cache of stolen artwork. Instead, they’d found the warehouse rigged with enough C-4 to light up downtown L.A. They’d barely made it out before the entire building had gone up in flames. But it was the “Nemesis?” scrawled across one of the pictures in thick marker that had Nathan swallowing hard. This wasn’t possible. “How would someone have been following us then? How would they have known anything?”
“Because the man behind those photos, a man named Alastair Manville, knows me better than I realized,” Jackson admitted. “Me and my family.”
“But what does he want?” Sheila asked.
“Revenge. As I said, I’d hoped meeting him at the museum would be enough to satisfy him, but clearly I was wrong.” Jackson admitted. “I confessed to being Nemesis to throw him off, but now I think he just took that as an additional challenge. It’s only a matter of time before Alastair ups the stakes again, which puts all of you in danger now.”
“He’s already upped them,” Nathan said and cringed at the silence that followed. “That phone call you walked in on earlier, Sheila?” He glanced at his sister. “I was finally able to get a name from my black market contacts. The crown hasn’t surfaced anywhere anyone can find, but until a week ago, Johnny Saxon was running his mouth about being hired for some big antiquity heist.”
“Who’s Johnny Saxon?” Malcolm asked.
“A talented young thief,” Jackson said. “Reckless, though, with a propensity for drinking too much and talking too loud. You think Saxon stole the crown?” Jackson shifted forward in his chair, a tinge of relief in his eyes. “He’s what? Based out of Los Angeles? We could, you could—”
“Wouldn’t do any good to go to L.A.,” Nathan interrupted. “They pulled his body out of Pelicano Marina last week.”
Jackson swore and downed the last of his wine, most of the color draining from his face. “If Alastair’s graduated to murder, things are even worse than I imagined.”
“What I want to know.” Nathan still didn’t understand one crucial element of this situation. “Is how this Alastair Manville knows you’re behind Nemesis?”
“Because forty years ago I was Nemesis. We were.” Jackson set his glass down and folded his hands in his lap, suddenly looking every day of his almost sixty years. “But it was Alastair who went to prison for it.”
***
“How long would it take you to run a complete background check on Laurel Scott?” Nathan asked Malcolm once Sheila coaxed Jackson into taking a walk through Catherine’s rose garden. His sister always had been intuitive when it came to picking up on people’s moods and Nathan’s was about as dark as he could get. If they were dealing with murder, he needed every bit of information he could get. “And by check, I mean a no-holds-barred, turn-over-every-stone-possible kind of check?”
“I’m assuming covert is implied?” Malcolm clutched the burner phone in his hand.
Despite the disturbing revelations of the day, they’d gone from no information to discovering who was behind the theft of the crown and suspecting who had been hired to commit the crime and frame Jackson. If Nathan could prove how the crown was stolen—Saxon had a certain panache when it came to B&E’s—he could lock in an important piece of the puzzle and maybe put some distance between Manville and the Tremaynes. He could explore on his own, but having a witness to whatever he discovered, say, someone like Laurel, could end up being additionally beneficial.
“If we get her prints it’ll be faster,” Malcolm said. “Two, maybe three days if we want it totally off the radar. I take it you want to run Alastair Manville as well.”
“Oh, most definitely, but be careful. And while you’re at it, anything you can dig up on the crown will help.” He’d bet Laurel could be a wealth of information on that topic as well. “All this isn’t going to be too much for you, is it?”
Malcolm’s knuckles whitened around the phone, and he stared at Nathan with an intensity Nathan had rarely seen in his friend’s eyes. “I have cancer, Nathan. You and everyone else need to stop treating me as if I’m going to break apart at any moment. Having something to concentrate on will be a relief. Besides, I’ll be damned if I’ll let someone destroy my family now that I have one I actually like. Well, besides my brother and grandmother.”
“We mustn’t forget Alcina and Ty, that’s for sure.” Nathan nodded and added them to the list of possible collateral fallout. “And spoken like a true Tremayne. The sooner the better on that info.”
“Anything else you can tell me about your girlfriend?” Malcolm slipped back into that teasing tone that lightened the mood.
“Jesus.” Nathan scrubbed a hand down his face. “Since when is Gage a bullhorn of gossip . . . No, wait.” He should have known. “It wasn’t Gage. Kelley said something?”
“Our niece might have mentioned the pretty lady sitting in the park with Uncle Nathan. Sheila and I didn’t push for many more details.” Malcolm grinned and Nathan felt a bit of the tension in his chest loosen. “She didn’t have any.”
“Laurel Scott is in charge of the insurance investigation, which means she knows more about this crown business than anyone else in town. I don’t believe in coincidences in the best of circumstances and her being here definitely isn’t that. TransUnited insured a number of the items Nemesis stole. If she’s as smart as I think she is, it’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together. I need to make sure she doesn’t get that chance, so I want to stick close. There’s something that doesn’t add up. The crown disappeared the same night as the Nemesis theft and now the phone, the photographs.” He shook his head. “This took serious planning. This Manville guy, whoever he is, isn’t as deep in the shadows as Dad seems to think. Not now that we’ve got bodies hitting the morgue.”
“Your dad hasn’t gone into many details about his past with Manville. You still want me poking around?”
“Information is the real power in all this. Poke. Prod. Excavate with that fine-tooth computer of yours, Malcolm. It takes a special kind of obsession to go to this much trouble.”
Just as it would take a certain dedication for Nathan to stop Manville from getting what he wanted. Whatever that might be.
“He does seem to take an inordinate amount of pleasure from taunting your father. Especially with the warehouse photos. You think he’d send them to the police? Or are you worried he might finger the rest of us as Nemesis and you all will finally have to come clean with Morgan?”
Sometimes his brother-in-law was too right for his own good. “Until now we didn’t think she’d understand.” But if it came down to a choice between keeping secrets and protecting his sister and her family, there was no choice.
“First of all, you underestimate your little sister.” Malcolm leaned forward and braced his forearms on his knees. “The fact that Nemesis is a good part of the reason she still has a charity to run is a foregone fact, so I can bet at some point she’ll thank you,” he added. “Secondly, Gage knows.” Nathan opened his mouth to interrupt, but Malcolm shook his head. “No, he hasn’t said anything, but given your conversation with him in the park can you honestly think anything different? If there’s one thing I’ve learned about our future brother-in-law it’s that Gage will never, ever lie to Morgan. We’re on borrowed time with Nemesis, so you’d best figure out how and when to fill both of them in, if for no other reason than so they can protect themselves. And their kids. At some point this entire situation is going to cease being a Nemesis problem and become a full-on Tremayne issue.”
“You have a point,” Nathan said, wishing he could argue with anything Malcolm had stated. “But none of this is going to mean a damned thing if I don’t find that crown and get it into the right hands.”
“And by ‘right hands’ you mean?”
“Hell if I know,” Nathan admitted. The police? The museum? Maybe he should hand deliver it to the D.A. himself. “But in order to do that I need more information.” Starting with Laurel. He needed to know what she knew, otherwise they were flying blind.
“One thing’s for sure. This Manville is dangerous, Nathan,” Malcolm said. “If he’s cutting loose threads like Saxon, there’s no telling what he might do. Those pictures, they’re beyond personal. They’re a promise. And if what Jackson believes is true, if revenge is what this guy is after, I don’t know what’s going to stop him. Or how much time we have before he strikes again.”
“Consider the clock set.” Time to up his interest in Laurel Scott. “I was thinking of suggesting Morgan and Gage get the kids out of town. An unexpected holiday, maybe? I could pay for them to take the kids to Disneyland.”
“Try getting that past Gage given what’s been going on. But he is an ex-cop. If anyone can protect Morgan and the kids, he can.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Wouldn’t that be a fun conversation? “What about you and Sheila?”
“You let me worry about me and Sheila,” Malcolm said. “I’m going to call my head of security back at TIN and see what suggestions he might have. Ty might have some ideas as well, and something tells me my little brother might be more bored than he’s letting on. Oliver Technologies has done some work with the military over the years. My brother has connections where he probably shouldn’t. It’s worth having him look into it.”
“There’s something else.” Nathan was cut off by the doorbell and returned a few seconds later with Veronica Harrison, dressed to the Greek goddess nines in a pristine tailored white dress and brilliant gold pumps.
“You know, when I came to Lantano Valley a few short weeks ago,” she said, that trace of a British accent dancing lightly on her painted lips as auburn curls bounced around her shoulders. “I had no idea I’d be so busy keeping you lot out of jail. Did you order my wine, handsome?” She flicked a finger under Nathan’s chin, but her smile was far from humorous.
“Two cases of Bordeaux are on their way. You should have them by Tuesday.”
“Expedited shipping. Nice touch. Your dad’s doing okay?”
That she was concerned only proved to Nathan he’d trusted the right person. “Yeah, he’s good. But we’re heading into some rough waters.”
“You hit my limit on criminal cases, Nathan, sorry. Thanks, Mal.” She accepted the glass of wine he poured her. “The other day was a one-off and as close to a courtroom as I get. Not even your pretty face is enough to change my mind.”
“The fingerprint analysis was genius,” Nathan said. “Thank you. But this doesn’t have to do with Dad and his confession.”
“What doesn’t have to do with my confession?” Jackson asked as he and Sheila stepped in through the set of French doors at the far end of the sitting room.
Damn. Nathan had been hoping to keep this information out of his father’s hands for a while longer. “No. How up are you on California adoption law?” He asked Veronica.
“As up as you need me to be. Why?” She looked at Malcolm, then Sheila, who shook her head as she held up her hands.
“Don’t look at me. I’ve got my hands full with these three.”
“Gage and Morgan filed paperwork last week to adopt Kelley, Cedric, and Aiden.”
“No,” Jackson whispered and Nathan watched the color drain out of his father’s face.
“Dad?” Sheila grabbed his arm.
“I’m fine,” Jackson protested, patting her hand as he stared at Nathan, but his hand was trembling. “You’re thinking my confession, this situation, could jeopardize the adoptions?”
“Not me, actually. Well, not only me.” Nathan admitted, hating to voice it. “Gage thinks it could be an issue.”
“Why didn’t they tell us what they were planning?” Jackson demanded. “I never would have—”
“Secrets run in the family,” Nathan couldn’t help but interrupt.
“They wanted it to be a surprise, Dad,” Sheila whispered, moving between them. “Nathan, you don’t think Gage is right?”
“I’m not willing to take the chance. Veronica?” When he looked back, Veronica had moved off, phone at her ear as she wandered over to the other side of the room. She trailed her fingers through the satin curtains draping the bay window, arched a questioning brow in the direction of Jackson’s watchdogs.
“Hey, Eleanor,” she said a moment later. “Sorry to bother you on a weekend, but is your darling husband around by any chance? He is? Great, yes, thanks.” She covered the mouthpiece, looking at the petrified lot of them with enough calm on her face that Nathan relaxed. But only a little. “Judge Fitzhugh Simmons is a good friend. He’s in family court down in Los Angeles. Give me ten minutes. And you,” she poked a finger at Nathan. “Get your house in order. At some point I’d like to see how this family operates inside the law. Hugh, hi, it’s Veronica Harrison. Do you have a few minutes? I have a story that’s going to redeem your faith in humanity.”
“I think I’m in love,” Nathan said, looking at Malcolm who was beaming with pride as Sheila and Jackson resumed their seats.
“No, not yet, you’re not,” Sheila said. “And not with her.”
“With who?” Jackson asked, looking pleased to be distracted by something other than Nemesis and the possible mistakes he’d made. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”
“Laurel Scott.” Malcolm’s singsong tone made Nathan feel as if they were back in college.
“The insurance investigator?” Jackson frowned. “Is that wise?”
“Ooooh, an insurance investigator.” Sheila patted her hand against her heart. “How romantic.”
“How necessary,” Nathan corrected, his attention fixed firmly on keeping most of his family out of prison. Or worse. “She’s just necessary.”
***
Monday morning damage control could be his least favorite thing in the world. As anxious as Nathan was to plunge full steam ahead with the Alastair Manville and crown situation, word of Jackson’s temporary leave of absence from Tremayne Investments and Securities meant it was up to Nathan to step up and steer the family company clear of the reef. Spending what felt like unending hours reassuring nervous investors that they were in good hands, that their board of directors was already working with him to make sure any of Jackson’s accounts were assigned to an appropriate manager and that they would be covering the cost of any in-person meetings their out of town investors requested. As far as their security accounts and systems, he’d put Cassidy Wells, an independent computer contractor he’d hired, on alert to be ready for any consultation requests. The staff meeting had been tense, but the reshuffling of accounts and responsibilities was vital if Nathan was going to have any time to pursue outside interests and prevent the Tremayne family from hemorrhaging reputation, connections, and finances.
By noon he barely had a voice left, but at least the panic had been staved off, not that Nathan was breathing any easier. It seemed as if every time he stepped foot in this building, in his office, he couldn’t breathe.
For the last two years Nemesis had given him a purpose; a way to do some good and balance very uneven scales. Sitting behind a bank of monitors, working to protect investments and things was eking the life out of him one client at a time. He needed, he wanted, something more. Something where he could see the results and know he was making a difference. Like working with the kids at the gym, piquing their interest in something beyond cell phones and social media. He wanted to do something meaningful, fulfilling. And preferably legal.
Most of the time, anyway.
Sitting in his father’s office, behind his father’s desk, in his father’s chair, Nathan couldn’t help but feel like a little boy playing pretend. He was good at his job, but to what end? Finding ways around security systems stoked that fire that burned to test boundaries, but days like this he was reminded that the family business was his father’s dream, not his.
Was private consultation work the way to go? He’d enjoyed working on the security system at the museum, current situation excepted of course. Maybe that was the answer . . .
A knock sounded on his door. “Nathan?” His father’s longtime assistant poked her head inside. “Everything going okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Corrine. Come on in. Shut the door.” He got to his feet, feeling inordinately relieved to step out of his father’s shadow. “Thank you for helping me troubleshoot today,” he said. “I know Dad appreciates it.”
“Is he okay?” Corrine’s penny-brown eyes locked on his. “What’s going on isn’t any of my business, but I know how difficult these last few years have been for him.”
“You know better than most of us.” Nathan gestured for her to take a seat at the round conference table by the window. “And of course this is your business. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this earlier.”
She smoothed her pale pink dress under her as she lowered her lithe frame into the chair. Her long blond hair was as professionally kempt as usual, pulled back from her friendly, round face, but the strain around her eyes and mouth was evident. Steadfast and loyal, Corrine would step in front of a grenade for his family—and remain standing after it went off. “What is going on?”
“I can tell you Dad will be out of the office for a while.” His father had insisted Corrine be kept out of things as much as possible and Nathan agreed. But he also knew Corrine well enough to suspect if they didn’t at least keep her in the loop to some degree, she’d start digging for information herself. “He’s going to be staying at Malcolm’s beach house in Malibu for the next few weeks. If I can convince him to go.” And then if he could convince him to stay long enough for Nathan to deal with this. “In the meantime, I’m afraid quite a lot is going to land on you. I won’t be able to spend a lot of time in the office and I’ll need you to sit point in getting me what I need.”
“Is he sick?”
Her soft question caught him off guard while his delay in answering made tears erupt in Corrine’s eyes. “No, no. It’s nothing like that.” Nathan reached across the table and caught her hand. “Corrine, I promise, he’s not ill.” He should have realized Corrine would think the worst. She’d lost her own husband to ALS five years before, only months after his diagnosis and just after their son had turned nine. Nathan remembered hanging out with the boy after the funeral. Nice kid, quiet, and worshiped his father. “We would never lie to you, not about something like that. But I hope you understand there are some things we can’t talk about just yet.”
“Of course I do.” She swiped a finger under her eye and gave him a forced smile. “You and your family have always been so good to me and Noah. And your father. I don’t know how we would have gotten through those first few months after Jake’s death without his support. Your mother, too,” she added quickly. “Did you know she brought me a casserole one day a few weeks after the funeral?”
“Tell me you didn’t eat it,” Nathan said, feeling a momentary flash of panic. His mother, while talented in so many arenas, had been less than culinarily blessed.
“Of course not.” Corrine waved the thought aside with a laugh that made Nathan smile. “I was made well aware of your mother’s, shall we say, lack of kitchen skills, early on. But it was a wonderful thought. I know how much she meant to all of you. How much your father loved her. I felt the same for my Jake.” She fingered the chain around her neck, drawing up the wedding band from under her dress. “Nathan, I know I’m not family—”
“Don’t insult either of us by saying that, Corrine.” Nathan squeezed her hand. “Of course you’re family.”
“I appreciate that.” Her eyes brightened. “I just wanted you, all of you, to know, that if you need anything from me, anything to help your father or the company, all you have to do is ask.”
“I know that, Corrine. We all do.”
“Good. Okay. Well, that’s that. Oh, and I’m sorry. I should have mentioned when I came in. There’s a woman here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment and I told her this was an unusually busy day. She said she’d wait.”
“Who is it?” In the back of his mind he was praying it wasn’t another shareholder or investor.
“Laurel Scott.”
An odd sensation fluttered in his chest. “Oh. Yeah, okay. Send her on in.”
Corrine gave him an odd look as she got to her feet, but as she was ever the professional, refrained from saying something as she left.
“Knock, knock.” Laurel popped her head in the door. “Sorry to bother you. Your assistant said you were having a busy day.”
“Come on in.” The last thing he’d expected to deal with today was Laurel. In fact he’d hoped to delay seeing her again until he had that report from Malcolm, but that was his own fault for not getting her prints to his brother-in-law. He waved Laurel inside, brushing past her to close the door, and caught that scent of mind-spinning jasmine again. Might as well be a magic spell with the way it made his brain fog. “And Corrine is my father’s assistant, actually, although ask anyone who works here and they’ll tell you she runs pretty much the entire ship.”
“She seems very efficient. I came to apologize.” Laurel’s laugh didn’t seem quite hers and he was reminded of the cool woman he’d met at the museum. Whatever facade he’d seen slip the other day at the park had been cemented back in place, only this time with an attitude and overconfidence he didn’t care for one bit. “I shouldn’t have bolted like that. It was rude.”
“So you don’t have an aversion to Wonder Woman?” He gestured to the chair Corrine had vacated and watched her sit, taking in the slim line of her white pants and grey shimmery top that exposed the barest hint of lace between full breasts. She set her clutch on the table, touched restless fingers to the diamond drop earrings dangling from delicate lobes.
“On the contrary, I thought she was adorable.” Laurel crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knees. “So.” Now it was she who urged him to sit. She lifted heavy-lidded eyes to his as her lips curved.
Nathan considered her, looked for the woman who had accompanied him to the park—the woman he’d enjoyed spending time with. Every move this woman made felt calculated, planned, and nowhere near natural. Alarm bells jangled in his head. He was playing enough games already. He didn’t have time to add hers to his overfilled schedule.
“I’m having a hell of a day, Laurel, so how about you just tell me what game you’re playing.” He appreciated the flash of surprise-tinged temper in her eyes. “Just so I can catch up on the rules, because this isn’t working for me. Don’t get me wrong.” He folded his own hands in his lap. “I normally enjoy a challenge and trust me, I can see you’re going to be one, but this whole crown situation? My father being a suspect in its theft? That’s not a game. Nothing involving my family is. So cut the bullshit, Laurel. Why are you here? What is it you want?”
He gave her points for not cowering even as the nauseating seductress facade faded from her pretty face. Her eyes softened as she cringed slightly and she sighed. “I misjudged you.”
“You mean I’m not one of those men easily led around by his dick?” He arched a brow and smirked. “Thanks.”
“That’s not what I meant. Exactly.” Her forehead wrinkled and she glanced down at her hands. “You’re not the only one with a vested interest in finding the crown. My job’s on the line. If I don’t find it, I’ll be fired.”
“Better,” Nathan said and her chin kicked back up, irritation sparked. The real Laurel was emerging, albeit reluctantly. “I think we’re almost there. Third time should be the charm.”
“What are you, a human lie detector?” she snapped.
Ah, there she was. “Not normally, no.” He didn’t know why he had the urge to smile, but her confusion enticed him, as did her barely restrained irritation. She had layers. Lots and lots of enticing layers, and he knew beneath one of them was the Laurel he planned to use to his full advantage. He couldn’t wait to dig down to the bedrock of this woman. “Come on, Laurel. Try the truth this time. It won’t hurt, I promise.”
“Fine. There’s a five percent recovery fee I can collect and it’s money I need. There.” She crossed her arms over her chest and slumped back in the chair. “Happy?”
“Only five percent?” He frowned, tapping on his mental calculator. “How much is the crown insured for?”
“Fifteen million.”
“Son of a—are you serious?” Nathan nearly fell out of his chair. He’d seen pictures of the crown. It was atrocious, ugly even. “What is it made out of, gold or something?”
“Bronze, actually, and it’s the history that makes it so valuable, especially since it was thought only to be a legend as of about twenty years ago.”
“Why do you need the money?”
“I have gambling debts.” She glared at him.
He grinned. “No, you don’t.”
“I’m underwater on my condo.”
“Nuh-uh. Studio apartment, remember?”
“I give up.” She got to her feet and started to pace. “Okay, I’m greedy. There, are you satisfied? I like money. I like having it in the bank. Money means choice, it gives me options, and finding the crown means I can finally set my own rules.”
Nathan wasn’t convinced. There was more . . . the truth was like a genie in a bottle and he hadn’t rubbed her in quite the right way yet to get her to tell him the rest. But it would suffice. For now.
He stood and walked over to her, grabbed hold of her shoulders, and stooped down to look into her wide eyes. Boy, if looks could kill, he’d be ten feet under about now. Yeah. He could definitely have some fun with her. Earn her trust, get on her good side, then glean what he needed out of her while enjoying himself. Perfect. “Was that so hard?”
“Yes, actually.” She scrunched her mouth and for a moment he was tempted to stroke his fingers over her lips, to see just how far he could push before she snapped back. “Now what?”
“Now this.”
He hadn’t planned to kiss her. Hadn’t planned to do anything more than turn her toward the door and push her away. From the second his mouth captured hers, he knew he was in trouble. Like drowning in quicksand. The more he fought, the deeper he sank, and when he felt her body shift from shock to surrender, he moved in and dived deeper.
She tasted like fire, hot, tempting, tantalizing, and oh, so dangerous. When she stroked her tongue over his, as she stretched up and let out what sounded like a restrained growl, his entire body tightened and he hauled her into his arms. There was nothing timid or shy about this woman, not the way she looked, not the way she looked at him, and not in the way she kissed, and for a moment he knew this was where he belonged.
The thought burst through his dulled senses like a razor, cutting through the fog. He lifted his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut for the briefest of moments as he caught his breath.
“Well.” Laurel’s strangled voice managed to boost his ego a good notch and as he looked down at her. “That was not a good idea.” He felt her hands tremble slightly as she pushed against his chest, but he held on, flattening his hands against the base of her spine. “Not a good idea at all.”
“Agreed.” The last thing he needed was Laurel Scott in his bed. But right now, that was the only place he wanted her. “But I think we can also agree we need each other.”
She arched a skeptical brow at him.
“Where the crown is concerned,” he added. “Let’s start with dinner tonight. Some more conversation. Just to make sure we’re on the same page. I’ll pick you up at your hotel. Or the museum, whichever you prefer. Seven o’clock.”
She frowned. “You want to take me to dinner?”
He lifted his other hand and brushed it against her cheek, felt a rush of pleasure as her cheeks flooded with color. “For a start.” And because he could, he brushed his lips against hers again. Brief, but enough to make her eyes cloud and his own mind fog again. Interesting. He released her before he was tempted to take more than he should. “Your hotel?”
She nodded.
“Excellent. And do me a favor?” He glanced down at her shoes. “Wear flats?”
A new level of distrust deepened her gaze. “Why?”
He grinned. “Because I asked you to.”