Young Truths (Young Series) (36 page)

There’s wonder in his voice, even though I’ve told him the same thing a dozen or so times over the course of our relationship.

“In the end, he gladly gave me his blessing, though I’m sure you’ve figured that out. All I wanted after that was to get home to you so I could ask you to marry me, but I had to go through with my business trip. That was quite possibly the longest week of my life. When I finally did get home, I’d worked my nerves up so much that I couldn’t even be in the same room with you without going into a panic attack. I know my avoidance that night hurt you, but if I’d given in to you, particularly when you walked past me wearing that very revealing nightie,” he squeezes me around the middle, and I can hear the grin through his suddenly husky voice, “I would have talked myself out of the plan I’d so carefully concocted.”

I turn in his arms just enough to look him in the eyes. “I loved that proposal,” I tell him, grinning. “And inc
identally, I also loved the sailboat one.”

He chuckles. “Glad to hear it.”

“What would you have done if my dad had said no?” I ask curiously.

“Probably would have gone through it anyway and hoped
he didn’t kill me before we reached our wedding day,” he says matter-of-factly. “Because we both know I can’t stay away from you and that I have a slight problem with authority and being told no.” I smirk at him. “I knew he wouldn’t, though; he saw how happy you were with me and your happiness was most important to both of us.”

“He was right,” I say
softly. “You do make me happy, even when we’re arguing. We both know there have been times when it probably would have been better for me to feel differently, but it’s never been an option for me. You’re pretty difficult to get over, too, you know. Those few weeks we broke up last year proved it. There were times I wondered how it would be if I tried moving on after everything we’d been through over the last year, maybe with Mark. Then I realized there is no replacement for you in my life. There never could be. You’ve told me over and over that you’re nothing without me; the reverse is the same. You brought me back to life and gave me things I’d stopped caring about wanting. I don’t know where I’d be if I never met you and there is no way to repay—”

He silences me by turning me around to straddle his legs and crushes his lips against mine in a kiss that’s filled with love and lust and appreciation, and a dozen other things I can’t identify. “You don’t need to repay me for anything,” he breathes, panting as we part. “Let’s just agree that we’re mutually indebt to one another and spend our lives showing how much we mean to each other.”

I smile, resting my forehead against his. “I like that plan,” I whisper. A moment later, neither of us is speaking anymore.

The rest of our vacation on the farm passed by almost too quickly. I was actually disappointed when Samantha reminded me it was time to leave. Returning home and to reality was a slap in the face. The closer we got to the apartment, the more I wished we could just turn around and run away from everything. Enticing as the thought is, I know I can’t just ignore anything. This needs to end, one way or another, before my family can be at peace again.

Life is starting get back to whatever state of normality it once resembled. Monday morning, Samantha had an appointment with her doctor to check whether the poison was completely out of her system. Thankfully, it is and she was able to go back to nursing our daughter. After her appointment, she headed to work at the bookstore, along with a small army of security personnel to keep her safe, and I returned to Young Technologies to face the foot-high inbox on my desk. Upon arriving, Sandra informed me that Marcus would be visiting before lunch. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad that he apparently can’t wait to see me. He’s been alluding for over a week that he’s got something serious we need to discuss, something in regards to the fingerprints found at Lucy’s apartment. I can’t even imagine who they might belong to or why they were mistaken for mine. I’m not even certain I want to know at this point. I’m no longer a suspect and
, as far as I’m concerned, no longer involved in this case. Unfortunately for me, that doesn’t stop my curiosity about who killed her and dumped her body in my backyard.

My morning flies by and before I know it, Marcus is at my door carrying a paper bag I know will contain the best cheeseburger in New York state. “You certainly know the way to a man’s heart,” I say, grinning as he unpacks the bag and hands me my Styrofoam container of food. “I missed you, too, dear.”

He gives me the finger, pulling his chair closer to my desk. “Don’t be creepy, Young,” he says, smirking. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” I say around a mouthful of French fries. “So what’s so important that it can’t wait?”

“Not beating around the bush today, are you?” he murmurs in slight annoyance. “There are a couple things, actually. But let’s start with Samantha’s poisoning.”

I choke on my drink in my eagerness to respond. “You know who it was?” I manage to cough.

“More like a very heavy suspicion,” he corrects. “Are you familiar with a man named Damian Rogers?”

I think for a few moments, trying to recall the name, but come up empty. “No,” I answer, “I don’t think so. Who is he?”

“One of your employees,” Marcus says bluntly. “He was hired last summer to work in the labs downstairs. His security checks were completed, but someone looked over a few key pieces of information. Since he was cleared to work down there, he’s had access to everything there, including that poison.”

“Who did the security check?” I ask in a low voice, already knowing the answer.

Marcus eyes me for a few moments before answering. “Leo,” he says. “He did the interviews, the security checks, all of it. Nobody thought twice about it and I’m guessing he was hired right around the time the threat to Sam and Tyler was beginning, so you were good and distracted.”

“Goddammit, Leo,” I mutter, dropping my burger back into its container. “Where’s Rogers now?”

“Being held on suspicion of murder. I’m questioning him this afternoon. And before you even say it,” he pauses, glaring at me when my mouth opens, “you’re staying out of it. We need this asshole alive if we have any hope of figuring out where Marone is.”

“You think he’s associated with Marone?” I ask in surprise.

“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t,” Marcus answers. “Incidentally, I think Rogers might have been the guy following Samantha everywhere she goes.”

My eyebrows rise. “Well, then I’ll trust you to bring his ass down,” I reply. “Speaking of Ma
rone, I don’t know what difference it makes at this point, if any, but while we were at Sam’s brother’s, Tom Saunders dropped by for a visit and chat with her.”

“Is he still alive?” Marcus asks dully.

“He didn’t make her cry,” I say flippantly, “so I thought I’d let bygones be bygones. Anyway, Sam thinks Saunders might have spoken to our buddy Frank that day at the bar when he started running his mouth. He claims not to know who the guy was, but from his description, she’s pretty sure it was Frank.”

Marcus nods. “I’ll look into it,” he promises, “but like you said, I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference since we already know Frank’s involvement with everything else last summer. And speaking of looking into things, I took the initiative and had a look into Mark Reilly for you. Have you told Samantha about him yet?”

I shake my head. “Not yet,” I say. “I’m trying to figure out how to phrase it without sounding like the insanely jealous husband. She’s not going to take it well. What did you find out?”

“Well, he’s pretty clean on the surface,” Marcus begins. “It took a bit of digging, but I was able to find a blemish on his record. He was head of his department at a California hospital for a few years. Before that, he was considered the most promising physician in his field. At least until one of his patients filed a malpractice suit against him. He managed to settle that one outside of a courtroom, but not long after, he was hit with a couple wrongful death suits. The patients in his care were given incorrect dosages of medication. It’s never been proven that Reilly did it intentionally, but it was enough for him to lose his job at that hospital and his license to practice in California. A couple months later, he showed up out here, managed to obtain a
medical license in New York, and has been at the hospital ever since.”

I don’t even know how to reply to that. My initial digging didn’t turn up anything on Reilly, but I don’t have the same resources Marcus has, and though this wasn’t quite what I was expecting, it confirms that so
mething about the asshole isn’t right. Aside from having a shoebox full of my wife’s photos, I mean. With this new information, I’m starting to wonder whether he’s more involved with all the trouble around us. Like Samantha’s poisoning.

“Until you’ve got proof,” Marcus says quietly, pulling me from my thoughts, “you need to keep your suspicions about Reilly to yourself. By all means, tell Samantha he’s bad news, tell her to cut ties with him, but don’t start throwing around accusations.”

Sighing, I nod. “I won’t,” I say. “What about the fingerprints?”

Marcus watches me closely for a moment, possibly to make certain I can handle whatever it is he’s about to tell me. But my phone rings before he can speak.

Rolling my eyes, I reach for the phone and check the caller ID. “Sorry, it’s Samantha,” I tell Marcus before answering. “Hey you, what’s up?”

“We need to talk about something,” she says in a wavering voice.

Instantly, I’m on high alert. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She lets out a shaky breath and I suspect she’s been crying. “I just got a certified letter from a lawyer in Omaha. Tom wants a paternity test for Olivia.”

Last summer while I was hospitalized following my and Tyler’s kidnapping coordinated by Natalie, I was informed that I was nearly three months pregnant. At that moment, there was no doubt in my mind that Matthew was my child’s father. The only doubts I had were in regards to whether Matthew would want to deal with a baby after everything he’d gone through after the plane crash. We’d only spoken a couple times since I’d regained consciousness and we had both been uncertain how the other felt about restarting our relationship. What I hadn’t realized was that he already knew about my pregnancy and he had his own doubts that he was Olivia’s father. Our miscommunication had caused us both some heartache until we were able to align our trains of thought. The look on his face when I told him he was the father is one I’ll never forget and from that moment on, he dedicated himself to me and Tyler and our unborn baby.

Now, however, the doubt has returned full force. Maybe not on my end, or even Matthew’s, but definitely for Tom. I believed we’d sorted this out the night we talked on the porch; clearly he doesn’t share those sentiments. I don’t know how many times I’ve reread the letter that was delivered to me at the bookstore, and every time it seems to hit me harder than before. I’m in shock that this is happening to us and slightly afraid of Matthew’s reaction. He’s angry. Understandably so, though none of it is directed towards me.

“That fucking prick,” he exclaims, pacing around the bookstore with his hands fisting his hair. “Who the fuck does he think he is?” He goes on in this vein for a few minutes, muttering expletives and threats directed towards Tom while I sit on the stool behind the counter, looking between my sleeping daughter and the letter that was delivered to me. Matthew has been here for twenty minutes and in that time, he hasn’t taken the opportunity to comfort or reassure me like I thought he would. Instead, he’s plotting the murder of my childhood best friend.

“I hate to say it,” Danny begins reluctantly, pushing himself off the bookshelf he’s been leaning on since he arrived, “but a decision needs to be made about this. Quickly.”

“Fuck that,” Matthew snaps. “He can’t possibly believe there’s a chance Olivia is his daughter.”

Danny raises an eyebrow. “That certified letter says differently,” he says dully. “Matt, Tom can claim whatever he wants to claim. Hell, he could say Tyler is his son, even though the entire world knows better.”

“What happens if we refuse the test?” I ask suddenly, looking up to meet Danny’s gaze. I’d been on the phone with Claire when the letter arrived and when I told her the nature of the letter; she’d immediately contacted her husband and sent him to the bookstore, probably to keep Matthew from doing anything stupid.

Danny sighs. “If you refuse, which you are, of course, free to do, Tom could go to a judge and have the paternity test court ordered. If that happens, you’ll all be dragged through the legal system, probably in Omaha, since that’s where the request originated from, and none of you are going to be happy about that. My advice is to do the test, prove Olivia is Matthew’s daughter, and move on with your lives.”

An hour later, Matthew is driving us to pick up Tyler before heading home. Neither of us has spoken much since Danny returned to work and I think I’d give anything to know what was going through his mind. Does he doubt our daughter’s paternity, too? I’m not sure we could survive something like the revelation that Tom is her father rather than Matthew. And with everything else that’s going on...

“We’ll deal with this,” he says quietly as we wait for Tyler to run out of the school. I turn to look at him, concern lacing his expression. “We’ll figure out what to do and get Saunders out of our lives for good. As far as I’m concerned, he’s crossed a line that is so beyond unforgivable. I know he was your friend—
more
than your friend—but this is bullshit, Sam.” He points in the backseat where Olivia is happily gurgling away. She started that last week along with smiling—she’s got Matthew’s smile, no doubt. “That is my daughter. Not his. I’m the one who has been awake with her at three in the morning for feedings and changings, not him. Olivia is mine.”