Depth Perception (34 page)

"During the trial, she sat in the witness box, crying her eyes out, and told the court Race had told her I'd approached him about torching the place for the insurance money. Her testimony and the accelerant that had been found in my garage pretty much sealed my fate. She had no idea she had been manipulated. Two days later, I was convicted of arson, conspiracy to commit insurance fraud, and manslaughter."

Nat felt gut punched. "I'm sorry."

"I swear, I couldn't believe it. I was in shock. My wife. My goddamn best friend. I knew I was in deep trouble, but it was too late. My lawyer did her best, but she wasn't very experienced. Two weeks later, I was sentenced to twelve years in Angola."

It made her sick to think this man had had to endure something so brutally unjust. "I can't image how awful that must have been."

''Twelve years seemed like an eternity to me. They cuffed me in the courtroom. In front of my wife and son. I couldn't believe that was the end of it. That I was going to prison for twelve years when I hadn't done a goddamn thing to deserve it.” He turned tortured eyes on her. "I swear, I thought that sentence was going to kill me. I was outraged and furious and I didn't have anyone to blame but myself."

"What about an appeal?"

"My lawyer went through the motions and filed an appeal, but it was too little too late."

"For God's sake, Nick, you were innocent."

“That's what every guy in that prison was saying, Nat. I was just another con running his mouth. Pretty soon, I just stopped saying it."

Outrage was like a giant hand squeezing her chest. “There wasn't anything anyone could do?"

"Nope. I got put into the population two days later." As if remembering, he closed his eyes briefly.” It was tough. The things you hear about prison ... I can tell you that being there was a hell of a lot worse."

"I can't imagine."

''The adjustment was the bard part. There's an entire underground society inside a prison. People fucking with you twenty-four hours a day. No privacy. The isolation. The humiliations. Always having to watch your back." He shook his head. "Don't get me wrong. Most of the guys there deserved to be there."

"Not you."

"Not me. And I let them know it at every turn. I was filled with rage and bitterness. I got into fights. Just about got myself killed a couple of times."

"You had every right to be angry. What they did to you was unspeakable."

"Yeah, well, what could I do? That ten-by-ten cell was going to be my home for the next twelve years. I could either make the best of a bad situation, or I could keep going like I was and end up dead." He glanced down at the tattoos. "I was two years into the sentence before I finally accepted the reality that I wasn't going to be getting out anytime soon. I'd made a couple of friends by then. Guys I could count on to watch my back. I got into a routine. I worked laundry and spent the rest of my time pumping iron and running laps at the track. I finished the degree I'd started.

"Tanya came to see me a few times. She brought Brand. But, God, it was hard. I was furious with her. I hated her for what she' d done. But she had been manipulated by the same man who'd manipulated me. What could I say? She was the mother of my son. My only link to Brand. I didn't want my boy in that prison, but Nat. I swear to Christ I didn't have the strength to tell her not to bring him. He was the only thing that kept me going most days.

"The last time she came to see me was the day she told me she was filing for divorce and moving back to Bellerose. I was three years into my sentence. Nine more to go, and it felt like a million. Tanya was broke. The house had been repossessed by the bank. Race Roberson had long since gone to Los Angeles. She walked into the visitor room and just laid it out for me.

“It didn't hurt because I loved her. I hadn't loved Tanya for a long time. But it killed me because somehow I knew I wouldn't be seeing Brand again. I don't know how I knew that, but I did. He was five years old, and I loved him more than my own life."

Closing his eyes, he scrubbed his hand over his face and blew out a breath. "A year later, two corrections officers and the chaplain came to my cell. It was late, after lights out, so I knew something had happened. I had always figured it would be Tanya. Or maybe Pop. They took me into an interview room, and the chaplain told me Brand had drowned."

Chapter 25

Even though it had been more than two years since that terrible day, recounting it made him break into a cold sweat. Nick had relived that horrific moment a thousand times since. His mind could conjure up the same brutal punch of shock. The way the chaplain's eyes had skittered away. The corrections officers shifting uncomfortably and wishing they were anywhere but in that tiny room with a man who was about to come apart at the seams.

"Just like that, my beautiful little boy was gone,” he heard himself say. But he could hear the change in his voice. The black grief, the residual bitterness, the sharp edge of hatred that had darkened his heart for so long.

"I felt like a part of me had died. The only part of me that was decent and good."

Pulling the comforter to her breast, Nat sat up and turned to him. He saw tears on her cheeks, realized he'd made her cry. Raising her hand, she touched the side of his face. "I'm so sorry,” she said softly. "About Brand. About your having to go through that."

He pressed his cheek against her hand, liking the way her palm felt against his face. "I didn't mean to lay this on you tonight."

"I asked. As terrible as it is, I'm glad you shared it with me."

He smiled and thumbed away a tear. "I wanted you to know I'm not a criminal."

''What happened to you is heartbreaking and incredibly unfair."

"Life is heartbreaking and unfair sometimes. I mean, one moment we're at the top of the world, cruising, on autopilot. The next, Fate steps in and just sucks the air out from under our wings and we crash and burn."

"You survived."

"I was still alive-at least on the outside. But I'm not the same man I was the day I walked into Angola. I'm not the same man I was before I lost my son." Taking her hand, he lowered it from his face and looked at her. "I'm bitter,
chere.
I have a lot of hate inside me. I don't think I'm the right man to heal you."

"I'm not looking for someone to heal me," she said.

"We're all looking for someone to heal us. At least all of us damaged souls." He smiled in an effort to soften what he had to say next, but wasn't sure he managed. "I'll never trust another human being. I'll never give my whole heart. I'm not even sure I'm capable of loving anyone."

"You've been hurt. Betrayed--"         .

"You deserve a man who can give you everything," he said firmly. "I don't have anything left to give."

"You're kind and generous. You have dreams--"

"I let go of those dreams a long time ago,
chere.
"

They were propped against the pillows, facing each other. The bedroom was dark, but light from the window offered just enough light for him to see the hurt in her expression, the sheen of tears on her cheeks.

"Being with you," he whispered. "Like this. It was incredible. Better than I can ever make you believe. But I don't want it to change the way you feel about me."

"You can't tell me what to feel."

"Nat, I'm broke. The farm is in a shambles. I work in a goddamn bar half the night. Pop's Alzheimer's is getting bad."

For the first time, she looked angry. "Why are you telling me this?"

 "Because I know you're not the kind of woman who sleeps with a man on a whim. Because you're vulnerable, and I'm a son of a bitch for taking advantage of that."

"Would it be such a bad thing if I admitted to caring about you?" she snapped.

"I just told you I will never trust you. I will never love you."

"I don't believe that."

"I'm a convicted felon. I spent six years in prison. I saw things I don't let myself think about. I did things I'll never admit to. Those years tainted me, Nat. They took away my decency. My humanity. They made me dirty."

"You're wrong."

"You've already had your life tom apart. You deserve a good man. A whole man. Nat, I'm trying to be kind by telling you this before things go too far. You don't want to get tangled up with me."

"You don't get to choose who you get tangled up with."

"Once we find the person responsible for these murders, whatever you and I have ... we've got to let it go. Believe me, it's the kindest thing I can do for you."

"You think running away from your feelings is somehow noble?" she asked.

"Noble is the last thing I am,
chere,
but five years from now, you'll be thanking me."

"You don't know what you're talking about." She started to rise, but Nick was across the bed and grasping her hand before her feet hit the floor. "Wait," he said. "Don't be angry."

"I want you to leave." She shoved at him, tried to shake off his grip.

But Nick was ready. Grasping both her wrists, he rolled her onto her back and came down on top of her. For a moment the only sound came from their heavy breathing. Her eyes were large and dark and filled with hurt. Hurt that he'd put there. Of all the things that had happened between them, that was the one he was the most sorry for.

"I'm the worst thing that could happen to you right now," he heard himself say.

Her hair was fanned out on the pillow behind her. It looked like silk in the dim light. At some point she had stopped struggling. She was staring at him, her eyes wide, her mouth partially open. He knew it was wrong, but he wanted her. That need was like a thousand needles pricking his skin.

"Who are you trying to convince, Nick? Me or you?"

The heady pull of lust taunted him, made him want things he was a fool for considering when she was so close he could see the sheen of moisture on her lips. Grinding his teeth against the unwanted emotions exploding inside him, he sat up and peeled the comforter off of her. She tried to cover herself, but he didn't give her the chance. Bracing his arms on either side of her, he lowered his weight onto her and crushed his mouth to hers.

The need to possess was more powerful than his need to protect. He knew he was a bastard for giving in to those needs. But Nick had never claimed to be a saint. He had never even claimed to be a good man.

He knew this would hurt her. Knew it would hurt him, too, if he wanted to be honest about it. But it wouldn't be the first time he'd sold his soul to get what he wanted.

He kissed her long and deep and hard. She didn't struggle, but she didn't kiss him back, either. He wanted her to kiss him. Damn it, he needed her to want this.

Wedging his knees between hers, he parted her legs. A sound escaped her when he moved against her. His penis nudged her opening. She was wet, but he felt her body go rigid beneath him.

"If you want me to stop, you had better say so right now," he ground out.

Surprising him, she began to move against him. Her arms went around his shoulders, her nails raking down his back. She opened her mouth and let his tongue inside, returning his kisses with equal ferocity.

Closing his eyes against a barrage of emotions he didn't want to feel.  He slid into her heat and tried not to think of anything at all.

#   #   #

Nat jolted awake to the peal of the doorbell.  She sat bolt upright, her heart pounding. Beside her, Nick was already out of the bed and stepping into his jeans. A glance at the alarm told her it was almost four A.M. The time of night when a knock at the door could only mean bad news.

"Are you expecting someone?" he asked as he zipped his fly.

Nat slipped into her robe and belted it at her waist. "No."

His gaze lingered on hers a moment too long. “If someone’s looking for trouble, I'll be right behind you, out of sight, okay?"

She walked into the hall and took the stairs to the living room. The first thing she noticed was the flicker of police lights coming through the front window. A surge of worry sent her running to the door. Flipping on the lights, she flung it open, found herself staring at Alcee Martin and Matt Duncan.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "What happened?"

"Is Nick Bastille here?" Alcee said.

Nat's heart began to pound. "Why? What's happened? Is it his father?"

Alcee gave her a dark look:. "Nat, answer the question. Is he here?"

"I'm right here."

Nat spun at the sound of Nick's voice and watched him descend the steps, his expression taut and wary.

She heard the slide of steel against leather as both Duncan and Alcee drew their weapons. "Stop right there. Bastille. Put your hands up where we can see them," Alcee said.

Nick stopped in the center of the living room and raised his hands to shoulder level. "What's this all about?"

"We have a warrant for your arrest." Alcee nodded at Duncan. "Cuff him."

Nat couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Arrest for what?"

Nick stood quietly with his hands raised, his expression totally devoid of emotion. Knowing he'd spent six years in prison for a crime he hadn't committed, she could only imagine the thoughts running through his mind.

Chest puffing out like a mean little rooster, Duncan crossed to Nick. "Turn around. Nice and easy. And give me your wrists."

Nick was a good three inches taller than Duncan, so the other man had to look up slightly to make eye contact. Taking one long last look at Nat, Nick slowly turned and offered his wrists. "What's the warrant for?" he asked.

Duncan tugged the cuffs from his belt. Once the bracelets were in place, he faced Nick and proceeded to pat him down. Since Nick was only wearing jeans, it didn't take long. But Duncan was thorough and purposefully rough, pulling his pockets inside out and leaving them that way.

Humiliating him, Nat thought, and anger surged through her. Adrenaline sent her across the room where she got in Alcee's face. "Why are you arresting him?" she demanded.

Alcee looked pained. "He's wanted for questioning in connection with the murder of Hunter Ratcliffe."