CHAPTER 21
Jane clearly expected Nick to drop her off at her grandmother’s and leave. But he wanted intel on the woman who was unintentionally burrowing her way into his heart, and he figured a sweet old lady was a great source. And even though it became instantly clear that Jane’s grandmother was not the definition of a “sweet old lady,” Nick found himself curious enough to stay.
“Nana” was astoundingly well preserved for being in her eighties, and she obviously took very good care of herself, except for the blatant evidence of a cigarette habit lying around the small apartment.
Nick was all set to take over the handyman duties, but Jane’s nana insisted that he sit with her while Jane completed the tasks. This did not bode well. And when Jane went off to the bathroom to take care of that curtain, Nana didn’t miss a beat, leveling narrowed eyes on him as she sat back in her kitchen chair. “Sit down, Mr. Dawes,” she said in a no-nonsense clip. “I’ll be honest with you. I’m not sure why Jane’s brought you inside.”
“She didn’t have a choice. I was planning to hang the shower curtain.” Until you decided to interview me instead.
She tapped the table with manicured fingertips. “You’re her boss?”
Nick sighed. “That does not sound good, does it?”
“No,” Nana said. “I’m wondering why her boss is giving her a ride home after work hours and offering to hang her nana’s shower curtain. I’m also noting that your hair is wet and that’s a fresh bandage on your face. Not one of those things says ‘normal working relationship’ to me.”
“It’s a long story,” Nick said. Involving a couple of pages where I almost get your granddaughter killed with a mail bomb. But let’s not dredge that up, okay? That’s clearly not the point here, anyway. “I’m aware of her history,” he said.
“Mmm.” She was not impressed. “You’re in some trouble then?”
The question caught Nick by surprise; he kept that surprise to himself.
Oh, fuck. The neat blouse, the slim, conservative skirt, the subtle but complete face of makeup, the coiffed hair. The backbone made of steel and the steady compass. Mrs. MacGregor might be an elderly white lady, but she was channeling the spirit of Jemilla Johnson like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
A flicker of concern marred her stern expression. “May I offer you a cup of coffee?” she asked.
“Water, please,” he said hoarsely. “I can get it. Anything for you?”
She let on that she appreciated his respect of her age and shook her head but gestured to the correct cabinet for his water glass.
Feeling a little shaken up, Nick took the opportunity to pull himself together as he retrieved the glass, under her unwavering gaze.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.
“No. I didn’t.” He looked her square in the eyes and gave her the answer without saying a word.
“Jane doesn’t deserve to get mixed up in some new man’s shit,” Nana said, pulling her cigarettes toward her. “And I might be old, Mr. Dawes, but I’ve got a lot of fight in me yet. I know your type. I spent decades in the company of powerful, rich men.” She unapologetically tapped out a cigarette and lit it with shaking hands she did not try to conceal.
The smoke floated into Nick’s face. He did not allow himself to blink.
The woman was good. He could see where Jane got her confidence.
“The problem is that she talks about you,” Nana said. “Not a lot. A little. But it doesn’t take much. Just a few details. So I have a sense of . . . the stakes.”
Nick waited her out. He wasn’t sure if she was talking about mercenaries or heartbreak. If she meant heartbreak, well, the last thing he wanted to do was break Jane’s heart. Anyway, half of the time, Jane seemed disturbingly immune when it came to Nick’s charms. Of course, the other half of the time . . . his pulse raced a little thinking about what he would have done to her on the dining room table of the safe house were it not for an untimely bomb.
“Are you sleeping with her, Mr. Dawes?”
Okay, now Nick blinked. She wasn’t from the same generation. Irrespective of some of the dirty dreams he’d started having about Jane recently, it was fair to answer no. A kiss was just a kiss. “No.”
“But you’d like to be.”
Whoa. Okay. Well, hell, yeah. I’d like to be sleeping with Jane. Love to be. Want to be. Wish I were. That kiss . . . aww, shut your brain down already, man.
The truth was he hadn’t actually given much thought to whether sleeping with Jane was truly a bad idea. It seemed like a bad idea in light of the fact there was an angry Russian all over Nick’s ass, and he didn’t want Jane to suffer the consequences of that relationship getting worse. But Sokolov aside, was sleeping with Jane a bad idea? Was . . . falling in love with Jane a bad idea?
“Young man,” Nana said. He thought she might even be tapping her foot impatiently for a second. What a piece of work. That said, she was exactly the sort of guardian he’d want for Jane.
“I don’t think this conversation is what Jane had in mind when she brought me here,” he said. Clearly the lady was enjoying herself. Nick definitely was not. He could appreciate Nana MacGregor and her protectiveness when it came to Jane. And at the same time, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than leave her sharp eyes and pointed smile behind.
Nick looked through the door to see if Jane was making any headway with the idea of leaving. He couldn’t see her, and Nana wasn’t done killing it.
“My job, as I see it,” she continued, “for the time I have left on this earth, is to make sure my darling girl Jane, who bends over backwards to make sure I have what I want even though she claims it’s what I need, has a happy future. The last man to sit in this kitchen did not pass my test. And, frankly, Nicholas Dawes, you won’t either. You have to deserve a woman like Jane. And that means you have to go get your shit together before you mess around with her heart. Before. So, you get yourself clear of whatever it is that is making it hard to answer what should be a very simple question before you drag her into something she will regret. For whatever reason.”
They let that speech sit there awhile. Nick didn’t feel like smiling anymore.
“What’s up with Jane’s parents?” Nick finally asked.
“My son and Jane’s mother are an interesting pair,” Nana said. “They had no business having a child. Rather like me, but then, I think I redeemed myself through Jane in the end.”
“Why aren’t they in her life?”
“Because when she ran to me, they didn’t follow.”
Nick winced.
“My son, Tommy, takes after his father. A bit of a hustler, a charmer, a bit of a ne’er-do-well. If you ask me, this ‘going back to the land,’ as Jane likes to refer to it, is just a cover story. I suppose there’s something impressive about killing your own buffalo for a midnight snack and sleeping in rawhide sacks hanging between two trees. But in this case, the truth is that Tommy can’t hold on to money, or a job for that matter. He’s all air up there.”
Nana waved her hand next to her temple. “I suspect that he’s still on the move a little, doing a con on the side when the money runs out. Jane tells me you’re some sort of financier.” She nailed Nick with her steely gaze. “I should think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I do. And I also have an even clearer picture as to why Jane takes a pack of mercenaries living in a real-life Batcave in stride. “You’re a tough cookie,” Nick said.
Nana tipped her head. “I never liked the expression, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“What about Jane’s mother?”
Nana’s lip curled. Clearly not a fan. “Let’s just say she’s not very good at multitasking; taking care of more than herself is beyond her skill set. Poor Jane was really left to her own devices in some very strange circumstances. Her parents just kept leaving her places as they moved through different towns, grifting a little, working a little, spinning enormous dreams that were clearly never going to come true. And sometimes they’d forget where they put her. I suppose I should be grateful that they never used her for a con. At least not that I know of. Oh, but the things I know young Jane saw.” Nana shook her head.
“Ouch,” Nick said.
“Indeed,” Nana said, her gaze moving away as Jane suddenly rushed back into the kitchen.
“You are! I knew I smelled it. You’re smoking, Nana?” Jane asked with complete horror.
Nana punched the cigarette out in a so-bad-it’s-good mustard-colored retro ashtray. “Just one a day, like I promised,” she said sweetly. “And now I’m wiped out.” She got up and patted Jane’s cheek, said she was going to take a nap, and politely bid Nick good day.
Once Jane made sure Nana was settled in the bedroom, she met Nick in the foyer, and they headed out into the sunshine. “You look weird. Did she say something to you that I’m going to wish she hadn’t said?” Jane asked.
“She definitely reminds me of Ms. Johnson,” Nick said.
“Really?”
It was kind of touching that Jane looked so pleased. Like she got it. She got that Ms. Johnson was his family. “Really. And I just got a stern talking to,” he said.
“Oh, man. Oh, god.” Jane turned bright red. “What did she say?”
Nick took a deep breath of clear air. He looked up at the blue sky. He looked down into Jane’s green eyes. “What I needed to hear.”