Hard to Hold (11 page)

He wandered across to the wide bank of windows. His back to her, his hands deep in
his pockets, he let the heavy silence hang.

She shifted her weight to her other leg and folded her arms. She was shoulder-deep
in lies. If he turned and caught her fiddling with the edges of her hair…

“Anna, earlier this afternoon, the telephone call. Who were you expecting to be on
the other end, because it sure wasn’t me?

She tightened her arms then eased her grip fearing she’d crack a rib. “The clinic.”

He turned, his expression mild but his eyes glinted shards of ice. “Bollocks! You
were panicking.”

“I was feeling crowded, hemmed in, something I’ve never handled well.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’re handling this conversation just fine. But for the
bead of sweat I’ve just watched trickle your throat, I’d never guess you were feeling
the pressure.”

“You enjoy tearing the wings of insects too, Nick?” She released her arms and flung
them wide. “For God’s sake, the clinic rang to confirm the date of my scan, that’s
all.”

“So why bring my name into it? Why would they care whether I’d moved in or not?”

Good point, but not one she dared concede. She had to deflect his focus away from
the call. The untruths, piling up one upon another, risked tripping her up. “Because
I pay them to care, Nick. There, I’ve admitted it. I have to pay people to actually
care about me? Happy now?”

He shook his head and started to laugh. “Jesus, Anna. That’s ridiculous, even for
you.”

Suddenly, the deadly secret she held, all the lies she was spinning desperately, faded
into insignificance as an unassailable truth hit her. “Is it? My staff are loyal,
but have you seen my monthly salary bill? Do you really think, but for my wealth,
the police would have marked my case a priority? Who noticed me when I was poor, Nick?
Who actually gave a damn?”

His laughter died. He walked up close to her, leaned forward, and tugged the untidy
hank of hair framing her chin. “I did,” he said softly. “And I don’t recall
ever
feeling the need to submit an invoice.”

The back of her eyes burned. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, and for the first
time in all the years she’d known Nick, it mattered that he shouldn’t see her cry.

“Once upon a time, you’d have let those tears you’re fighting fall without hesitation.
Once upon a time, Anna, when you trusted me absolutely.”

Compassion? Heartfelt regret? From him—a man so damaged, any emotion bar anger seemed
beyond him? She consciously contracted her ribs. Hearts beat silently, they did not
pound with the might of a kettledrum.

His finger brushed her cheek, settled beneath her chin, and with gentle but insistent
pressure tilted her head upward. Fascinated, she couldn’t look away. Never before
had she seen his eyes quite so unguarded.

“I’m so goddamn sorry, Anna—for everything. For the moods. For making you feel you
didn’t matter. And most of all, for not having the courage…and…yes, the humility,
to try and apologize before now. That night—despite knowing with every sane fiber
of my being that betrayal was beyond you, I accused you of having an affair. Because…because…”

His fingers plowed untidy furrows through his hair.

She held her breath. This was it. An explanation. To what had really being going on
in his head that night.

“Because, I loved you, Anna, to the point of pain, and I was petrified. I’d just spent
hours imaging all kinds of terrible things—you lying in the dark all alone, in pain,
maybe dying, scared—when I should have been there to protect you. Then you turned
up and you wouldn’t let me hold you. You stepped back. From me. That hurt, and I wanted
to hurt you right back. But I honestly thought you’d come home. You always had before.
And when you didn’t, I tried to force your hand by demanding a divorce—fuck, but did
that misfire. You signed the papers, and I lost you for good.”

The abrupt silence lengthened. She’d have swallowed if she could. Christ, what good
was an apology when accompanied by a dumb-ass explanation like that? If he wasn’t
lying to her, he sure as hell was holding something back.

His next move denied the pain lancing her chest the chance to morph into temper. He
reached forward and brushed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “Remember
when we needed each other, Anna? How we protected each other? How, together, we once
stood undefeatable against the world? What happened to those two people? What happened
to
us
?

Us.
Such a small word. Yet, for her, it had once been as big as the earth itself with
their love, the sun. A sun that had not just been life affirming but life essential—for
them both. What if she gave him a chance? What if she gave them
both
a chance? They’d saved each other before. And maybe, just maybe, with a touch of
trust on both sides, they could do so again.

“Niva Antila is the father of my baby,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely louder
than a whisper.

Nick’s hand dropped to his side. He took a step back. “Fucking hell, Anna. Fucking
hell.”

“So now you know.”

He must have read her helplessness in the sudden fall of her shoulders, because next
thing she knew, she was wrapped in his arms, barely able to breathe, the
thump
of his heart, loud against her ear. He seemed incapable of speech. “You can’t go
after him, Nick. He’ll kill you if you do.”

No way was she telling him that Antila had promised death for her and the baby if
she birthed a girl. Share that hideous little snippet with him, and there would be
no holding him back. “You can’t die. I need you. My baby needs you.”

He abruptly set her aside.

“Please, Nick, don’t look at me like that,” she pushed on desperately. “You’re scaring
me, and I need to ask you a favor.”

“I’m not exactly predisposed to granting you any favors right now, Anna. I can’t believe
some of the situations you get yourself in to. Jesus, what are you, a gravitational
force for trouble?”

She straightened her shoulders. “Not intentionally.”

He narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Okay ask. Just be prepared for me to turn
you down flat if I don’t like what I hear.”

“My next scan. I want you to come with me, not as a bodyguard but as a friend.”

“We haven’t been friends for a long time, Anna,” he said, folding his arms across
his chest. “Why don’t you ask Will?”

The build of palpitations threatened to crack her chest. “I don’t want Will to accompany
me. I need you.”

He burst out laughing. It wasn’t a happy laugh; it carried too much pain. “Anna, you
never needed anyone in your life.”

Wrong. She’d needed him. On more levels than she’d dared admit. But there was no point
wanting what you couldn’t have, she’d learned that long ago. “I’m scared.” At least
that wasn’t a lie.

Focusing on her goal—protecting her baby—she swallowed and pulled out the big guns.
“You owe me. Consider it reparation for not being there for your own child.”

The air turned frigid, the bright accents of color scattered round her kitchen, her
bright red kettle, her acid green toaster, the bright yellow of the blinds, faded.

“I would have been there, had you called sooner.”

“I did call. Twice. They told me you were unavailable. They—”

“Who are ‘they’?”

A tight, bitter smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Some nameless, female automaton,
no doubt tasked with keeping troublesome wives at bay. You know the Service, Nick.
Agents and assignments take priority. Families…? Well, I guess you’d find them listed
in a file somewhere, probably under Collateral Damage.”

…

With a savage curse, he followed her as she skirted around him and made her way to
the sitting room.

The hours preceding the horrendous row that had finally destroyed their marriage had
been the longest of his life. Knowing Anna would never have tried to contact him unless
she was in real trouble, out of options, and desperate, he’d panicked when he’d heard
about her call. Hitching the first available flight back to London, he’d arrived to
find their home deserted, her cell phone turned off. He’d waited and waited for her
return, high anxiety giving way to dirty suspicions as he’d driven himself into an
angry frenzy.

When she had finally stumbled through the door—wiped out, pale, fragile—he’d already
been trapped in a noxious web of fear and anger. Fear that she’d been hurt. Anger
that she’d dared scare him. His temper, bequeathed to him by his father, had spewed
forth like lava. Liquid hot. Unstoppable. Wholly destructive.

He’d had to do something. Anything, to get her away from him. He was Mad Mickey’s
son after all. Violent. Dangerous. So, to protect her, he’d accused her of the one
thing he’d known she’d never do—have an affair. And yes, in that moment he’d deliberately
hurt her. And hadn’t cared that he’d succeeded. Better that, than risk her dying by
his hand.

No. Amputating her from his life had been the right thing to do back then, just as
it was now. An act of love on his part. Christ, she said that her baby needed him.
How tragic was that? If she knew what was good for her, for the baby, she’d run now
and never look back.

His scalp suddenly felt too tight, and he plowed his fingers through his hair. “You
should have said something, Anna. Told me the truth.”

“You didn’t deserve the truth. You called me an embarrassment. You listed every occasion
I’d made you regret marrying me, so many I lost count. You made it clear you didn’t
want me. And then I had nothing else to lose. I loved you, Nick, but that night it
turned to hate.” She raised her chin that little bit higher. “Your loss, my gain,
because it made me stronger, more determined that one day I’d
would
have a family of my own—on my terms, no more compromise.”

God, she was magnificent. He loved that she stood brave. Loved that no matter how
high the odds stacked against her, she refused to surrender. Bottom line, he just
flat-out loved her and always would. But he couldn’t be around her, not now that she
was having a child. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be safe. “I thought what we had
was enough.”

“You thought wrong. I might not have known it at the time, but I wanted a real family,
with kids.”

Yeah, like he’d have let
that
happen.

“Me being a father was never on the cards.” Bitterness coated his tongue. “The pregnancy
shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I wanted your baby.”

No way was he attending her scan. It would kill him.

Acid swirling his gut, he clenched his teeth. “Until I figure out what to do about
Antila, I’ll keep my mouth shut about him being the father. If the Service or any
other Agency finds out the truth, they’re likely to use you and the baby as bait to
reel the bastard in. But me being around you isn’t going to work. We keep tearing
chunks out of each other, and it can’t be good for the baby. You’ll be adequately
protected—I guarantee it—but I’m out of here.”

Chapter Ten

Ten days later, Anna stepped clear of the innocuous black saloon car, fully resigned
to the irritation of having two men flank her. Insisting she had no need of an escort
to the clinic had been futile—the men assigned stuck to her like glue. They had their
orders, and none dared defy her ex.

She preferred to take refuge in outright denial. Each time her mind wandered in Nick’s
direction she slammed doors and poured concrete barriers to keep him at bay.

Only a few minutes after she entered the clinic, the pretty receptionist called her
name. She jack-in-the-boxed to attention and with a glare dared her guards to follow
her. The glare worked. They sat back down.

This was it. In a few short minutes, she’d learn the gender of her baby. Following
the sonographer into a mutely lit room, she hesitated before climbing onto the high
bed as instructed. The woman must have seen more than her fair share of nervous expectant
mothers because she didn’t remark on the obvious tremor of her hands as she pulled
up her T-shirt and unfastened her jeans, pushing them low to reveal the still-small
mound barely curving her lower belly.

The smear of gel on her stomach should have been soothing but wasn’t, and when the
sonographer pressed the handheld device firmly against her abdomen, she nearly flew
off the bed. Probably would have done so had the woman not squeezed her shoulder to
reassure.

“I’m sorry,” Anna barely managed to whisper, “I’m not usually such a wimp.”

The squeeze turned into a series of pats and strokes. “Take a few deep breaths, honey,
we’re in no hurry here.”

And the kind words might have worked had the door not edged open and a shadow slipped
into the cell-like room.

She’d never been shy, but
damn it,
some things were personal. She jerked upright and hauled her knees to her chest.

“Excuse me, you can’t just barge in here—” the sonographer protested indignantly.

“No, it’s fine, he’s with me,” Anna choked, her throat thickening, relief rolling
through her in waves. She’d all but given up hope.

She eased back into a recline and smiled, no longer feeling quite so isolated. Damn
the man, but when push came to shove, he was incapable of letting her down. An embarrassing
sting misted her eyes. “Hi, Nick. You made it then.”

He shrugged and cocked her a half smile. “Never could resist a little gel-fest.”

“That’s a totally inappropriate comment, but I’m impressed.” She laughed shakily.
“Told you irreverence was fun. Have you been taking lessons?”

“Not exactly. Let’s just say I dredged up a few reminders of what it felt like to
live a little.”

“Then there might be hope for you yet, Nick Marshall.” She swiveled her head to the
side and smiled at the sonographer. “If possible, I’d like to know the gender, please.”

She really did try to keep her eyes fixed on the swirl of black and white that filled
the screen and tried even harder to work out what the images meant but within seconds
had to turn her face away, her eyes screwed tight shut. She wanted excitement to consume
her, wanted to feel thrill and joy firing every one of her nerves, but the threat
of death, heavy and ominous, cauterized all emotion but dread.

Blood gushed through her veins and the walls of the small private room folded inward.
Had she not already been prone, she’d have been knocked off her feet. Dear God, she
couldn’t breathe.

“Anna? Anna!” Nick gripped her by the shoulders and gave her mildest of little shakes.
“The heartbeat’s strong, everything’s fine. Damn it, you’re not supposed to be terrified.
This is incredible. Come on, open your eyes. Check it out for yourself.”

Maybe it was the urgency behind Nick’s tone, or maybe, the fact he’d leaned in close
enough for the heat of his breath to sear the sensitive skin just below her ear, but
it took more effort than she could ever have imagined to peel her eyelids open.

The sonographer wore a strained frown and eased back the wand pressing against her
abdomen. “You need to relax if you want an accurate reading as to the gender.”

“Sorry, I…” It seemed easier to attempt a weak laugh, and she cringed at the strangled
sound.

When a tear escaped, she tried to brush it away, then frowned. Nick had her hand,
his fingers tightly entangled with hers, his thumb drawing comforting little circles
against her skin. She was too shocked to raise a smile. He knew how to protect and
defend, but offering solace wasn’t exactly his forte.

Soundless tears flowed more freely as she tried to compute what the sonographer was
telling her. The roaring in her ears was too loud, so she concentrated on the woman’s
mouth, trying to lip-read.

“Do you two want a moment on your own?” the woman asked, wiping the gel from Anna’s
belly with smooth, efficient strokes. “It’s not unusual for women to find this experience
overwhelming, and you, too, look a little stunned, sir, if I may say so. I’ll give
you both a little space. I’ll be back shortly. Can I say how delighted I am for you
both?”

“God, I hope those are tears of joy, Anna. You’re the one who wanted this.”

She laughed, great painful gulps. “Of course I’m thrilled. Just a little overawed.
Suddenly it’s all so real. This
is
what I wanted. What I’ve always wanted. A family and now I’m finally going to have
one.”

She tightened her fingers round his. “What if I mess up, Nick? I haven’t exactly got
the best track record when it comes to being sensible. I’m every one of those things
you accused me of—reckless, flippant, impetuous—what if—”

“Listen up closely, sweetheart, because you might find this hard to believe. But if
you’d accidentally burned down half of London, I wouldn’t have given a damn. Knowing
you loved me was enough to cancel out all the trouble you found. And your daughter
will feel the same. Love her, Anna, as only you know how, and she’ll reward you with
forgiveness every time. I promise.”

It didn’t matter that his words made little sense. Daughter? Why the hell hadn’t she
reacted sooner? Sick at herself, she wrestled free of the high bed and lunged for
him.

“Nick, I need you to help hide the fact my baby’s a girl. It’s imperative everyone
believe I’m having a boy.” At his puzzled look, she grabbed his shoulders and tried
to steer him toward the door. “I’ll explain later, but you have to stop the stenographer
recording the truth.” She shoved again. “Please. I’ll do anything you ask, tell you
everything you want to know, just stop her.
Right now
.”

“Jesus, Anna, even I can’t just—”

“Please, Nick,” she whispered, because that’s all her vocal cords could manage. “I
don’t want my baby to die. I don’t want to die.”

Without a word, he spun on his heel and bolted from the darkened room.

With her heart threatening to escape her chest, she tugged at her clothes to straighten
them, then waited, her spine rigid.

She refused to check her watch, better that time hung suspended—like her breathing.
She’d handed control over to Nick. Now, she had to live with it. Not easy when he’d
given no clue as to what he intended to do.

When, finally, he returned, his face was an implacable mask.

Oh, God. If she held her breath any tighter, her chest would flatten completely.

“We’re leaving. Get your things.”

Oh, double God, even his voice was lifeless. “But what about—?”

He sliced the air in front of him with a long forefinger as if determined to rip the
very membrane of life itself. Apparently, he didn’t want to talk.

She swallowed her protest. She’d relinquished control. She had to trust him to do
what was best.

And she’d never felt more vulnerable in her life.

He accompanied her back out to the waiting car, calling shotgun over one of the guards.
He, clearly, couldn’t bring himself to sit anywhere near her. By the time the vehicle
pulled into the courtyard separating her home from her office, her nerves were replicating
violent lightning storms, and she tripped scrambling free of the oppressive atmosphere
of the car.

Nick steadied her with a firm grip on her elbow, his only comment to thank God the
contractors had finally installed her replacement staircase. She shared his relief.
She’d never have made it up the ladder. Her knees were shaking so hard, it was a bloody
miracle she could place one foot in front of the other in some pretense of a walk.

And instinct warned her, he wasn’t done with her yet. Far from it.

…

Nick continued to pace her sitting room, the sound of his steps alternating between
abruptly clipped against the wood of the floorboards, and soft and muffled as he crossed
one of her many Persian rugs. He shot a hooded glance at Anna. She’d folded deep in
the sofa, her knees hauled high and to her chin, her eyes on him, fiercely alert.
He didn’t want to admire her gutsy stoicism, but couldn’t help it. He’d broken men
far tougher than her with his trademark silence, yet she refused to fold.

He gave her another three minutes of the silent treatment then started in, razors
slashing. “Start at the top, Anna, leave nothing out. I want a complete run-through
of the events that—
goddammit
—led to my threatening an innocent woman so she’d lie on official clinic paperwork
about the true gender of your baby.”

He ignored the twist to his gut at the complete lack of defiance in her eyes. Damn,
he had wanted her cooperation, not surrender. It scared him half to death

“So what now, Nick?” she asked when she’d finished her third recounting of the mess
she’d gotten into.

He stopped pacing, turned and glared at her, beyond livid. How could any one woman
get herself into such impossible danger? And then, make things worse by trying to
face down the terrifying choices alone? Niva Antila? The father of Anna’s baby? Christ,
the very thought of it turned his stomach. And then to try and hide the death threats
he made against her should she be carrying a daughter?

His incessant pacing had unsettled her, wound her so tight he feared she might snap.
Damn it, he could see her trembling from fifteen feet away. Everything he normally
wanted from a witness during interrogation, but not from her. He’d forced himself
to stand still, plunged his fists deep in his pockets, and turned his back on her.
“Go and rest, Anna. I need time to think. Every fucking escape hatch I open leads
to another trap.”

“But…um…but…what about the sonographer?”

“She’s dealt with. I just hope I can deal with the rest of this disaster as effectively.
But I’ve got to tell you, Anna, right now, I’m not sure where to bloody start.”

“If you see no alternative but to get the Service involved, I won’t object. I won’t
like it because they’ll use my connection with Antila to lever an advantage for themselves
but—”

He swung round to face her, violently enough for the heel on his boot to leave a dark
skid mark against the high polish of the floorboard beneath his foot. “Anna, you have
something a hell of a lot stronger than a simple connection with that bastard. You’re
carrying his child, for God’s sake.”

“Yes, his daughter, who he doesn’t want. He needed a son.”

“Why?”

She shrank back at the ferocity of his bark. “I don’t know. Who cares? He said all
bets would be off if I had a girl, strongly implying that he’d kill us both. Maybe
if I spoke to him…”

“Except you’ve forgotten someone else besides Antila wants you dead. Just count the
number of attempts on your life, if you need a reminder. And I have to try to buy
us sufficient time to work out who the hell else is involved.”

“Us? You and me?”

His chest tightened at the sudden flare of hope in her voice and the fact that he’d
have to crush it. “Fuck, no! Me and Fortress. I’ll have to bring them back on board.
Until I’ve had time to think things through, I don’t want the Service involved. They’d
separate us faster than you can draw breath. You’d be taken into protective custody,
and I’d be barred—locked up most likely because that’s what it would take—from having
any further connection with the case.”

She’d already been pale, but at the mention of them being separated, what little color
remained in her face drained completely. Just like when those bastard social workers
had tried to scare her into line by threatening to put them in separate foster homes.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let the Service do it. It’s one thing for you and I to choose
to walk away from each other, quite another for anyone to try and for
c
ibly keep us apart.” And he meant it. No matter that the Service had become his life,
he’d quit and go rogue on their asses if they or anyone else dared try and stop him
protecting Anna. “Now go call Antila, Anna. Tell him you’ve had a scan.”

“He probably already knows. He knows everything,” she pointed out flatly.

“He won’t know about you having a daughter. I got to the sonographer before she recorded
that little detail, and before you ask, the woman’s safe. She was due a holiday, already
had one booked. Only her destination has changed. And she’ll be traveling under a
different name. That much, I’ve got in hand. So, call him. It’s what he’ll be expecting,
and the last thing we want to do is disappoint him.”

He couldn’t keep his eyes off her while she spoke with the father of her baby. Her
deadpan tone, her complete absence of thrill, a jagged blade exfoliating his skin.
This baby meant everything to her. Why else would she have gone to the lengths she
had to conceive? She must have been so damned excited when she found out she was pregnant.
God, he wished he’d been there. She’d been looking for an anchor all her life, and
after a few false starts—marriage to him included—she’d finally found one. Only to
face the danger of having it all snatched away.

Over his dead body! Anna wanted a family, probably more than she wanted life itself.
And he was ready kill—or die trying—to ensure her dream came true.