Нора Робертс - Megan’s Mate

“Like hell. None of it's been yours, not from the start. He did what he did to you, Suzanna, the kids. Chickenhearted bastard couldn't even fight for himself. Hey.” He tugged on her hair. “I won, remember. He didn't get what he'd paid for.”

“Do you think that matters?”

“It does to me. If you want to do something for me, Megan, really want to do something for me, you'll push him right out of your head.”

“He's Kevin's father,” she whispered. “It makes me sick to think it.” “He's nothing. Lie down here with me, will you?”

Because she could see that he was fighting off the drug, she did as he asked. Gently she shifted his head so that it rested on her breast.

“Sleep for a while,” she murmured. “We won't think of it now. We won't think of anything.”

He sighed, let himself drift. “I love you, Megan.”

“I know.” She stroked his hair and lay wakeful while he slept.

Neither of them saw the little boy with shattered eyes and pale cheeks in the open doorway.

Nathaniel woke to the rhythm of his own pain. There was a bass drum in his head, pounding low in the skull, with a few more enthusiastic riffs at the left temple. It was more of a snare along his ribs, a solid rat-a-tat that promised to remain steady and persistent. His shoulder sang along in a droning hum.

Experimentally, he sat up. Stiff as a week-old corpse, he thought in disgust. With slow, awkward movements, he eased out of the bed. Except for the pounding in his head, it was clear. Maybe too clear, he thought with a wince as he limped into the shower. His one pleasure was that he knew his two unexpected visitors would be suffering more than he was at the moment.

Even the soft needles of spray brought a bright bloom of pain to the worst of his bruises. Teeth clenched, he waited out the pain until it mellowed to discomfort.

He'd live.

Naked and dripping, he stepped out of the shower, then filled the basin with icy water. Taking one bracing breath, he lowered his face into it until the shocking cold brought on a blessed numbness.

Steadier, he went back into the bedroom, where fresh clothes had been left folded on a chair. With a great deal of swearing, he managed to dress. He was thinking of coffee, aspirin and a full plate when the door creaked open.

“You shouldn't be up.” Coco, a tray balanced in both hands, clucked her tongue. “Now get that shirt off and get back into bed.”

“Darling, I've been waiting all my life to hear you say that.”

“You must be feeling a little better,” Coco said, and laughed, then set the tray on the bedside table and fluffed at her hair. It occurred to Nathaniel as he followed the familiar gesture that her hair hadn't changed color in a couple weeks, maybe more. Must be some mood she was in, he decided.

“I'll do.”

“Poor dear.” She lifted a hand to gently touch the bruises on his face. He looked even worse this morning, but she didn't have the heart to say so. “At least sit down and eat.”

“You read my mind.” Mote than willing, he eased himself into a chair. “I appreciate the service.”

“It's the least we can do.” Coco fit the legs of the bedside table over the chair and unfolded his napkin. Nathaniel thought she would have tucked it into his collar if he hadn't taken it himself. “Megan told me what happened. That Baxter hired those—those thugs. I've a mind to go to Boston myself and deal with that man.”

The fierce look in her eyes warmed Nathaniel's heart. She was like some fiery Celtic goddess. “Sugar, he wouldn't have a chance against you.” He sampled his eggs, closed his eyes on the simple pleasure of hot, delicious food. “We'll let it go, darling.”

“Let it go! You can't. You have to contact the police. Of course, I'd prefer if all you boys got together and took a trip down to blacken that man's eyes...” She pressed a hand to her heart as the image caused it to beat fast. “But,” she continued with some regret, “the proper thing to do is contact the authorities and have them handle it.”

“No cops.” He scooped up delicately fried hash brown potatoes. “Dumont's going to suffer a lot more, not knowing what I'll do or when I'll do it.”

“Well...” Considering that, Coco began to smile. “I suppose he would. Like waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yeah. And bringing the police in would make it tough for Megan and the boy.”

“You're right, of course.” Gently she brushed a hand over his hair. “I'm so glad they have you.”

“I wish she felt the same way.”

“She does. She's just afraid. Megan's had so much to handle in her life. And you—well, Nathaniel, you're a man who'd leave any woman a bit addled.”

“You think so, huh?”

“I know so. Are you having much pain this morning, dear? You can take another pill.”

“I'll settle for aspirin.”

“I thought you might.” Coco took a bottle out of her apron pocket. “Take these with your juice.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He obeyed, then went back to his eggs. “So, you've seen Megan this morning?”

“It was nearly dawn before I could convince her to leave you and get some sleep.”

That information went down even better than the food. “Yeah?”

“And the way she looked at you...” Coco patted his hand. “Well, a woman knows these things. Especially when she's in love herself.” A becoming blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I suppose you know that Niels and I—that we're... involved.”

He made some sound. He didn't want the image in his brain of them together in the dark. Coco and Dutch were as close to parents as he'd ever had, and no child, even at thirty-three, wanted to think about that side of a parental relationship.

“These past few weeks have been wonderful. I had a lovely marriage, and there are memories I've cherished and will cherish all of my life. And over the years, I've had some nice, compatible relationships. But with Niels...” The dreamy look came into her eyes. “He makes me feel young and vital, and almost delicate. It's not just the sex,” she added, and had Nathaniel wincing.

“Aw, jeez, Coco.” He took a sip of coffee, as he was rapidly losing his appetite. “I don't want to know about that.”

She chuckled, adoring him. “I know how close you are to Niels.”

“Well, sure.” He was beginning to feel trapped in the chair, barred by the tray. “We sailed together a long time, and he's...”

“Like a father to you,” she said gently. “I know. I just wanted you to know I love him, too. We're going to be married.”

“What?” His fork clattered against china. “Married? You and the Dutchman?”

“Yes.” Nervous now, because she couldn't tell whether his expression was horrified or simply shocked, Coco fiddled with the jet beads at her throat. “I hope you don't mind.”

“Mind?” His brain had gone blank. Now it began to fill again—the restless movements of her hands, the tone of her voice, the anxious look in her eyes. Nathaniel shifted the table away from his chair and rose. “Imagine a classy woman like you falling for that old tar. Are you sure he hadn't been supping something into your soup?”

Relieved, she smiled. “If he has, I like it. Do we have your blessing?”

He took her hands, looked down at them. “You know, for nearly as far back as I can remember, I wanted you to be my mother.”

“Oh.” Her eyes filled, overflowed. “Nathaniel.”

“Now I guess you will be.” His gaze lifted to hers again before he kissed her, one cheek, the other, then her lips. “He better be good to you, or he'll answer to me.”

“I'm so happy.” Coco sank, weeping, into his arms. “I'm so very happy, Nate. I didn't even see it coming in the cards.” Her breath hitched as she pressed her wet face to his throat. “Or the tea leaves, even the crystal. It just happened.”

“The best things usually do.”

“I want you to be happy.” Drawing back, she fumbled in her pocket for one of her lace-trimmed hankies. “I want you to believe in what you have with Megan, and not let it slip away. She needs you, Nate. So does Kevin.”

“That's what I told her.” He smiled a little as he took the hankie and dried Coco's tears himself. “I don't guess she was ready to hear it.”

“You just keep saying it.” Her voice became firm. “Keep right on saying it until she is.” And if Megan needed an extra push, Coco thought, she'd be happy to supply it herself. “Now, then.” She smoothed down her hair, her slacks. “I have a million things to do. I want you to rest, so you'll be up to the picnic and the fireworks.”

“I feel okay.”

“You feel as if you've been run over by a truck.” She marched to the bed, busying herself with smoothing sheets and fluffing pillows. “You can lie down for another hour or two, or you can sit out on the terrace in the sun. It's a lovely day, and we can fix you up a nice chaise. When Megan wakes up, I'll have her come give you a rubdown.”

“Now that sounds promising. I'll take the sun.” He started toward the terrace doors, but then he heard footsteps hurrying down the hall. Megan rushed in. “I can't find Kevin,” she blurted out. “No one's seen him all morning.”

She was pale as ice, and struggling to be calm. The idea of her little boy running away was so absurd that she continued to tell herself it was a mistake, a prank. Maybe a dream.

“No one's seen him,” she repeated, bracing a hand on the doorknob to stay upright. “Some—some of his clothes are gone, and his knapsack.”

“Call Suzanna,” Nathaniel said quickly. “He's probably with Alex and Jenny.”

“No.” She shook her head slowly, side to side. Her body felt like glass, as though it would shatter if she moved too quickly. “They're here. They're all here. They haven't seen him. I was sleeping.” She said each word deliberately, as if she were having trouble understanding her own voice. “I slept late, then I checked his room, like I always do. He wasn't there, but I thought he'd be downstairs, or outside. But when I went down, Alex was looking for him.” The fear began to claw at her, little cat feet up and down her spine. “We hunted around, then I came back up. That's when I saw that some of his things... some of his things...”