Неизвестно - Megan's mate

Nathaniel plucked him off the floor as he might a flea off a dog. Through the haze of her own vision, Megan saw there was murder in his eye. Hot-blooded. Deadly.

Nathaniel.

But he didn't look at her. Instead, he rapped Baxter hard against the wall.

Dumont,

isn't it?

His voice was viciously quiet, terrifyingly pleasant.

I've heard how you like

pushing women around.

Baxter struggled for dignity, though his feet were inches off the ground.

Who the

hell are you?

Well, now, it seems only fair you should know the name of the man who's going to rip out your damn heart with his bare hands.

He had the pleasure of seeing Baxter

blanch.

If s Fury, Nathaniel Fury. You won't forget it he rammed a fist low, into

the kidneys

will you?

When Baxter could breathe again, his words struggling out weakly, he wheezed, You'll be in jail before the night's out.

I don't think so.

His head snapped around when Megan started forward.

Stay

back,

he said between his teeth. The hot leap of fire in his eyes had her coming to a stop.

Nathaniel.

She swallowed hard.

Don't kill him.

Any particular reason you want him alive?

She opened her mouth, shut it again. The answer seemed desperately important, so she offered the truth.

No.

Baxter drew in his breath to scream. Nathaniel cut it off neatly with a hand over the windpipe.

You're a lucky man, Dumont. The lady doesn't want me to kill you, and I don't like to disappoint her. We'll leave it to fate.

He dragged Baxter outside,

hauling him along as if the man were nothing more than a heavily packed seabag.

Megan raced to the door.

Holt.

A shiver of relief worked down her spine when she spotted Suzanna's husband near the pier.

Do something.

Holt merely shrugged.

Fury beat me to it. You should go back in, you're getting wet.

But he's not really going to kill him, is he?

Holt considered a moment, narrowing his eyes against the rain as Nathaniel carted Baxter down the pier.

Probably not.

I hope to God you can't swim,

Nathaniel muttered, then threw Baxter off the pier.

He turned away and was striding to Megan before the sound of the splash.

Come

on.

But—

He simply scooped her up in his arms.

I'm knocking off for the day.

Fine.

Holt stood, his thumbs in his pockets, a look of unholy glee in his eyes.

See you tomorrow.

Nathaniel, you can't

Shut up, Meg.

He dumped her in the car. She craned her neck, and wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed to see Baxter heaving himself back onto the pier.

He needed quiet to pull himself back from violence. He detested the temper that lurked inside him, that made him want to raise his fists and pummel. He could rationalize it, under the circumstances, but it always left him sick inside to know what he was capable of if pushed.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would have come very close to murder if Megan hadn't stopped him.

He'd trained himself to use words and wit to resolve a fight. It usually worked. When it didn't, well, it didn't. But he continued, years after the last blow he'd taken from his father, to remember, and regret.

She was shivering by the time he parked the car in his driveway. It didn't occur to him until that moment that he'd forgotten Dog. Holt would see to him, Nathaniel figured, and plucked Megan from her seat.

I don't—

Just be quiet.

He carried her in, past the bird, who squawked greetings, and up the stairs. Megan was ready to babble in shock by the time he dumped her in a chair in the bedroom. Without a word, he turned away to rummage through his dresser drawers.

Get out of those wet clothes,

he ordered, tossing her a sweatshirt and sweatpants.

I'm going to go down and make you some tea.

Nathaniel—

Just do it!

he shouted, gritting his teeth.

Just do it,

he repeated quietly, and shut

the door.

He didn't slam it; nor, when he was down in the kitchen, did he put his fist through a wall. He thought about it. But instead, he put on the kettle, got out the brandy. After a moment's consideration, he took a pull of the fiery liquid, straight from the bottle.

It didn't calm him very much, but it took the e.g. off his sense of self-disgust.

When he heard Bird whistle and invite Megan to come to the Casbah, he set her spiked tea on the table.

She was pale, he noted, and her eyes were too big. So were the sweats. He nearly smiled at the picture she made, hesitating in the doorway, with the shirt drooping off her shoulders and the pants bagging at her ankles.

Sit down and have something to drink. You'll feel better.

I'm all right, really.

But she sat, and lifted the mug in both hands, because they tended to shake. The first sip had her sucking in her breath.

I thought this was tea.

It is. I just gave it a little help.

He sat across from her, waited until she sipped again.

Did he hurt you?

She stared down at the table. The wood was polished so brightly she could see her own face in it.

Yes.

She said it calmly. She thought she was calm, until Nathaniel put his hand over hers.

Her breath hitched once, twice, and then she put her head on the table and wept.

So much washed out with the tears the hopes she'd once had, the dreams, the betrayal and the disillusionment, the fears and the bitterness. He didn't try to stop her, only waited it out.

I'm sorry.

She let her cheek rest against the table a moment, comforted by the cool, smooth feel of the wood on her skin and Nathaniel's hand on her hair.

It all

seemed to happen so fast, and I wasn't prepared.

She straightened, started to wipe

the tears away, when a new fear glazed her eyes.

Kevin. Oh, God,ifBax—

Holt will take care of Kevin. Dumont won't get near him.

You're right.

She gave a shuddering sigh.

Of course, you're right. Holt would see to Suzanna and all the children right away. And all Baxter wanted to do in any case was frighten me.

Did he?

Her eyes were still wet, but they were steady.

No. He hurt me, and he infuriated me,

and he made me sick that I'd ever let him touch me. But he didn't frighten me. He can't.

Attagirl.

She sniffled, smiled weakly.

But I frightened him. That's why he came here today, after all this time. Because he's frightened.

Of what?

Of the past, the consequences.

She drew another, deeper breath and smelted Nathaniel tobacco and salt spray. How oddly comforting it was.

He thinks our

coming here is some sort of plot against him. He's been keeping track of me all this time. I didn't know.

He's never contacted you until today?

No, never. I suppose he felt safe when I was in Oklahoma and hadn't any connection with Suzanna. Now, not only is there a connection, but I'm living here.

And Kevin and Alex and Jenny... Well, he doesn't seem to understand it has nothing to do with him.

She picked up her tea again. Nathaniel hadn't asked anything, he'd simply sat and held her hand. Perhaps that was why she felt compelled to tell him.

I met him in New York. I was seventeen, and it was my first real trip away from home. It was during the winter break, and several of us went. One of my friends had relatives there. I guess you've been to New York.

A time or two.

I'd never experienced anything like it. The people, the buildings. The city was so exciting, and so unlike the West. Everything crowded in and colorful. I loved it rushing along Fifth Avenue, having coffee in some hole-in-the wall in Greenwich Village. Gawking. It sounds silly.