Young Truths (Young Series) (3 page)

“What are you thinking about?” Matthew asks.

“Nothing special,” I respond. “I’m having lunch with Mark tomorrow.” Predictably, Matthew’s body tenses slightly, but he only lets out the slightest sigh of protest, which is an improvement from having him sulk for hours after I told him about my lunch plans.

“Have fun,” he says tensely.

I grin to myself, inwardly rolling my eyes. For a man so outwardly confident of himself and the world around him, his vulnerability when it comes to me and our relationship pleases me to no end. I know I’m the only person in the world that has that sort of affect on him and he has the same effect on me. To me, this shows we’re not taking each other for granted and that can only be a good thing.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked more about Frank,” he says to me as we’re getting the table set for dinner.

I freeze as I place the forks beside the plates. “I assumed you told me there is all to tell me earlier,” I respond carefully.

“For the most part,” he says. “The real problem right now is who he has working for him. There’s no real way for us to track that until we got at least one solid lead and Marcus is afraid whoever might be working for Frank might be moving in closer and closer to us.”

Fear grips me as I suddenly recall my feelings of being followed over the last few days. It must show on my face, because Matthew stops what he’s doing and comes around the table to me.

“What?” he asks urgently. “Sam, what’s wrong? The baby?”

I shake my head and sink into a chair. “No, not the baby,” I tell him faintly, knowing I have to come clean about everything now or he’s going to start panicking. “I think I’m being followed around town. I could be just imagining it, but it seems wherever I go the same black SUV is there and I don’t know of anyone in Santa Clara who drives a car like that.”

He looks briefly relieved and slightly amused. “Sam, have you forgotten about Dave?” he asks gently.

I glare at him. “Of course not,” I snap. “It’s not Dave and I don’t even know if Dave is aware of it.”

He sighs, looking apologetic and concerned at the same time. “How sure are you?” he asks quietly.

Shrugging, I know he’s taking me seriously. “I wasn’t at first,” I admit. “But today kind of changed that.”

“Why? What happened today?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing actually happened,” I assure him soothingly. “I guess I just became more aware of it.”

He nods broodingly, running his hands through his hair. “I’ll have somebody check into it,” he says quietly. “What I’d like to know is how you’re aware of it, but Dave isn’t.”

He doesn’t expand on this thought, but I think I know where his train of thought is heading. It wouldn’t be the first time his security team—people he trusts with his life and the lives of his family—have turned on him and stepped aside to allow someone to get close enough to us to harm us. And even though Matthew had help from Marcus West to hire an entirely new team, his doubts about who he can trust are at the very forefront of his mind.

We don’t speak anymore about any of it when Tyler runs into the room with Bandit on his heels. Apparently the dynamic duo smelled dinner from wherever they’ve been playing and decided to grace us with their presence. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly Matthew can change his mood from brooding to carefree in an instant, particularly when Tyler is in the vicinity. We agreed that whatever happens, we cannot let it affect our son. He suffered from enough nightmares after his kidnapping and he’s still traumatized, so there is no need for us to make things worse.

The evening passes uneventfully aside from the few times I catch Matthew watching me with a furrowed brow as though he’s trying to figure something out. It hits me suddenly that I’m no longer as afraid of the person who has been following me and I know it’s because I’ve told Matthew about my suspicions. Now that he knows, I can rest easily, comforted by the thought that he’ll look into and take care of it. I certainly don’t like seeing him upset and worried, but he’ll do everything in his power to keep us safe. I only hope he can handle this situation before something bad happens. Again.

I can’t sleep. I’ve been lying in bed beside Samantha for hours, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling as my mind runs a thousand miles a minute. Between the things Marcus and I discussed this afternoon to Samantha’s revelation that she’s being followed, I’ve got no hope of getting any real rest tonight. With a sigh, I slide out of bed, careful not to wake my sleeping wife. Over the past few weeks, our daughter’s activity has increased to the point that Samantha is lucky to sleep more than a few hours a night. Now that she’s finally getting some real rest, the last thing I want is to disturb her. I quietly leave our room and head down the hall to Tyler’s, poking my head in to check on him and promptly have to smother a laugh at what I see.

My son is sprawled out in his bed, his blankets hanging off the side. Bandit is similarly sprawled, his head resting on Tyler’s arm. I enter the room and carefully untangle the blankets from Tyler’s ankles and cover him, smiling fondly when I find my son’s free arm curled around Pablo, his stuffed penguin. I love that he can’t seem to go to sleep without it, since it was sitting in this room for years before Tyler came back to me. It’s getting easier to think about the five years during which I was without my family. I realized one day there isn’t any point dwelling on the past. Samantha and Tyler are with me again, and the rest just doesn’t matter anymore.

What does matter—what will
always
matter—is the safety of my family. Whether the threat comes from Frank or some unknown entity, I have to be constantly on my guard. I cannot allow anybody to hurt them again. That includes anything I might do.

I leave Tyler to his sleep after placing a kiss on his forehead and leave the room. Mechanically, I head down the stairs and begin checking and double checking every door and window in the house to make absolutely certain they’re locked, even though I know I checked before bed. After a while, I find myself out on the back deck, hardly registering the fact that I’m only wearing a pair of thin pajama pants and look out over the yard and lake.

A few months ago, there was another building on my property—a guesthouse that had been converted for Leo’s use. Only a week or so after his death, once the police finished searching his things for any hints of wrongdoing or knowledge on the whereabouts of Frank Marone, I had it torn down to nothing. The clean-up had been thorough and there’s no trace that it was ever there at all. In the spring, after all the snow melts, I’ll arrange to have the area seeded with grass and by next year, there won’t even be a hint that Leo was here at all.

I’m not sure I like that thought much. Whatever he was in the end, I never considered him anything more than the most loyal of friends. The only reason he’s dead is that he jumped in front of a bullet to save my life. That’s got to count for something, right?

There have been so many changes to my life and my business since Tyler was kidnapped only a few months ago. I’m slowly beginning to pull away from the more risky contracts that tend to land me in trouble and focusing on other pursuits. We just landed a contract with a large toy company and if our first project goes well, my company, my family, and I will be set for life. Not that we’re exactly hurting for money right now, but at least with this sort of business, I’ll have no qualms of handing over the reins of my company to my son when he’s old enough and if he has any interest. Hell, maybe my daughter...

And now there’s the added concern that somebody is following Samantha wherever she goes. I’ll be having a very tense discussion with my security team—Dave in particular—about their job duties. If someone is tailing her, he should have figured it out before she ever had the chance. That’s what I pay them for: keeping my family safe and happy. That includes them being unaware of dangers until I have enough information to give them.

Part of me wants to claim Samantha is wrong, that she’s overreacting to a situation that doesn’t exist because of pregnancy hormones. I know better than to ever vocalize this thought, even if I really believe it. But one of the issues we’ve been steadily working through together is me disregarding her concerns because I believe she’s been a little too paranoid about a particular situation. If she says she’s being followed, I believe it. I only wish I could claim my wife is suffering from paranoia. Unfortunately, the threats against us are all too real. The sooner we find Frank Marone, the better. That bastard has caused more problems for my family and me than anyone else I’ve dealt with in my career.

Sighing, I head back inside. I’ve gotten less sleep than Samantha lately and I know she’s starting to realize it; it’ll only be a matter of time before she calls me on it and demands to know why I’m not sleeping. I don’t want her worrying about me on top of everything else. I relock the door, jiggling the handle to make sure it’s secure, and head back upstairs to my wife.

“You look great.”

I blush and roll my eyes as Mark Reilly stands from the table. “No need to lie,” I tell him. “I’m as big as a house.”

He smirks knowingly, but wisely doesn’t pursue any sort of argument. I remove my coat and hang it over the back of my chair before sitting. There is no denying my lunchtime companion is attractive. Tall with short, curly, brown hair. Bright blue eyes that are normally sparkling. A bright, gorgeous smile. And dimples. I’ve always loved dimples. They suit him very well, too. He’s become a great friend and confidant to me, and I’m grateful for that. I’ve enjoyed seeing how happy he’s been over the last several months with his girlfriend, Jessica. He deserves happiness and he seems to be as happy in his relationship as I am with mine. Before Thanksgiving, I felt a little guilty wanting to spend time with him even knowing how he felt about me. He seemed to have no trouble torturing himself over an unrequited infatuation and he could have so easily taken the simple path of walking away from our friendship.

After placing our lunch orders, we chat generally, catching up on the other’s week since we last saw each other. It’s not until our lunches are served that the conversation actually gets a little interesting.

“So I wanted to run an idea by you,” Mark begins.

I wonder if it’s my imagination that makes him sound nervous. “Okay,” I say slowly and suspiciously.

He reaches behind him into his jacket and pulls something from it, then pauses, narrowing his eyes at me. “Don’t get the wrong idea from this,” he warns, placing a ring box in the center of the table.

My eyes dart from it to him uncertainly, trying to work out what’s going on. “Is that what I think it is?” I ask carefully.

Smirking and rolling his eyes, he nudges the box closer to me. “Just look at it and tell me what you think,” he orders gently. “Please.”

Hesitantly, I reach for the box and open it. Yep. Exactly what I thought it was. Nestled between two tiny velvet pillows is a diamond ring. I smirk to myself. “I’m flattered, Mark. I really am,” I say, my lips twitching even though I’m trying to keep a straight face. “But I really don’t think this is a good idea. For one, Matthew would kill both of us—”

“All right, all right,” Mark interrupts, trying to snatch the ring from my hand. I hold it out of his reach, laughing. “If you’re just going to make fun...”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, attempting a sincere tone of voice through my amusement. “I’m not making fun. Does this mean what I think it means? If so, I’m very happy for you.”

He smiles softly, his eyes following the ring as I place it back on the table. “If you think it means that I want to propose to Jessica, then yes,” he says. “And thank you.”

“So when are you planning on doing it?” I ask, sipping at my drink.

“Next weekend,” he responds promptly. “It’s her birthday and we’re flying out to Texas to see her family.”

My eyebrows rise. “The meeting of the family,” I say wryly. “I remember that all too well.”

Brief panic crosses features. “Didn’t go well?” he asks hesitantly.

I snort derisively. “Matthew meeting my family wasn’t as horrible as I foresaw, but me meeting his family...” I trail off, really not wanting to go into details. “Let’s just say if I hadn’t met Claire that day, I probably would have run as far from Matt as possible. But I’m sure it will go fine for you,” I quickly add when Mark visibly pales. “Matt’s family can’t be the norm for this sort of thing.” Actually, there’s nothing the slightest bit normal about my husband’s family...

“On second thought, I think I see a medical conference popping up in my schedule next week,” Mark says. I think he’s only partly joking. “Think Jessica would take issue with a proposal in the middle of a conference room?”

I laugh. “Don’t even think about it,” I warn him. “You’ll charm her family the way you charm everyone else.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Everyone else, huh?” he murmurs, sitting back in his chair. “Like you?”

Every so often when I have lunch with Mark, one of us will do or say something to remind the other how our friendship started and that there is still some level of attraction between us. It tends to lead to several moments of awkwardness and whichever one of us caused the issue is left to put things right again. Luckily, our lunch arrives to provide a distraction. We eat silently for several minutes before Mark sighs heavily and rests his fork on his plate.