Power Play: A Romance Collection

by Lauren Landish

  She doesn’t answer, but I see the shifty way her eyes flick to the kitchen.

  “It was Matt,” I declare, pointing at the kitchen. “What if he’s been playing you, me, and the FBI all along?”

  Claire purses her lips, thinking, and Nathan jumps at the opening. “Really, so if Michael was killed by a hitman and Anna was too, and if Matt had something to do with that, what better way to redirect suspicion? And he said, ‘He’ll send someone else. He wants it,’ so what if the ‘it’ is something only Michael and Anna knew about? The hits were about that.”

  “That’s a lot of ifs,” Claire scoffs. “And what did they have that someone wanted so badly?”

  I’m not sure if Nathan wants to go there, so I let him take the lead. “A gem. Or at least a map to one. Matt must be working for someone who wants the map.”

  “You mean worked, past-tense, since you killed him.” Her tone is sharp, biting again, but I can see it’s because she’s listening to us. The twisty turns her mind must be making are painful, ones of betrayal by her own partner, and that has to be hard. “You do realize I have to call this in.”

  “If you feel you need to, do it,” Nathan says nonchalantly, although I’m sure he’s shitting bricks inside. “An FBI agent hiding in my kitchen on what is obviously an assassination assignment of a private citizen. And trust me, I have plenty of security cam footage that would back me up. How do you think that’s going to play out? For him, for the FBI, for his partner?”

  The threat hangs heavy, and before things can get out of hand again, I step in between them. “Claire, I don’t know what’s up with Matt, but he did try to kill Nathan. You know that’s not how the FBI works, or at least not how it should work.”

  “There will be questions. It’s not like this can be shuffled under the rug if an agent goes missing,” Claire protests. “Nathan will have to answer for this.”

  “Please, Claire,” I plead. “Work with us.”

  She hears the meaning. ‘Us’ is Nathan and me, not me and her. I’ve picked my side. The only thing left is for her to choose hers. Me or the FBI?

  Claire gives Nathan a hard look then turns to me, crossing her arms. “Maybe he didn’t kill Anna, but he’s still not a good man, and tonight doesn’t change what he has done. I put you here to find out about his business dealings because he’s shady, Em. I know he is.”

  “I’m not some squeaky-clean charitable do-gooder,” Nathan admits, speaking up to defend himself. “I run a company successfully and proudly. One that, I’ll admit, I’ve spent years trying to clean up in a dirty fucking industry. And so far, I’ve done pretty well using skill, foresight, and maybe a bit of luck.”

  “Guess my new nickname is Lucky now,” Caleb mouths off, smirking. No one responds but Claire rolls her eyes at him.

  “Has Stone Corp always been on the right side of the law? No,” Nathan reiterates. “Some of that echoes of my father's legacy, and some of it’s the nature of the international gem trade.”

  “My heart weeps for you,” Claire growls, and Nathan glares at her.

  “But it is as close as I can get it when I’m dealing with an industry that is decidedly ugly. And I’m breaking no laws, US or otherwise. I promise you that.”

  “And Nikolai Romanov? Why would you have dealings with a man like that? We both know there is no doubt about him,” Claire asks, trying to jab back.

  “I’m not responsible for his business,” Nathan replies. “My father had business with the Russians previously, and I made a one-time arrangement for a trip with Nikolai to pay my father his last respects. That’s all.”

  Claire’s smile is smug, “You mean Daddy Stone’s ashes? Tell me again how you got those since he was buried?”

  Nathan pinches his nose, reaching the end of his rope. “Yes, I told everyone it was to spread his ashes. Because telling people that I wanted to go there and spit on his legacy isn’t exactly the image I want to give people, about him or me. I made that deal with Nikolai for safe passage so I could drain the black scourge of anger my dad left me with and hopefully start fresh. And I did that. Only to return to an agent attempting to assassinate me in my own home.”

  I nod, begging her to see the truth, to let this go. Nathan has done nothing wrong, at least not tonight. As for Brazil . . . that’s not germane to Matt getting shot.

  For the first time ever, I see Claire lose her cool. She slips the gun into her holster and throws her hands down, yelling out, “Fuck!”

  She starts pacing, and I can see her lips moving as she works through everything we know.

  She’s got to believe us. It’s the only way, and I absolutely think it’s the truth. Or at least part of it. Someone sent Matt, so there’s more, but this is where we’re at. Nathan didn’t kill his Dad or Anna, and we all know that. Even Kyle knows it, and he rightfully wants blood for Anna’s death.

  If only Claire will realize it too.

  The moment grows as she works her way through every angle, and when she sighs glumly, I know she’s finally arrived at the same conclusion.

  “I’ll go to Matt’s apartment, see what I can find. I’ll be back shortly.” It’s a big concession on her part, a sign that she believes us.

  “Thank you, Claire. So much. But how can you get in Matt’s apartment?” I ask.

  She looks at me miserably, and my heart breaks at what I see in her eyes. Oh, no, Claire, not that . . . not that. “One, I’m an FBI agent. Two, he’s my partner. If something happens to one of us, the other knows the basics to make sure everything is taken care of. We don’t use the emergency access, or at least I never have, and I don’t think he ever has, but I can pay his bills online and have a key to water his plants. Shit like that.”

  I want to go with her, but Claire shakes her head no, that it would be too suspicious.

  Claire looks toward the kitchen. “Matt?”

  “I’ve got him,” Caleb says. Claire’s dark glower broadcasts that Caleb just put a big target on himself. Claire will be looking into him for sure. But he stands tall, no hint of fear on his face as he stares her down.

  “Don’t touch him. Not until I know what’s going on. That is an order.” She points at Caleb, standing tall and authoritarian.

  “I have to,” Nathan interjects. “The seeds have been planted and sown. Matt led everyone at the FBI to think I’m guilty of some really damning things. There’s no telling what else he planted or who else he told.”

  He looks to Kyle, who had shown up tonight under the same contrived story of Nathan’s actions. “And judging by his presence tonight, he’s willing to go pretty damn far for this. For me. If he turns up dead at my hand, even with all the footage and witness accounts, you know there are going to be lots of questions. Ones neither of us want right now.”

  He’s going back on his earlier threat, giving her some mercy in the hope that she returns the favor.

  He waits a beat, letting that sink in, then with more kindness than I’d expect, he says, “What we do with his body doesn’t change who he was to you.”

  “I’ll be back in one hour.”

  She can’t bear to give the go-ahead, and maybe she thinks her previous order will hold fast, but Caleb nods, hearing the deadline to have this place cleaned up and cleared of anything questionable. As soon as Claire leaves, out the front door this time, Caleb looks at Nathan.

  “You sure about all this?”

  He briefly looks over at me, Kyle, and Carly, and I can tell he knows there’s more to the story there, but the ticking of the countdown clock is weighing on us all.

  Nathan dips his chin once, and that’s enough for Caleb. Jake comes back in wearing black coveralls, a soldier awaiting orders. “Caleb?”

  “Full clean-up. We’ve got forty-five,” Caleb says, stripping off his T-shirt. “Get the gear.”

  I lift an eyebrow, but Nathan shakes his head as Jake and Caleb disappear. Nathan keeps us all in the living room, though we can hear an occasional thump as they wrap up Matt’s body. They’
re talking, making plans, I assume, but their voices are too low to distinguish.

  After about twenty minutes, Caleb pokes his head into the living room. “Basics are covered, but there’s wood damage. Jake needs help with the next step, so I need to bounce too. I’ll be back soon. Probably not before Claire is done, so I’ll check in.”

  The cold realization washes through me as I understand they’re taking Matt’s body to dispose of it somewhere, somehow, and they’re doing it so efficiently, as if it’s a regular day at the office.

  I want to know if that’s true, but I also don’t want to know. Ignorance really is bliss, and I don’t want to change my view of Nathan and Caleb. But I’m begging Claire to, so I need to be willing to do the same. I force myself to ask.

  “Is this something you and Caleb have done before?”

  “Caleb and I have been through some dark shit,” Nathan confirms, his voice and face haunted, “have done some things we’ll never be able to take back. Both for our country and for money. But those stains are on my soul. I won’t sully yours with them too.”

  His non-answer is answer enough, but as the truth settles in my heart, I’m surprisingly not freaking out. I trust that he’s done what he had to do, and if he hadn’t . . . he wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be mine. Fate would have conspired to keep us apart.

  From beside me, I see Carly place her hand on Kyle’s, and the same look echoes in his eyes, like there are ghosts surrounding him. But Carly obviously cares for him, maybe even loves him and his ghosts. It gives me the strength to nod to Nathan, letting him know that everything’s okay.

  Day by day, ghost by ghost, we’ll figure out how to overcome whatever’s in his past and deal with the consequences together.

  Time ticks by until Claire returns. She looks paler than when she left and is holding a stack of papers and a laptop. “Is there a place I can spread this out to show you what I’ve found?” she asks.

  Nathan leads us all into the dining room where the additional change of scenery does us all good, I think. The holding pattern of waiting in the living room was getting to me without my even realizing it.

  Claire takes the spot at the head of the table, opening and booting up the laptop as she speaks. “I found bank statements from an account Matt didn’t have on his emergency list with me. It’s an offshore account, with way more than he should have as an FBI agent in it.”

  “How much?” Kyle asks, and Claire’s lips press together. “I see.”

  In seconds, Claire logs into the computer. “How’d you know his password?” Nathan asks.

  “I know him. And paid attention every time he’d lecture about password security,” Claire says, her voice still pained. We haven’t discussed it, but that conversation is coming. Hopefully, it’ll be between just the two of us. “For all his righteousness, I figured it out in three tries.”

  The screen fills with a beach wallpaper and surprisingly few icons. Matt was neat and tidy, apparently. Claire clicks to open the file explorer and then finds what she’s looking for.

  Moments later, Claire is showing us a bank statement.

  “Look.” She points at an account owned by John Mattison. She reaches into the papers she brought with her and holds up a passport and driver’s license with Matt’s picture, but the name on both is John Mattison. “Seems he was using an alias for the account and for his travels.”

  Nathan and Kyle stand, moving behind her to peer intently at the screen. “Travels?”

  She points at the screen again, highlighting a handful of airline charges. “Once you get somewhere, you can use cash and be untraceable, but you can’t book a flight without some form of account tracing. There’s always a record.”

  Kyle locks onto Claire, his voice tight. “Where’d he go? Italy?”

  “I already thought of that,” Claire says, her voice bitter now. “He was here tonight and had insulated himself and me into this case so well that it was my first thought.” She clicks a few times, getting further and further back in the transactions and then stopping, a sad look on her face. “Here.”

  Kyle’s choked cry is gut-wrenching as he collapses into a chair, and Carly is instantly in his lap, holding his head to her chest as he breaks down.

  Claire’s voice is soft, sympathy lacing through it. “Eighteen months ago, he made a trip to Nice, France. Seventy-two hours later, he flew out. From Nice to Rome, there are trains . . .”

  Her voice catches, and she sighs. “It matches the timeline for Anna’s death. It tracks that he killed Anna, or at the very least, was there.”

  Kyle’s grief washes through the room, stopping us all in our tracks as our hearts break for his loss.

  He sobs quietly, and Carly whispers against his hair, “He’s gone. She’s at peace now.”

  Kyle slams his hand on the dining room table, his voice rough with fury. “I want to bring the fucker back to life so I can kill him again. Nice and slow, the way he deserves.”

  But Carly soothes him, kissing his brow gently. “She wouldn’t want that and you know it. You’ve done her memory justice. Now let her be. Live for her. Live for me, Kyle.”

  It feels voyeuristic, but none of us look away. His arms wrap around her waist and he squeezes Carly so tight, I’m surprised she doesn’t break, but it seems to ground him and his shuddering exhale is one of release and relief.

  Before our very eyes, though, his shields come back up, muscles coiling, shoulders broadening out, and jaw clenching. It’s like his moment of vulnerability never happened, and while Carly maybe still sees it, the man who stands before me is professional, detached, his eyes once again revealing little.

  He nods and Carly looks back to us. “What else?”

  Claire takes the cue and keeps scrolling. “There are payments, more influxes of cash well beyond what an FBI agent makes. A handful over the last couple of years. But there are two incoming payments last year. The timelines mesh, so I think one is payment for services rendered for Michael and the other for Anna.”

  “Motherfucker!” Nathan explodes. “He really did kill them both!”

  Chapter 44

  Nathan

  I pace back and forth in the dining room as Claire keeps talking, my mind clicking through the past.

  It feels good to put a face with the crime, to know who snuffed out my father’s life. Despite all the hard feelings I have for him, for all the stress as I figured out how to recover the company he was running into the ground, and so many nights as I lay awake in bed, the little boy inside me still angry over a dad who’d left again.

  I’d expected to feel relief, but instead the answer only provides more questions. It’s a never-ending quagmire, just like how my dad lived his life and that infuriates me.

  I need to stop.

  I need to break myself free of this cycle, caring about what he did or didn’t do. If I’m going to be a man worth a damn, I need to stop living in the past.

  Especially when my present and my future is right here beside me. She deserves more. I deserve more.

  “Enough. That’s enough,” I declare, standing up. “Matt killed my father, something he probably deserved a hundred times over. He killed Anna, whose only misdeed was in knowing Michael Stone. And for that, Kyle, I grieve for you from the bottom of my heart. But Matt is dead, my father is dead, and Anna is dead. No more. It ends here tonight. No more death.”

  I turn around and drop down to my knees at Emma’s feet, taking her hand as I look into her eyes. “You and me, Emma. No treasure hunting, no past. It’s over. From this moment, it’s just you and me and forever. I want a new life, one where I’m yours and you’re mine, and we build a life around that. Around us. I love you.”

  The words come easily this time, the label more certain but the need just as all-consuming.

  Emma hugs me to her, dropping to the floor beside me to wrap her arms around my neck, squeezing tight. “I love you too, Nathan.”

  Vaguely, I realize we’re putting on just as much of a show as
Kyle and Carly did, but I can’t seem to care.

  Claire clears her throat, piercing the fog of happiness but sounding reluctant to do so. “As touching as you two may be, there’s one more thing you need to know.”

  I shake my head, turning to look her in the eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

  “Nice sentiment, but you think whoever sent Matt here tonight is going to feel the same way? It doesn’t just end here,” Claire argues, her voice hard and accusatory.

  “If it were just Matt, I’d overlook all this, let Caleb do . . . whatever the hell he’s doing . . . and put all this shit back in his apartment and let the DOJ think he’s a dirty agent who got double-crossed by his employers.” She chokes the words out, and I wonder about her relationship with her partner. “But you’re putting my sister at risk by stepping away from the plate at the bottom of the ninth. You need to see this shit through.”

  I sigh, wishing she were wrong, but she’s not. Though I might wish to stop playing this twisted game, be unwilling to gamble when the stakes are so high, I’m not the only player in the game.

  “Fine. What?” I say, rising and helping Emma back on the chair next to me.

  Claire points again at the screen, her voice once again professional. “The payments come from a shell company. I’ve never heard of it before tonight, but Matt knew a lot.” She clicks into a Word file and a document glares brightly on the screen. “While you four have been playing house, I’ve been working.”

  A quick scan tells me it’s Matt’s full confession about how he didn’t know who he was getting into bed with when he borrowed funds to cover a gambling debt. It details out jobs, favors he was asked to do, evidence he was told to lose or cover up. And lastly, it shows his work in deciphering who was the puppet master pulling his strings.

  “Son of a bitch!” I swear, seeing the name on the screen.

  Kyle is just as quick, his voice acid as well. “He’s untouchable. No way we’ll get close enough to him to take him out.”