“You look like you could use this.”
Nathan stared at the massive slice of pepperoni pizza Laurel slid in front of him. She’d ditched the wig, removed the contacts, and scrubbed her face clean the second they’d driven free of the prison, almost as if she couldn’t wait to leave Heather Richards behind.
“A beer would have been better.” As if alcohol would help get his thoughts in order. Thoughts that had been spinning around one another like an out-of-control tilt-a-whirl since the mention of his mother’s accident.
“We’re still driving.” She sat across from him at the wooden table outside the pizzeria on Pier 39.
The San Francisco tourist trap seemed the perfect respite after their visit with Mac. He needed the fresh air and something about the sound of barking sea lions and crowds brought him a sense of peace.
“Trust me. Carbs make everything better.” She sank her teeth into her own slice. The way her eyes rolled back in her head had Nathan thinking of something other than carb loading.
“So.” Nathan cleared his throat. “Did he live up to your expectations?”
She plucked a piece of pepperoni free to nibble on. “Who?”
“Who? Mac Price. I was surprised you weren’t bowing at his feet.”
“Given our secret identities, I don’t think that would have gone over well with the warden.” She grinned. “He exceeded them. Not that I got to talk to him about the Widow’s Peak job. Can you imagine the rush he must have gotten wheedling his way into the upper echelon of Los Angeles society only to waltz out with more than ten million dollars’ worth of stock options? It was genius.”
“It was reckless,” Nathan countered. But yes, brilliant, too.
“How was Mac reckless? He gave them a chance to refuse to sign over that stock. That’s the essence of a good con. Give them every opportunity to distrust you and make them feel guilty when they do. Then, bang! You’ve got them where you want them. I wonder where that money is now?”
“I doubt Mac will ever say, if he still has it. Personally, I’d like to know if he stole those plates Kolfax was in charge of.”
“Kolfax.” Laurel’s mouth twisted as if the pizza had turned rotten. “He’s such an odd element in all this. Even if Alastair hadn’t told me he had someone keeping tabs on me, I would have noticed him. It’s not like he’s inconspicuous. Unless he wasn’t trying to be, which just raises a whole bunch more questions.”
“Sounds to me like he and Alastair share the same tendencies toward obsession. Alastair with my Dad and Kolfax with Mac.” Nathan might have thought it sad, the way the former agent’s career had come to a skidding halt, if he hadn’t been witness to Kolfax’s treatment of his sister. If Nathan was convinced Kolfax had been doing his job, he might have given the former agent a pass, but his motives hadn’t seemed anywhere close to honorable. As far as Nathan was concerned, Kolfax had been one decision away from turning dirty. As far as Nathan was concerned, Kolfax deserved whatever he got.
Nathan finally bit into his own pizza, reaching for his phone when his text message alert beeped.
“Who’s that?” Laurel leaned forward to peek at his phone.
“A computer tech friend of mine. Cassidy Wells. She’s done some freelance work for me. I wanted someone”—he struggled for the word—“discreet.”
“Malcolm isn’t discreet?”
“I’m not sure he can be. Not about . . . this.” The last thing he wanted to do was put his brother-in-law in the position of having to keep secrets from—or lie to—Sheila.
“Is this something Mac said? Toward the end, right before we left.” She shrugged at his glimpse of surprise. “I’m not the only one with tells.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask me about it before now.”
“I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to.” She flinched, maybe from the hot cheese on her pizza, maybe from his unwillingness to voice what he feared. “That was a lot of information to digest. My main takeaway? Alastair’s even more of a son of a psycho than I gave him credit for. Thanks for not outing me to Mac. About getting tied up with Alastair.”
“Wasn’t my place to tell him. Besides, I’m betting once Mac does some more of his investigating, he’ll find out on his own.”
“What is it you have Cassidy Wells digging up for you?”
Nathan folded his arms across his chest, blinked up into the sun as if that could give him the answer he was looking for. “Mac said there are no coincidences where Alastair’s concerned. He also said he never comes at anyone directly.”
“Yeah.” Laurel fanned her mouth and sat back in her chair, hooking her foot in the rung. “And?”
“I asked Cassidy to dig up the police report on Olivia Manville’s car accident.”
“Alastair’s wife?” Laurel pinched her lips and studied him. “She committed suicide, didn’t she?”
“That’s what Mac said, but it’s how she died that’s bothering me.” He took a deep breath and felt a new stab of pain strike between his ribs. “My mother died in a car accident two years ago. On the freeway.” He met Laurel’s gaze. “She skidded into a pylon.”
“And now you’re thinking it wasn’t an accident after all.” The sympathy in her eyes was clouded only by anger and it was that look, that moment, Nathan felt his heart slip. “You think Alastair had your mother killed?”
“As we’ve come to realize, he’s capable of anything. Losing my mother nearly destroyed Dad. He hasn’t been the same.” Nathan winced. “A tailspin would be an understatement. He’s done things since that I couldn’t possibly begin to explain. Things that—”
“Things that maybe his younger self might have done?”
“How can I tell him?” Nathan scrubbed his hands over his face. “Hearing this, knowing Alastair might have been responsible for Mom’s death would be like losing her all over again. Not to mention he’d blame himself. He already feels guilty because he wasn’t with her. If it turns out she was killed in retaliation—”
“Stop. Nathan, stop it.” She leaned forward and grabbed hold of his hands, squeezed his fingers until they went numb. “You don’t know anything for sure yet. Wait and see what Cassidy finds, okay?”
“Yeah.” He was shaking. He didn’t shake. He didn’t crumble. But the idea Alastair Manville might have murdered his mother. He held even tighter to Laurel. “She’s going to send me copies of both my mother’s accident report and Alastair’s wife’s.”
“If she can find them,” Laurel said. “That was almost forty years ago—”
“If they exist, she’ll find them.” He’d worked with the young computer genius enough to know what she was capable of; the more complicated or impossible something seemed, the more Cassidy considered it a challenge.
“Nathan?” He wasn’t accustomed to the hesitation he heard in Laurel’s voice. “Are you sure you really want to know the truth? Once you do, there’s no going back.”
“There’s already no going back.” He appreciated her concern, but they’d moved past having many options. “There’s no coming out of this mess if I, if we, don’t know the truth about everything. No matter how much it might hurt.”
“Your family is stronger than you give them credit for. They can take it.”
“I hope so.” Because Nathan knew, deep down, he wasn’t wrong about this. Alastair Manville had murdered his mother. Which meant there wasn’t anything he wasn’t capable of.
***
“I forgot to ask,” Laurel said as Nathan slid the keycard into the door of the Cambridge suite at the Fairmont in San Francisco after playing tourist the last few hours. “What was on that paper Mac slipped you at the prison?” She whistled as she stepped inside. Nathan hadn’t been joking about impressing her. She was used to nice accommodations—TransUnited always put her up in excellent hotels, but there was excellent . . . and then there was, well, this.
The signature Fairmont flags could be seen outside the windows overlooking both the Grace Cathedral, one of the most beautiful churches in the city, and Huntington Park. With the fireplace, the plush sofa and chairs, and a stunning screen in the corner of the sitting room, she was almost afraid to sit down for fear of dirtying up the place.
But she did sit and immediately pulled out her laptop.
“You really don’t miss a trick, do you?” Nathan dropped their overnight bags—he’d declined help from the bellman downstairs yet still gave him a nice tip—onto the floor inside the door. “His son Rylan’s number. Any idea what you want to do for dinner?”
“Not yet. I want to talk to Poppy and Joey.” She clicked open the program and dialed before slouching into the cushions. She bounced back up the second Joey’s face exploded on her screen. Just like that, everything seemed right with the world. “Hey, there’s my Jelly Bean.”
“Hi, Mama!” Joey grinned an even bigger gap-toothed smile than usual. “I lost another tooth! And this one’s loose. Look.” She stuck her tongue against one of her baby teeth and pushed it all the way forward. “It’s only hanging by like one gooey thread. Poppy said the tooth fairy’s going to be able to retire after I’m done.”
“Looks like. Did you have a good day?”
“Uh-huh. I have some new friends. They look like him.” Joey pointed Burt out straight and Laurel glanced over her shoulder to find Nathan perched on the back of the sofa. “Hi!”
“Hello, Joey. I’m Nathan. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Mama, he’s pretty!” Joey whispered in a not-so-whispery voice. “Nathan, Mr. Ben and Mr. Chris said to tell you hi and that everything is A-OK around here.” She wrinkled her nose. “They said we’re going on a trip tomorrow. And then we’re coming to see you! Why didn’t you tell me!”
Laurel’s stomach dropped. Because she didn’t know. “Ah, Nathan? What—”
“I heard from someone how much you love to swim, Joey. My friends are going to take you up to our family cabin in Tahoe where you and Poppy can do all kinds of things. Swimming, horseback riding, you can even learn to drive a boat if you want.”
“I can?” Joey’s eyes went wide. “Mama, did you hear that? I can learn to drive a real boat! And Burt and I can ride a horse!”
“They’re going to have a great, safe time.” Nathan threw his legs over the back of the sofa and dropped down beside Laurel, taking a hold of her hand out of camera sight. He squeezed. “You know, I have a niece who loves superheroes, Joey. Who’s your favorite?”
“Um.” Joey cocked her head back and forth as Laurel felt her heart swell. All morning she’d been anxious to talk to her daughter, but she couldn’t have enjoyed herself more watching Nathan interact with her. He was just so good with . . . everyone. “I like that blond one with the hair,” Joey giggled. “He has that hammer thing that he whips around in the air.” She imitated the movement with Burt.
“Ah, a Thor girl. I should have known.” Nathan sighed. “Well, I guess us pretty boys have to stick together.”
“Do you know Thor?” Joey squealed.
“Shhhh. It’s a secret,” Nathan whispered. “You know what else is a secret? Did Mr. Ben give you your new code word?”
“Uh-huh.” Joey nodded so hard she almost bashed her head on her screen. “It’s—”
“No, don’t tell me, it’s a secret, remember?” Nathan said. “Only very special people like your mom and Poppy can know it besides you and Mr. Ben and Mr. Chris. And make sure Burt knows it, too, okay?”
“’Kay. Mama, I’m hungry. Can I go get a snack?”
“Sure, baby. Is Poppy there?”
“Yep! Here he is. Here, Poppy.” She shoved Burt the monkey into Poppy’s hands as she scooted off the chair and disappeared.
“Laurel, what’s going on?” Poppy asked, and then did a double take when he spotted Nathan. “You’d be Nathan Tremayne I take it? The one responsible for turning my house into a missile silo? And what’s this about a vacation?”
“Poppy,” Laurel cringed. “Taking a trip isn’t a bad thing.”
“I’m not a fan of firearms, you know that, Laurel.”
“It’s not forever,” she insisted. “And you love Tahoe.”
“This was my idea, sir.” Nathan nudged Laurel to the side to take over. “Laurel needs to know you and Joey are safe and my people will take good care of both of you. As soon as we get things under control, I’ll have them drive you both down.”
“Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, girl, it’s bad, isn’t it?” Poppy said and Laurel closed her eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment she expected. This is where having people around made things . . . complicated. She hated complicated. Even when complicated—she glanced at Nathan—was so incredibly tempting.
“It won’t be for long.” She hoped. She couldn’t live this way anymore. She couldn’t allow her family to live this way. As if this was living. “I might not be able to call for a while. Would you—” She blinked back a new rush of tears even as she swore she wouldn’t shed another. She couldn’t go on much longer . . . just . . . existing. “Would you just please tell Joey how much I love her and that I’ll be home soon. For good.”
“For good?” Poppy said with a sharpness that cut through her heart. “You mean it?”
“She means it,” Nathan said. “You have my word.”
“Well, then, I’d best let the two of you go so you can take care of whatever this is. As for me, I’ve got some dinner to fix for these boys of yours before we leave in the morning. Good night, Laurel. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Poppy.” Laurel pressed a kiss to her fingers then against the screen as it went blank. “I hate Manville,” she whispered. “I hate him so much for everything he’s stolen from me.” Even if it was her own fault for getting into this mess in the first place.
“Something far more valuable than whatever you stole from him, that’s for sure. Tell me something.” Nathan leaned back on the sofa and drew her fingers in between his. “Were you that cute as a kid or is she an anomaly?”
“I was a homely little thing, actually. And don’t fall in love with my kid.” She tried to pull free of his grasp but he wasn’t letting go. If anything, his hold tightened and so did her heart. She couldn’t afford this, couldn’t take the chance, couldn’t let herself want . . .
“Too late.”
“That’s not funny. I don’t think either one of our hearts will be able to take it when this is all over.” Risking her heart was one thing; risking her daughter’s was another.
“As long as your heart feels better now that you’ve seen and spoken with her. It does, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” And she would never be able to thank him enough for the peace of mind he’d given her.
“Great. Oh, and we’d best get one thing straight, Laurel.” He pressed his lips against her fingers. She bit her lip, focused on breathing as reason and desire battled it out inside her chest. “You don’t get to tell me who I fall in love with. Now, back to why those printing plates matter so much to Kolfax. I think that might be the answer behind his failed attempt to arrest my sister earlier this year.”
Laurel happily shifted topics and she kicked off her shoes, stretched out her legs. She almost felt free of the worry that had plagued her for years. Almost. Enough that maybe she could take some risks. “Didn’t that whole thing have something to do with that burglar Nemesis and some drug cartel out of Florida?” She watched his face for a hint of reaction to Nemesis. It had taken her a while, longer than it should have, but Mac had provided the confirmation she’d needed. Now she got to play. Before she got to . . . play.
“It did. Kolfax has laser focus. And by focus, I mean he nearly destroyed the foundation and my sister’s relationship with Gage.”
“Well, that worked out just fine. Near as I can tell, this Nemesis is part guardian angel when it comes to your family. Put that room service menu down.” She shoved herself up and sighed as she plucked the menu out of his hand. “You might be willing to spend half a month’s salary on a hotel room, but we’re blocks away from one of the best burger joints in the city. Dinner is on me. Now fill me in on Morgan’s past with Nemesis and Kolfax while I change.” He caught her arm as she passed. “What?”
“You had me cancel the second bedroom when we checked in, remember?”
She remembered. Oh, dear Lord, his voice. The deep rumble, the hint of promise, combined with the gentle stroking of his finger down the inside of her wrist. All her life she’d been careful with her heart, hadn’t given it freely. Hadn’t given it at all, not when she knew it would matter, and yet right now, with Nathan, all she could think about was being with him . . . for as long as she could. She’d tried so hard not to play with fire, but now, more than anything, she wanted to be burned. It was time to take what she wanted. For however long she could have it.
“I’m a practical girl.” She twisted her arm free and popped up on her toes to kiss him. “I can sleep on a sofa.” Grinning, she stepped back, not at all surprised when his hands whipped out and caught her arms, dragging her to him. “Don’t we have some work to do?” She angled her neck as his lips found her throat and sent tingles coursing through her with the force of a category four tornado. She pressed her lips together, tried not to let the moan building up in her throat escape as she tangled her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. She’d been playing this game for so long, but it had never felt like this. “Some plans to make. Nathan?”
“Hmmmm?” He worked his way around to her ear, nibbled at the skin, nipped and soothed with his tongue. Oh, man. He was so good at that, of making her forget how to think and just . . . feel.
“I just need to know one thing first.” She pressed herself into him, trying to keep focused on the task at hand while she . . . focused on the task at hand. God, he felt so . . . good. She moved against him, felt him harden against her, and knew she had him in just the right place to . . . “I need to know.” She clasped his head between her hands and waited until he opened his eyes to look at her. She kissed him, long, deep, and felt his body go taut as he wrapped his arms around her and nudged her to the bedroom. Not yet. Soon. But. Not. Yet. Oh, God. Her head spun. But there was one question she needed an answer to first. “Will I be making love with Nathan Tremayne?” Another kiss. Another wave that set her heart to hammering. She wanted him to touch her. Despite the warnings glaring in the back of her mind, she wanted . . . everything. “Or am I sleeping with Nemesis?”
His hands stilled. His mouth flattened into a hard line as he took a deep breath. But when he opened his eyes again, when he looked into hers, she couldn’t decide what she was seeing. And neither, apparently, could he. “Well, shit.”
She grinned and trailed a finger down the center of his lips. “Is that ‘well, shit, she’s right’ or ‘well, shit, how can she think that of me’?”
“It’s more like your sense of timing sucks.” He kissed her again, this time with his eyes open, and she didn’t dare look away. He gripped her hips and slid his hands under her suit jacket, skimmed under the waistband of her pants, lightly enough to make her wish their clothes would magically disappear. “Does it change anything?”
She linked her arms behind his neck and hooked one leg up and around his thigh, biting her lip as she felt him pressing against her core. She’d locked this part of herself away for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to surrender, to put herself in someone else’s hands—someone else’s heart. All her reason, her determination, even her fear had put her here, with Nathan, at this moment. She was tired of living under someone else’s control, someone else’s rules. For once, she was going to do what felt right . . . even if it was wrong.
“Laurel?” He whispered her name, part question, part plea as his hands slid down to cup her butt and lifted her against him.
“It changes everything.” She curled herself around him as he carried her to the bedroom, but they only made it as far as the doorway before he pressed her against the frame and covered her mouth with his. Her legs shook as she whimpered, needing, wanting to feel more of him, all of him.
No regrets. No hesitation. This, Nathan, was all she wanted, all she needed. Nathan was all that mattered. “Tell me you packed protection,” she said when she could catch her breath. “If I have to run down to that damned lobby store . . .”
“I’m always prepared, remember?” He ran hard, flat palms down her sides, dragging the hem of her blouse out from her waistband so he could skim his fingers underneath. “You feel so good.” He kissed her neck and she banged her head back, wincing and shuddering as his palms smoothed up and cupped her breasts through her bra. “Not enough.” He braced her against the doorframe with a knee between her legs and she groaned. “Damn tiny buttons.”
Bracing her hands on his shoulders she lowered her forehead against his, licking her lips as his brow wrinkled; the fumbling of fingers as he popped buttons free more erotic than anything she’d seen in years. He was either nervous—which she didn’t believe for one second—or anxious, which she totally understood. In fact . . .
She pushed herself down until her feet touched the floor, ridding herself of her black blazer as he loosed the last button. He parted the fabric with a sigh that sounded almost reverent. The black demi-bra strained against her breasts as she drew his head down, feeling powerful as he kissed and licked his way under the delicate lace. She pushed him back, walked him toward the bed, grinning at the flash of irritation that crossed his face when he had to abandon what he was doing to keep his balance.
“Your turn.” She shoved his jacket off his shoulders and made lightning-fast work of his shirt buttons until she got to the bottom two, when she lifted her mouth to his, brushing the backs of her fingers against the hard ridge behind the zipper of his pants as she opened his shirt. The growl that came from the back of his throat triggered every female instinct to roar. The feel of his skin, the slight dusting of hair on his chest, tapering to the V beneath his waistband, electrified every cell and had her wanting to go faster, harder. But the idea of drawing this out, drawing him out . . . that sounded even better. She stepped away, flicked her gaze to his suitcase across the room, and while he retrieved what they needed, she discarded her pants, deciding to keep her underwear on . . . for now.
“Jesus,” he muttered when he came back to her wearing only his pants and dropped the foil packets onto the nightstand. He ripped the bedspread off the king-sized mattress. She moved into him, pressing her breasts against his chest, her hands roaming down to those captivating muscles carved into his hips. She scraped her nails against his firm, taut skin as she danced delicate fingers lower, teased the zipper down. His breathing increased, but he seemed content to let her explore and tease and . . . taunt.
He groaned as she found him, stroked the length of him and lifted her face to see the desire in his eyes matching her own. She squeezed her hand, the heat between her own legs becoming too much. She moved against him, the need for release building inside her. She wanted him to touch her, feel her, everywhere.
“Nathan,” she whispered. One word. Of surrender. Of promise. She released him and in an instant, he’d kicked away his clothes, turned, and hauled her against him before she could get a full look. When he lowered her to the bed, the cool blanket caressed her back and he lowered himself over her. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this wanted before, this desired. The look in his eyes—as if she was the only thing he’d ever needed—overwhelmed her.
It wasn’t enough when he stroked his hand down between her still-covered breasts, trailed his fingers lightly down her stomach, which quivered under his touch. He dipped his fingers under the lace band of her panties, where he covered her with his palm.
She arched off the bed, exposing her neck to his mouth again as he drew his finger down and around, stroking her, moistening his finger with her wetness before stroking her again. The pressure built inside her, hot, throbbing, and she bit her lip, clawed at him, silently demanding he finish what he’d started. Her legs fell open as he inched down, allowing his lips to trace the same path his fingers had taken moments before. This time, he scraped his fingers under the sides of her panties and drew them down and off.
“Nathan.” She reached down, tangled her fingers in his hair as he returned to stroking her. “Please.” He pressed his lips where his fingers had been and she came, gasping her way through the tremors, her body gripping his fingers as he pressed into her more intimately than before. Before she could catch her breath, he was gone, the warmth of him vanishing as he moved away. She heard the rustling of foil and she pushed herself up on her elbows to watch him cover himself. Inching into the middle of the bed, she shot him a come hither look and as their eyes met and she shifted onto her still trembling knees, reached behind her and unclasped her bra.
She let him draw the straps down her arms as he joined her on the bed, his fingers barely skimming her flesh as he drew the lace and satin from her, then ran his roughened palms against her nipples, catching her gasp in his lips. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured when he released her mouth. Kneeling in the middle of the bed, their hands explored, dancing over each other before urgent need took over once again. She pushed him over and onto his back, shifting over him and as she clasped their hands together, she lowered herself onto him.
He filled her, completely, and had her panting as she gripped his fingers between hers, lifting herself again, only slightly, but enough to hear him pant to keep control. She squeezed her knees against the sides of his hips, watched his stomach muscles clench as she rode him. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he watched her, the mingled expression of pride and masculine arousal the most powerful aid she could have imagined. Her body began to tingle again, to heave again, but she wasn’t ready for it to be over. She wanted to go on and on, with him inside of her, for fear that once he left, she’d be alone again.
“Laurel.” He pulled a hand loose and stroked the side of her face.
“Not. Yet.” She bit her lip, tried to stop herself from moving, from bringing him with her, but she couldn’t. It was as if her body had taken over. So she surrendered, releasing him, and when she did, he sat up, gripped her waist and rotated them so he could drive himself more deeply into her.
She cried out, her knees pressing into her chest as he drew her pleasure to the point she thought she would shatter. One touch, one more thrust and she’d . . .
Nathan arched his back, this time erupting with her and she watched as his face glistened, his eyes glazing over with the passion she knew she’d given him. And when he lowered himself on top of her, she curled into him, around him, burrowing to where she couldn’t imagine ever leaving. And finally, for the first time in her life, knew what it was to be loved.
***
He was done for. Nathan rubbed the creases from his forehead as if he could scrub the admission from his psyche. Damn it, she was right the other day when she said this would complicate things, but right now he didn’t care. Sure she was frustrating, irritating, stubborn as hell, but she also turned the color on full blast, to the point she blinded him.
He blamed the baseball bat. Watching her swing that bat at the van had sent him spiraling headfirst into something that until Laurel, he hadn’t been convinced would ever be his. Yet he hadn’t been able to utter the words, hadn’t been able to completely grasp the concept he was in love with her. Was he? Could he be even though a part of him knew he couldn’t trust her? She held so much back, continued to dance around truths that, as far as he was concerned, there was no reason to avoid. What did he have to do to prove she could trust him?
“How long have you known?” Nathan pressed his lips against Laurel’s damp forehead, unable to relinquish his hold on her. He’d shifted them beneath the soft sheets with what energy he’d had left. If she’d drawn out their lovemaking out any longer he wasn’t sure he’d have survived. As it was, his heart still hadn’t caught up with the rest of him.
“About you and your father being Nemesis?” She snuggled into him, resting her chin on her hand as she blinked up at him. Her hair mussed, her face flushed, it was all he could do not to catch her face in his hands, kiss her again, and start all over. “I wasn’t certain. Not until we talked to Mac. It never made sense to me why your father went into the police station and connected himself to the case in the first place. Letting the van creeps go told me he was protecting more than himself. If it had only been his reputation and life on the line, he’d have turned himself in to put a stop to things. Mac’s comments confirmed my suspicions.”
“And here I thought those slipped past you.”
“Nothing slips past me.” Her fingers tapped down his chest, circled his navel, slid lower. He caught her fingers before he lost all coherent thought.
“Got it all figured out, do you?” Oh, good God.
“Hmmmm.” She scooted higher so she could stroke his face. “I believe I do.” She nibbled her way across his jawline. “It’s a joint effort. You and your dad playing modern-day Robin Hood and redistributing the wealth. Just like he did forty years ago. So when he confessed to the D.A.—” her tongue darted out to taste his lips. He wrapped his arms around her and pushed her onto her back into the pile of pillows, stroked his fingers through the spill of her hair. She was perfect, the curves of her body fitting exquisitely with his, the way she held on to him, guided him, encouraged him. He didn’t know if he could ever get his fill of her. “So when he confessed,” she repeated through the fog hovering in her eyes, her lips curving in that smile that told him she knew what he was doing as his fingers began their exploration again. “He was telling the truth. Tricky, your family. I like that.” She lifted her head and met his mouth, drawing him onto her as her legs entwined with his.
“You’ve almost got it.” He groaned as her hips rotated against him, the teasing glint in her eyes all the encouragement he needed to eke out the final piece of the puzzle. “But you missed someone.” He kissed her. “Nemesis is a three-person job.”
“Three . . . person . . . oh, God. Mmmm.” She arched off the bed, pressing her breasts against his chest as he pressed himself against her. “Jesus, I can’t think.” She lifted a hand to her face only to drop it on the nightstand to grab a foil packet. Second later, he pushed forward. “You’re not letting me . . .” she panted. “Screw it. We’ll talk later.” She clasped his face between her hands, kissed him so softly his mind emptied except for thoughts of her, the scent of jasmine dancing off her skin Then she locked her feet at the base of his spine and pulled him in hard, driving him into her so fast and so deeply they both groaned. “Much, much later.”
***
“I’m too tired to guess.” Laurel set her take-out box on the coffee table in the sitting room and flopped down beside Nathan on the couch. “Stay over there!” She held out her hand when he inched toward her, the grin on his face touching something so deep within her, she ached. “I need food before you touch me again. It can’t be Malcolm. He hasn’t been in town long enough and Nemesis has been—”
“So you give up?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I don’t get points for guessing who two-thirds of Nemesis is?”
“I gave you your points.” He flipped open his own box and pulled out a double cheeseburger topped with fried jalapeños. “Stop pouting. Or I’ll tell my sister you didn’t have enough faith in her to think she was worthy of being part of Nemesis.”
“Your sister!” Laurel smacked a hand against her thigh, which was half-covered by Nathan’s discarded shirt. She’d claimed it for herself the second she’d climbed out of his bed, leaving him to pull on his boxers and set her body to humming all over again. “Sheila. Of course.” Why hadn’t she made that connection?
“What makes you think it’s not Morgan?”
“Like that woman has the time.” She plucked up an onion ring and bit in. And here she thought Nathan could make her swoon. It was so nice to have her appetite back. “So, what? You guys take turns when it comes to breaking in?”
He shook his head and she leaned her cheek on her hand, loving the way his tousled hair brushed against his shoulders. She blinked, committing this image, this moment, to memory. She wasn’t strong enough to stay, not when she knew she’d end up hurting him. She knew from experience the more she tried to avoid it, the bigger the fallout would be. But for now? She took a deep breath. For now she’d let herself be just a little bit happy.
“Nemesis was Dad’s baby from the offing. Literally,” he said with an ironic smile. “Not that he shared his previous history in the art of the heist before this debacle with the crown. He’s the idea man, the one who picks the targets—usually due to something idiotic they’ve said in the press or something they’ve done at another’s expense. He’s big on justice, remember?”
She nodded. “So if he maps everything out, you and Sheila, what? Take turns executing?”
“Sheila’s talents lie along more artistic lines. Put a pen, pencil, paintbrush in her hand, and she can create anything from an original work of art to an exact replica of, well, take your pick.”
“She’s a forger?” She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice, but her shock dimmed when she considered the art gallery heist that had gone down at the same time as the museum theft. “Those pieces in the gallery, the ones that were declared fakes. Sheila’s work?”
“Purposely off the mark,” he said. “We needed them to be seen as fakes sooner than later. Made for a great diversion while I got my hands on the pieces we were really after.”
“Recovering stolen World War II paintings must have been a serious adrenaline rush.”
Man, what a crazy, fun family. The idea of the Tremaynes—especially Nathan Tremayne—being master criminals made her body tingle. “That’s how you figured out how the thieves got the crown out of the museum. You’re a thief!”
“Told you I knew how to think like one.”
“And I thought you were sexy before.” She stretched out her foot.
He looked down at her peach-tinted toes as they inched higher up his thigh. “Don’t light the match if you don’t want to start the fire.”
Laurel sputtered and, laughing, pulled her foot away and reached for the soda she’d retrieved from the minifridge. “This is nice. It feels . . . safe.” For however long it lasted, she couldn’t thank him enough.
“Will you tell me about Joey’s father?
Laurel shrugged, the pang of loss having faded to a dull ache. “What do you want to know?”
“Did you love him?”
The topic shifted so fast she lost her breath. She sat back with a sigh. He just dived right in, didn’t he? “As much as a seventeen-year-old girl can love anyone, I suppose. Charlie was fun, dangerous. He took care of me. For a while. Then I took care of him.”
“You said he fell in with the wrong crowd?”
“He got cocky.” And she’d gotten frustrated. She’d wanted a home, stability, especially after Joey was born. After almost five years, she’d earned it. “He tried to grab for something too far out of reach. By that time Joey was six months old. I’d gone straight. He’d tried, couldn’t. Went in on a truck heist that ended with him in the morgue. Have you ever had to identify someone’s body?”
“No.” He tangled his hand in her hair and she leaned into his touch as if he could heal her heart.
“I was so angry. And sad. Because he’d had a rough life, you know?” No, Nathan didn’t, not in the same way, but she couldn’t dwell on that. “He left us alone. I was petrified social services was going to come knocking on my door to tell me I couldn’t keep her. But they didn’t. And, well, you know what happened then.”
“You and Charlie never got married?”
“No. No, how can I marry anyone when I don’t know who I am? I’m made up, Nathan. I was literally plucked off the ground and plopped into this life. There are no roots; there’s nowhere I belong.”
“That’s not true.”
“Please, let’s not go there, okay?” She shifted farther away where he couldn’t touch her. Where he couldn’t see . . . “We’re about to walk into a shit storm of crazy in the next couple of days. Can’t we just enjoy this time together?”
“Don’t you want more? Don’t you want to belong somewhere?”
“When all you’ve been is a check in the mail or a form to fill out or a means to an end, it’s hard to believe there’s anything else.” She kept her tone light, as if admitting all this to him wasn’t akin to taking a knife to her wrist and cutting herself open. “I’ve had twenty-seven years to get used to being alone, Nathan. It’s who I am. But I don’t want that for Joey. I want her to have everything I didn’t. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to ensure that for her.”
“You think I don’t understand?”
“I think you want to understand. But I meant what I said. I’m toxic. It’s only a matter of time before I poison this, poison you against me, and you’ll forgive me if I want to enjoy the hell out of you before I do.”
He set his burger down and reached for her, sliding his hand down her arm. “Why do you assume this is all going to end? Why don’t you have any faith in yourself? In me? Can’t you trust me?”
She wanted to close her eyes, to block out the fact he’d asked her the one question she didn’t want to answer, because the truth terrified her to her marrow. “I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. I’m trusting you with the most important thing in my life, my daughter’s safety. If we do this, if we go full bore at Alastair, he’s going to know I’ve betrayed him and switched sides. Tell me Joey isn’t going to pay the price for that.” Tell me I’m not.
“You’d already decided to take Alastair on yourself, remember?” He twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers. “You were just using us to do it. Now you’ve got us on your side. He can’t win against all of us.”
She shook her head, unwilling, unable to process the possibility that five years of hell could almost be over. “Not believing means I can’t be disappointed when things go wrong.”
“Things don’t always have to go wrong.” He brushed his mouth against hers so gently it brought tears to her eyes. “I’ll never disappoint you, Laurel. I promise. And Tremaynes always keep their promises.”