11
Nathan
Nathan stomped up the beach. The ebbing tide kissed his heels and called him back. He could spend all day under the waves, and it was especially hard not to give into that desire when he felt like this. Angry. Frustrated. Confused.
He’d left his clothes in a little bundle by a sun-bleached log halfway up the beach. He snatched them up as he passed by. This stretch of beach was completely secluded, so he let his body air dry in the sun as he made his way over the sand toward the house.
He grabbed a towel just inside the back door and ran it over his sopping hair, wondering what he was going to do with the rest of his day. He’d spent the past couple of weeks doing little else besides swimming and training, plus a little bit of reading when he was too tired out to do anything else. It should have been his paradise—no jobs, no commitments, no rules. And as long as he didn’t look at his phone, he could continue to live in this fantasy.
Unfortunately, the blasted device was not so easy to ignore. Lexa had called twice already today, leaving an admirably minimalist voicemail instructing him to call back. And then there was the matter of Sophia.
He’d never given her his number, so at least she couldn’t call him too. Having her number was a backup plan, one he’d never meant to use. She should have been dead by now, and who would call a dead girl?
Only, Sophia wasn’t dead. It sickened him to think what his father would say if he knew how horribly he’d failed this mission. How instead of killing the target, he’d nearly kissed her. Marcus would blow a gasket. If the old man knew Nathan was still thinking about kissing her now, still yearning for her feather-soft touch on his face, it could be enough to overload his struggling heart for good.
Hm. Maybe he should tell Marcus. While he was at it, he could include the part about how she managed to pull off being cute and wicked sexy at the same time and how his lust for her was screwing with his head.
He dropped his towel on the black marble floor and groaned in frustration. How could he look around at this house, at everything it represented, while entertaining thoughts of kissing Sophia Davies? This ostentatious hunk of real estate was part of the legacy he was supposed to uphold, a legacy built on blood and teeth. Sophia was too soft, too human. She didn’t fit in his world, and experience had already taught him that he didn’t belong in hers.
It was pointless—all of it. He was supposed to get closer to make his objective easier, but now the closer he got to her, the harder that objective became. To make matters worse, it was only a matter of time before Darcy or Gabriel found out, and then what? Gabriel would come after him, and he already knew how that would turn out. Nathan was incapable of killing his former best friend.
Been there, tried that, got the commemorative keychain.
Nathan headed up to the master suite to grab a shower, hoping that some time under the hot water would help. Sophia was still alive, and so were the feelings he’d hoped to squash by killing her. Resentment, anger, jealously. Only now, he wasn’t so sure killing Sophia was the way to make them go away for good. Those turbulent emotions faded away when he was with Sophia. Now that a storm was raging in his skull, he was more anxious to see her than ever. He felt like a fool.
In the bathroom, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror and stopped, staring straight into his eyes. Their dark grey depths seemed to swirl. He remembered a time when they hadn’t been so dark. When they’d looked normal. A surge of hatred for his father bubbled in his gut.
Nathan sighed and got into the shower, letting it cascade over his back and shoulders.
It was no wonder he couldn’t kill Gabriel. Sharks didn’t have friends. They had alliances, they had pacts. What he and Gabriel had formed could be seen as an alliance from an outsider’s view—the two strongest boys in the clan banding together to come out on top in their training. But it had been more than that.
Gabriel had kept him sane throughout those long years of training. As many times as he felt Marcus’s fist on his face, Nathan felt Gabriel’s hand helping him back up. He’d never really looked at his connection with Gabriel that way before. He had never properly appreciated it. But how could Nathan explain to his old friend the twists in his mind when he didn’t fully understand them himself? One second he was all about the clan, the next he was cursing its very existence and cavorting with a permie girl he was supposed to have killed. One second he was laughing with his best friend, the next he was trying to kill him.
It was a quick shower. Nathan couldn’t handle much more thinking today. If it wasn’t Sophia, it was Gabriel. If it wasn’t either of them, Lexa pushed her way into the fray.
After getting dressed, Nathan headed back downstairs and made himself a plate of sandwiches. He’d been spending a lot of time shifted lately, and that always took it out of him. He was working on his fourth sandwich when his phone rang again. This time he knew he’d better pick it up, or else face Lexa coming down here to yell at him herself.
He finished chewing and answered. “Redman.”
“So your phone does work? It’s good to know I can call off the search party,” Lexa said dryly.
He snorted. “You’re making a joke, so you can’t be that angry.”
“Apparently that’s the only thing that gets through to you. I suppose it’s something I’ll have to get used to once we’re married.”
A piece of sandwich stuck in Nathan’s throat and he had to swallow extra hard to painfully disengage it. Their engagement wasn’t news, but neither of them had brought it up for years.
“What do you want now, Lexa? As much as I enjoy this new, hilarious side to you, your marital nagging is a little premature.”
“Your father has gotten worse,” she said. “He’s asking for you.”
“How much worse?” He asked it more out of curiosity than concern.
“His organs aren’t healing anymore. They’ve started shutting down.”
One thing Nathan did like about Lexa was her inability to sugarcoat.
“So the old man’s finally going to kick it,” Nathan mused, more to himself than to Lexa. He shoved another bite of sandwich in his mouth. “How long?”
“Are you serious?” Lexa snapped. “That’s all you have to say?”
He scoffed. “Well I figured it would be in poor taste to start planning the parade at this juncture.”
Her tone was cold and stern. “Have you forgotten that you’ll be the one in Marcus’s position one day?” she asked. “I only hope our children will be more sympathetic when it’s you lying there dying.”
She’d measured the words with precision, and they sliced through Nathan’s good mood effortlessly. He put down the sandwich he’d been about to bite into and gritted his teeth.
“Just come home,” she continued. “Before it’s too late.”
Nathan hung up the phone without waiting to listen if she’d try an even more emotional appeal. As entertaining as that would have been, he couldn’t stand to talk about it anymore. Fuck, he couldn’t stand to think about it anymore.
He jammed another sandwich into his mouth and left the rest on the table, already halfway to the front door. Keys in hand, Nathan slammed the door behind him and stepped out into the gorgeous sunny afternoon.