Читать книгу Baby Trouble - Beth Cornelison - Страница 11

“May I help you, sir?” The receptionist at the swanky Boston law firm was predictably beautiful and efficient.

Nick replied, “I’m here to see William Ward.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, and please don’t tell him I’m here. It’s a surprise.” He flashed his most charming smile at her. He wasn’t vain about his looks, but very few women could resist him when he turned the charm all the way up.

She simpered something about being delighted to help. He waved off her offer to show him the way and strode down the familiar hallways. A feeling akin to déjà vu passed over him. This place was from another existence, another life, familiar and yet entirely strange to him.

He stepped into Ward’s office and the man glanced up. “Sweet Jesus!” he gasped, falling back in his chair heavily. “Is that really you?”

Nick closed the door and stepped up to the desk. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, William.”

“My God. Where have you been? The things they said about you—”

Nick propped his hip on a corner of William’s expansive desk. “What did my kidnappers say to explain my absence, anyway?”

“Kidnappers?” The lawyer stared, aghast. “The reports said you had a mental breakdown. Had to be institutionalized. There were doctor’s statements. Psychological evaluations. Pictures. You looked like hell.”

“Lies. All of it,” Nick said shortly.

William’s shocked pallor was giving way to a sickly shade of green. “Was our power of attorney over your estate illegal, then? What about your signatures on all those sales documents?”

“What documents?”

“The ones signing over your company to the new management group? Were those real?”

“I never signed anything, to my knowledge.” He hoped. Surely he never would have signed away Spiros Shipping under any circumstances.

It took William a few seconds to quit spluttering and form words. “Please forgive me for asking, I mean no disrespect. But have you been in a sufficiently … alert … mental condition for all of the past six years to know for certain that you never signed any legal documents?”

Nick swore under his breath. God only knew what he’d done during the blackout years. “I’m actually not here to talk about my company. And to answer your question, I was kidnapped and imprisoned for five years. It has taken me most of the past year to recover physically from the ordeal.”

The lawyer devolved into a shockingly uncharacteristic bout of mumbling to himself. Poor guy must really be shaken up. Eventually, William collected himself enough to go into attorney mode. “I’m going to need an affidavit from you describing exactly what happened to you in detail. I don’t have any idea how we’re going to contest the sale of your company. It’s going to cause a massive uproar to try to get it back—”

Nick interrupted the man sharply. “I don’t want it back. That’s not why I’m here.”

William stared blankly. “Why are you here, then?”

“I need you to tell me about the last two years before I … disappeared.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Nick sighed. “It’s a long story, but I’ve experienced a memory loss as a result of a blow to the head. I need your help to fill in the gap.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

William nodded dubiously. “I’ll do what I can.”

The lawyer started talking and Nick listened grimly. He’d thought if he heard about the lost time it would jog his memory, but none of the names or places or dates rang any bells. His memory wasn’t just buried. It was truly gone. The danger of the black hole loomed even larger as the true depth of it became clear to him.

“I can get all these facts off the internet, William. Tell me what I was like. How I was acting.”

The lawyer spoke of Nikolas growing bored with running a company that functioned like a well-oiled machine pretty much on its own. Of his forays into ever more dangerous hobbies—skydiving, extreme skiing, boat racing, Formula One car racing. He’d apparently blown through a string of beautiful and ever wilder women as well. He’d become a regular on the pages of the European tabloids. And there’d been the partying. Ward didn’t say if he’d dabbled in drinking or drugs, just that the lawyer had been very worried about his longtime client.

Finally, he fell silent.

Nick didn’t even know where to begin processing the information dump he’d just received. It was odd to hear about his own life and feel so completely disconnected from it. Nothing the man had described would account for the pervasive terror that was the only thing he’d carried forward from that time. Nick asked grimly, “Was I—Did I … get married?”

William looked surprised. “There were rumors of a quickie wedding just before you disappeared. But I hadn’t seen you for a few weeks prior to that. I couldn’t say.”

Rumors of a wedding? Nick swore under his breath. “Do you know how I came by the Nick Cass identity?”

The attorney cleared his throat. “During that time, you occasionally preferred to travel under an alias to avoid the publicity and scandal you were generating.”

He had no memory of being assaulted by paparazzi. “Where did the fake ID come from?”

William visibly squirmed at that one. “For the record, I arranged no such thing. I put you in touch with a gentleman who was expert at facilitating replacement of lost identity documents. Perhaps he was the source of your … alter ego.”

Nick dismissed the lawyer’s double-talk with a flick of his wrist. If he was going to keep up the charade of being Nick Cass and no one but Nick Cass, he had to know everything there was to know about the man. Had someone of that name really existed at some point, or was Nick Cass an entirely made-up entity? “I need to get in touch with the fellow who made those documents. I need to know more about the identity he provided for me.”

William frowned. “It’s my understanding he’s no longer in the business. He ran into some legal troubles. Last I heard, he left the country in a hurry. I would have no idea how to get in touch with him.”

Damn. Frustrated, Nick moved over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window to stare down at Boston Harbor. His kidnapper surely knew who he really was. But did the people who’d held him captive? Did the powers-that-be at AbaCo? Had it been an inside job, or had his kidnappers merely had a sick sense of humor to have imprisoned him on one of his own ships?

If AbaCo’s lawyers penetrated the Cass identity, they would come after him with both barrels, and the sum total of what he knew about his last years before his capture he’d just heard from the man behind him. He turned to William. “Can you recommend a top-flight private investigator to me? Someone thorough and discreet.”

“Of course.” William looked close to puking in relief that Nick didn’t pursue the fake ID thing any further. As Nick recalled, William had been paid plenty well enough back then that he could darn well suffer a little for the cause now.

“Oh, and one more thing, William.”

The lawyer looked up sharply from the sticky note on which he was copying a name and phone number.

“Don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me. Consider this little visit a privileged interaction between the two of us. As far as you know, I’m still sitting in a padded cell somewhere, staring at my toes and drooling down my chin. Got it?”

The attorney frowned. “I understand. Actually, I don’t understand, but I will abide by your wishes.”

“Thanks, William.”

“Will you tell me the whole story someday?”

“If things go well, you’ll never see or hear from me again.” As the finality of that struck Nick he made brief eye contact with the attorney who’d been a friend and confidante for many years. “Thanks for everything. You’re a good man.”

“You, too. If you ever need anything, just let me know. And good luck.”

Nick turned and left the office. Good luck, indeed. He’d probably need a bona fide miracle before it was all said and done to avoid the clutches of his past.

He waited until he was back in Washington D.C., leaving Reagan International Airport to drive home, before he called Laura. She had too many scary resources with which to track him down for him to risk calling her any sooner. She would be completely freaked out by now, but he’d had no choice. He had to deal with his past on his own. And after hearing what William Ward had to say about his last years leading up to his capture, it had turned out to be a damned good call to keep Laura and the kids far away from the mess he’d apparently made of his life.

Laura answered her cell phone on the first ring with a terse hello.

“Hello, darling. It’s me.”

“Thank God, Nick. Are you all right? Are you hurt? Where are you?”

He felt terrible hearing her panic and relief. Good Lord willing, he’d never scare her like this again. “I’m fine. I’ll be home in about an hour. There was something I had to take care of.”

A pause. “Can you talk to me about it?”

“I’m afraid I can’t. But it’s handled. No worries.” At least he hoped there was nothing to worry about. The P.I. he’d spoken to in Boston had been confident he could find everything that had ever existed on one Nick Cass prior to six years ago. If the man had ever actually existed, Nick would know all about him in a few days.

The cab delivered him to the mansion’s front door in closer to two hours than one—there’d been an accident and traffic was hellish. As he stepped inside, Adam shouted a greeting that warmed Nick all the way to his soul. Laura held herself to a walk as she came to greet him, but she squeezed him so tightly it hurt and he thought he felt a sob shake her momentarily.

“I’m sorry, darling. I knew you’d want to go with me, but I had to take care of a piece of old business on my own.”

Her muffled voice rose from his chest. “Did you kill anyone?”

“No,” he laughed.

“Are we okay?”

His arms tightened convulsively around her. “That’s the whole idea. I love you and the children more than life.” They stood locked together like they’d never let go of each other for a long time. Finally, he murmured, “Am I forgiven?”

“Of course. I could never stay mad at you. If you say you had to do something, then you had to do it. If you can’t talk about it with me, there’s a good reason for that, too. And if you say you love me, I believe you.”

He tilted her chin up to kiss her. “I am, without question, the luckiest man on Earth to have you.”

She stood on tiptoe to kiss him back. “And don’t you ever forget it,” she murmured.

“Never.” Their lips met, and the passion that always simmered between them boiled over immediately. His mouth slanted across hers, and she clung to him eagerly.

“Eeyew! Gross!” Adam exclaimed from the steps above them.

Nick lifted his mouth away from Laura’s and smiled up at his son. “For now, you hold on to that thought, young man. But trust me. In a few years, girls won’t be nearly so disgusting.”

“But Mommy’s not a girl. She’s a … mommy.”

Laura laughed in Nick’s arms. “Gee, thanks, kid.” She scooped up Adam and swung him around until they were all laughing.

And just like that, life was back to the way it was supposed to be. As Nick followed his family toward the kitchen, he experienced an overwhelming sensation of having dodged a bullet.

The sensation lasted exactly one hour. That was when Carter Tatum called to inform him that he was to appear at a pre-trial hearing in three days’ time. Three days for the private investigator to give him enough ammunition to hold off a pack of sharks out to tear him to pieces. It was almost enough to make him reconsider enlisting Laura’s prodigious skill with computers to help him research his Nick Cass identity.

Almost. But not quite.

Laura understood Nick’s nervousness as his first encounter with AbaCo’s lawyers loomed only a few hours away. But there was something else going on with him. He kept checking his cell phone like he was expecting a message, and the longer it didn’t come, the more tense he was quietly becoming. It took knowing him exceedingly well to see the signs of his stress—the tightness around his eyes, the absent quality to some of his comments, the very occasional twitch of a thumb. She had to give Nick credit. He had amazing self-discipline to give away so little as a limousine whisked the two of them toward Washington, D.C.

His self-control held through the hearing, but he wasn’t put on the witness stand and grilled, either. The legal proceeding mostly consisted of motions and technical arguments between the lawyers. As far as she could tell, they were wrangling over the rules of engagement for the trial to come. All in all, it was rather anticlimactic.

The hearing was adjourned, and Nick joined her in the aisle, looping an arm over her shoulder as they stepped outside …

… into a barrage of lights and microphones and shouted questions.

Nick reared back hard beside her, going board stiff. The Tatum team of attorneys leaped forward to intercept the phalanx of reporters, but it was too late. The press had spotted Nick. The story of his kidnapping and rescue had made a brief sensation last year, but thanks to his inability at the time to give interviews and put a poster-boy face to the story, it had faded quickly.

Unfortunately, the media had put two and two together, and they wanted the scoop on the miracle man now. Laura was half-blinded by flashing lights exploding at them from all directions. Good thing she was completely out of her old line of work. One media assault like this would’ve blown her cover permanently.

Nick swore quietly beside her. To the lawyers, he said tersely, “Get us out of here. Now.”

The Tatum support team hustled her and Nick down the front steps and into the waiting limousine. He collapsed on the plush upholstery, swearing steadily under his breath in what sounded like Greek. What was up with that?

The car door closed, and silence descended around them.

He yanked out his cell phone and punched in a number. She caught only the first few digits—617 area code. Boston?

“It’s Nick Cass,” said into the device tersely. “What have you got for me?”

He listened in silence for a long time, his jaw clenching tighter with each passing minute. And then he finally ordered, “Keep looking.”

“Who was that?” Laura asked as he put away his phone.

He looked up at her grimly. It was like staring into the eyes of a total stranger. Cold shock washed over her. Who was this man sitting beside her? She couldn’t ever recall seeing that expression of irritation or determination in his gaze before.

He answered tightly, “That was my past.”

She waited for him to elaborate but was immensely frustrated when he didn’t. It was all she could do not to demand answers right this second. But she’d vowed when she found him to just be grateful that he was alive and accept whatever part of him he chose to share with her, no questions asked. But, darn, that was hard to stick to now!

The ride home was silent, with him lost in his thoughts, and her convincing herself to respecting his privacy. She would not turn her investigative skills on the father of her children, the man she loved with all her heart. She would trust him and take him at his word and support him. But her fingers literally itched to start typing, to dig into the internet and tap her network of resources built up over years of hunting down disappeared and deadbeat dads.

At dinner that night, she and Nick let Adam dominate the conversation with an eager description of his outing with Nanny Lisbet to Colonial Williamsburg that afternoon. Afterwards, Adam went upstairs with Lisbet to take a bath, and Laura and Nick adjourned to the family room. Nick flipped on the news.

Laura started violently as his face flashed up on the flat-screen TV at several times larger than life size. He froze on the sofa beside her.

The reporter narrated over footage from the courthouse this afternoon, recapping the story of Nick’s rescue from a container ship a year before and moving on to report in detail how federal prosecutors were going after several high-ranking AbaCo executives for their roles in Nick’s kidnapping. The reporter devolved into speculating on how high in the company the complicity reached.

Nick turned off the TV, scowling ferociously.

Laura commented soothingly, “It was an essentially accurate report. You came off completely sympathetically. You’re an innocent victim of a heinous crime. And I have to say, you’re incredibly photogenic. The public is going to love you.” She smiled. “Particularly women.”

His scowl deepened and he leaped up off the sofa to pace. He kept mumbling something under his breath that sounded like, “Not good. They’ll see me.”

“Who’ll see you?” she asked carefully.

When he turned to stare at her, it was like looking into the eyes of a wild creature, hunted and cornered. “Everything will be ruined,” he bit out. And with that, he stormed out of the room.

Laura eyed her laptop computer. Just a quick search. Nothing in depth. A brief check to see if something about his past would pop up. No, darn it! She headed for the gym in the basement to drown her temptation in some good old-fashioned sweat.

Nick was restless that night. To her vast disappointment, he didn’t come to bed when she did, and the clock was turning toward 4:00 a.m. when he finally slipped in beside her. His arms went around her and she snuggled into his embrace, pretending to sleep.

But as she lay there in the dark, listening to his quiet breathing, she couldn’t help but wonder who exactly she was in bed with. What in his past had him so frantic? Was he a criminal after all? Who were his enemies? What baggage clung to him? What kind of trouble was he so afraid of bringing to her doorstep? She was a former CIA field agent, for goodness’ sake. What was so bad that he didn’t think she could handle it?

She finally gave up on getting any more rest at around 6 a.m. and eased out of bed quietly so as not to wake Nick. She went to the nursery and scooped up Ellie who, orderly child that she was, was beginning to rouse exactly on time for her 6 a.m. feeding.

“Such a good baby,” Laura crooned as she sat down in the rocking chair in the family room to feed Ellie. As the baby latched on and began sucking hungrily, Laura picked up the remote control and flipped on the TV. Was Nick still the star attraction of the all news channels, or had some real story come along overnight to bump him off the airwaves?

“… reclusive billionaire Nikolas Spiros may have surfaced yesterday in a Washington, D.C. courtroom … appears to be living under a new name … rumors of kidnapping and conspiracy surround his disappearance six years ago after a mental breakdown … unable to contact his people to confirm or deny his identity … you judge for yourself.”

Laura lurched up out of the chair as a photograph of a dashing man in his early thirties was flashed up beside a still picture of Nick yesterday on the courthouse steps.

She knew that younger man very well, indeed. He’d been her lover in Paris six years ago. He was the father of her son. And the man in the other, more recent, picture was the man she lived with now, the father of her daughter. Ellie squawked as she lost her grip on breakfast, and Laura was momentarily distracted resettling the baby.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she murmured. “Mommy was just surprised.”

Although surprised hardly described the sick nausea rumbling through her gut. Nick was a Greek shipping tycoon named Nikolas Spiros? A billionaire? Why had he turned his back on all that? Why did he continue to live under this Nick Cass identity?

Her mind flashed back to Paris. To meeting Nick Cass there. He’d lied to her. He hadn’t told her who he was back then, and he was perpetuating the lie now. No wonder neither she nor her attorney had been able to learn anything about him back then. Nick Cass didn’t exist. The first stirrings of anger started low in her belly, building by steady degrees. Only Ellie’s tiny body nestled against her breast, sucking sleepily, kept her from storming up the stairs and bursting in on Nick—Nikolas—this very second and demanding the full truth and nothing but the truth.

Who in the world was he?