Kitabı oxu: «Dangerous Temptation»

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

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27

Epilogue

Copyright

Prologue

1955

The afternoon was hot and sultry. A storm had been threatening earlier, but it had moved away, leaving overcast skies and air as thick as cotton wool. It was an effort even to breathe, and most people were taking it easy until the heat of the day had passed.

In the small hospital the maternity ward was quiet now. The babies had been fed and changed, and put down for their rest, and the new mothers were taking a well-earned break, relaxing on their beds. Most of them were dozing, catching up on their sleep, although the heat in the narrow ward was stifling even with all the windows open. But in Blackwater Fork, North Carolina, air-conditioning was still a luxury.

In the end bed, nearest the swing doors, Alice Connor shifted restlessly. Unlike the other mothers, she was not enjoying the chance to get some rest. Being able to rest meant she was able to think, too, and right at this moment Alice didn’t want to think at all.

Beside her, in twin bassinets, her two sons slumbered peacefully. Alike as two peas in a pod, the babies knew nothing of their mother’s turmoil. They’d been fed, their diapers were clean, and they were content. In their world, they had no worries, not even where their next meal was coming from.

But for Alice, life was not so simple. Having another baby at all was going to mean the rest of them would have to make sacrifices; having twins was an eventuality she’d never even considered.

What Fletch would say when he came back from his trip, God alone knew. Persuading him that the child was his had not been easy. Imagining what he’d say when he found out about the twins didn’t bear thinking about. He was suspicious of her already, putting the hex on any man he thought might look at her twice. If he ever found out about Jacob—

Her breath caught in her throat, and turning it into a cough, so as not to alert the other women in the ward of her uneasiness, she rolled onto her side. Now she could see her babies, small and vulnerable in the well-worn gowns the hospital had provided. But she’d come into the hospital to deliver one baby. The gowns she’d brought for just one baby hadn’t been nearly enough for two.

It was just as well Fletch was away, she thought gratefully, delivering another load of lumber to New Mexico. It gave her a few days to come to terms with the situation, even if she still had no idea what was going to happen to them all.

At least the babies didn’t look like Jacob. Oh, they were dark-haired, of course, just like him, but their small, pouty features were exactly like the other four babies she had birthed. Unfortunately, as far as she knew, there were no twins in the Connor family tree. No twins in the Hickory family tree, either, she thought, wincing at the pun. Whereas Jacob had told her he’d had a twin brother, who’d died just a few days after they were born.

The thought seeded—and was quickly suppressed—that it might have been easier for her if one of her babies had died. She’d have been upset, of course, but that might have made things easier with Fletch. There was no chance that she could have kept it a secret, though. In a little place like the Fork, there was no way to keep a secret like that.

But at least Fletch wouldn’t have had to feed it. And there was always the possibility that he might have become attached to the one that remained. After all, he didn’t have any sons, only four daughters. She caught her breath. Which was just another reason why she was so on edge.

It was eight years since Joanne, her youngest daughter, had been born, and she and Fletch had agreed then that they couldn’t afford any more children. That was why he’d been so furious when she’d told him she was pregnant; so suspicious, too, that the baby wasn’t his.

But, somehow, she’d convinced him that it was, even if she had got a beating for her pains. But that was nothing new. Fletch often beat her when he’d had too much to drink. And at least the fact that he drank too much had given her an excuse. She doubted he knew exactly what he did when he’d swallowed more than a quart of whisky.

Things had gotten harder after she’d had to give up her job at the diner. By the time she was six months pregnant, Ben Garrett had decided she was no longer an asset to his business. The timber bosses and travellers who used the diner wanted a pretty woman to serve their needs. Not one boasting a stomach that stretched the buttons of her overall.

These past three months had been bleak. Fletch grumbled all the time about how they were going to continue paying the rent, and he stayed out later and later, drinking and playing cards with his cronies. The girls were needing new shoes for the coming winter, and the eldest, Lisa, was desperate to go to college. But how could they afford that, Alice fretted, when they barely had enough to eat? How were they going to feed one baby let alone two?

One of the babies stirred, small lips sucking at some non-existent teat, one star-shaped hand unfolding to expose a milky palm. Oh, God, they were so beautiful, she thought, stretching out her hand to touch a downy head. Dark hair clung to her fingers; a soft scalp shaped itself to her palm.

A hand touched her shoulder. “Alice?”

She started violently, turning to face the man behind her with wide, unguarded eyes. “Jacob!” Her mouth was dry, and she looked anxiously over his shoulder. “Oh, God, Jacob, what are you doing here? Do you want to get me hanged?”

“I just heard.” Jacob Wolfe’s voice was soft and soothing, his eyes moving beyond her stiffening form to where the two babies lay together, their cribs side by side. “Oh, Alice, they’re amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you were going to have twins?”

Alice looked around the ward with panic-stricken eyes. But thankfully, most of the women appeared to be asleep. Those she knew, or knew her anyway. The others couldn’t know that Jacob wasn’t her husband. Or at least she prayed they didn’t. But that didn’t mean that he could stay.

“You’ve got to go,” she said, her voice low and anguished. “You shouldn’t be here. If anyone sees you, if anyone recognises you—”

“They won’t.” Ignoring her fears, the babies’ father hooked his hip onto the bed. He took her resisting hands in his. “How are you? They told me at the diner that you’d been admitted last night.”

“At the diner?” Alice was horrified. “Oh, Jacob, you didn’t—”

“Hey, there aren’t that many twins born around here,” he declared softly. “Of course, it’s a talking point.” He smoothed his thumbs over her knuckles. “I didn’t ask any questions. Nobody suspects.”

“Fletch will,” said Alice unsteadily, drawing her hands out of his grasp. “There are no twins in his family. Mine neither, come to that.”

“No.” Jacob turned his head and looked almost enviously at the two sons he could never claim as his own. “Are they both strong? Are they healthy?”

Alice stifled a resentful retort, and nodded. “It looks like it,” she said, trying not to feel bitter. It was six months since she had laid eyes on him, and she’d hoped she’d never see him again. It wasn’t fair, she thought. A man could flirt with a woman indiscriminately; he could tease her and flatter her, and make her feel so good, she didn’t know if she was on her head or her heels. Particularly a man like Jacob Wolfe, with his dark good looks and tall, lean figure, and a bankroll to match the flashy car he drove.

He’d come into the diner one day last fall, and from the very beginning he’d let her know he found her attractive. And what the hell, she had been attractive, thought Alice grimly, aware that in a place like Blackwater Fork her red-blond hair and shapely figure had always marked her for attention. It was why Ben Garrett had hired her, for God’s sake. He could have had any number of teenage girls to serve his customers coffee and the juicy steaks and luscious cheesecakes his wife cooked up in the kitchen of the diner, but he’d chosen Alice. She might be in her thirties; she might have four children, three of whom were already on the way to growing up. But she was still the best-looking woman he had ever employed, and the increase in his takings since he took her on had justified his confidence in his decision.

Jacob Wolfe was something else. Alice had known that from the start. For all he dressed like the other men in casual shirts and jeans, he was no salesman. Not a trucker like Fletch, either, with dirty fingernails and calluses on his palms. No, he was a gentleman, she’d known that right away. Which was why she’d been so flustered when he’d shown so much interest in her.

She’d been a fool, she knew it. She’d never been a pushover for any man until Jacob came along. Apart from anything else, she’d known what Fletch would do to her if he ever found her messing with anyone else. And for all her faults, she’d always been a good mother. She loved her kids, and she’d do nothing to threaten their future.

But Jacob had gotten under her skin, and although Ben had told her he owned a mill up north and that he’d only come down here looking for timber, she’d found herself watching for him every time someone opened the diner door.

She hadn’t really expected him to come back. After that first time, when he’d taken her home after dark in his fancy car, she’d been sure that was the last she’d see of him. He’d gotten what he wanted. He’d made mad, passionate love to her in the rear seat of his car, parked in the back of Dillon’s Grocery, with the fear of Sheriff Peyton finding them and reporting them to Fletch.

But he had come back. All through that winter, when the roads were frozen and treacherous, and anyone with a lick of sense would have stayed home in New Jersey, he’d made the trek to Blackwater Fork. Luckily, he’d been able to strike some deal with Abe Henry out at the lumber yard, giving him a legitimate excuse to stay around. And if Ben had had his suspicions, he wasn’t saying anything to Fletch. He’d heard that old story about the king shooting the messenger.

Alice supposed she had been naíve thinking she could get away with it. But the times she was with Jacob were the best times of her life. Fletch had never made her feel like Jacob made her feel. She’d wanted him with an urgency that had defied all reason.

She didn’t know what she’d expected would come of it. She never asked Jacob about himself, about his life away from Blackwater Fork, and he never volunteered it. It was as if they were both fooling themselves that this was the only life they knew.

Finding herself pregnant had not been part of the equation. She’d had a coil fitted after Joanne was born, and Jacob always used a rubber. She’d thought she was safe—from that eventuality at least. But accidents happened, and she’d found herself just another victim….

“You knew I’d come,” he said now, aware of the wounded censure in her eyes. “I want to help you, Alice. That’s why I’m here. I heard Fletch was away and we need to talk.”

“Won’t your wife wonder where you are?” Alice inquired acidly, the resentment jelling into anger and expelling the initial weakness she had felt upon seeing him again. But God, she hadn’t even known he had a wife until she’d told him she was expecting his baby. Then, he’d confessed the truth fast enough, before abandoning her to face her shame alone.

“Iris has nothing to do with us,” he told her now, his mouth tightening into a thin line. “And before you berate me for leaving you alone all these months, think what would have happened if I’d stayed.”

Alice swallowed the bile in her throat. “Don’t tell me you stayed away for my sake!”

“No.” His eyes darkened. “I admit, I had my reasons. But don’t envy Iris, for Christ’s sake. I never loved her, and you know it.”

“Liar!”

Alice turned her face away from him, but he caught her chin and turned it back. “I mean it,” he said. “But I’ll never leave her. She gave me what I wanted, and I owe her for that.”

“A sawmill,” said Alice scathingly, tears stinging her eyes as she remembered at least part of what he’d told her six months ago. He’d married Iris to gain control of her late father’s sawmill. However successful he said he’d been, she could despise him for that.

“That was part of it,” he agreed. “I’m not proud of it, but I’ve made her a rich woman. It’s a shame we’ve got no son of our own to leave it to.” He looked at the cribs. “Whereas you’ve got two—” he looked at her again “—that you don’t want.”

Alice’s eyes widened in horror. “No!”

“Why not?” Jacob was gaining confidence now. “You’ve no money. You can’t afford two more mouths to feed. Talk is, Fletch beat the living daylights out of you when he found you were pregnant.” His fingers dug into her jaw suddenly. “If I’d been here, I’d have killed him for that.”

“But you weren’t here, were you?” Alice snatched her chin away and rubbed the mark his fingers had made with the back of one shaking hand. “How dare you come here now and suggest I hand my babies over to you?” She took a breath, and then went on defiantly. “They’re not your babies anyway. They’re mine—mine and Fletch’s, do you hear? And there’s nothing—nothing—you can do about it.”

“Hey, calm down.” Alice’s voice had risen as she spoke, and for the first time Jacob seemed to become aware that there were other people in the ward. “I’m not suggesting you hand both babies over. For God’s sake, Alice, what kind of a brute do you think I am?”

Alice sniffed. “But you said—”

“Whatever it was, I said it badly,” declared Jacob tersely, realising he was in danger of alienating her altogether. “I just thought we might come to some agreement. It’s in everyone’s interest to do the best we can.”

Alice regarded him suspiciously. “So what do you want?”

Jacob hesitated only briefly. “I think you know.”

Alice gasped. “You’re mad!”

“They’re my sons, Alice.” Jacob looked at her unblinkingly. “You know it, and I know it. Why shouldn’t I want to help them?”

“Help them?” Alice almost choked on the words. “Like you helped me, you mean?” Her face contorted. “Get out of here, Jacob, before I call a nurse and have you thrown out!”

Jacob didn’t move. “Go ahead,” he said. “Call a nurse. Call the administrator if you want to. But don’t forget, I have some influence around here, too. One word to Abe Henry about that quart of moonshine Fletch keeps in his cab, and he’d be out of a job.”

Alice’s jaw sagged. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t want to,” said Jacob, which wasn’t quite the same thing. “For Christ’s sake, Alice, I care about you. D’you think I want to make life difficult for you with that big ape?”

“Fletch would kill you,” said Alice suddenly. “If he ever found out about you and me, he’d kill you.” Her lips twisted. “Then he’d kill me.”

Jacob sighed. “He’s not going to find out about you and me,” he assured her. “If you show a little sense.”

“And give you one of my babies? What d’you think Fletch is going to think about that?”

“Not—give—me one of the babies,” amended Jacob steadily. “Let me adopt one.” He paused. “Iris—Iris can’t have children. We tried—everything we could, but it was just no good. And—adoption isn’t easy, even for people like us. We’re too old now. We waited too long.” He lifted his shoulders dismissively. “I’d make it worth your while.”

Alice’s mouth curled. “You want to—buy—your own son.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Alice held up her head. “Fletch won’t let you do it,” she said bravely, but she suspected he would. Jacob had fastened onto the one aspect of Fletch’s character she couldn’t change. For years, she’d been telling herself he loved his daughters, and perhaps he did, in his own way. But she’d always known, deep down inside her, that he’d marry them off to the devil himself if he made it sufficiently worth his while. And as for these two…

“I’ll have to ask him, won’t I?” Jacob remarked now, getting up to circle the bed and look down at the twins in their cribs. “My God, they are alike, aren’t they? My mother once told me my brother and I were identical when we were born, too.”

“Then it’s a pity it wasn’t you who died instead of your brother,” exclaimed Alice recklessly. She flinched at the sudden anger in his eyes, but she pressed on regardless. “I wonder, if he’d lived, would he have married Iris for her money?” She gazed at him contemptuously. “At least Fletch married me because he loved me. And whatever else you say about him, I know he doesn’t cheat on his wife!”

She thought he might hit her then. Alice was used to being hit if she voiced her opinion. But she should have known Jacob was far too civilised to do something like that. “I’ll overlook your ignorance,” he said coldly, “because I know you must be tired. But, please, don’t insult my intelligence by pretending the Neanderthal you call a husband has any scruples. I doubt there’s anything I couldn’t buy from him including you. So I suggest you stop fighting me and take the opportunity I’m offering.”

Alice gulped. “Go to hell!”

“I very probably will.” Jacob was philosophic. “But before I do, I want to know there’s someone I can leave to take my place. A son,” he said, looking down at the cribs, a muscle jerking spasmodically in his jaw. “My own son.” He lifted his head and looked at her. “Is that really so much to ask?”

1

1997

Jake saw the rental car at once. It was the only half-decent vehicle parked outside Casey’s bar at this hour of the afternoon. Which meant Nathan was already inside, waiting for him. Jake grimaced. It must be something serious to bring his brother here. It wasn’t as if they were friends. God Almighty, when he’d first found out he had a twin brother, he’d been desperate to see him. But Nathan wasn’t like that. Jake was reluctant to admit it, but Nathan always thought first about himself.

When he’d got back to his office, after taking a deposition at the courthouse, Loretta had told him Fletch had been trying to get in touch with him—which was nothing new. Since his mother died, and Fletch had lost his job hauling lumber, he was often on the phone to the man he’d raised as his son. Most times he’d had too much to drink and he’d wanted a sympathetic ear for his troubles. Because he drank so much, his own daughters had given up on him long ago.

But this time Fletch was ringing to complain about the fact that Nathan had come to the house on Jackson Street looking for his brother. “He wants to see you, boy,” he wheezed, his gravelly voice revealing the resentment he felt that Jacob Wolfe’s son should have come to his house. “I told him you don’t live here no more. That you’d got yourself a place out at Pine Bay, but he don’t want to come to your office. He says can you meet him in town. The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

Jake could hear Nathan’s voice in the background, but he didn’t bother asking to speak to him then. On the rare occasions that Fletch and Nathan had met, their mutual dislike had always coloured the proceedings. Fletch despised Nathan because of his parentage; Nathan thought Fletch was an ignorant old bastard.

Which was ironic really, Jake reflected now, as he got out of the Blazer and locked the door. If anyone was a bastard around here, it was him or Nathan. Only his brother preferred to forget who his real mother had been.

It was dark in the bar, but as his eyes adjusted to the light, Jake saw Nathan slumped in a booth at the far side of the room. There were already a couple of empty bottles in front of him, and Jake reflected that Nathan and Fletch weren’t as different from each other as they’d both like to think.

Nathan saw him, and getting to his feet, he gestured for Jake to join him. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded with his usual lack of restraint. “I’ve been sitting here for God knows how long. I thought you said you were coming right down.”

“Some of us have work to do,” remarked Jake mildly, sliding into the booth across from the other man. “In any case—” he indicated the empty bottles “—you look as if you’ve been busy. You won’t forget you’re driving a motor vehicle, will you?”

Nathan scowled. “Don’t start shitting me, Jake. I didn’t come here for one of your lectures. Okay, I’ve had a couple of beers, but I’m still sober. Don’t treat me like you treat your old man.”

“Fletch isn’t my old man,” Jake corrected him tautly, his fingers flexing on the table between them. The trouble was, he didn’t feel as if Jacob Wolfe was his father, either. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost out on both counts.

“Well, okay.” Nathan seemed to realise that whatever had brought him here wasn’t going to be helped by starting an argument. “But I honestly don’t know how you put up with him. It’s not as if he ever cared about you. He’d have thrown you out years ago if he could.”

Jake arched a dark brow. It was true enough, he supposed. From the moment Fletch had realized that he wasn’t the boy’s father, Jake’s life hadn’t been worth living. Not that it had been worth that much before, he reflected ruefully. A man who thought little of beating up on his wife thought less than nothing of beating up on his son.

But, from the time he was old enough to wield a yard brush, Jake had done everything he could to defend his mother. He’d had more than his share of grief, and occasionally the teachers from school formed a delegation to protest about the bruises that regularly appeared on his body. Mostly however, they stayed away. It was well known in Blackwater Fork that Fletch Connor had no respect for authority, and only his friendship with Sheriff Andy Peyton had saved him from certain prosecution.

Yet Jake had known from an early age that Fletch was proud of him in his own strange way. He used to say the boy reminded him of himself at that age, and although it didn’t save him, Jake sensed Fletch admired his spirit.

Fletch’s attitude had changed when Jake was eleven years old. He’d gashed his knee playing football, severing the main artery, and neither Fletch nor his mother had been able to give him the blood transfusion he needed.

There’d been one hell of a scene, he remembered. His mother had turned up the next day wearing a black eye, and Jake had been as stunned as Fletch to learn that they were not actual father and son. And then to learn that he had a twin brother…

Jake supposed he’d guessed even then there had to be more to it than they told him. Fletch wasn’t the type to be philanthropic, and money had to have changed hands for his twin to have been adopted by someone else.

It was only later that his mother had explained that the man who had taken his brother was his real father. And by then, he’d had to come to terms with the fact that his relationship with Fletch could never be the same. Indeed, if it had been left to Fletch, he’d never have come back to the house in Jackson Street. But for once, his mother had put her foot down: either her husband accepted the situation as it was, or she’d take her son and go.

“He’s old,” said Jake now, as if that explained everything. “So what is it you want to talk about? The last I heard, things were pretty much going your way. Don’t tell me you’re having marital problems already.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Nathan was evidently trying to be sociable. “This humidity is something,” he added, changing the subject. “I don’t know how you stand it for months on end.”

“I was born here,” replied Jake drily. “And so were you, little brother. You’ve gotten too used to being pampered. Juggling figures instead of people has made you soft.”

Nathan scowled. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t born with a yen to save the world,” he remarked shortly. “It’s no wonder you’re still stuck in this hell-hole. Why don’t you give yourself a break and find a decent job?”

“I have a decent job,” declared Jake evenly. “Everyone has the right to a defence.”

“Even crackheads and losers?” asked Nathan disparagingly, but he offered a conciliatory smile when his brother didn’t respond.

Wiping his damp forehead then with a slightly unsteady hand, he unwittingly drew Jake’s attention to his flushed face. A face that was amazingly like his own, Jake reflected as he had on many other occasions. How could two men who looked so alike be so different? Even at forty-two, their likeness to one another was still unique.

There were subtle differences, of course, he acknowledged as Nathan pulled out a handkerchief to mop his sweating brow. He guessed his brother was perhaps twenty pounds heavier, and his hair had been cut by an expert hand. It didn’t hang straight or show the after-effects of his nails like Jake’s did when he had been raking his scalp.

“So—how’s Caitlin?” he asked at last, deciding it might be easier if he began the conversation. He’d never met his brother’s wife, but he had seen her picture. She’d seemed strangely subdued for a man like Nathan. He’d have expected his brother to want a fashion model for a wife. But, of course, she had had money….

“She’s okay,” said Nathan offhandedly now, making a careless gesture. “She lives her own life. I live mine. We don’t see an awful lot of one another.”

Jake stared at him. “Are you kidding?”

“No.” Nathan looked resentful. “Anyway, that’s another story. D’you want a beer?”

Jake hesitated. “A beer would be fine,” he agreed, and his brother left the booth to go and get it. Jake had the feeling he was glad to put off admitting the reasons why he’d come to North Carolina. But unlike Nathan, he didn’t have time to waste.

Nathan came back with the two beers and took some time taking a drink before he got to the point. Even then, Jake had to prompt him, and Nathan scowled at his brother for a moment before starting to speak.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said grudgingly. “It’s a long time since we talked with one another, man to man.” He hunched his shoulders. “How have you been? How’s the new apartment? Fletch said it overlooked the ocean, out at Pine Bay.”

“You didn’t come here to talk about me or my apartment,” said Jake quietly. “And I don’t know about you, but I’ve got work to do.”

“And you’d rather do that than talk to your own brother,” said Nathan peevishly. “It doesn’t occur to you that I might need your help.”

“And do you?”

“Damn right.” Nathan rested his forearms on the table. “Like I said, I need to talk to you. I just—don’t know where to begin.”

Jake’s nostrils flared. “Try the beginning,” he suggested drily, and Nathan pursed his mouth.

“I’m in trouble.” He expelled a heavy breath. “Deep trouble.” He gave an uneasy snort. “Hell, I’ll probably end up in jail, if I live that long.”

Jake looked disbelieving. “Who?” he said. “Who’s going to send you to jail?”

“A guy I know,” said Nathan in a low voice, his eyes dark with bitterness. “If I don’t do as he says, he’ll probably kill me.”

Jake frowned and backtracked. “Who is this guy?” he asked crisply, and Nathan shook his head.

“He’s someone I owe,” he said heavily. “I owe him and he has to be paid.” He took another drink of his beer. “One way or the other.”

“In blood?” Jake couldn’t keep the sardonic note out of his voice, and Nathan gazed at him with angry eyes.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I knew you’d find it amusing. But it’s my life that’s on the line here. And there’s nothing amusing about it.”

Jake sobered. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Nathan gazed at him with accusing eyes. “You may think you’re tough because you deal with criminals every day, but Carl Walker is a serious menace. He plays for keeps.”

“I don’t think I’m tough.” Jake defended himself mildly. Then, taking a reluctant swallow of his beer, “I take it you owe this Walker some money, am I right?”

“Haven’t I just said so?” Nathan’s tone was peevish. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He says if I don’t do as he wants, he’ll tell Cat’s father, Webster, what’s been going on.”

Jake was growing impatient in spite of himself. “For Christ’s sake, Nate, stop talking in clichés. Get a hold of yourself. And why are you short of money? You married a rich woman. Or was that an exaggeration, as well?”

“No!” Nathan was indignant. “She was. She is. Her father is anyway. But I can’t ask her for money. I can’t tell her what I’ve done. Don’t you understand, that’s why Walker’s got me by the balls. If Cat ever found out about—well, the situation, our marriage would be over.”

“And that matters to you?”

“Of course it matters to me.” Nathan gave him a resentful look. And then, his expression becoming wary. “What the hell do you mean?”

“I mean, you said you and your wife lived separate lives,” Jake reminded him quietly. “It was an innocent question. Do you love your wife, or don’t you?”

“What does it matter whether I love my wife or not?” Nathan sounded incredulous. “For Christ’s sake, Jake, what’s this with the hearts and flowers? I tell you my skin is on the line, and you ask me if I love my wife!”

“I just wondered what we’re supposed to be protecting here,” remarked Jake idly. “Your marriage—or her money.”

Nathan started to speak and then seemed to think better of it. Or perhaps he realised he was in danger of incriminating himself still further. There was silence for a while as he searched for answers in his beer. Then, lifting his eyes, he said passionately, “Of course I love her, dammit. Why do you think I’m here?”

“I thought you were here because this man, Walker, is after your ass,” Jake said flatly. “What has Caitlin got to do with it?”

Nathan hesitated. “It’s me he’s after. I’m not denying that. But don’t think Cat’ll be safe if I don’t do what he says.”

Jake sighed. “You still haven’t told me what he wants you to do,” he pointed out in exasperation. “You say you owe him money. So—what kind of money are we talking about?”

Nathan hesitated. “Half a million—give or take.”

“Dollars?”

Nathan grimaced. “Pounds.”

“Pounds?” Jake whistled. “You owe this guy half a million pounds? For God’s sake, Nate, what have you been buying? Coke?”

Nathan started at his brother’s words, and the line of red crept slowly up his cheeks. But when he spoke, his answer was resentful. “I don’t do drugs,” he retorted. “What do you take me for? I’d have thought one dopehead in the family was enough.”

Jake coloured now. He could feel the heat in his face, feel it deepening his tan. It was typical of Nathan to throw that at him, typical of him to use any weapon when he was in a corner.

“If you want my help, you’ll have to do better than that,” he said at last, and even Nathan had the grace to look ashamed.

“Just don’t bug me, Jake,” he muttered, swallowing a mouthful of his beer. “We’re neither of us perfect. We take after our old man.”

Wasn’t that the truth?

“Okay.” Jake heaved a sigh. “So, how come you owe this guy half a million?”

“Well…” Nathan expelled his breath noisily. “Look, Jake, are you going to help me or not? I need to know if I’m wasting my time.”

“I don’t know what you want yet,” Jake declared evenly. “It sounds like you’ve been embezzling money from the company. I guess that might explain why you can’t ask Caitlin for help.”

His brother’s expression was almost comic. Or it would have been if it hadn’t been so serious. “How the hell did you find out?” he demanded jerkily. “Are you psychic or something? How long have you known? Have you told the old man?”

Jake blinked, too stunned for a moment to work out what he meant. “What old man?” he asked blankly, and Nathan gazed at him with suspicious eyes.

“My old man—our old man,” he exclaimed irritably, and Jake suspected his brother had had more to drink than just a few beers. How the hell could he have told their father anything? He hadn’t known there was anything to tell.

“I haven’t told Jacob Wolfe a thing,” Jake assured him flatly. “How could I? I still don’t know what’s going on.” He took a steadying breath. “For Christ’s sake, Nate, what have you done?”

Nathan’s hand was gripping his beer so tightly, Jake was amazed the bottle didn’t shatter. “I’m trying to tell you, aren’t I?” he snarled. “It’s all that old man’s fault. He should be dead!”

At Jake’s look of surprise, Nathan explained, “Matt—Matthew—Matthew Webster. The lying bastard! He’s been supposed to be dying for years.”

Jake watched him. “You’re talking about Caitlin’s father? The man you hoped would make you a director of his company when you married his daughter?” He paused. “What happened? Did he change his mind?”

“Hell, yes.” Nathan jerked back. “That is, no—no. I am a director. And I deserve it, believe me, after what I’ve gone through. I’ve spent the past three years sucking up to that old devil. And what have I got to show for it?” His mouth twisted. “Fuck all!”

Jake shook his head. “What did you expect?”

“I expected to be running the company by now,” said Nathan, chewing the inside of his lower lip. “Like I said, the old guy was supposed to be dying. I was supposed to be his successor.” His lips curled contemptuously. “Me. Nathan. The son he never had.”

“So what went wrong?”

“Nothing.” Nathan grunted. “Everything.” His fists clenched again, and Jake wondered if he was imagining they were around Matthew Webster’s neck. “I’m still no nearer to taking control of the company than I ever was. He’s taken on someone else to do the job I was supposed to do.”

Jake frowned. “So—you decided he owed you, hmm?”

“I needed the money,” said Nathan defensively. “Webster barely pays me enough to live on as it is. Can I help it if I get into difficulties?”

Jake took a deep breath. “How the hell did you get your hands on half a million in the first place?”

“It’s a long story.” Nathan was evasive. “And I’d have gotten away with it, too, but that bastard’s not going to let me.”

“Walker?” Jake tried to be patient. “But how does he know?” He paused. “Did you tell him about it?”

“Don’t be stupid!” Nathan gave him an aggravated look. “It was his idea, wasn’t it? I couldn’t have done it at all without his help.”

“I thought you said you owed him.”

“I did. I do.” Nathan emptied his bottle. “Okay. Okay. I was gambling, right? I—got in too deep, and Carl fished me out.”

Jake groaned. “A loan shark.”

“Sort of.”

Jake grunted. “So—okay,” he said. “This guy’s got you over a barrel. Why don’t you do what he says and quit feeling sorry for yourself?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” Jake stiffened. “What does he want you to do?”

Nathan sighed. “They want me to carry an extra suitcase back from New York.”

“Are you crazy?”

Jake’s gut was churning now at the sudden realisation of where this was leading. He didn’t have to ask what would be in the suitcase; he thought he knew.

“Keep your voice down,” said Nathan hastily. “For God’s sake, Jake, do you want to see me in jail?”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “Maybe I don’t care,” he said. “If you’re even considering smuggling drugs, maybe that’s where you belong.”

“You sanctimonious bastard!”

Nathan glared at him furiously, and feeling in need of some fresh air, Jake got abruptly to his feet. “Thanks for the character reference,” he said. “But I’m not the one who’s screwed up my life.” He was tempted to shove one of the empty beer bottles down his brother’s throat. “Get real, Nate. You’re in deep trouble. And you can’t blame anyone but yourself.”

“I know that.” As if realising he had spoken recklessly, Nathan got unsteadily to his feet. “Jake—” he caught his twin’s arm “—I’m sorry. But you’ve got to help me. I’m desperate. If you don’t, I’m afraid of what they’ll do to Cat.”

Jake jerked his arm out of Nathan’s grasp, but he didn’t move away. Even though all his instincts were urging him to get out of there, some innate sense of loyalty kept him where he was. Maybe it was the memory of that picture of Caitlin that caused him to hesitate. The realisation that whoever she was, whatever she was like, she didn’t deserve to suffer because of Nathan’s selfishness. Whatever his motivation, he felt himself weakening—ignoring his own misgivings, trying to justify his restraint.

“Go to the cops,” he said as Nathan slumped over the table, and his brother gave him a strangled look.

“You’re not serious! Carl would kill me.”

Nathan’s face was streaming with sweat, and with a sinking feeling, Jake sat down again. “Even if I wanted to help you,” he said, and as he spoke, he knew it was definitely the wrong thing to say, “there’s nothing I could do—”

“There is, there is.” Nathan didn’t wait for him to finish before breaking in. His eyes blazed now with a frantic light. He grasped his brother’s hand. “You could do it. You could go to England on my return ticket. You could use my passport. No one would know you weren’t me!”

Jake pulled his hand away and pressed himself back in his seat. He stared at Nathan as if he’d never seen him before, and although they’d never been close, something intangible died inside him. This was what Nathan had really come for. Not to see him, not to talk, not to share anything except this dirty secret. Nathan was prepared to make Jake an accessory to a crime, uncaring that if he was caught, he could go to prison in his place.

His distaste showing in his face, he said simply, “No.”

Nathan’s eyes narrowed. “You refuse?”

Jake shook his head. “Didn’t you expect me to?”

“Frankly, no.” Nathan gazed at him with bitter eyes. “After all, it’s what you did when you came back from Vietnam, isn’t it? I don’t recall you having any crisis of conscience because you tried to beat the system then.”

Jake bit back the ugly retort that sprang to his lips and made to get up again, but this time Nathan stopped him. “Please,” he said imploringly, the veins standing out on his forehead. “Please, you’ve got to help me. If—if I screw up, they’ll involve Cat, and it could kill Pa. I know you don’t care about him, but he’s not as tough as you think.”

Jake’s contempt was plain. “You son of a bitch,” he said harshly. “You’d do anything, say anything, so long as you saved your own rotten hide! My God, you disgust me. Well, tough, but I won’t do it. Find some other nut to screw!”

“What have you got to lose?” cried Nathan, hanging on to his wrist and preventing him from moving away. “I’m not asking you to deal with this guy. Just take the case to London and leave it where I tell you. Then check into a hotel in London. I’ll meet you there. I’ll be on the next flight.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Nathan groaned. “It’s so simple. You use my ticket, and I follow you. We’ll switch passports at the hotel, and you can fly home.”

“No.”

Jake was adamant, and realising his persuasion wasn’t working, Nathan let him go. “All right,” he said, dropping his face into his hands. “Go, then. But don’t think I don’t know why you’re doing this.” His voice became muffled, but his words were still audible. “You want to get back at me. You’ve always been jealous of the fact that our father chose me instead of you.”

“Jealous!”

Jake knew he shouldn’t respond to Nathan’s desperate accusations, but that one was too close to home. He couldn’t deny that there had been times when he’d envied his brother. But it was years since he had thought of it, and he certainly didn’t envy him now.

“Yes, jealous,” insisted Nathan, sniffing. “You’ve always resented me. Resented the fact that I had a better life.”

“No—”

“Yes. You’re not telling me you were happy, being stuck with that moron, Connor? God, it wasn’t me who came looking for you, big brother. It wasn’t me who used to stand outside of your house, spying on you, wanting for us to be friends! Remember?”

Jake’s jaw compressed. “You were glad enough to see me when I pulled those punks off you,” he reminded him tightly, recalling their first meeting with an unwilling sense of pain.

It had been just before he left for Vietnam. He’d been in a camp not far from Prescott, and he’d had the crazy notion that he might not be coming back. He’d decided he wanted to speak to Nathan at least once before he embarked for the Far East, so he’d ducked out of camp and hitched a ride to town.

He’d trailed Nathan and one of his pals to a bar in the sleaziest part of town, and then been beaten up for his pains when a couple of thugs had cornered the two rich youths by the jukebox. He’d jumped in to help them, and his uncanny likeness to his brother had caused some confusion. In the ensuing struggle, Nathan and his companion had gotten away.

He knew Nathan had recognised him. He’d found out later that Jacob had never hidden the fact that he had a twin. But Nathan hadn’t cared what happened to Jake, so long as he wasn’t injured. He’d saved his own skin, and that was all he’d cared about then. Hell, it was all he cared about now.

It was one of those occasions when Jake wondered if he wouldn’t have been better off not knowing he had a brother. Although his mother and Fletch had been reconciled before she died, he doubted she’d ever truly forgiven him and Nathan for being born. He’d always reminded her of Jacob—and of the way he’d betrayed her. Her life hadn’t been easy before, but it had been a damn sight harder after Fletch found out.

Nathan combed his hand over his hair and looked up at his brother with cold, accusing eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Forget it. Forget I ever came here. Forget I ever asked you for help. It was a crazy notion anyway. We’re not really brothers. We just share a likeness, that’s all.”

“That’s all it means to you, maybe,” muttered Jake harshly.

Right now, he wanted nothing so much as to put this ugly scene behind him. He wasn’t totally convinced by Nathan’s story, even if his brother’s cowardice was plain enough to see. What did Nathan really want, and did he, Jake, really care? It sounded as if his brother’s future was as shaky as his marriage.

“What do you mean?” Nathan demanded now, and Jake winced at the sudden hope that had appeared in his brother’s face. For once Nathan wanted a brother, so why did it sound so surreal?

“Get the case,” said Jake at last, telling himself it was the lingering loyalty to his mother’s memory that made him say it. He had plenty of free time due to him; hell, he never took a holiday, and he was making no promises. But perhaps there was something he could do to ensure that Caitlin wasn’t hurt….