Dangerous Temptation

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….

2

The hospital was teeming with people. Many of the accident victims had been brought to St Anselm’s, and the doctors and nurses were working round the clock in an effort to keep up with the load. The lobby resembled nothing so much as a train station, with would-be passengers dashing from desk to desk, desperate for news, desperate for information.

Caitlin wasn’t one of them. She didn’t feel like one of them; she didn’t look like one of them. The anxiety she could see mirrored in their faces was not her anxiety; the fear that some loved one had perished in the crash was not what had brought her here.

Yet, as she pushed her way through the press of bodies, she couldn’t help an unwilling twinge of concern. Nathan might be all kinds of a bastard, but he was her husband, and for all her avowed indifference, she would not wish to see him dead.

And he wasn’t dead. He was injured, but he wasn’t dead. When the authorities had contacted her, to tell her that her husband had been one of the passengers on board the transatlantic flight that had crashed on take-off, they had instantly informed her that Mr Wolfe was one of the survivors. Like many of those who were injured, he had been taken to St Anselm’s hospital in New York City, and if she required any further information, Caitlin should contact the hospital direct.

It had come as a complete shock. Caitlin hadn’t even known Nathan was flying back on that plane. He’d left for New York over a week ago, ostensibly to visit his father in Prescott, New Jersey. He hadn’t told her why he was going, and she hadn’t heard from him since.

Not that that was unusual. These days, they rarely discussed personal things at all. It was only because her father expected it that they continued to share the same flat. But they had their own lives, their own friends; they might as well have lived apart.