The Agent

by Herkness, Nancy

  “I don’t believe in coincidence.” Tully’s tone was hard. “I’ll bet my favorite boots that the license plate will tie back to Van Houten somehow.”

  “How fast will you know?”

  “I’m expecting the information any minute now. My guy is good.”

  “I guess there’s nothing more we can do right now,” Natalie said, letting herself relax into the cradling seat. “So I’ll just look forward to satisfying my curiosity about where you live.”

  Tully glanced at her with an odd guardedness. “Why are you curious about that?”

  “You’ve seen my place. Every square inch of it, in fact. I think it’s only fair that I see yours.” She ran her finger over the expensive burled wood of the dashboard. “This car tells me something about you. Your home will tell me even more.”

  “Don’t you already know enough about me?” His tone was almost defensive.

  “I know the fundamental things. You’re a man of integrity and loyalty. You like the good guys to win and you fight to make it happen. You can be counted on.”

  “Don’t stop now,” he said in a bantering tone that meant he wanted her to stop. She could see his discomfort with her catalog of his virtues.

  She threw him a wicked smile. “You’re terrific in bed.”

  “As I hope to demonstrate later on,” he said.

  Her blood fizzed in her veins. She reached over and stroked her palm down the hard muscle of his thigh.

  “No distracting the driver,” he said after a sharp inhale.

  “I’m just indicating my approval of your plans.”

  He covered her hand and gave it a squeeze before he grinned. “But first, we’re getting ribs.”

  Chapter 15

  All Tully had told her about his home was that he lived on the Upper West Side along the river. So Natalie was not prepared when he pulled into an actual driveway that led to an actual house in Manhattan. No, “house” was too modest a word. It was more of a mansion. He swung the car through a large iron gate that opened at his approach and then closed behind them as he parked in the paved courtyard.

  Natalie leaned forward to gawk at the elaborate white marble–clad building that rose up for four stories. “Wow!” was all she could say.

  Tully exited the car without a response, coming around to open Natalie’s door before she’d recovered from the shock. “I’ll grab the bags from the back,” he said as she stood and stared.

  Tully had insisted on stopping at a boutique to buy Natalie some clothes for her overnight stay. He said he had everything else she might need in his guest room. Not that she expected to sleep there.

  “This wasn’t where I pictured you living,” she said, taking the insulated tote of ribs from him. She scanned the ornate carvings and green tile roof. There was even a fanciful little turret with swirling copper cornices.

  Tully’s lips slanted into a grimace. “It’s a little over the top for my taste, but I don’t like sharing walls with my neighbors, and I enjoy the view of the river.”

  He led her up the marble steps to the entrance, where he pressed his thumb against a black square and typed in a series of numbers on a keypad before he pushed open the massive oak door.

  “This is the back door,” Natalie said. “What does the front door look like?”

  Tully looked puzzled. “Pretty much the same. Why?”

  “Never mind.” Natalie preceded him through the door into a hallway that made her gasp. The floor was marble, the walls were paneled in wood that ran up and across the ceiling in ornate corbels and carvings. The bronze-and-glass light fixtures hung on long chains.

  She waited while Tully let his fingers dance over a high-tech panel to reset the alarm system.

  They continued walking until they ended up in the main entrance. The vast space held a grand piano, a huge fireplace, and a carved staircase that featured leaded glass windows along its upward slope.

  Natalie stood in the middle and slowly turned in a circle before she met Tully’s gaze. “I can’t believe you live here.”

  His eyes held a rueful glint. “Sometimes I can’t either. Truth is I don’t spend much time here. And virtually none on this floor. It’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s spectacular, but it’s not you. I want a tour of the whole thing!”

  Tully’s grin held relief. “Glad to oblige . . . after we eat. The smell of those ribs has gotten me mighty hungry.”

  “Where do you eat?” Natalie spotted a long table with about twenty chairs around it through a square archway. “Not at the banquet table, I’m guessing.”

  “Nope, there’s a small kitchen on the second floor where I have my meals.” He made a face at the grand dining room. “The decorator said the room needed a table that size but I’ve never used it.”

  “What a shame! I was picturing you presiding over dinner with a bewigged footman behind every chair.” She slid him a teasing glance.

  “You think I could talk Leland into wearing his wig here?” Tully said, referring to the Regency ball Derek had staged for his proposal to Alice.

  “He said it itched, so no.”

  Tully chuckled and gestured toward the stairs with his handful of bags.

  “Let me carry some of those,” Natalie said, reaching for the shopping bags.

  “I’m good,” Tully said, because of course he would.

  “Fine. I will pretend like I’m Cinderella in my ball gown ascending the royal staircase.” She put her hand on the gleaming wood bannister and, lifting her chin, walked slowly up the steps as though she were wearing a crown. The piano caught the corner of her eye. “Do you play that?”

  “No, it came with the house. Too much trouble to move, I guess.” He glanced down at it. “Maybe when I retire I’ll take lessons.”

  He sounded serious and a little wistful. “You like music?”

  She knew so little about him and yet she had given him her unquestioning trust. She needed to rein it in fast.

  “I like to dance,” he said with a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Especially the two-step.”

  The dance that had started this. Well, maybe taken it to the next level. “You’re a man of surprises.”

  “Actually, I’m a pretty straightforward guy.” But his answer sounded automatic, like he’d said it many times before to deflect . . . what?

  They reached the top of the stairs and he directed her down a hallway that was slightly less intimidating. The door he indicated led into a beautiful updated kitchen with dark hickory cabinets, a white subway-tile backsplash, and leaded glass windows. A round oak table surrounded by four matching chairs stood on the herringbone brick floor. This was Tully.

  Natalie plunked the tote on the granite-topped island while Tully set the clothing bags on the counter by the door. “Let’s eat.”

  Natalie followed his directions about where to find dishes, flatware, and napkins while Tully unloaded the bag. The aromas of barbecue sauce, melted cheese, and jalapeño cornbread made her mouth water.

  When they had settled at the table, Tully raised his beer bottle and touched the neck of hers with a clink. “I’m glad you’re here. And that you understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  He swept his hand around the room. “About the house. That it’s not really who I am.”

  “And yet it is,” she said. “It’s solid, independent, and built to last.”

  He smiled but his eyes held genuine gratitude. “That’s a compliment I’ll take.” He put down his beer and picked up a rib. “Now let’s eat, woman, so I can take you to bed.”

  “Tour before sex,” Natalie said, even as arousal slid through her body.

  “Only if you’re willing to take it naked.”

  Natalie woke up the next morning to sunlight painted across a strange and enormous bed with Tully’s big heat-generating body pressed smack up against her. She blinked at the tray ceiling above her centered by a large bronze-and-etched-glass light fixture as memory returned. Tully’s house . . . no, mansion. S
he lifted her head to check out the landscape of pale green treetops in the near view and the wide, brown Hudson River in the far before she let it fall back on the pillow.

  Tully stirred and tightened the arm he had thrown over her waist. “You okay?” he mumbled into the pillow.

  “Just confused.”

  “About what?” His voice was more focused now.

  So many things, she thought. Why someone would stalk her. How Dobs had connected her with his wife. What her feelings for Tully were. “I couldn’t remember where I was,” she said.

  “You’re with me.” He kissed her shoulder and settled back against her.

  The simple truth of that punched her in the chest. It didn’t matter where she was as long as she was with Tully. She didn’t feel in danger when Tully was by her side. She didn’t question that her stalker would be caught because Tully would do it. When he touched her or even just looked at her, her body responded. She’d entrusted him with the secret of how she assisted other women without a qualm.

  She was with him in every way and that was not a good thing.

  She twisted in his grasp to reach for her phone to check the time.

  “If you keep squirming, things are going to get real interesting,” he said in a husky voice.

  It was only six thirty, but she needed to get away from him. “I can’t sleep, so I’m going to shower.”

  “Why don’t I join you?” he rumbled as he feathered a kiss on her temple.

  Because she was afraid of what she was feeling. She turned her head to find him looking at her through half-open eyes. “You should get some more sleep,” she said. “I’m just feeling antsy about Regina’s meeting with the lawyer.”

  “Alastair is a good guy,” Tully said. “He’ll make sure Regina gets the best divorce possible.”

  He gave Natalie a sweet, lingering kiss on the mouth that nearly had her changing her mind about the solo shower, but he lifted his arm so she could slide to the edge of the bed. She sat there for a moment, thinking about how he had sensed her unwillingness so he hadn’t tried to pressure her to make love.

  Matt had never cared what mood she was in. If he had wanted to have sex, he would do everything in his power to make her give in to his demands.

  For all his strength and authority, Tully never forced anything on her.

  Natalie and Regina sat at a small conference table across from Alastair York, the divorce lawyer KRG’s legal department had connected them with. The surprisingly young lawyer had auburn hair, a faintly British accent, and a gentle twinkle in his blue eyes. Natalie hoped he was tougher than he looked because Dobs Van Houten wasn’t going to be a pushover.

  On the other hand, Regina had visibly relaxed when Alastair shook her hand with a disarming smile and led them into the small, almost intimate meeting room. The younger woman had confessed her nervousness to Natalie and Tully on the drive to the law office, saying that she was intimidated by the prospect of having a high-powered, cutthroat New York City lawyer represent her.

  “Coffee, tea, or something chilled?” Alastair asked in his charmingly clipped voice as he hovered over a credenza with various beverages arrayed on it. Natalie would have expected him to have an assistant to pour the drinks. After all, he was a partner in the fancy law firm.

  Instead, he brought two steaming mugs of coffee and one of tea to the sleek glass-topped table before he sat in front of a closed laptop.

  Folding his long, elegant hands on top of the computer, he said with a sad smile, “I’m very sorry you have to use my services. Divorce is always difficult. I know a little of your story but why don’t you tell me in your own words why you are seeking to end your marriage?”

  Regina straightened her shoulders and inhaled deeply. She was dressed in a blue-and-white-striped cotton blouse over navy trousers, an outfit Dawn had helped her choose. Natalie had styled Regina’s dyed-brown hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck to give her some confidence.

  “My husband has hurt me on several occasions. I finally left when he threatened to throw me down the stairs. He also insulted and humiliated me verbally whenever we were alone.”

  Natalie had coached Regina to be concise and as unemotional as possible. As she’d learned from her own divorce, when you got right down to it, most of the negotiations were about the division of assets. Although this one had the complication of an unborn child.

  Alastair looked sympathetic. “How long has this behavior been going on?”

  “About six months.” Regina reached for Natalie’s hand. “I thought he was just stressed about us getting pregnant at first. He wanted it so badly and I kept getting my period. So I tried to smooth things over. I didn’t want to admit that Dobs was abusive but . . .” She trailed off as her grip tightened. Natalie gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “But things escalated. He scared me.”

  “Are you still afraid that he would do you bodily harm?”

  Regina nodded before she said in a near whisper, “Yes.”

  “Then our first order of business is to get a restraining order.” Alastair flipped open the laptop. “I apologize for making you relive this unpleasantness, but can you tell me specifically what he did and said? I also need to know if anyone else witnessed any of the incidents.”

  “No, no one did. In public, he was loving and considerate, the way he had been before we got married and on our honeymoon. Every time we’d go out and he’d be so nice, I’d think—hope—that this was the real Dobs coming back.” Tears stood in Regina’s eyes and Natalie’s heart twisted. “But we’d get home and he’d go back to being . . . horrible.”

  Regina’s words dredged up ugly memories from Natalie’s marriage. How Matt would smile and laugh and put his arm around her when they were out with friends. The moment they were alone, he would whip his arm away from her and put two feet of distance between them. Then he would enumerate all the things she’d done wrong during their evening out.

  The emotional whiplash kept her walking on eggshells as she tried to gauge Matt’s mood and propitiate him.

  “Did you ever have any visible injuries?” Alastair asked, his fingers still poised over the keyboard.

  “Bruises,” Regina said. “Natalie saw them on my arms. That’s when she told me I could stay with her. But I still didn’t think Dobs would really hurt me, so I didn’t leave then.”

  “Sweetie, those were ugly bruises,” Natalie said. “He’d already hurt you.”

  “I understand that now,” Regina said, her eyes bleak. “Back then I was still making excuses for him. I feel so stupid.”

  Natalie understood. She’d believed it when Matt told her that their problems were her fault, that she needed to work harder to be a better wife. He didn’t like it when she went out with her friends, so she’d curtailed her social life. He resented it when she was sick, so she went to bed only when she almost couldn’t stand up any longer. He complained about the time she put in at the hair salon, but he liked the money she brought in. She took advantage of his ambivalence about her job to continue working.

  The salon had saved her. There, she could feel good about herself because her clients felt good about themselves when she did their hair. She listened to their problems, sharing their burdens for just long enough to make their mood lighter when they left. Instead of Matt’s voice droning in her ear that she was a failure, her boss and her customers told her what a great job she was doing.

  But it almost hadn’t been enough.

  “Do you have any photographs of the bruises?” Alastair asked.

  Regina surprised Natalie by nodding. “Not the first ones because I thought they were an accident. But after that, I took pictures just so I’d know I wasn’t crazy.” She looked down at the table. “He kept telling me that I was exaggerating and that he hadn’t really hurt me. I knew he had put bruises on me, but he was so definite about not having done it that I started to think he was right.”

  “That was a very clever thing to do.” Alastair’s encouragement reminded Na
talie of Tully offering the same support to Regina. “Now tell me as much as you can remember about each incident. Date, time of day, what happened, what your husband said to you, if you can remember.”

  Regina pulled her cell phone and a folded piece of legal paper from her purse. She passed the paper to Alastair. “That’s a list of my best guess on the dates. I marked the ones I’m sure of because I have photos on my phone.” She turned on her cell and handed it to Alastair. “This is my old phone. I saved it for the photos. You can keep it here.”

  He looked at the paper and then at the phone. Natalie saw anger flare in his blue eyes and she stopped worrying about how tough he would be in divorce court. “In your own words, tell me what happened.”

  Regina nodded and took a deep breath. “When Dobs told me he wanted to have a child right away, I was thrilled. That meant he really loved me, right? And I always wanted to have a big family. But when I didn’t get pregnant right away, he said . . .” Regina stared into the coffee mug she had clutched in her hand before she continued in a barely audible voice. “He said that he’d only married me because I looked like a good breeder and now I was failing.”

  Natalie’s hands balled into fists that she wanted to slam into Dobs Van Houten’s snooty face.

  Regina seemed to curl into herself. “He made me have sex whether I wanted to or not. When I tried to refuse, he grabbed my wrists or slapped me, so finally I just let him do what he wanted. I felt like a prostitute.” Tears ran down Regina’s cheeks. “But then he would give me jewelry and flowers and clothes. I thought that meant he loved me again.”

  “He was manipulating you,” Natalie said. “Trying to make you believe that his behavior was loving and normal when it was abusive. It’s called love bombing.”

  When she and Matt were dating, he had brought her gifts and told her how amazing she was, making her feel adored. It wasn’t until after they were married that he began to undermine her with little jabs of criticism. By then, she was convinced he loved her, so she believed his harsh words, especially when he claimed his comments were meant to help her be even better than she already was.