Jenna Black - Replica

Nate was pretty sure Nadia was underestimating him, but it was hard to feel confident in his convictions after what had happened last night. Hard not to doubt everyone and everything in his life—including himself. Especially when he didn’t have the full story on anything. He ran a hand through his hair, wishing his fingers could somehow reach down into his brain and scrape all the pieces into order so that things would make sense again.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said, deciding to ignore the whole question of what to do about Mosely for now. “Tell me how you knew something bad happened to me last night.”

She’d obviously come to see him with the express purpose of telling him just that, but Nadia had a core of stubbornness to her Nate had never noticed before.

“Tell me what happened to you first.”

Ordinarily, Nate would have bet on himself any day in a battle of wills with Nadia, but today he hurt too much, both physically and emotionally, to keep fighting. Instead, he collapsed back into his chair, wincing at the myriad pains in his back and abdomen, and told Nadia an abbreviated version of what had happened at Angel’s club last night.

Nadialistened to Nate’s story of last night’s trip to the Basement in horrified silence. She was here to tell Nate about her deception, sure he would never forgive her for it. And yet she had almost stormed out of the room without confessing a thing, so angry at Nate’s obliviousness to everyone around him that she could hardly stand to face him. But Nate had always been like that, and, somehow, they’d been friends anyway. She’d understood that he had a good heart underneath it all. He might not always be looking out for everyone, but if he actually saw an injustice, he wouldn’t hesitate to try to set it right. In fact, that was one of the very reasons she’d been so reluctant to confide in him.

She’d never realized how angry some of Nate’s more thoughtless moments made her until today, when her emotions seethed out of control and spilled out of her mouth.

But as Nate told her about his trip to a Basement club known as Angel’s and his encounter with the club’s owner, she was reminded once more of all the reasons Nate meant so much to her, despite all his faults. Yes, he wanted his real killer brought to justice, but that wasn’t the reason he’d put himself in the danger he had. He’d done it because he loved Bishop and wanted to clear his name and thereby keep him safe. What other privileged Paxco Executive would have ventured alone into the Basement asking questions just to clear the name of someone he couldn’t even be sure was innocent?

When Nate told her about the message Angel had given him from Bishop, his hand strayed to his chest, and he rubbed his sternum absently. The pain in his voice and on his face was enough to make Nadia’s eyes mist over again, but she was through with crying.

“I refuse to believe Kurt was really behind it,” Nate concluded, but he sounded a lot less sure than the words suggested. Not to mention that he’d just finished listing a string of arguments for why it had to be Bishop’s doing.

Nadia sat back in her chair and regarded Nate closely as she thought about what he’d just told her. If Bishop had gotten hold of the tracker, then that meant he and Angel really were in contact, no matter how badly Nate didn’t want to believe it.

“Would you recognize Bishop’s handwriting if you saw it?” she asked, a lump forming in her throat as she tried to put herself in Nate’s shoes, tried to imagine the level of betrayal he must be feeling.

Nate’s eyes were wide and alarmed when he looked at her. “I was teaching him to read and write. So yeah, I’d recognize it. Why?” The last word came out sounding strangled, and Nadia wished she didn’t have to do this.

Nadia reached into her pocket and pulled out the note she’d found in her napkin this morning, handing it across to Nate. His face went a little paler, and she didn’t have to wait for his response to know he recognized the handwriting.

“It’s him,” Nate confirmed, his face now almost bloodless. “What is it he’s threatening to tell?”

Nadia clasped her sweaty hands in her lap and stared at them. “I told you Mosely made threats,” she said softly as her throat tried to close up in panic. “He threatened to torture me, and he threatened to hurt my sister’s kids. And they weren’t empty threats, Nate. I know they weren’t.”

“What did you do?” His voice was flat, his emotions hidden behind an uncharacteristic veil.

Nadia didn’t have the guts to look up and see his face. If he was going to hide his emotions, just this once, she was happy to let him. She had enough trouble dealing with her own without having to face his. “I put a tracker in your locket. Mosely knew you would be looking for Bishop, and he thought you might have a better idea where to find him than he did. He threatened to arrest Gerri and hurt her kids if I didn’t do it.”

Nadiafound her courage eventually and glanced up at Nate’s face.

He wasn’t looking at her. In fact, she didn’t think he was looking at anything, his eyes clouded and distant. She’d never seen his body language look so defeated before, and if she’d thought he’d let her, she’d have risen from her seat to give him a hug.

When she couldn’t stand the silence anymore, Nadia cleared her throat. Nate’s eyes came back into focus, but he didn’t look at her, and she wasn’t sure she could blame him. She’d had good reason for doing what she’d done— and for not telling him about it—but she’d still betrayed him. How could she expect him to forgive her for something like that? Especially when she’d just brought him the most damning evidence of all that Bishop really was responsible for last night’s ambush and beating?

“Please don’t confront Mosely,” she begged quietly. “Not unless you want to see me dragged off to Riker’s Island.”

“I won’t,” Nate said in a flat, dull voice. “Maybe you’re right and I would have flown off the handle if you’d told me before you’d stuck a knife in my back. But right now I don’t care enough to bother.”

Nadia tried not to flinch.

“I’ll do my best to keep up appearances for the time being, but I don’t care what my father wants: I’m not going to marry you.”

Nadia didn’t even try to hide her flinch at that news, though it wasn’t exactly a surprise. She’d known all along that the moment she opened her mouth, everything they’d built together would crumble. She couldn’t say she’d ever truly looked forward to her future as Nate’s neglected wife, but she’d been at least marginally content with it, satisfied that she would be married to a man who could be her friend if nothing more. Without Nate, her future would very likely include a husband like Gerri’s, one whose only redeeming qualities were breeding and power. One she could never love, or even be friends with. And, while she was sure her parents and Gerri would still love her, she doubted a day would go by when she didn’t sense their disappointment in her.

Nadia’s throat ached, and she wished she hadn’t come over. She might have thought she could mitigate the damage by telling Nate the truth in person, but now that she was here, she realized that was wishful thinking. All it meant was that she had to sit and watch her future die in Nate’s eyes as their friendship turned to dust. Maybe she should have called Bishop’s bluff and let him deliver the bad news to Nate. Although why he would bother—or think Nate would listen to him—after what had happened last night, she didn’t know. In fact, the threat didn’t actually make a whole lot of sense under the circumstances.