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Authors: Janet Nissenson

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Lauren stuck her tongue out at him as she very calmly sauntered over and pulled the blade out of the wall, sticking it back inside her cowboy boot where she’d evidently been hiding it. “I’ve been called worse things,” she replied. “But the one thing you do
not
call me is babe. Got it, big guy? And calling me Angie’s little friend is pushing it as well. So, now that we’re square on all that, let me get a few things off my chest. And then, based on your answers, I might just tell you when Angie’s due back.”
Nick’s gaze dropped automatically to Lauren’s chest, which was very impressively showcased in a snug fitting cropped T-shirt, and forced himself not to smirk, well aware that she could pull that nasty looking knife out in the blink of an eye. “Fine,” he muttered tersely. “Say what you have to. But I’ve got a pretty good idea of what you’re going to get off your chest. Unfortunately, it’s not that shirt that’s doing a piss poor job of - yeah, never mind,” he added after spying the murderous look in her eyes.
“Hah, hah. Why do you men always think that dirty talk turns a woman on? Some of the bullshit my brother-in-law spouts – and my sister falls for it every single time.” Lauren shook her head. “So, have a seat, Nick. Way past time for you and I to get acquainted, don’t you think?”
He sat down on the futon, careful to keep his distance from Lauren. “I suppose,” he answered grudgingly.
“Relax.” Lauren waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m not going to start asking you a bunch of personal questions. Especially since Angela herself doesn’t seem to know a whole lot about you. I think she’d be pretty ticked off at me if I managed to pry facts out of you that are still deep, dark secrets to her. The only thing I’m really interested in finding out about you is this – what the hell are your intentions towards her this time around? Because you just about destroyed her during the last go round, and I’ll tell you now – if you screw around with her like you did the last time I’ll bury that knife of mine somewhere besides the wall. Like your chest cavity. Or your left testicle.”
Nick suppressed a shudder, and bit down on the inside of his mouth to keep himself from delivering a scathing retort, especially since he had no desire to serve as Lauren’s target practice again today. “My intentions, as you call them,” he began tersely, “are between Angela and myself. But they are – let’s call them
honorable
– this time around. I know I hurt her badly four years ago.”
“Do you?” asked Lauren somberly. “I’m really not sure you know just how badly, Nick. Obviously bad enough to make her stop eating, to lose so much weight that my sister and I actually discussed kidnapping her and forcing her to enter a clinic for those kinds of disorders. But we realized that she wasn’t actually anorexic, that the reason she didn’t eat was because she’d just stopped caring. About food, about herself, about living.”
He nodded. “The first time I saw her again, back in April – I was shocked. She looked like a completely different person. And her hands – they were so cold, like she was frozen from the inside out.”
“That’s because she was. Emotionally, at least. She shut everything down inside, cut off her feelings, and just went through life like some sort of ghost all the time. Even drinking didn’t help, because Angie’s one of those people who just gets quieter and more depressed the more she drinks.”
Nick glared at Lauren. “And I’ve got little doubt after some of the wild stories I’ve heard that you encouraged her to drink. Angela’s got a problem with the booze, you know, she likes it a little too much. And you sure as hell didn’t do her any favors by egging her on.”
Lauren’s green eyes were furious. “Fuck off,” she spat. “You’ve got no idea what went on these last four years, no idea at all. For example, after Angie saw you kissing one of your new sluts outside your office building she went on a total bender. She drunk dialed me, left me some sort of garbled message, and I had to force her landlord to let me in her apartment. The place was a total shit hole, she hadn’t eaten or bathed or gotten out of bed in three days, and she’d gone through at least ten bottles of booze already. If I hadn’t found her when I did, she might have died of alcohol poisoning. So if you’re looking for someone to blame for her drinking problem, asshole, you might want to start with yourself.”
It wasn’t often that Nick found himself rendered speechless, but he could only stare at Lauren in horror after her outburst. He’d had no idea that Angela had seen him with one of the women he’d dated casually after their break-up –
dated
, not fucked – and that she had taken it quite so hard. He shoved a hand carelessly through his hair, the information he’d just learned too upsetting to deal with properly right now.
“What else?” he asked quietly. “What else happened to her after that?”
Lauren shrugged. “You must know some of it. She left your old firm, even though she’d worked like a slave for over a year to get as far as she did. But she couldn’t handle the thought of seeing you again with another woman, and didn’t trust herself enough not to run into your office and beg you to take her back. So she split and started over again, working for that nasty old woman who called her names and screamed at her all day long. And Angie took it, she just took whatever that bitch dished out, because she didn’t care anymore. When you left her, something inside of her broke and even after four years I can’t really say for certain that she’s completely healed up. She’s better, that’s for sure, and thank God she’s put some weight back on. But deep down there’s still a part of her that’s really messed up, and I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that you’re the only one who can fix her for good.”
Nick’s mouth quirked up at one corner at this reluctant admission from Lauren. “And I’ll bet it just about killed you to admit that,” he taunted.
“More than you’ll ever know,” she returned sharply. “But it is what it is, you know? Angie’s a smart girl, always got straight A’s in school, always aced exams, got into Stanford and graduated top of her class. But she hasn’t always been smart about other things – namely, some of the choices she’s made in her life. And getting involved with you was probably the worst decision she’s ever made. However, it’s done now and there’s no going back. You’re the one for her, and as much as I’d love that to not be the case, it’s a fact.”
“What about Dwayne?” asked Nick. “Did you approve of him?”
Lauren scoffed. “You’re joking, right? I mean, when Angie told us she was finally dating someone after so long, Julia and I were ecstatic. And then when she told us who he was, I seriously thought she was fucking with me, pulling a practical joke the way she used to back in high school. You know what Dwayne’s nickname was back then – a nickname I gave him, by the way?”
“No idea, but I’m guessing it wasn’t a flattering one.”
She snickered. “It was Dwayne the Dweeb. He was tall, skinny, awkward as hell. He wore these big, thick glasses, his jeans were always about three inches too short, and I swear he bumped into every wall and door he came near. And when Angela told us he was the new guy she was seeing, all I could think about was the time Dwayne tripped over his own feet in chemistry class. He knocked over half a dozen beakers, and then cut his hand on the broken glass.”
Nick couldn’t help but smile at the image Lauren created. “Well, it seemed that he grew out of the awkward stage eventually. At least the one time I met him in the office he wasn’t tripping over anything. And even though he seemed like a nice enough guy, I hated him a little, too. Because he’d actually made Angela smile for a change, something I hadn’t been able to do for two months.”
Lauren nodded. “I admit when I saw the two of them together a few months ago that she seemed happier than she had for a real long time. But I also knew it wouldn’t last. There was zero chemistry there, especially on Angie’s part, and, well, once a dweeb always a dweeb. But you’re avoiding the real subject, Nick. I’m guessing you’re good at that sort of thing.”
His gaze narrowed in annoyance at her persistence. “What else do you want to know before you tell me exactly where Angela is?”
“What I want,” Lauren told him softly, “is your guarantee that this time around things will be different with Angie. That you open up more, agree to meet her friends and family, and treat her right. That you let her spend the goddamned night at your place once in a while. Because I know who you are now, know where to find you, and if you break her heart again I’ll break your nose. For starters.”
Before he’d met the fiery hellcat a few minutes ago, Nick would have laughed scornfully at the idea that any woman – much less one of her petite stature – could have inflicted anything more serious than a scratch on a man of his height and bulk. But having been on the receiving end – twice, now – of Lauren’s anger, he kept his mouth shut and merely nodded in agreement.
“I won’t break her heart,” he assured her soberly. “I’m not saying any of this is going to be easy for me, but I’m willing to try. Because – shit, I’m really not good at this sappy stuff – I care about Angela a lot. And if I knew what it felt like to be in love with a woman, I think maybe – well, I think that could be what I’m feeling.”
Lauren grinned broadly. “Okay. You’ve convinced me. For now, at least. But mark my words, Manning, I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you.”
Nick checked his watch none too patiently. “If I’ve finally managed to reassure you sufficiently, do you mind telling me when Angela’s due back?”
“Oh, not for hours and hours,” replied Lauren airily. “Didn’t she tell you? She’s running some kind of crazy person race today, one that involves doing ten mile loops on this rocky, dusty trail. She won’t be finished until dinnertime at the earliest.”
“Dinnertime? But it’s barely ten in the morning,” Nick replied incredulously. “How long is this race anyway?”
Lauren shrugged. “A hundred kilometers. I forget what she said that was in miles. Regular math was never even my thing much less all that metric system stuff.”
“Sixty miles, give or take.” Nick shook his head. “And it’s supposed to get into the eighties everywhere today. She is crazy, isn’t she? So exactly where is this race taking place?”
“Oh, didn’t I mention?” asked Lauren innocently. “Hmm, well, I was planning on driving over there in a few minutes, catch her at the end of her third lap and throw some water on her, whatever the hell you’re expected to do. I suppose, if you ask very nicely, that you could come along for the drive.”
Nick glared at Lauren with ill-concealed impatience. “You’re suggesting we, ah, go together? Fine, but I’ll drive. We can take my car.”
Lauren shook her head. “Uh, uh. No way. If you want to come along, then I’m doing the driving. And since I’m the only one of us with directions, I’d say you don’t have much choice in the matter.”
***
Half an hour later, Nick was thanking his lucky stars that he’d had such a light breakfast this morning. Otherwise, given Lauren McKinnon’s very questionable driving abilities, he’d have certainly chucked the contents of his stomach a good five miles ago.
“Jesus Christ, will you watch where you’re going?” he yelled as Lauren took a treacherous hairpin turn at what was surely a very unsafe speed.
“Relax,” she assured him arrogantly. “I’ve got this, big guy. I drive much narrower, steeper roads all the time in Big Sur. Even have to use the four wheel drive on most of them. This is nothing. And you really don’t have to keep holding onto that roll bar for dear life. After all, aren’t you supposed to be this big, tough macho football player?”
Nick didn’t answer her, looking out the passenger window instead, and immediately regretted his action. Lauren’s big, sturdy Jeep Wrangler might be able to handle these sort of narrow mountain roads just fine, but that didn’t mean he had the same sort of confidence in her erratic, rather careless driving skills.
“Just get us there in one piece, okay?” he bit out. “I knew I should have driven. How much further is it?”
She reached over to pat him on the arm, and he cringed to notice she was now only driving with one hand – around a hairpin curve. “Less than three miles, tough guy. So if you have to barf, please try to hold it in until then. God, and I thought the guys in my crew were a bunch of wimps. At least they don’t complain when I do most of the driving during assignments.”
Nick shuddered to think of Lauren driving in a foreign country, and most likely not in a vehicle as new or well-maintained as her Jeep. And he felt nothing but pity for any man who had to work with her, much less travel with for days and weeks at a time.
Fortunately, her estimations were right on the money and they were pulling into a dusty parking lot just a few minutes later. The staging area of the race was a beehive of activity, with runners finishing one lap and heading out for another. There were all manner of volunteers scattered about -some manning a water and food station; others offering medical care to runners who looked in need; still others whose job it seemed was keeping track of all the runners’ progress and making note of how many laps they’d completed and what their total running time was.
Nick took charge of the situation before Lauren could butt in, and asked the volunteer who looked like they were in charge of the lap counting about Angela’s progress.
“Del Carlo?” The volunteer squinted as he consulted his laptop. “Yeah, here she is. Finished lap number two right around the four hour mark, great pace for this course. If she’s still maintaining that kind of pace, then she ought to be finishing up lap number three within the next fifteen, twenty minutes. Just keep watching for her.”
BOOK: Shattered:
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