Trouble with Nathan

by Anna J. Stewart

  “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?”r />
  “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.