I smile at her before I turn back to the eggs. I give them a few more strokes before pouring them into the hot, buttery skillet. “I guess it’s one of those things that I’ll have to prove with time.”
She says nothing at first, but then she appears at my side, leaning over the stove until I meet her eyes. “You don’t have to prove anything to anybody. You’ve been through a lot. You should be concentrating on getting your life back in order.”
“It’s not out of order.”
“You came home early from a trip, then disappeared for a couple of days. Um, yeah. I’m pretty sure you’ll have some questions to answer.”
I shrug. “Maybe. But I don’t owe anyone answers. Not one of the people in my life really cares about me. Not really.” Just saying the words aloud is like holding a searing hot branding iron to my heart. Because it’s true. “Besides, I’m still supposed to be out of town, so . . .”
“Marissa, I care about you. I hope you know that. And your father cares about you. Your mother. I’m sure you have friends who care about what happens to you. It might not seem like it right now, but—”
“Liv, you’re so sweet for trying to make me feel better, but you’ve seen the people I’ve surrounded myself with. You went to that art exhibition. I know and work with and spend time with most of the people there. And they’re horrible, Liv. Horrible! You saw that.”
I see her start to say something, see her want to say something, but there’s nothing to say. She knows I’m right.
“Look, Marissa. You’re in the unique position of getting a second chance, a chance to make different choices and live life in a better way. Everybody has . . . unsavory people they have to deal with, but you can’t hide from them. You just have to tolerate them the best you can.”
“I know I can’t hide. Not forever, anyway. But I don’t think I’m ready to get back out there just yet. Maybe in a few days . . .”
“So you’re not going to work today?”
“Nah. I think I’ll call and let them know I’m taking a couple of weeks off. I am sort of in between projects, too. Daddy was ‘grooming me,’” I say, holding up air quotes and rolling my eyes.
“I thought you liked that?”
I feel the frown pinch my eyebrows together as I give the eggs a stir. “I did. But I’m not sure what I want anymore.”
That’s not entirely true. There is something that I want, something that’s been plaguing me since I was drugged, manhandled, and kept against my will. But it’s something that would mean a huge life change for me, something that would be frowned on by practically everyone I know. Everyone except Liv. And probably Nash. The thing is, I’m just not sure I’m that brave yet. But I’m also not sure there’s another way forward. It certainly doesn’t feel like I have a choice.
THREE
Nash
The smell of cooking meat wakes me. I’m nothing if not a ravenous carnivore.
I open my eyes to an empty bed, which is probably best. Even though I wouldn’t mind losing myself in Marissa for a little while, now’s not the time. Her tenderness last night made me feel comforted, and that’s a very dangerous place to find myself. I have no desire to get involved with a woman. Any woman. That’s why I can say that her absence is a good thing all the way around.
I roll onto my back and feel a twinge of pain in my side. It’s not nearly as bad as it could be, but I don’t like that it still hurts at all. I’m sure the doc’s medicines helped, but I’m an extremely fast healer, so even the small amount of pain I’m feeling now is a surprise. A very unwelcome one.
Ignoring it as though there weren’t a gash in my side, I sit up and throw my legs over the side of the bed. My head swims a little and I stay put until it settles.
What the hell did that bastard have on that knife? Did he dip it in just enough poison to piss me off, but not kill me?
Standing, I make my way unsteadily to the bathroom to take a piss before facing a house full of people I don’t trust. I need to be at my best, and it irritates the shit out of me that I’m still hurting and that I’m dizzy. That means weakness, and weakness of any kind is something I don’t tolerate. At all.
I feel a little more like myself after I splash some water on my face and let my body adjust to being in an upright position. As I meet the reflection of my eyes in the mirror, I will myself to feel better. I don’t have time to be sick or hurt or sore. Therefore I will not. Still, the dull ache in my side ensures that I’m as surly as ever when my nose leads me to the kitchen.
I feel like growling when I see Marissa in front of the stove, putting pieces of sausage on a paper towel to drain. She’s so damn sexy, even doing something as mundane and domestic as cooking. But that’s not what bothers me. It’s the fact that I like seeing her doing such a simple caretaking activity. I’ve been away for a long time—away from civilization as I always knew it, away from home and love and life as I knew it. I learned not to miss it.
Until now.
I steel myself against feeling anything other than the desire to tear her pants off, put her up on the counter, and eat her for breakfast before the toast pops up. I remind myself that Marissa’s obvious interest in me is all fine and good as long as it stays purely physical. On my end, anyway. I don’t care what happens on her end. I can’t.
But me? I have to care about how involved I get. And the instant I start feeling anything . . . deeper, I’m out the door. I haven’t needed a woman in my life for years. Other than in the most physical, carnal way possible, that is. And I don’t ever plan to let one drag me into feeling anything other than lust.
She looks over her shoulder and laughs at something, and I notice Olivia sitting at the island. As Marissa turns back toward the stove, her eyes stumble to a stop on me. Her smile climbs a notch on the brilliance scale and she greets me. “Good morning.”
I grunt at her and walk to the fridge. I open it and make a show of looking around inside before I close it. Channeling everything into anger, like I’ve done for the last seven years, I lean my hip against the counter and give Marissa my full attention.
“So why the ass-kissing?”
Her smile wavers for a second before she returns to the sausage. It’s so quiet in the kitchen, the sizzle of the last few pieces of sausage in the still-hot skillet is almost deafening.
“Nash, that’s completely unfair. You—”
Marissa cuts Olivia off. “Olivia, it’s all right.”
After a long pause, during which Olivia obviously has to swallow some angry comments she was about to foist on me, she clears her throat. “Well, I guess I’ll go change and get Cash, then I’ll come set the table, ’kay?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer; she just gets up and walks out. She’s stiff as a board when she passes me and I imagine if she looked up, I’d see sparks shooting from her eyes.
Fiery little thing.
And I like fiery. To a point.
Fiery can be irrational and unstable, though, which really does nothing for me in a woman. I guess that’s one of the few things I’ve retained of my former self. I value an intelligent woman who knows what she wants. Except in bed. I like fiery in bed. Fiery and willing. There’s nothing better than a woman who’s game for anything.
The clatter of the spatula draws my attention back to Marissa. Her lips are set into a thin, tight line, which makes me think she’s got something to say.
And I’m right.
“You don’t know the kind of person I used to be,” she states quietly. “You don’t know what was expected of me, who and how my father expected me to be.”
“You don’t think I kept an eye on my brother when I came into town? I know exactly the kind of person you were.”
She glances up at me and I see a multitude of emotions play across her face, the last one being shame.
“Then you know I’ve got a lot to make up for.”
“And you think kissing ass will accomplish that?”
“No, I . . . I . . . I guess I feel the need to make amends, especially to Olivia.”
“And that’ll make it all better? The way you treated her? The way you treated everyone?”
She whips her head toward me, a little temper flashing in her bright blue eyes. “Of course not! But consistently showing her that I care can’t hurt.”
I nod. I guess she’s right. “Why go to that much trouble? Who cares what she thinks? Who cares what anybody thinks?”
She looks me square in the eye and her chin tips up a notch. “I do. Very much.”
“But, then again, you always have, right? Isn’t that your Achilles’ heel? Perception? Gotta keep up appearances?”
Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to argue. Only she doesn’t. She can’t. Because I’m right.
Much faster than I would’ve liked, Olivia chooses this moment to return with Cash.
“We’ll see how long that lasts after you get back in the real world,” I whisper to Marissa.
“It smells wonderful, Marissa. And I’m starving, so I know these big cavemen are, too,” Olivia says a little too brightly. I watch Marissa collect herself and return Olivia’s overly ambitious smile. It’s starting to look like I’m in a room of many pretenders. Until my eyes meet Cash’s. He looks bothered. And he should. With guys like Duffy out there running loose, violent men and murderers, none of us are safe. The sooner Cash realizes that, the sooner he’ll agree with me that we have to take care of some business.
My way.
We stare silently at each other as the women get breakfast on the table. When we sit and I look around at everyone putting napkins in their lap and keeping their elbows off the table, I feel even further removed from civilization. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a meal with people who aren’t in a band of high seas criminals. I haven’t forgotten how to comport myself; it’s just an unwelcome reminder of the life I’ve missed out on. The life that Cash has been living in my absence.
“So, Nash, what are your plans now that you’re back in the land of the living?” Olivia asks me in a conversational tone.
“Apparently I’ve got a really nice condo uptown. I was thinking of moving back in,” I say pointedly, daring Cash to challenge me.
“Really? I thought you might stay here for a little while. At least until all this is resolved. I mean, Marissa could still be in danger. I thought . . .”
“You thought because she was stupid enough to date my brother, who was masquerading as me, and get herself into trouble, that I ought to stay and clean up the mess?”
I know nobody likes my comment, but it’s true and no one can argue it. I think that pisses them off more than anything. I don’t lie. I don’t pretend. I don’t treat them with kid gloves. I tell it like it is. It’s not my fault they don’t like hearing the harsh truth. But they’d better get used to it when I’m around. I’ve had to live with that razor-sharp bitch called reality for a lot of years. Yeah, it sucked. Hell yeah, it sucked! But at least I was always prepared. Nothing good ever comes from hiding from the truth. Nothing. Ever.
“I’m fine by myself,” Marissa chimes in before the tension can ratchet up any higher.
I look at her stunning face, at the tightness of her features, at the obvious discomfort reflected there, and I feel bad for being so . . . blunt when she’s trying so hard to be considerate.
“I guess I could stay here for a few days. You never know. If they come after you, I might get a chance to right a few wrongs without Dear Brother here’s permission.”
I slide a smug smile over at Cash. I know he doesn’t like the thought of me taking matters into my own hands any more than I like the thought of letting these psychopaths live. But, regardless of preference, we see who’s making the compromise. They’re not dead yet and I’m still here, playing by Cash’s rules. Why, I’m not sure. Maybe there’s some small part of the nice guy I used to be left inside me, some tiny wedge that’s holding me back. But that won’t always be the case. I’ll play along for a little while longer, but Cash is crazy if he thinks I won’t have my revenge. Because I will. Duffy, as well as the bastards who commissioned him to blow up my family’s boat, will pay dearly for what they cost me. It’s just a matter of time.
“Hopefully that won’t happen until we can talk to Dad and get some more information, get another plan together.”
“I’ve got a gash in my side that says they’re far from patient and far from finished, so you’d better make it fast,” I remind him, rubbing lightly over my aching wound.
“Then we need to get to Dad fast.”
“Agreed. So what are we waiting for? Let’s go today, get the ball rolling.”
“I’ve got a few things to do this morning, but my early afternoon is free. I just need to be back in time to pick up Olivia from school.”
“I told you I’m—” Olivia begins to argue, but Cash cuts her off.
“I know what you said, but I told you there’s nothing more important than making sure you’re safe. You better be glad I’m not going to class with you.”
He leans over to kiss the side of her neck and she grins. “I wouldn’t learn a thing if you were in my class.”
“I could make up for that later. I’m sure I could teach you a few things.”
She giggles and he nips playfully at her ear. Again, it gnaws at me that he’s been living this perfect life while I’ve been in exile. I’ve missed out on . . . everything.