Wish You Were Here, page 20
“Eleven,” Piper said. “Gonna be twelve in August.” She looked at Nate. “Dad, you never told me I had an Uncle Malcolm.”
And then Malcolm stood up straight, and Nate saw the gun tucked into his waistband under his tweed jacket.
***
Freya’s heart raced as she caught Nate’s sharp look; he’d seen the gun. Good. He’d get Piper out of there; he’d think of something. She relaxed, slightly, as Nate moved closer to Piper.
“Piper,” Nate said. “Come over here.”
“Dad?” she said, looking curious.
“Now.”
Piper walked over to him and he stepped in front of her, blocking her from Malcolm. Freya released a breath, but then Malcolm put his arm around her, drawing her close, his other hand on his waistband, near the gun.
“And how are you, m’lad?” Malcolm said, and his eyes lit as he looked at Nate. “Been a long time.”
“Piper,” Nate said, not taking his eyes of his uncle. “Go to your room.”
“Oh, no,” Malcolm said, moving his hand a bit closer to the gun. “I just met the child. You can’t cut the reunion short. I might get insulted.”
Piper peeked out from behind Nate, looking confused, and Nate put his hand on her and gently pushed her back.
“Dad—” she started, but he said, “Piper,” and she went quiet. Just then, a door opened upstairs and Freya looked up to see Ruby coming down the steps.
Damnit.
“Who was that on the phone?” Ruby asked as she descended into the foyer, then raised a surprised eyebrow at Malcolm. “Why, hello, Mr. Bayheart. Everything okay on your lot?”
Then Ruby’s eyes went to his waistband and his arm around Freya and she shifted over to stand next to Nate, blocking Piper from Malcolm entirely behind her bulk. Freya wanted to cry with love for the woman.
“Go upstairs, Piper,” Ruby said, and Freya held her breath, hoping against hope that Malcolm would let the rest go and just deal with her. It would be so much easier if it was just her.
“No one’s going anywhere,” Malcolm said. “It’s a family reunion.”
“You know what?” Freya said, turning slightly toward him. “I really don’t think you need anyone but me, right, Malcolm?”
Malcolm opened his mouth to say something but Nate said, “No. Uncle Malcolm, I’ll stay. Everyone else can go.”
“No,” Freya said, “really.”
Nate looked at her, his eyes hard and angry. “Knock it off, Freya.”
“Nate,” Freya said, trying to convey her conviction in her tone. “You don’t understand what this is all about—”
“I don’t care what it’s about.” Nate looked at Malcolm. “Malcolm and I can settle this between us.”
“No, Nathan, I think I’d like Freya to stay.” Malcolm dug his arm into Freya’s back and side as he clutched her ever closer, and she winced.
“Malcolm,” Nate said, his eyes on Freya as he closed in tighter to Ruby, further blocking Piper. “Let her go.”
“It’s a simple problem with a simple solution,” Malcolm said. “And the solution is, someone here has got to get me my goddamn plate.”
***
First get them out, Nate thought. Then kill him.
“All right,” Nate said, holding up one hand. “Just stay calm, okay?” He touched Ruby on the hand, keeping his eyes on Malcolm. “Ruby, take Piper up to her bedroom and get the plate.”
Ruby, God bless her poker face, simply nodded. Nate turned to Piper and gave her his I-mean-it look.
“Piper, go show Ruby where the plate is.”
“How did you—?” she started, but Nate shushed her. If he could just get Ruby to the room with Piper, she’d see the fire ladder in the window and get them out. Then he could find a way to get Freya out.
And then he would deal with his uncle. But first things first.
He knelt in front of Piper and put both hands on her shoulders.
“Go up to your room,” he said firmly, “and get the plate.”
She lowered her eyes. “Okay.”
Nate swallowed and stood up, turning to face Malcolm again. He touched Ruby’s hand, and she turned toward the stairs and put one hand on Piper’s shoulder.
“Just a minute,” Malcolm said, and Nate felt Ruby stiffen next to him. “Since when does it take two people to get a plate?” He looked at Piper through the crack between Nate and Ruby’s shielding bodies. “Go on, child. Be a good girl, and go fetch the plate for your Uncle Malcolm.”
“Go,” Nate said forcefully, and Piper nodded and retreated up the stairs. Nate closed his eyes. She was smart. She knew something was wrong. She’d go out the fire ladder, run to the office and wait there. Maybe she’d even call the police, but he didn’t care about that right now. He just wanted her safe.
She’d be safe.
Now he just had to get Ruby and Freya out of there...
Malcolm smiled, his eyes cold but clearer than Nate had ever seen them before. “It’s a shame to see you again under these circumstances, Nathan. I’ve always liked you, despite the fact that you came from my useless fuck of a brother.” He turned his eyes to Ruby. “And it’s nice to meet you as myself, Ruby. I apologize about the Mr. Bayheart thing. The deception was a necessary evil, you understand.”
“Nice to meet you, Malcolm,” Ruby said evenly. “You hurt anyone in this family, and I’ll kill you.”
“He’s after my father,” Freya said, keeping her voice low. “There’s no need for him to hurt anyone in this family if you guys would just go.”
Ruby kept her eyes on Malcolm. “When I talk about this family, that includes Freya. Just so’s we’re clear.”
“Look,” Nate said, but then he heard the telltale tap of little feet on the stairs. His heart sank, and he turned to see Piper coming down the steps.
“Piper, I told you to go!”
Piper stepped into the foyer, a curious expression on her face and a Saran-wrapped, purple-rimmed plate in her hands.
“No, you didn’t,” she said, approaching slowly and looking at Nate as though he’d gone nuts. “You said to get the plate.”
“Ha ha!” Malcolm said, releasing Freya and moving toward Piper. “That’s a good—”
Nate stepped between them, grabbed the plate from Piper, and shoved it into Malcolm’s chest.
“You have your goddamned plate,” he growled. “Now get out of my house.”
Malcolm straightened, took the plate, and stepped back. For a moment Nate thought it was over, and he almost started breathing normally. Then Malcolm placed the stupid thing on the hall table and put his arm around Freya again. He grinned and winked at Piper.
“That’s a good girl, Piper,” Malcolm said. “Out of this entire family, you are officially my favorite.”
Piper watched Malcolm suspiciously for a second, then raised guilty eyes to Nate. “I’m sorry, Dad. I found it in Ruby’s room and I knew we’d go back to Cincinnati if you found it, so I hid it.”
Nate looked at her and tried to smile encouragement. “It’s okay, Pipes. I’m not mad.” He looked at Malcolm. “You’ve got what you want. Now get out.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Malcolm said.
“Fine,” Nate said. “Then let them go, and you and I can talk.”
Freya stamped her foot. “Would you listen? He doesn’t want you, he wants—”
“Hush, girl,” Malcolm said, cutting her off with a sharp squeeze to her arm that made her wince and made Nate want to kill him on the spot.
Malcolm glanced from face to face, paused for a moment, and said, “I’m not unreasonable.” He looked at Ruby and nodded toward the door. “Take the child and go to the office, but if you call anyone...” He looked at Nate, then back at Ruby, his eyes cold with the implied threat. “Are we clear?”
Ruby nodded and took Piper’s hand, carefully keeping her body between Malcolm and Piper. She opened the door and nudged Piper out, then looked at Nate, her poker face dropping for a moment as he could see the wheels churning in her mind. Nate shook his head.
“Take her to the office,” he said. “Play cards, keep her occupied. I’ll take care of things here.”
Ruby nodded.
Nate turned back to Malcolm. “Freya goes, too.”
“Oh, no,” Malcolm said, pulling Freya closer. “This one stays. I’ve still got some business with her father.”
Goddamnit. “Malcolm, there’s no need—”
“Get going, you two,” Malcolm said, nodding at Ruby and Piper. “Before I change my mind.”
Ruby shot Nate one last look and then hurried out with Piper, shutting the door behind them. Nate watched through the living room window until they were safely away from the house, then locked his focus on his uncle.
“Let her go,” he said, “or I swear, I will kill you myself.”
“Stop it,” Freya said. “I can handle this. If anyone goes, it should be you.” She turned to Malcolm and gave him a professional smile, as if they were negotiating across a conference table. “Malcolm, consider your options here. You don’t need him. You’ve got me. If you let him go—”
“That’s sweet of you, girl,” Malcolm interrupted, pulling the gun out of his belt and aiming it at her. “But Nate’s got a dangerous look in his eye, and I have no intention of turning my back on him at the moment.” Malcolm looked at Nate. “And she’s not leaving my side until Daly gets here, so you can stop wasting your energy to that end.”
It wasn’t perfect, but at least Ruby and Piper were out. He could get Freya out, too, if she’d stop fighting him, but he’d need to placate his uncle a bit first.
“Fine,” he said finally. “That was Daly on the phone earlier. He’ll be here in an hour. We can wait in the kitchen.”
Malcolm grabbed the plate from the hall table behind him, then smiled and motioned with the gun for Nate to go first. Nate led them to the table and Malcolm nudged Freya to take a seat next to him, opposite Nate, the gun aimed straight at her chest.
Fucking family reunions, Nate thought, and sat down across from them.
Nineteen
Malcolm tapped his foot on the floor, working out his nervous energy. He was so close, so close, to having everything he wanted. He was in charge, and as long as he kept the gun on Daly’s daughter, Nate was taking him very seriously. A hero to the end, that boy was. It made Malcolm wonder whether Nate wasn’t actually the mailman’s son or something. Sure would explain a lot, considering the lazy coward Mick had been.
Malcolm’s eyes went to the plate sitting in the middle of the table, all wrapped in aged cellophane, ready for the police to analyze for Richard Daly’s fingerprints, linking him with the security guard’s death. Then, once Daly had commissioned a private plane to take the three of them to some nice South American country with white sandy beaches and sketchy extradition laws, he’d send them back.
Or kill the girl in front of Daly, then kill the rat bastard as well. That idea had merit, too.
Well, he could make that decision later. For the moment, there was nothing to do but wait.
“So, Nate,” Malcolm said. “I heard you got your own fancy restaurant set up in Cincinnati. Good for you.”
“I did,” Nate said, his eyes locked on Daly’s daughter. “I sold it.”
“Ah, sorry to hear that,” Malcolm said. “Did it fail?”
“No.” Nate gave Malcolm a cold stare, and then his eyes went back to the girl again. Malcolm watched for a moment, noting the angry desperation in his nephew’s expression, and began to rework his hero theory.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that the boy was in love.
“Oh, no,” Malcolm said, looking back and forth between them. “No, no, lad, say it isn’t so.”
Nate looked at him. “What?”
“You’re in love with her?” he said, gesturing to Freya with the gun, and Nate dug his fingertips into the wood table so hard, they almost left claw marks. Malcolm sighed. “What are you, thick in the head, boy? Do you know who this is?”
Nate glared at him coldly. “That’s enough, Malcolm.”
“Oh, for crying out—” Malcolm leaned forward, moving the gun closer to the girl. “This is Veronica Jensen’s daughter. Veronica Jensen, the woman who sliced my heart out of my chest, threw it on the cold ground, and speared it with the heel of her shoe. This is Richard Daly’s daughter, a man with no personality to speak of and even less soul. What are you thinking?”
“That’s enough, Malcolm,” Nate said again, his voice low and serious.
“Tell me it’s not true,” Malcolm said, “because I’m thinking the best thing I can do for you is shoot her in the head right now before you get too far gone.” Malcolm sat back, pulling the gun back a little, while still keeping it aimed at her chest. Shooting Daly’s daughter in the head now wouldn’t do him any good, and it would leave him without leverage for Daly later, but it would be the biggest favor he could do for his nephew.
“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Nate said. “Let her go.”
“I’m not sure you understand the balance of power here, young Nathan,” Malcolm said, his own anger rising as his nephew looked about ready to throw himself across the table and take his chances with the gun. Heroics made chaos out of a manageable situation; surely Nathan knew that much, at least. But if he loved the girl, no amount of common sense would make him be reasonable.
“You got any alcohol, Nate?” the girl asked suddenly.
Nate’s expression softened a bit as he looked at her, and then he nodded. “Yeah. I have some whiskey in the cabinet above the sink.”
Daly’s girl turned to Malcolm, her eyes calm and cold, just like Veronica’s had been whenever she’d looked at him.
“Would you like some, Malcolm?” she asked.
He stared at her—oh, so like Veronica—and then a deep longing flickered to life in Malcolm’s gut. He’d gone sixteen months without a drop. Sixteen months sober, and it had gotten him the ultimate prize—Richard Daly’s total destruction. He was just minutes away from his vengeance. What could it hurt to indulge in a celebratory tipple now?
He moved the gun closer to the girl and looked at his nephew. “Pour two. Do I need to tell you what’ll happen if you try to pull anything on your old uncle?”
“No,” Nate said, pushing up slowly from the table.
“I might pull something.” Malcolm chuckled, a sudden giddiness overtaking him at the thought of how damn close he was. He looked at Daly’s daughter, who was not even smiling. “Get it? Pull something? Like the trigger?”
“Tell me your jokes get better when you’ve had a few,” the girl muttered.
“An Irishman is always funnier when he’s had a few,” Malcolm said.
“In that case, Nate,” she said flatly, “pour him a double.”
Malcolm chuckled, watching as Nate looked up from where he was pouring and smiled at the girl, as if trying to comfort her, as if the only thing that mattered to him was this girl and her wellbeing.
Malcolm sighed. Lord in Heaven. Would the Brody men never learn?
***
Freya watched as Nate lifted his glass, his eyes locked on his crazy bastard of an uncle, and she couldn’t help but be a little pissed off. If Nate had just played it cool and gotten out with Piper, she could have handled this situation. This was her thing, the one thing she knew how to do, and the threat of physical violence only made it slightly different from any other negotiation. All she had to do was leverage what she wanted against what Malcolm wanted and strike a deal. It would work, too, she knew it would, but Nate’s presence there mucked it all up, breaking the cardinal rule of negotiation by putting something in play that she wasn’t willing to risk losing.
Now, the only course she had left was getting Malcolm so drunk that he’d put the gun down or something. It was a weak strategy, she knew, but as Malcolm downed his double and asked for a refill, she felt a small blossom of hope.
It would take a while, though; the problem with drunks, they had a hell of a tolerance.
“Let me tell you about Veronica,” Malcolm said, his eyes still sharp and his speech still strong, even as he started in on the new glass. “Ah, now that was a woman. She was tough, and beautiful, and never took crap from anybody, even Richard. And when she danced...” Malcolm smiled down into his glass. “There was nothing in the world more beautiful than Veronica Jensen on a dance floor.”
Freya lowered her eyes to her own glass, which remained untouched. She pictured her mother’s face, remembering how lovely she had been, and refused to let Malcolm’s memories taint her own. The woman Malcolm remembered was distorted by his demented ego; that woman was not her mother.
“Bitch,” Malcolm said roughly, then lifted his glass and pointed his index finger at Nate. “Now you listen to me, young Nathan Brody. You have a chance to get out before it’s too late, before she’s made you sell your soul, only to run off with someone else while you crawl like a dog, begging her to...” Malcolm put his glass down, and his eyes were reddened, but deadly serious. “I tell you, the biggest kindness I could do for you would be to kill her right now.”
Freya took in a little breath, and Nate leaned forward.
“No,” he said, his voice tight. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. Just... drink.”
“She’ll destroy you.” He pulled on her arm, pulling her closer to the gun. “Do you think I don’t know what I’ve become? Do you think I was always like this? I could have been more than this. I could have been a man who had the peace of knowing he’d never taken another human life. But I loved her, with all my heart, and it ruined everything. And this one will do the same to you, mark my words.”
Malcolm gripped her upper arm tight, making her wince, and he moved the gun even closer.
“She’s not going to destroy me,” Nate said, keeping his eyes on Malcolm.
“She will,” Malcolm said and Freya closed her eyes as the tip of his gun pressed against her chest. Maybe getting him drunk wasn’t such a good idea...
