St. Nacho's 4: The Book of Daniel (25 page)

“I’m just saying”—Al spoke slowly and patiently—“that as residents of St. Nacho’s, it seemed like you’d want to be part of the investment group. In that way you would all have a say in the decision-making process. As Dan’s friends and family, it seemed only right to share whatever good fortune may come out of this venture—”

“What is going on here?” I asked, but I knew. Everyone turned toward me.

“How long have you known about this?” Mary Catherine’s voice was calm, unlike some of the others.

“I—”

“Let’s all take a minute,” Carl admonished.

Muse glared at me. “I thought you understood.”

“Muse, it’s not like that.” I grabbed the prospectus out of her hands. “This is only a proposal, yeah? There’s a lot that has to happen before something like this becomes a reality.”

Bree frowned at all of us. “I should think you’d want to develop this place. It hasn’t even got a decent hotel.”

JT bristled. “What we have is
fine
.”

“That’s just it,” Al argued. “There could be so much more. More jobs, more revenue, more tourists, more income.”

Izzie stepped up next to Muse. “Sometimes more isn’t better. It’s simply…more.”

Al glanced at me. “What the hell does that even mean. You should want this. You should all be on board with this.”

“Al—”

“We don’t want this in our backyard. You should just go away now.” Muse folded her arms.

I said, “I have to go with the crowd on this, Al. I’ve never felt comfortable with gaming of any sort, and I’m sure there’s something better we can do. You know me. I don’t work on emotion alone, but this has me tied up in knots. I have to go with my instinct here that this is simply not the type of project Livingston Properties should undertake.”

Al clutched his copy of the prospectus tightly in his hand. “Are you saying you won’t even consider this further?”

“I’m saying that I’ve been uncomfortable with it from the very beginning. And my brother’s engagement party is unequivocally not the place to discuss it. I’ll see you in the office first thing Monday morning and we’ll talk about it there, but I have to tell you, I don’t want any part of a project like this.”

“Well, well, well.” We all heard BreeAnna’s voice—loud and clear. “I think you’ve forgotten you signed away half your right to make that decision. I believe the project is sound, and I don’t have emotional attachments and sentiment to cloud my thinking. It’s going to be Al
and
me against you, and I think you’ll find it’s a little harder to throw your weight around now.”

Stunned, I stepped back to gather my wits.
She was right
. I don’t know how long it took me to think things through; people argued around me. The action hit my senses in waves—too bright then dim, too loud and then quiet. I thought that was how it must be to drown. My chest felt tight, as if my heart physically stopped.

I didn’t have to turn to know what I would see on Cam’s face, but I did it anyway. It was a compulsion, like picking at a fresh scab. It was surely a cure for the optimism I’d been feeling, because what I saw in Cam’s eyes made things very clear.

I’d inadvertently brought Pandora’s box with me to St. Nacho’s, and Al had prized it open. It didn’t take that glimpse of Cam’s face to know that I’d find no hope there.

“Come with me,” I told Cam. I expected an argument and I didn’t let him start one. I put my hand up before he had a chance to get a word out and hissed so only he could hear me, “If you don’t come with me right this second I will leave you and St. Nacho’s to deal with all the forces of rapacious greed by yourselves and you will surely lose.”

“All right.” He followed me out into the darkness in silence. I made my way toward the boardwalk where we could be assured of privacy, and eventually we got to the pier.

* * *

“How could you do this to us?” Cam wouldn’t look at me.

“I didn’t. I told you. This was Al’s idea. Apparently my ex-wife has taken it to her scant bosom in a unprecedented way.”

“What did she mean,
you signed away half your right to decide
?”

I sighed. “Just that I agreed to be fair with our assets.”

He turned to me, surprise etched on his features. “You came clean about your infidelities.”

I shook my head. “Not exactly.”

“Yes,
exactly
. And now she owns half your company and half your power to put a stop to this thing.”

“Half my interest. Yes. But the power? No.”

Cam leaned over to put his elbows on the railing and dropped his head in his hands. He looked like he was going to be sick. “I can’t lose St. Nacho’s. I don’t know if I’d survive losing everything again.”

“You won’t. I promise you won’t.”

“You think you can promise that? You’re kidding yourself. Al is a nice guy but he only sees a balance sheet. Bree wants to punish you. I know you mean well, but—”

“You are so wrong, Cameron Rooney. I don’t mean well. Not really. I have never
meant well
. I’ve done what I pleased.”

Cam gave up a broken sob. “Oh, thanks for clearing that up.”

I laid the flat of my hand on his back to sooth him. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” He tried to flinch away from my touch, but I didn’t let him.

“I love two people in this entire world, and I’d lay down my life for both of you. If you think I’ll let someone threaten your home—if you think I’ll stand idly by and watch you hurt—”

“It’s not your company anymore. They think it’s a great investment and maybe they’re right—”

“Maybe they are. But that’s not what’s important to
me
.” I used both hands to turn Cam around to face me. “You’re important to me. And St. Nacho’s is important to a whole lot of people. And worse, I suddenly find myself in the awkward position of possessing scruples.”

Cam laughed weakly at that.

“This is what I do best, Cam. Better than Al, and Bree doesn’t count. She and Al may have the right to vote but that’s all they’ve got. I still have the contacts; the business is mine. Who’s going to trust Bree? She’s never done anything more with money than buy shoes. Who’s going to capitalize a Livingston Properties project if I am emphatically not on board.”

“It’s good business. If they get that land…”

“They
won’t
. I can see to it that they never will, and I will do exactly that, for you.”

“What about Al.”

“He’ll be disappointed.”

“He’ll fight you. You’re friends.”

“And I will always be his friend. His friendship is his to give or take away. But yours? I couldn’t bear to hurt you. I’m asking you to trust me.”

Cam shook his head. “It’s my home…”

“Can you trust me with this? Can you say you believe in me this one time, even though you have no reason to?”

“A leap of faith.” Cam gazed into my eyes for a long time, and I swear,
I swear
he could see every lie I’d ever told. “You haven’t earned it.”

I swallowed hard. “That’s why they call it faith.”

He stared at me for a long time—too long—and then nodded. I kissed him like it was the last time I’d ever get to do it, because if I failed…

Cam’s soft lips melted under mine until his mouth opened for me and our tongues tangled together. Our harsh breaths misted the moist salty air, and he pulled me toward him with such fierce desperation it caught me like a flash grenade in my gut.

Cam’s dizzying, powerful kiss sent all my blood rushing to my cock. He gripped my hips and pulled me toward him until I could feel his nudge to life. I pushed back before I could be swept away by the sensual tide.

We gazed at each other, breathless, hard, and hurting. He didn’t let go and I felt the connection between us throb through his fingertips.

I could stop Al and Bree. I
would
stop them.

“You’re my heart, Cameron Rooney.”

Cam gave me a tiny shake. “You have a heart of your own.”

“You make it beat.” I caught his hand and pressed it where my heart was thudding beneath my skin. “You warm it. Because of you it’s overflowing with some kind of peculiar audacity. I need to see myself reflected in your eyes. I
need
to see you smile.”

“Daniel.”

“Ah,
jeez
. When you say my name it’s like a jolt of electricity up my spine. What the hell is that?”

“I don’t know.” Cam grinned. “But that’s why I say it.”

“I’ll fix this,” I promised. I had to go before I got sidetracked. I had to get out of town because I couldn’t save the day by standing on the St. Nacho’s pier—even though it meant leaving Cam’s embrace. “Tell Jakey I said hold on. Okay?”

“All right.”

“I love you, Cam. You big damn—”

“I love you too, Daniel.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Four months later, I was dreaming of angels. They weren’t the fluffy, Valentine’s Day kind of angels, but the full-on, fire-and-sword-wielding Old Testament variety, which seemed odd to me. I’d never made the time to study my faith, and I could honestly say religion—what I’d seen of it—didn’t impress me much.

There wasn’t anything to the dream itself. I was in the company of some hypermasculine, stern-visaged angel in an empty place—the thickest, blackest void. He pointed out the different constellations of stars as he knew them, but I couldn’t see anything because ugly black clouds roiled overhead.

There was a loud banging sound, insistent and irritating, and the angel frowned.

“What?” I asked.

He said, “Even when you cannot see the heavens, the stars burn bright.”

The dream faded, all except the drumming noise, and I realized someone was pounding on my door. The bell rang twice.

I got out of bed and went to answer it, not caring particularly that I was only wearing boxers.

When I opened the door Bree stood there, holding two coffee cups in her gloved hands. She was once again dressed in understated elegance, this time in a St. John knit suit and pumps. Jim stood behind her.

“Morning.” I blocked the doorway, wondering if I was still dreaming. Or if I’d begun to hallucinate. Bree never brought me coffee when we were married. I couldn’t fathom why she’d be standing there offering me coffee now.

“It’s afternoon,” she told me and stood her ground. “May I come in?”

I wasn’t ready to let her by me so I stayed where I was. She’d have had to brush against my nearly naked, hairy form to squeeze inside, and I knew she wouldn’t do that.

“I need to talk to you, Dan. Please let me in.”

I couldn’t even remember the last time Bree had said please, so I stepped back, waiting. Before she moved forward, she turned to Jim. “You can wait in the car, Jim. I need to speak to Dan alone.”

“All right.” He nodded. Apparently he was far more sanguine about being dismissed than I would have been, under the circumstances.

I watched Bree enter my dingy, cramped rental and smiled at her obvious distaste.

“You live here? It’s like”—she glanced around—“the floor sample room in a cheap furniture warehouse.”

“It’s a crash site for the newly jettisoned. Everywhere you look, divorced people are bringing in single sacks of groceries and taking out small bags of garbage. No one meets anyone else’s eyes. It’s purgatory for the matrimonially deceased.”

Bree looked up at the painting over the sofa. It depicted a road leading off through a stand of birch trees in autumn shades that matched the brown leather couch. “It came furnished?”

“Can you imagine me buying a painting like that?”

She shook her head and turned. Wordlessly, she offered me one of the coffees, then clutched the other between her hands.

I took a sip. Vanilla latte.
Nice
. “Thank you for this. You didn’t come all this way to bring me coffee or redecorate my place.”

“This isn’t your place. This is a furnished rental in San Jose, a city you hate.”

“All too true. But it’s convenient, and cheap, and I find that it suits my mood. I only sleep here.”

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

“I sleep a lot.”

She didn’t seem to know where to look and eventually her gaze fell to my hand. “Are you still getting physical therapy?”

In truth I wasn’t. I was still doing the exercises that Jordan gave me as homework, but I wasn’t seeing a therapist. “I need to find someone here.”

“Isn’t there a window of opportunity as far as the potential for healing? You should get on that.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Jake told me about your brother and sister. And your father…I’m sorry about your father.”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t mean that, really.”

“Most of the time you think the worst of me. Pick a side, BreeAnna.”

“Jake’s in touch with your other siblings. Your brother and JT postponed the wedding.”

“
Damn
.” I didn’t want that. I’d never wanted that.

“You left without a word, and you haven’t answered a single message. I can understand why you might not want to answer mine, but there are people who need to hear from you. It’s been months.”

“My phone broke.” That was true.
It broke when I threw it off St. Nacho’s pier.

“You need to get a new phone and let your brother and Al know where you are. I practically had to hire a private detective to find you.”

I scrubbed at my face. Even at four p.m. it was too early for that shit. “Yet find me you did. Would you mind telling me why? I just got up, and I need to piss.”

Bree flinched at my crude language. “Get cleaned up and for heaven’s sake dress. You and I are going to talk whether you like it or not.” She glanced around, looking for a safe place to sit. Finding none, she steeled herself to balance on the edge of the leather sofa. It let out a loud, flatulent sigh as she did, and color flooded her cheeks.

“I’ll be back.” I left her there to fidget and took my time getting cleaned up. I took a shower and shaved. When I came back out wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a rock band T-shirt I’d gotten at some club, she rolled her eyes. I sat down on the coffee table across from her, close enough to touch her—to breathe in the familiar scent of Chanel and woman. She didn’t move away. I took that as a sign of the coming apocalypse.