She’d avoided most of them—especially Jimmy Caparulo, who had called every day since the news hit, and she couldn’t bring herself to call him back. She just didn’t feel up to dealing with the mixed emotions she had about the man who had once been as close as a brother to Sean. So close they’d gone to the army recruitment office together and been in the same class at Ranger school. She could have forgiven him for what he’d done to her. But she would never forget that it was Jimmy who had brought Sean and Evangeline Gordon together, Jimmy who had testified as a witness for the prosecution that he knew Sean had developed immediate and strong feelings for Evangeline the first time he met her at Club One.
Logically, Megan knew Jimmy hadn’t had any choice but to testify, and to his credit, he’d done his best to stand up for Sean and not let the prosecutors twist his words. He’d even emphasized his issues with drugs and alcohol to make himself seem less credible on the stand. But she
couldn’t get over the fact that if it hadn’t been for Jimmy, Sean never would have met Evangeline.
She knew Jimmy was genuinely sorry, for everything, but no matter how much she missed her surrogate brother from childhood, right now Megan couldn’t stand to talk to him, even to hear his apology.
But when Nate had called her earlier this week, she’d surprised herself by accepting his invitation to meet for coffee. Maybe because Nate was the only one of Sean’s friends to actually back off when she pushed everyone away, one of the few who didn’t keep trying to push their way back into her life, all the while looking at her with pity in their eyes—pity for her inability to accept the truth of what her brother had become. Her refusal to see the monster lurking within.
And unlike guys like Jimmy, Nate had emerged from his stint in the military unscathed from his combat tours. That alone made the prospect of seeing him again appealing. Megan could only handle one emotional breakdown at a time, thank you very much. Namely her own.
Five minutes past ten and Nate still wasn’t here. Maybe he was going to stand her up.
She felt equal parts disappointment and relief at the prospect as she sucked down the last of her coffee. She asked a girl with a nose ring and improbable red dreadlocks at the next table to keep an eye on her stuff while she went for a refill. She already had four cups churning in her gut, but after more sleepless nights, caffeine was the only thing keeping her on her feet.
She gave the cashier a quarter for her refill and dosed it heavily with cream and sugar. As she turned to walk back to her table, she got a prickly sensation at the nape
of her neck, quickly followed by a nauseating twist in her stomach. The mug trembled in her hand, and coffee sloshed over her wrist. Megan didn’t flinch, oblivious as her heart pounded in her chest and cold sweat bloomed on her skin.
She took several deep breaths, trying to calm down before she succumbed to a full-fledged panic attack. The third one in two days.
She’d had her first attack three years ago, the week after Sean was arrested. At the time, she’d been convinced she was dying. She’d had them on and off throughout the year of his trial and had finally overcome them after a brief stint in therapy and a couple months on prescription antianxiety meds.
She hadn’t had one in years; then—bam—the other day after she’d left Club One, it had hit her like a freight train. At least this time she knew what was happening. She knew she wasn’t dying and had the presence of mind to pull over before she plowed into a parked car. Though she’d shaken off the attack, a looming sense that her world was about to come to an end stayed with her.
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Because it would. Unless she could figure out a way to keep the needle out of Sean’s arm.
She abandoned her coffee on the counter and lurched back to her table on legs that threatened to buckle with every step. Her heart rate had nearly slowed to a gallop, but a large masculine hand clamping around her forearm sent it back to warp speed.
She gasped and jumped about a foot. Her elbow flew into a rib cage and the crash of a trayful of dishes echoed through the small café, permeating the deep thrum of her own heartbeat.
“What the hell is your problem?” a sharp, feminine voice snapped behind her.
“Megan, are you okay?”
Megan looked up at her would-be assailant and felt like an idiot. Nate Brewster stared down at her, his clear blue eyes dark with concern. He slackened his grip and moved his hand up her forearm in a light caress. “Sorry if I scared you. I thought you were about to fall.”
Megan tried to slow her breath so she wasn’t panting like a greyhound and shook her head, willing away the irrational fear that clawed its way through her insides. “No… I’m just really jumpy.” She looked down and saw ceramic fragments at her feet. Heat rushed to her cheeks when she saw a waitress with full-sleeve tattoos kneeling on the floor, wiping up a puddle of coffee.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Megan sputtered, and started to sink to the floor to help.
“Don’t worry, I got it,” the waitress said.
Nate took out his wallet and, ignoring Megan’s clumsy protests, handed the waitress a ten. “For you.”
The waitress gave him a surprised smile and stuffed the bill into her apron.
Humiliated, Megan let Nate guide her to her chair, grateful for a steady hand as she lowered herself on still-shaky legs. “I’m really sorry,” she began.
“No worries.” Nate flashed her a smile worthy of a toothpaste commercial. His vivid blue eyes still held traces of concern. “Talk to me.”
Megan shrugged and pushed back a lock of hair with shaky fingers. “I’ve been having panic attacks. I thought I was over them but…”
“Not surprising with everything that’s happening.” He
heaved a sigh. “I know how hard you must be taking all of this.”
Megan’s spine stiffened and she looked for signs of pity or condescension on his face, but saw only concern.
“I just don’t understand why he gave up.”
Nate shrugged. “I have no idea what Sean must be going through in there, but I imagine being locked up like that, especially for a guy like Sean, would mess you up pretty bad.”
Megan swallowed around the lump lodged in her throat and nodded.
Nate reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Let me get you something to drink.” He took her drink order—decaf this time—and walked up to the bar. Megan watched him move through the crowd, standing out like a preppy beacon among a sea of hipster black, grunge flannel, tattoos, and piercings.
No one could deny that Nate Brewster was easy on the eyes. Though he was big—almost as big as her brother—he moved with the easy grace of an athlete. With his blond hair, blue eyes, and finely chiseled features, Nate had always reminded her of some kind of Nordic aristocrat. His was the kind of handsome that could have almost been called pretty if the rest of him hadn’t been so masculine.
Totally the opposite of Cole.
No! You are not about to ruin a perfectly good coffee date brooding over you-know-who.
She couldn’t get Cole’s face out of her mind, with his dark, almost black hair and eyes. Rough-hewn features just this side of craggy. Nothing pretty about that face. And yet…
Just thinking about him made her stupid. Especially
considering the role he’d played in making her life a living hell.
The role he was still playing.
Nate returned with two full mugs and a plate holding two biscotti. “Here,” he said. “If you’re this shaky, you should have something to eat to absorb the acid.”
A warm feeling washed through her. Unfamiliar, but… nice. Funny that such a small gesture could mean so much, but it had been so long since anyone had looked after her that she’d forgotten what it felt like.
Nothing dramatic. But it was nice. And right now nice was about all she could deal with.
“I owe you an apology,” Nate said, looking at her a little sheepishly over the rim of his coffee mug.
“What for?”
“For being out of touch for so long. For not making more of an effort to keep in contact with you.” He was silent a beat. “And Sean.”
Megan curled her hands around her coffee cup and gave him a feeble smile. “It’s all right. As for Sean—” She broke off, her eyes suddenly stinging with tears and the knot in her throat threatening to close off her breath. “He won’t see anyone. Not even me.” Not even one last time before he died. She refused to blink, afraid it would break the seal on her tears and then she’d really lose it.
“Look, I had to go away for work, but I could have done more,” Nate said. “So when I heard about Sean’s decision, I thought maybe you could use a friend.”
Megan nodded. “You were right.”
There was an awkward moment of silence; then Nate
spoke again. “I know the circumstances are totally screwed up, but it is great to see you again. You look—”
“Like shit,” she said with a wry smile.
“I’ve seen you look better,” he conceded. “But you’re beautiful, Megan. You always have been.”
His smile had faded, and she squirmed a little under his suddenly intense look. “I have a mirror. Don’t try to flatter me.” She lowered her gaze to the table and took a long drink of her coffee.
“I can’t imagine how hard this must be on you.”
She nodded, grateful he dropped the subject of her looks and supposed beauty. Though Nate was pleasant company, she’d seen the undeniable spark of attraction in his eyes and wasn’t prepared to go there.
“Yeah,” she said with a mirthless smile. “The last few years have been pretty much all about work.” She gestured at her mostly blank laptop screen. “I’m supposed to be writing an article. You can see how far I’ve gotten. And when I’m not working, I’m…” She hesitated. She hadn’t known Nate all that well before Sean’s arrest.
All he has to do is read a newspaper to know that’s what the rest of the world thinks. May as well lay it all out there early.
He raised a curious eyebrow and gave her an encouraging nod.
“The rest of the time I’ve spent searching. For evidence, a lead, anything that could help me prove that they were wrong about Sean. There’s no way he could have murdered that girl.”
Megan’s stare was a challenge.
Nate nodded. There was no surprise, no doubt, and
thank you God,
no fucking
pity.
Like her conclusion was perfectly logical.
“I hired a private investigator, but we never got any leads,” she said, upping the ante. “But I know in my heart Sean is innocent.”
Nate merely nodded again as he finished off his biscotti. “Who did you use?”
“Use?”
“What investigative service? Someone local?”
“Parker and Fishman,” Megan said.
Nate dusted the crumbs from his hands with a mild look of disgust. “They’re a bunch of hacks. Good for a basic background check and not much else.”
Megan chuckled weakly. “Wish you’d been around to tell me that before I spent six thousand dollars with them.”
“I’ve worked with Dennison Investigations,” Nate continued. “I like to know the details of who I’m doing business with before I do a deal. Dennison always delivers. They get booked up solid, but I’ll make sure they’ll see you.”
Not that it would do any good. Megan had contacted Dennison right after Sean was arrested, only to find out they were way out of her price range. Nate’s computer-consulting business must be doing pretty well if he could afford to use them regularly. “Thanks for the offer, but I kind of blew my budg on the other guys. Anything I find now will have to be on my own.”
Nate’s dark blond brows knit above his blade-straight nose. “Wish I’d known that.”
Megan waved him off. “I didn’t tell you. Like I said, I closed off anyone and everyone who wasn’t willing to
jump on the ‘Sean is innocent’ bandwagon. You had your own life to deal with.”
“But Sean was my friend, and I turned my back on him. And you. I’m sorry for that.” He reached across the table and covered her hand. His fingers were warm as they lightly caressed the back of her hand. “Go ahead and call Dennison. If you’re worried about money, let me contribute.”
Megan’s hand jerked in surprise. Nate’s fingers tightened to keep it in place. “That’s… that’s really generous of you,” she sputtered, “but I don’t think—”
“Megan, compared to the amount we already spend with them, your case would be nothing.”
Megan shook her head, momentarily speechless. She wanted desperately to take him up on the offer. The idea that she could have one of the top private investigation firms in the country at her back was an overwhelming temptation. But it would also put her in Nate’s debt, to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars. “That’s too much—”
“It’s not just for you. It’s for Sean too.”
Oh, he really knew how to stab at her heart. Still, she and Sean had always fended for themselves, never accepted a handout from anyone. She didn’t like the idea of being so deeply obligated to Nate.
As she opened her mouth to respond, she froze at the sight of a tall, masculine figure weaving its way through the crowded restaurant.
Everything about Cole shouted cop. The way he moved through the room, unconsciously in charge, the way his dark gaze took in every detail of every person in the crowded café. Megan wasn’t the only one who noticed it. The mostly student crowd darted furtive glances his way, careful not
to make eye contact, shifting uneasily on their chairs as though afraid he was going to sniff out the dime bags and stray Vicodins stashed in their beat-up backpacks.