by Mandy Baggot
He watched her, pacing the room, playing with her fingers, counting them up and down and back again, trembling. Emotion—at last. It had to do something to you, finding out your mother was willing to sell you out to a gang of crazy bandits who put no value on human life. She felt something now, and that was the best way. Normal people showed their feelings. Normal people couldn’t show restraint in their darkest moments. Normal people weren’t paralyzed inside like he was.
“She was never there for me...after my father died,” Autumn muttered. She stopped at the glass doors and stared out at the vista.
“No, well, some people can’t do that can they?”
Autumn spun around to face him. “What do you mean? Are you defending her?”
“No, of course I’m fucking not. I’m just saying she was obviously a shit mother because she just couldn’t do it. She had her career, just like you. Look at you, you’re the ultimate career woman.”
“Speaks the guy who’s married to the Special Forces or whoever it is you work for. I mean, where’s your family, huh?” she spat.
The second the words had left her lips something happened to him. His pallor grayed, and his eyes dimmed like a dark cloud had descended into the room. He pulled in his lower lip and clamped down on it with his other one before putting a thumb to his mouth and biting onto the nail.
“Nathan...”she began and took a step toward him.
Her words had hurt him, made him drift off to another place. She had never seen him look like that before. For a brief second, he looked wounded.
He stepped back from her and restored his demeanor. “My orders are to keep you here, out of the public eye until the music awards.”
“She has to pay for what she’s done. Not just for me, but for Blu. Someone died because of me, and that’s her fault,” Autumn said, a look of determination set on her face.
“I know.”
“So, what do we do? I’ll do whatever I have to.”
“I had one of my team keep track of her. She’s still here. She stayed at the Ricardo last night. I want you to call her and arrange to meet for dinner. I think we should let this play out.”
“Fine.”
“She’ll try to have you taken again. You know that right?”
“Yes, I know. But you’ll protect me, won’t you. I won’t leave your side,” she promised.
She took hold of his hand and squeezed it tightly in hers. He looked at her and she saw some of the same depth of feeling in his expression that she had seen the night before. As she held onto his hand and drew him nearer, her eyes caught the tattooed inscription on his wrist. Marie.
He saw her looking at his arm and pulled his hand away, then reached onto the cabinet next to them. He held the pistol out to her.
“You need to learn how to use a gun.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Darling, I’m so glad you rang. I was so worried about you when I saw what happened to your... What was he? What did he do? Blue somebody. Oh, you know I’m no good with names.”
A wave of prickly heat washed over her body as she listened to her mother’s voice on the speaker of Nathan’s phone.
“His name was Albert Arthur. He called himself Blu-Daddy. He was my producer,” she responded, trying hard to keep any hint of hatred out of her tone.
“Of course, of course. Well, it’s all over the news. Everyone’s concerned for you. Where are you, darling?”
Autumn looked up at Nathan. She didn’t know if she could really do this. How could she hold in the contempt she felt for this woman? How could she pretend she knew nothing? Nathan nodded at her to continue, but angry tears sat at the bottom of her eyes, just waiting to fall.
“Autumn, is something wrong?” Alison’s voice called from the cell phone.
“No, I’m just...a little upset. I mean, he was a good friend. He has a wife and—”
“We’ll have to get Janey to find you someone new. Perhaps it’s time we spoke to Simon Cowell,” Alison suggested.
Autumn dropped her head onto Nathan’s arm and closed her eyes. This was impossible. She just couldn’t do it.
“Foreign Secretary, it’s Nathan Regan. Autumn and I were wondering if you were still here, in the US. We’d like to meet for dinner tonight.”
“I’m still not sure I like the way you’re keeping my daughter from me,” came the retort.
“I apologize if I was a little overprotective at the party last night, but I think the attempted kidnapping proved I was right to be cautious about who has information about Autumn’s location.”
“And what is this dinner meant to achieve? You aren’t still expecting me to believe you two are having a relationship? I have no idea why you would want people to think that was the case. It’s very bad PR for Autumn. Before all this kidnapping business came up, I was trying very hard with Prince Harry,” Alison stated.
“Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to start again and... Autumn misses you. She’d like to see you,” Nathan concluded.
Autumn shook her head at him and ground her teeth together. Right now, all thoughts of what she wanted to do when she next saw Janey were insignificant in comparison to how she felt about her mother. She wasn’t convinced that Nathan giving her a handgun was a good move.
“Fine. Where?”
“The Ricardo,” Nathan informed her.
“The Ricardo?”
“You’re staying there aren’t you?”
“Well—”
“I’ll reserve a table at eight. See you then,” Nathan said then ended the call.
The Ricardo. The very name of the hotel sent a shiver down her back. That was where everything had changed just last night. She’d attacked Juan, she’d sang and lied to a whole room full of people. Then someone had tried to kidnap her right outside. One of her closest confidantes—no matter how lame that sounded—had been killed.
“I can’t go there…that place. Not there,” she told him.
“What?”
“I can’t go back there.”
“Why?”
“Why? I can’t believe you would ask that question. Where would you like me to start?” she spat at him.
“It’s just a venue. Your mother’s staying there. We know the layout. It’s easy.”
“It isn’t just a venue! It’s where my friend got shot, got murdered, and only last night.”
“Shit, Autumn, if I never visited a place where someone I knew had been shot, I’d run out of venues.”
“But that’s you. Not me. That’s what you do. This is still alien to me, and I want it to stay that way,” Autumn raved.
She felt lightheaded at just the thought of even being near that hotel again. She was counting in her head, the words almost forming on her lips. She bit back the urge.
“It can’t stay that way though, can it? Whether you like it or not, you’ve been put right slap-bang in the fucking middle of it!”
He was getting frustrated with her again. The volume of his voice had raised several bars, and the tone was full of annoyance. She seemed to be able to get under his skin quite easily, without particularly trying too hard.
“Listen, I know how you feel,” Nathan spoke, “but if this is going to work, if we’re going to make her pay, you’re going to have to have a civilized dinner with her. I want to get information from her about my people. At the moment, she might be the only person who can give that to me.”
Both of them heard the front door slam, and, instinctively, Nathan reached for his weapon and shielded Autumn by stepping in front of her.
“I’ve been to the market!” Tawanda called as she burst into the room, a basket hanging from each arm.
Nathan dropped his gun and it crashed back down on the cabinet. Autumn let out the breath she’d been holding, hurried toward Tawanda, and immediately took one of the baskets.
Tawanda noticed the look on both their faces. “Did you think I was someone else? Has something happened?” she asked.
“No,
I was just being cautious,” Nathan responded.
“You didn’t get any fish did you? I can’t eat it,” Autumn said as she carried a basket over to the kitchen countertop.
“I didn’t get fish, child, but it was calling to me! Fresh off the boat,” Tawanda informed with thick enthusiasm. “I got beef to stew and fresh yams. This store in the town has amazing produce, all grown in the backyard.”
“Autumn and I are going out to dinner tonight with Foreign Secretary Raine,” Nathan told her.
Tawanda looked across at Nathan, her brow furrowed in confusion as if taking time to digest what he’d said. “I thought you tell me they say to—” Tawanda began.
“I can’t do what they say, Tawanda. It isn’t fucking moral. This woman aids and abets terrorist activity. She put her own fucking daughter up for sale and got someone else killed in the process. I can’t let that go.”
Autumn kept quiet and watched their exchange. Nathan bubbled with supercharged emotion. He couldn’t keep still. He picked his gun back up and locked and released the safety catch in rhythm. One...two...three...four…five.
“Mr. Nathan, you need to retain your professionalism. This cannot be about anything that has gone before,” Tawanda told him.
Nathan stared straight at Tawanda. “It isn’t about what’s gone before.”
“No? Because if this is about revenge, Mr. Nathan, then you are in the wrong place.”
Nathan shook his head, as if to physically remove a memory that was lodged in it. What had gone on before? Did Autumn really want to know?
“Sometimes there are things you can’t fix. You are not responsible for everything,” Tawanda continued.
“But I know it’s happening. I can’t turn a blind eye to it.” He slammed the gun back down on the cabinet.
“I agree with Nathan,” Autumn spoke up, handing Tawanda a cluster of onions from the basket.
Tawanda shook her head, and Autumn could sense her displeasure in the way she threw things into cupboards as she unpacked the baskets.
“It’s the right thing to do, Tawanda,” Nathan told her.
“Is it, Mr. Nathan? It’s the right thing to do to involve this child in your personal grievances, is it? She doesn’t know anything about this life, and she shouldn’t know. You shouldn’t be turning her into some sort of avenging angel like you. You know my feelings. I believe in truth and honor, but not at any price. Sometimes you have to let things go.” Tawanda lifted her head and locked eyes with Nathan.
Autumn watched Nathan. He stood firm, looking back at his friend, but unmoving, unfaltering, determined.
“Mother of Mary, why are you so stubborn?” Tawanda exclaimed then turned away.
“I’m going to need your help, Tawanda. I want to keep this as a safe house. I need you to be ready if—”
“I know what my job is, Mr. Nathan, and, of course, I will help you. I’ve always helped you, because you are a good man. Good and brave. But foolhardy.” She put the basket down on the table and swept from the room.
Autumn didn’t let Tawanda’s retreat, or the silence that followed, deepen. “I’m not a child, you know.” She raised her eyes to meet his.
“She’s a mother who’s never been a mother. It’s just her way,” Nathan stated.
“I know that, but I’m not a child. I’m not stupid. I may have had a different reality to most people, but I know the difference between right and wrong, and I know all about spin. That Playboy photo shoot I did was to show the world I didn’t have an eating disorder. I ate doughnuts for two weeks before I let anyone near me with a camera.”
She swallowed and waited for a response. He gave none, just looked at her, unmoved.
“What I’m trying to say is, this is murder and helping people that blow other people up for God knows what cause. I don’t want her press-releasing her way out of it. She should be made to pay just like anyone else, regardless of her position,” she concluded.
He looked back at her, his expression unreadable. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, still waiting for his response. He opened his mouth and finally spoke.
“Wear shoes you can run in.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Are you angry with Nathan?” Autumn spoke later.
Tawanda was brushing her hair again. Autumn had had the services of all the top London hairdressers at her disposal, but she had never had her hair brushed quite so much. Usually, she hated the fussing and pinning and hairspraying, but with Tawanda, it was different. The brushstrokes felt almost therapeutic. Plus it was the only time the woman was really quiet, apart from the humming.
“Angry with Mr. Nathan? No, child, not angry. Maybe a little frustrated,” she responded on a down stroke.
“What did you mean when you said his decisions shouldn’t be based on his own desire for revenge?”
Tawanda laid the brush down on the sofa. The humming ceased. “Did I say that?” she queried.
“Something close.”
“It is not for me to tell you, child.”
“Is it something to do with Marie?”
“What do you know about Marie?” Tawanda snapped, her eyes darkening.
“He has the name tattooed on his arm. Who is she? Is it his wife? Is he married?”
As soon as she asked, she knew what she wanted the answer to be. She wanted Tawanda to tell her no, he wasn’t married. And she wanted her to tell her that because, despite everything that was going on around her, whenever she looked at him now, she wanted him. It was just a sexual thing. He was a physically perfect specimen beneath the poor clothing, and she was just reacting as nature intended.
“It is not for me to tell you. That is Mr. Nathan’s choice,” Tawanda responded.
What sort of answer was that? Did it mean yes or no? Whoever this Marie was, wife or not, no one seemed to want to talk about her. Why was that?
“Well, I’m about to go to dinner with the woman who’s trying to have me kidnapped, so a bit of background would be nice, seeing as I’m supposed to be putting all my faith in him,” Autumn told her.
That statement wasn’t true. She did trust Nathan, but she wanted—no she needed—to know what this Marie had to do with everything. It shouldn’t be so important, but somehow, it was. Despite the high stakes situation, if he was married, she would have to turn those feelings off. Perhaps that was why he had ended their kiss.
“It is not for me to say,” Tawanda repeated.
“But you know.”
“Miss Autumn, you don’t need to know about Mr. Nathan’s past to know whether you trust him or not. Take him at face value. What do you see?”
“So, she’s in his past, not his present,” Autumn said, gladness coating her tone.
“Mr. Nathan is a complicated man. He doesn’t behave like men you know. He lives by a different set of rules. He doesn’t know anything else.” Tawanda picked up the hairbrush and recommenced her brushing routine.
“He tells me the truth, I know that. Not a lot of people have done that in my life,” Autumn said, turning so Tawanda could get to all her hair.
“He tells you what you need to know. He is doing his job.”
“He tells me what he can. I understand how things have to be. Whatever he doesn’t tell me, it’s because he can’t. It’s for my own security.”
“What is it you really want to know, child?”
The woman touched her shoulder and turned her slightly until they were facing each other. Autumn shrugged and dropped her head to avoid looking into Tawanda’s eyes. What was it she wanted to know? Whether he was free to have sex with her? Something else?
Tawanda lifted Autumn’s chin with her thick fingers. “When people are afraid, they look for comfort. Close bonds are formed in a short space of time when situations aren’t what they would be normally.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Autumn spoke quickly, feeling her cheeks burn.
“Mr. Nathan isn’t the sort of man to have those sorts of feelings about.”
Autumn swallowed. “I don’t know what you mean.” She was completely transparent. There went all her hopes of hitting Hollywood if her next record went sour.
“You have had a bad experience with a man—that rap man—Alsatian...”
“Rockweiler,” Autumn corrected.
“You need time, child. Time to get things into perspective. Being at the center of all this trouble is no time to be considering...”
“I wasn’t considering anything, I just—”
“I do not understand how your mother could do that to you, child,” Tawanda said, changing the conversation.
“You don’t know my mother. I think if she had found out she was pregnant before the cut-off point, I wouldn’t even be here,” Autumn stated.
“You miss your father,” Tawanda guessed.
Autumn nodded vigorously. Yes, she missed her father. There was an ache in her for love and affection, emotions that could only really be provided by the one man who had truly loved her. The only man she had truly loved. She had one photograph of him that she carried in her purse, and if she didn’t look at it, the memory of his face began to fade. She couldn’t remember his voice. She couldn’t recall his scent. The photo was all she had to prove he even existed.
Nathan leaned against the wall in the hallway and closed his eyes tight, relishing the cool plaster against his back. What was he doing? Her core was paper thin. He was about to make her have dinner with a woman who felt nothing for her, but was bound to her by genealogy.
She’d wanted to know about Marie, too. This wasn’t good. He couldn’t speak about it; he hadn’t ever spoken about it. They’d tried to make him see counselors, but he’d fought it. He eventually had to see one in order to keep his job, and he’d held the guy hostage for forty five minutes until he’d written him a clean bill of psychological health under the threat of a visit to the doctor’s home—and his wife.