Asking for Trouble (6 page)

“I'm finalizing the menu as we speak.” The edge of fear he'd heard in her voice when he'd first answered the phone was gone. Probably helped that she knew he wasn't lying dead in an alley somewhere. Not that Lantano Valley had that many alleys. “Are you going to invite Morgan Tremayne or should I?”

“Invite Morgan? Mom!” Oh, God. He'd just squawked. As bad as she'd been about his dating life before, she'd ticked up yet another notch on the crazy meter. “Mom, you have to stop doing this. My life is
my
life.”

“Bah. Your life is mine as long as you breathe. It's either her or I'll call that darling Millie girl from the library.”

“You do that and I'll head straight over to St. Augustus and take a vow of chastity.” His Catholic upbringing reared its vengeful head and made Gage cross his fingers. Maybe he should spin three times and spit on the floor. The silence that followed carried an unfamiliar tension. “Mom?”

“You're alone. You shouldn't be alone.”

How many times had they had this conversation? And it had become more frequent since the shooting. “Wounds heal. Memories fade.” Maybe not as fast as he'd have liked, but they would. “I'm fine. I like my life the way it is.” Despite the thoughts of Morgan skipping along the edges of his mind like a stone on a pond.

“
Fine
and
happy
are two different things,” Theresa corrected. “We haven't seen you in weeks. You've buried yourself in work, in this new job, this Nemesis business. You need someone in your life and judging from what I saw in the paper, she's the perfect solution. Besides, I want grandbabies before I'm too old to enjoy them. So. Yes or no on the date?”

“Mom.” Was he ever more exhausted than when he talked to his mother? “I love you. You know that. But the last thing I need is you hounding me about my procreation intentions. It'll happen when it happens, if it happens. Besides, wouldn't you prefer a nice legal daughter-in-law you could pester instead of me?”

“Legal, ha. At this point, I'll take what I can get, and I get what I want. I want that girl at my party.”

“It's Stephen's party, and believe it or not I was working the other night. Meeting Morgan was business.”

“Best job you've ever had, then. I've never seen that look on your face at the office.”

There was no arguing with her. Especially since he knew she was right. “We can't keep doing this, you hounding me about my personal life. Please.” There was a long silence, and for a moment he thought the phone had gone dead. “Mom.”

“Bring her to the party and I will.”

Oh, dear heaven. Gage frowned as a new set of alarm bells went off. “Wait. You'll what? Back off? What exactly does ‘I will' mean?”

“It means.” He knew that “I'm serious” tone and embraced the possibilities. “Bring Morgan Tremayne with you and I'll stop pestering you about getting married. I won't mention grandchildren. To you.”

“For how long exactly?” He wanted details. Exact details. Carved in stone.

“Two weeks.”

“Six months.” He sensed freedom in his grasp.

“Two months.”

“Three and I'll come for dinner once a month.” Desperation made a man do odd things.

“Once a week.”

“Deal.” He scrubbed at his eyes. Something told him she'd made out better than she expected and he'd just gotten screwed. “Am I going to need this in writing?”

“Your father will keep you honest.”

Yeah, that's what he was worried about. “I'll see you next Sunday, Mom. I'll call you tomorrow.”

“I love you, Gage.”

“Love you, too.” He hung up the phone, sat down on the stool beside the workbench, and banged his head on the table. Then he popped up. Shit.

He'd traded one problem for another. How the hell was he going to convince Morgan to attend a family party with him? And then he remembered.

Gage slid open the bottom drawer of his workbench. He tapped a finger against his lips and grinned. What was it his sister Liza always said?

A woman could never say no to a pair of fabulous shoes.

“You knew the rules from day one, Drew. Ditching school is unacceptable.” Morgan shoved the washing machine in place, praying the new water hose would solve the leak issue. Not a good start to her over-scheduled Wednesday. “The answer is no. No movies. No basketball game. You're grounded for two weeks. Kelley. Brandon. Angela's waiting in the car.”

“It was only gym and it was last period.” Anger radiated off sixteen-year-old Drew in waves and Morgan steadied herself to ride the surf.

“Don't care. Ditching is ditching. You have responsibilities, beginning with your education. You don't like the agreement you made when you came to live with us, you know your options.” Since those other options were limited to an extended stay in the juvenile detention center, Morgan considered the topic closed. “You're going to be late for homeroom if you don't leave now.”

“This sucks,” Drew blasted, and for the hundredth time Morgan had to bite her tongue to suggest he get a haircut. She hadn't seen Drew's eyes in weeks, covered as they were with the too-long sandy brown bangs. His baggy jeans and T-shirts reminded Morgan of a Woodstock documentary reject and made her feel old for complaining about the clothes these young people wore today. More importantly, his attire made it difficult to see if he was maintaining his weight, or if he was showing signs of jaundice, something he'd been dealing with on and off due to the damage the undiagnosed diabetes had done to his organs.

What she wouldn't give to take that black leather jacket that never left his sight to the cleaners for an extended visit.

“I suggest you remember just how much this sucks the next time you let your so-called friends talk you into cutting class.” Her phone chimed
Für Elise
, letting her know the bank opened in fifteen minutes. “Do you want a ride to school?”

“I'll walk.”

Heaven save her from the hostile two-word teenage answer. “Okay, then. Don't forget to check your numbers before lunch. Kids, now!” Footsteps pounded overhead like a fleet of reindeer on the roof.

“Whatever.” And with that, Drew grabbed his backpack and slammed out the door.

Morgan slumped against the washing machine. She knew how hard it was for him, a new school, dealing with his diabetes diagnosis, having to leave class every few hours to go to the nurse and be tested. It was hard enough to be a teenager these days without adding a medical issue to the mix.

There had to be some way to get through to him. At least he'd bonded with Brandon. The little guy was Morgan's savior when it came to dealing with Drew, as the teen was incapable of staying mad with Brandon anywhere nearby.

She heard the zoom of Lydia's motorized wheelchair as the little girl buzzed into the kitchen, big brown eyes spinning like King Arthur's Carousel at Disneyland, her frail body swimming in the baggy jeans and Tinker Bell T-shirt she wore.

“Hey, kiddo.” Morgan pulled herself together and dropped a kiss on the top of her thinning fawn brown hair. Her color was good, her eyes less cloudy. Hope that Lydia may have turned a corner battled against the reality of her illness. Today, however, Morgan chose to cling to hope. “Where's Nico? I thought you guys were going to make homemade pasta today.”

“He's fixing the sink in the boy's bathroom. Brandon said there's something stuck in the drain. Nico started swearing so I thought I'd better leave.” She grinned up at Morgan, chasing the aftereffects of Drew's attitude away. “You swear better though.”

“Thank you very much.” Morgan curtsied. “You hungry?”

“Got any bananas?” She stretched her chin up, searched the counter.

“Of course.” She grabbed one out of the fruit bowl, started it for her, and handed it over. Not so long ago Lydia had been on a feeding tube because she couldn't keep anything down.

Morgan's phone chimed again, this time Beethoven's Fifth.

“You going to the construction site today?” Lydia's eyes widened as she peeled the banana and bit in.

“I'm meeting with Kent in about an hour.” Morgan looked at her watch as Nico came in, stopped in front of Morgan, picked up her hand, and plopped a soggy orange plastic fish in her palm. Morgan peered closer. “Is that Nemo?”

“He was supposed to make it to the ocean,” Brandon cried as he ran into the room, then he took Nemo into his possession and stuffed him to his jeans pocket. “How far did he get?” He turned excited eyes on Nico, who was putting the wrench in the toolbox.

“As far as the u-bend.”

“Put it in your journal,” Morgan called as they ran out to the car, managing not to laugh until they were gone. “Need me to check the sink?” Morgan asked him, knowing Nico wasn't as comfortable with plumbing issues as he was with other repair work.

“If you could, great.” Nico washed up. “Lydia and I will take care of dinner. Angela and Kelley are going to make fruit salad for dessert. Will you be home in time?”

“Ummm.” Morgan skimmed her schedule, added a note to double-check the sink. “I doubt it. Late meeting with Vanity Cleaners—I'm thinking they might be a good local source for linens and cleaning services once the center opens. Be nice to get more local businesses on board. So save me a plate?”

“It'll have your name on it.”

“Great. I'm off.” Morgan grabbed her purse from the kitchen table and headed out the back door, adjusting her Bluetooth. Once she was in her car, she pulled out the white envelope containing the checks she'd collected from various stores and individuals over the last couple of days, along with the bundle of cash she'd saved for a rainy day.

Except her rainy day was more like a typhoon.

All the more reason to get the money into the account and start whittling down the missing two hundred grand.

When she'd first siphoned money from the center's construction fund into the operating expense fund, it had been with the intention of repaying it as soon as possible, and for a while she'd been doing well.

But that was before construction delays set in. Before the bills mounted. Before money set aside to repay the “loan” had been gobbled up by Morgan's refusal to turn any patient away.

Within six months what had initially been one hundred grand had doubled and then exploded into the impossible.

She hadn't been able to fill the hole fast enough to keep up with the books. Until Nemesis stepped in.

And then stepped out.

She started the engine and turned on the radio as she did a final check of her calendar for the morning. The local news was spouting about the college basketball team and how they'd been pulverized by a neighboring community college during a practice game. Morgan couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to a game of any kind.

The local newscast blared its syncopated theme song as news personality Lara Stark's voice floated over the airwaves. Morgan withdrew the deposit bag for one final check.

“Sources inside District Attorney's office revealed the Nemesis investigation isn't running as smoothly as anticipated. Rumor is the D.A. is considering filing charges of receiving stolen property and/or collusion after the fact against anyone suspected of accepting money from Nemesis. As we've been reporting for the past few months, numerous individuals and businesses have publically thanked Nemesis for giving them large amounts of cash, money that has saved homes, paid bills, and in one instance, allowed for a life-saving medical procedure. But D.A. Marshall believes that while the public and media have embraced Nemesis, in doing so, they've goaded Nemesis into committing more crimes, as evidenced by the Cunningham burglary this past Saturday night. More details to come as this story develops. This is Lara Stark reporting.”

Morgan's throat closed around the icy air in her lungs as her hand froze on the Nemesis cash.

Rumor has it. Nothing confirmed
. It wasn't as if Morgan had taken out an ad on the evening news. She hadn't told anyone about the four “donations” she'd received from Nemesis. How could she when it meant admitting to shuffling money between the foundation accounts like she'd pilfered the cardboard Monopoly bank.

How Nemesis had gotten those envelopes onto her desk at the construction site was the question that gnawed at her most, but then that was what Nemesis excelled at, getting in and out of places without being seen. She wasn't going to question the gift.

Morgan dug into the bag and pulled out the bundle of twenty-five thousand she'd hoped to deposit today. Her pulse beat double in her neck. Better to be safe at this point, keep the deposit under the reportable ten grand. No red flags, no filings to the FBI or treasury. Not that large cash deposits were out of the norm for her for the foundation. But now wasn't the time to take chances, not when she still had four weeks and three days to find the rest of the money.

She'd done the wrong thing, she knew, but for the right reason. That money she'd taken had saved lives, and for that she would never regret her actions. But that didn't mean she wasn't desperate to cover her trail. No matter whose help she had to take. All the more reason to be relieved that Gage Juliano was out of the picture. She imagined he'd be the type of man she'd find herself wanting to confide in, and that wouldn't lead to anywhere good.

Morgan's ribs ached from her holding her breath. Blood pounded in her ears. Could be this stack of cash would be the last she'd receive from her not-so-anonymous benefactor. Which, given the D.A.'s pronouncement, was good news.

Wasn't it?

***

The Tremayne Investments and Securities building revamp made Gage's office look like the turn-of-the-century factory space it was. The ultra-modern beveled glass of Jackson Tremayne's firm allowed for every ray of sunlight in the city to stream through and bathe its employees in a bright and positive atmosphere.

From a security standpoint, the design made sense to Gage. Nothing could be hidden in this open space. From a practical perspective, the lobby spoke of streamlined elegance and a down-to-business attitude. Any client would feel at ease both personally and financially.

As instructed by the sign posted just inside the rotating glass door, Gage checked in at the security desk, behind which two uniformed guards kept watch on a bank of screens that rotated various camera angles every five to ten seconds.

A badge was printed out as soon as his name was entered into the system. Gage looked up after clipping it to his lapel and found Nathan Tremayne emerging from a closed door across the hall.

“Gage, good to see you again.” Nathan greeted him with a warm smile and an open hand. “Hope you don't mind, but Dad asked me to sit in on your meeting. Just give me one second. Hey, Todd.” Nathan slapped his hand down on the counter to get the young man's attention. “Go on home. Sawyer said he'll cover your shifts for the rest of the week.”

“Thanks, man.” The mingled look of excitement and relief on the second security guard's face told Gage Nathan had made the guy's year. “I was just venting before, about Courtney and the baby. I didn't expect—”

“I know. It's your first kid, give yourself a break. So go home, both of you put your feet up, watch some old movies, and wait for the baby to decide he's ready.” Nathan tapped his knuckle on the counter. “And pick her up some ice cream on the way. Sorry, Gage.”

Gage shrugged. “That was nice of you, giving him the week off.”

“Poor guy's wife is a week over her due date.” He led the way to the escalator at the far end of the lobby. “So you want to bounce some ideas off us about Nemesis?”

“Looking for some confirmation on some things. Appreciate your time.” Truth be told, Gage had been surprised at how easy it had been to get an appointment. In his experience, being told to “call my office” was code for “I don't have time for this shit.”

“If a meeting with you means putting a stop to Nemesis' reign of, well, terror seems a bit of an overstatement. He's a nuisance, but a diverting one at times.”

“He does have a sense of humor.” Albeit a warped one. “So the firm does enough business to warrant owning an entire building in downtown Lantano Valley?” As they moved toward the elevator, Gage noticed the subtle design shift from modern to paying homage to the historical attributes of the Romanesque, a transformation that finished once the elevator doors opened on the fifth floor.

“Dad took the firm global a little over ten years ago, which was when he made plans to buy the building. No financing, mind you. He waited until he had the cash in hand. Did the same thing when it came to the renovation. It was worth the wait.” Then Nathan chuckled. “Too bad it means we won't be expanding for the next year or so, but hey, no debt. Always a good thing.”

Sensible, confident. Gage could see a divide the size of the Great Barrier Reef between the Tremaynes and some of the other residents of Lantano Valley Gage had had the not-so-great pleasure of dealing with. Whatever Kolfax's interest, the agent was off base. As Gage had thought the other night, Jackson and his offspring destroyed Gage's perception of the wealthy elite.

Offspring.
Morgan.

“Nathan, did you sign the birthday card for Beth Ann in accounting yet?” The fortysomething woman sitting behind a half-moon workstation aimed a warning look at Gage's escort when they stopped at her desk.

“Not yet, Corrine. Will do as soon as I'm done here. Inspector Juliano for Dad.”

“Hello, Inspector.” Corrine stood and held out her hand. She was tall, quite curvy, with pale blond hair draping down her spine in a graceful curtain. Her round face didn't carry a hint of stress despite the lights exploding on the phone at her side. “It's a pleasure to meet you. Jackson is still on that call with Kurisan in Japan,” she told Nathan. “Should be another ten minutes.”

“Gives me time to go sign that card then. Be right back.”