Tank (Blue-Collar Billionaires #1) (17 page)

“You matter, Tank Marshall. Just you. Not the stuff you do, although that’s pretty amazing. I bet if I ask your mom, your brother and your friends what kind of man you are, they’d see the same things I do. Someone with great integrity who goes out of his way to help others.”

“They’d do the same for me,” he replies.

“Because they’re your friends.” I roll over so I can look directly at him. “And they’re smart. They wouldn’t be friends with someone who wasn’t worthy. You are so worthy.”
 

He leans back and I pull him against me. His head rests in the crook of my arm. “I’m afraid, Emma. This thing with my mom … I’ve never been this scared of anything in my life.”

“I know. But every time you go out there and put yourself at risk, there’s a chance that you won’t make it back. Is it worth that? Think of the people you’ll be leaving behind.”

His eyes cloud and he suddenly looks far away. “My mom. My brother.”

“Me,” I whisper. “What would I do without my Tank?”
 

His eyes cut to mine suddenly and fix on my face with a surprising intensity. “Am I yours, Emma?”

There’s nothing I can do to hide my feelings. He has to know how twisted up I am over him. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what’s happening with us. But I know that when you need me, I want to help you. The idea of you fighting really scares me. I don’t want anything to take you away from me.”

He sits up and pushes my hair back. His thumb traces a gentle circle on my cheek. The way he looks at me, I’ll never get used to it.
 

It’s like I’m all he can see.
 

He drops his forehead against mine. “Nothing is going to take me away from you. I won’t let that happen. Leaving you is the last thing I ever want to do.”

The woman who opens the door at Max Marshall’s hotel leads me to the sitting area. I place my bag at my feet and try not to fidget. This morning with Tank was the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced. He’s such a strong man. He doesn’t allow himself many moments of weakness. I’m honored and humbled that he trusts me enough to be himself with me.
 

Which is why I’m here. I’ve known for a while that I can’t take money from Tank’s father. Not just because of how I feel about him but because of how I feel about Claire. How I feel about Finn. In just a short time, his family has become my family. I care about them.
 

I won’t profit from something that hurts them.

But Max was my friend first. Even though I’m shocked and horrified by the things he’s done in the past, I still can’t help but hope that he’s changed. Telling him that I can’t help him in person is the right thing to do.

I glance at my cell phone to see what time it is. I meant to come at lunchtime but things were so busy at work today that I had to wait until I got off. If I don’t get back to his place soon, Tank will worry.
 

“Emma!” Max wheels himself into the room. “What brings you by on such a lovely day? You should be out enjoying the sunshine.”

“Hi, Mr. Marshall. Sorry for just dropping by. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Nothing important. I’m always happy to see you.”

He seems so genuinely pleasant. I watch him, looking for signs of greed or dishonesty. There's nothing to indicate that he isn't exactly what he seems: an eccentric billionaire who's pleasantly surprised by my visit. But after spending time with Tank, I have to wonder. I've gotten to know him. I've gotten to know Claire. She isn't the dramatic or overindulgent type. She wouldn't make up a sob story for attention or to gain sympathy.

The pain I've witnessed in their family is real and there's simply no denying that Maxwell Marshall is the cause of it.
 

“The reason I’m here is to tell you that I can’t help you. With Tank. I like him. A lot, actually. I won’t manipulate him. He’s had enough of that in his life.”

He watches me with unwavering eyes. “He told you, didn’t he? That I left them.”
 

“Yes, sir. It was hard for them. And I understand why he doesn’t want to open himself up to a relationship that could end up hurting him again.”

He looks sad but not surprised. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed but I understand. You’re a good person. I can see why my son cares for you.”

I think back to this morning. Waking up with Tank. Talking about everything. The thing is, it’s all so intense because a lot has happened over a short period of time. But I’m worried that this kind of intensity can’t last. It comes on fast and burns bright but it can burn out just as quickly.

“I think your son is an amazing person. But we haven’t known each other that long. And I know he doesn’t trust easily.”

He makes a sound of disagreement. “He trusts you. He doesn’t take just anyone home to meet his mother.”

I figured that was true by the way Claire and Finn responded to me. They’d seemed happy to meet me but also surprised. Suddenly it occurs to me that I never told Mr. Marshall about meeting his ex-wife. My eyes narrow. There’s only one way he could have possibly known that.
 

“You’ve been watching him, haven’t you? Does he know that you’ve been spying on him?”

“I’m a billionaire, my dear. And I have enemies.”

“How long have you been watching over him?”

“Years. But he doesn’t need to know that.”

Again, I have the sense of being forced into the middle of a conflict between them. If I don’t say anything, it feels like I’m deliberately deceiving Tank. But what would telling him accomplish? It’ll only make him angry and he’s already so angry.
 

I don’t want to make any promises that I can’t keep so I lean down to grab my bag. “I need to get back.”
 

“Thank you, Emma.”

It shouldn’t make me feel guilty but it does. Why is he thanking me? I’m essentially telling him that he’s on his own now.

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
 

He gives me a sad smile. “Yes, you did. Sometimes the choices we don’t make are even more important than the ones we do.”

Before I have a chance to question that strange statement, he wheels himself to the desk against the wall. “Will you read some documents for me before you go? My eyesight isn’t what it once was.”

This I can handle. Despite knowing that his desertion devastated his family, I can’t help my soft spot for him. I want to believe that he’s as nice as he’s always seemed but it’s not my place to decide if he’s really sorry or if he’s really changed his ways. He’ll have to earn his family’s forgiveness, little by little.
 

“Yes. Of course.”

He withdraws a sheaf of paper from the top drawer. “These. Can you read the name on each account please?”

“The Marshall Title Fund I and the other account is the Pacific Falls Investments. The first request is to add Damien Marshall. The second request is to add …” I stop when I see the name on the second form.
 

“Jonathan Boyd.”

He doesn’t seem surprised. “That’s what I thought. I never authorized the second request. I was looking for something else in the files and found this. It’s difficult to know who you can trust as you get older. There’s a point where everyone around you is only there for what they can get from you.”

His hand is shaking as he accepts the papers back. My own hands don’t feel quite so steady either. The implications of this are worrying. Jon is stealing from him.
 
I wonder if Ivy knows?
 

“Does he know that you suspect him? I don’t want to leave you here alone if he’s coming back.”

He taps a button on his wheelchair. Instantly, the door opens and two large men come in. Max nods at them. “My security team is here. Don’t worry about me at all.”
 

But even as he says it, he doesn’t look comforted at all.
 

The trip home seems to take forever. My mind is on my meeting with Max and the papers he showed me. From the very beginning, I’ve been operating without all the pieces of the puzzle. All of Jon’s snide comments make sense now. He’s a thief so of course he can’t understand why I’d be hanging out with Mr. Marshall so much. To someone like Jon, there’s always an angle. He was probably worried that I’d see something I shouldn’t while I was there.
 

Which turns out to have been a valid fear on his part.
 

As I turn down my street, my heart speeds up. I scrutinize all the cars parked near our house. Ivy’s car is sitting in the driveway but Jon’s car is gone. I let out a sigh of relief. He isn’t here. I skip up the steps and open the door with my key.
 

“Ivy? Where are you? We need to talk.” A door closes down the hall and I turn toward the sound. She must be in her room.
 

“I just got back from seeing Mr. Marshall. There’s something I need to tell you.” I rush into my room and grab my favorite pair of sweatpants and a handful of clean underwear. Bringing a suitcase would probably scare the hell out of Tank so I briefly contemplate doing it just for the entertainment value. Most single guys break out in hives at the thought of a woman taking over their space. So I just grab several skirts and blouses so I won’t have to keep coming back for work clothes. I roll them to minimize the wrinkling and then tuck them into my messenger bag. If Tank needs me to stay with him, I’ll be prepared.

I loop the strap of my bag over my head and walk back out into the hall. Jon stands in the doorway to Ivy’s room. He’s obviously just been asleep because his hair is rumpled and his eyes look bleary.

“Where’s Ivy?”

He shrugs. “She needed something from the store. What were you yelling about? Something about Mr. Marshall.”

“Oh, is her car having trouble or something?” I ignore his question and focus on a spot about a foot over his shoulder.

His eyes narrow. “Were you hoping I wasn’t here?”

“Of course not. I was just wondering.” My heart racing, I turn back and walk into the kitchen. I’m glad I didn’t walk into the house and announce the news. Does he know, I wonder? Or suspect?
 

“What were you doing at Mr. Marshall’s?”

“Just visiting.” I open the refrigerator and pull out a bottled water. As I take a sip, his eyes follow the movement. I have to concentrate to swallow the mouthful without spilling any. His gaze is so smarmy. I feel like I need a bath just being in his presence.
 

“You seem to do a lot of visiting lately. A lot of talking. What do you talk about?”

“Nothing. Just school and stuff.”

He steps closer, absently folding the cuffs of his shirt back. His eyes, hard and flat, stay on mine as he speaks. “You think I don’t know what’s going on there when I’m gone? You’d better not be lying to me, Emma.”
 

It’s foolish to provoke him when I’m here alone with him. But his manner just drives me crazy. “What we talk about is none of your business. I’m going to my room. When Ivy gets home, please tell her I need to speak with her.”
 

I move to walk past him and he grabs my arm.
 

“Take your hands off me.”

He yanks me closer. “What did the old man promise you, huh?”

Suddenly standing up to him seems like not only a bad idea but the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. “Nothing! I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s just a nice old man and I visit him sometimes. He’s lonely and needs someone to talk to.”
 

“That’s how it always starts. He’s lonely and he finds some pretty young thing to cozy up to. Did he tell you that you’d be his next wife?”

“No, of course not. He’s old enough to be my grandfather.”

“That’s never stopped any of the others.” His eyes travel the length of my body. “And you’re definitely his type.” His breathing changes, getting rougher. He’s enjoying this and the thought sickens me. It gives me the strength I need to shove him away. Surprise works in my favor because he has to let go of my arm to keep his balance. I race for the door, leaving it hanging open as I jump over the top two steps and down to the lawn.
 

I’m in my car pulling away by the time he appears in the doorway. I watch him in the rearview mirror as I pull off.
 

T
ANK

When Emma returns, she goes straight to the bedroom. I follow but stop when I see her sitting on the bed. She’s texting. When she looks up, tears shimmer on her cheeks. She hasn’t noticed me yet and I’m not sure whether I should give her privacy or just run in and grab her up the way I really want to.
 

Every instinct tells me that I should be in there with her, but whenever I get too close, she always pulls back. The last time things got intense, she asked for time apart. So even though it’s killing me, I step back and retreat down the hall. Poochie curls around my ankles and lets out a garbled purr. I pick her up and carry her into the living room.
 

“You really are a funny-looking thing aren’t you?” She grumbles and purrs under my hands as I stroke her wrinkled back. It’s strange that despite how chaotic things have been lately, I feel more at peace now than ever. It makes no sense since I’m sitting alone on my couch with a cat that looks like a wrinkled old man, but the difference is I’ve made the decisions I needed to. I’m doing things with a clear head and focusing on what’s important now instead of just reacting out of fear. And I have Emma. No matter what happens going forward, I have Emma.
 

The rest I can figure out as it comes along.

A few minutes later, she emerges wearing one of my old Army shirts and a pair of fleece sweatpants. Her hair is up in a messy bun and she’s scrubbed all the makeup from her face. She’s gorgeous.
 

“Are you okay?” I don’t want to pry but she’s clearly upset. I’m not sure what it is about this girl but just the thought of anyone hurting her makes me crazy.