Wish You Were Here (21 page)

“
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
Am
erican 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, thou
gh; 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...

“
She can’t. I don’t love her.”

Freya opened her eyes and looked at Nate, who didn
’t look back, just kept his gaze locked on his uncle.

“
We’ve only known each other for a few days, Malcolm,” Nate said. “I don’t love her. I hardly even know her. She was just about to leave, and I was never going to see her again anyway.”

Freya swallowed hard and lowered her eyes.
“It’s true, Malcolm. We’re friends. Barely even that. Practically strangers.” Even as she said the words, her throat tightened around them. Nate was probably telling the truth, but she was lying through her teeth, and she knew it.
Nothing like having a gun aimed at you to make you realize that you’re full of shit.

“
All right then,” Malcolm said, relaxing a bit. “What if I told you you were free to go? Just leave her with me, and run off to safety with your daughter. Are you going to tell me you would go?”

Freya raised her
head, hardly able to believe an opening had just fallen into her lap. “You know, that’s actually a good idea—”

“
Stop it, Freya,” Nate said, cutting her off with a furious look.

“
You’d stay because you love her, you idiot,” Malcolm said.

“
I’d stay because you’ve got a gun, Malcolm,” Nate said, turning his eyes, cold and focused, on his uncle. “I’d stay because I’m not the kind of man who would leave a woman alone to die.”

Freya looked up at that, glancing from Malcolm to Nate as they looked at each other. Some understanding flashed between them and she could see the pain under the anger in Nate
’s eyes, and then Malcolm raised his glass and said, “Here’s to Mick, the miserable bastard.” He drank and then turned to Freya. “Has he told you the story?”

Freya shook her head.

“Well,” Malcolm said, “Mick went on a two-week bender w
hil
e Nate’s mom was complaining about headaches, and she died of a brain aneurysm while he was gone, all alone, no one around to help her. Nate was the one to find her, poor boy. It was terrible. I would have come to the funeral, but no one in the family was talking to me at that point, so...”

Nate stared at the table as Malcolm trailed off into incoherent mutterings, and Freya wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, say something, but instead she stayed frozen where she was, powerless to do anything but sit.

After a long silence, Nate raised his head and looked at his uncle, his eyes hard.

“
I’m staying because I have no intention of being the useless piece of shit my father was. It has nothing to do with Freya, so you can lower that gun.”

Freya kept her eyes on Nate, whose own stare didn
’t stray from his uncle, and wished more than anything that she could tell him he was wrong, about her anyway, that she did love him. She wanted him to know it, just in case...

But it wasn
’t time for that. Not with Malcolm there, waving a gun around like a maniac. She ran her mind through all her rules of negotiation, most of which she’d already broken. Never get personal.
Too late.
Never get emotional.
Ha, funny.
Never negotiate with something you’re not willing to lose.
Like the man I love.
Play to your advantage...

Play to your advantage.
An idea struck her, and she rejected it at first, but looking at Malcolm, finally decided it was worth a shot.

Certainly couldn
’t make things worse.

“
Need a refill?” she asked Malcolm quietly.

Malcolm glanced down at his empty glass.

“I guess I do at that,” he said, and reached across the table for the bottle.

***

“Illegal slap again, Ruby,” Piper said, her voice quiet from the other side of the office desk. Ruby lifted her eyes to the girl’s and smiled.

“
Damn,” she said, pushing her reading glasses up on her nose. “Must need a stronger prescription.”

Piper placed her hands down on the desk.
“What’s the matter? Are you feeling okay?”

Ruby raised her eyes, looking out the window over Piper
’s shoulder. She could just see the roof of the house over the trees.