Replica (16 page)

“Why do you have to find him?” she asked, before she thought better of it. Mosely would expect her to encourage Nate to keep looking for Bishop, and if she should somehow talk him out of it … But what were the chances of that? Nate was not the kind of person who’d allow himself to be deflected once he’d set his mind to something. And yet Nadia couldn’t help pressing when Nate gave her an outraged look.

“I know why you’d
want
to find him,” she hastened to clarify. “But why do you feel you
have
to? If he’s hiding in the Basement, it’s because he has … connections there. Surely those are the kinds of connections he needs if he’s going to keep from getting caught. You aren’t going to be able to help him with that. Besides, if he wanted your help, he’d have reached out to you. He hasn’t, has he?”

Nate’s face reddened, and he looked away. “I’m not looking for him because I want to help him.” He grimaced. “Well, I was at first. But you’re right, and I know he doesn’t want my help. But I need to find him anyway. I need him to tell me what happened the night I was murdered.” His fists and jaw were clenched tight, his body language closed off. Was he angry because of what had happened to him, or because Bishop had left him in the dark? “I need his help to figure out who really killed the original Nate. I can’t even come up with a reasonable guess who it could be. I mean, they had to know they couldn’t really get rid of me, so what was the point? Whatever made them do it, it happened during the blank spot in my memory, so I have nothing to go on. I need Kurt to tell me what happened after you went back to the ballroom and left us alone.”

“But aren’t you worried you’ll lead Mosely’s people right to him if you find him?” Nadia didn’t want to know what Mosely would do to her if he could hear her right now. But the words seemed to trickle out of her mouth without conscious thought.

“I’m being careful!” Nate snapped, no doubt taking her words as an implied criticism.

Nadia sucked in a deep breath and told herself to stay calm. This was the way he always reacted to what he perceived as criticism, and she should be used to it. And clearly, he
was
being careful. Mosely knew he’d been to the Basement last night, but he hadn’t been followed or observed. That was an impressively sneaky maneuver—one he wouldn’t be able to pull off again once Nadia completed her assignment.

“You got lucky,” she said, knowing how little Nate would appreciate it. “You’re trying to outwit a professional spy with a whole network at his fingertips. Do you really think you’re up to the challenge?” Mosely would likely drag her off to Riker’s Island right here and now if he could hear what she was saying. And yet she couldn’t seem to make herself shut up.

It’s what Nate would expect you to say anyway,
she consoled herself. If she meekly accepted his determination to find Bishop no matter what the risks, he would
know
something was wrong, even if he didn’t know quite what.

“I have to be,” Nate said grimly.

“But—”

“I’ll be careful. Besides, Kurt isn’t in the Basement. In fact, he’s not even in Paxco anymore.”

“What?” Nadia swore if one more shock came her way today she was going to pull all her hair out by the roots. “How do you know?”

Nate clasped his hands in his lap and stared at them instead of looking at her. “I want you to promise me not to make a big thing out of this.”

“Out of what?”

Nate cleared his throat and faced her, though he only held eye contact for a second before he looked away, and she could see by the set of his shoulders that he was bracing for her reaction.

“Kurt and I used to go to the Basement together sometimes. You get treated better there when you’re paying in dollars, so I always kept a pretty good stash in the apartment. Kurt and I were the only ones who knew where the money was…”

“And now it’s missing,” Nadia finished for him. On the one hand, this probably meant that Bishop was out of Mosely’s reach and whatever objectionable actions Nadia was forced to take wouldn’t condemn him. On the other hand, stealing Nate’s money—without, apparently, leaving any word of where he was going and without any explanation or apology—didn’t much seem like the act of an innocent man. Maybe she and Nate were both being naive about Bishop. Maybe he
was
guilty. People the world over did terrible things for money.

“I
told
you not to make something out of it,” Nate said tightly, reading the thoughts on her face. “He was in trouble, and he needed money. I don’t begrudge him.”

“Of course not,” Nadia murmured, despite a chill of unease. To get to that money, Bishop would have had to flee the scene of the crime in Long Island, return to Nate’s Manhattan apartment, and then escape to the Basement without being caught. The side trip to Nate’s apartment seemed almost fatally dangerous …

Unless he’d already stolen the money and had taken it with him to the mansion. Maybe Nate had caught him with the money, and Bishop had stabbed him to keep him from talking.

“Nadia, he didn’t kill me,” Nate said. “I
know
he didn’t.”

Nadia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The evidence certainly looked damning. But surely if Bishop had wanted to steal Nate’s money, he could have done it at any time. Why would he have chosen to do it on that particular night, with all the heightened security of the Hayes mansion standing in his way? Why not just slip out of the apartment quietly, in the middle of an ordinary night, while Nate was asleep?

“I believe you,” she said, and it was true. “And I understand why you want to find him. But if he’s not even in Paxco anymore, then why did you go to the Basement?”

“Kurt and I have some … mutual acquaintances there. I thought some of them might have an idea where he’d gone, or at least be able to get a message to him for me.”

“Any luck?” she asked, though she could tell from the slump of his shoulders that the answer was no.

“Not yet.”

“So you plan to go back.” The little tracking device tucked in her pocket felt like it was burning her through the cloth, but of course that was just a symptom of guilt. Nothing she’d learned had changed what she had to do, nor had it made her task any less distasteful. Betrayal was betrayal, whether the plan had a high likelihood of success or not. And whether they could lead Mosely to Bishop or not, the “mutual acquaintances” Nate talked to were going to have huge bull’s-eyes painted on their backs, thanks to Nadia.

“I have to,” Nate confirmed. Then he ran a hand through his hair and looked uncomfortable. “But I have a little, er, problem.”

If whatever he was thinking made
Nate
uncomfortable, Nadia was quite sure she didn’t want to hear it, so when he fell silent, she didn’t prompt him to continue. Not that she thought that would save her from whatever Nate was about to get her into.

Nate squirmed in his chair. “Like I said, dollars are the currency of choice in the Basement, and Kurt took all of mine…” He gave her an imploring look.

Nadia did not like where this was going. “Let me get this straight: you’re asking me for money.”

“Dollars,” he clarified, as if that somehow made it better.

Nadia’s heart thumped indignantly in her chest. A girl of her age had absolutely no use for dollars. If she needed anything from the black market, she’d get it through her parents or Gerri or some other intermediary. Which Nate knew perfectly well.

“And where are you expecting me to get those dollars from?” she asked in her most glacial voice.

Nate stopped giving her puppy-dog eyes, his stare turning challenging instead. “Don’t play coy. You know what I’m asking.”

“You want me to
steal
from my parents.”

“Borrow,” Nate corrected. “You know I can pay you back. It’s just, I need the dollars
now,
and it’ll take me a while to restore my supply.”

“I’m sure my parents would understand completely,” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm. If Nate knew half of what she’d been through already because of him, would he still ask her to do this? He would never forgive her for her betrayal of him, but it gave him barely a moment’s pause to ask her to steal from her own parents. She’d never thought of him as a hypocrite before, but this was making her rethink her opinion of him.

“I’m sorry to have to ask,” he said, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. His eyes flashed with something that looked much more like anger than regret. “I’m trying to find out who
murdered
me. Don’t you think that’s a little more important than what trouble you might get in if your parents find out you’ve dipped into their money?”

For the first time since she’d gotten old enough to know better, Nadia let go of the reins controlling her temper. She shot to her feet, grabbing her almost-forgotten cup of cocoa from the side table. Then she flung the contents right in Nate’s face. The chocolate geysered out of the cup, soaking not only his face, but his hair and chest as well, droplets spotting the rug beneath his feet and the chair he was sitting in. Nadia even felt a few drops hitting her own skin.

Stunned at what she had done—even though it had been at least partially premeditated—she stood there with the cup still raised, staring at the mess she’d made. Nate blinked chocolate out of his eyes, then winced. She supposed now he was wishing he hadn’t decided to spike her drink. She didn’t imagine chocolate and Bailey’s felt too good on the eyes.

She lowered her hand back to her side, then put her empty cup down. She bit her tongue to keep from apologizing as Nate rose slowly and silently to his feet, chocolate dripping from the end of his nose.

“I’ll get you the dollars,” she said, not looking at him. “You knew I’d do it before you even asked. Would it have killed you to acknowledge that asking me to steal from my parents is a big deal? Couldn’t you have just asked nicely instead of trying to guilt me into it?”

She expected Nate to snap at her, or act offended. After all, he’d never been good at taking criticism, no matter how well deserved. But for once, he surprised her.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. But Nadia, I
love
Kurt, and he’s in danger because of me. I took him out of the life he’s always known, and I promised I’d protect him. It’s eating me up inside that he’s going through this hell because of me, and I’m just—” Nate’s voice choked off, and he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes, he seemed calmer. “I’ll try to stop being such a jackass,” he said. “But I miss him. And I’m scared for him. And I’m …
angry
. That’s no excuse for taking it out on you, I know. You’re the only true friend I have right now. I’d give you a hug, only I don’t want to get cocoa all over you.”

Nadia’s throat tightened, and she wanted to scream out her frustration. Who was she to take Nate to task for his behavior, when she was here acting as Mosely’s spy, when she’d just thrown her cocoa at him not just because she was angry, but because it was her best chance to get Mosely’s tracker planted on him? Maybe in the end, the two of them deserved one another.

“I’m going to go shower and change,” Nate said. “Maybe it’ll give us both a little time to cool off, and then we can talk again.”

Nadia nodded her acceptance, too burdened by guilt to speak.

*   *   *

Nadia’s
nerves buzzed with tension as the bedroom door closed behind Nate’s back. He was comfortable enough in her presence that he didn’t close the door all the way. She could hear him moving around in his bedroom, hear sounds she interpreted as him slipping off his clothes and leaving them in a heap on the floor. Then the clink of metal touching down on wood, which she hoped was him taking off the locket.

Holding her breath, she prayed he’d close the bathroom door more tightly than he’d closed the bedroom one, or there was no way she could get the locket without being caught.

The sound of a door snicking shut seemed to indicate her prayers had been answered. No doubt Nate was going to try to make the shower quick, knowing she was waiting for him, which meant she didn’t have much time to work up her nerve. If she was going to do this, she had to get moving
now
.

As she’d guessed, Nate’s clothes lay in a heap on the floor, and the locket rested on top of a heavy walnut dresser. Keeping a wary eye on the bathroom door, she edged toward the dresser and picked the locket up in hands that shook just a bit. Her mouth was dry, and every beat of her heart pumped a new wash of guilt into her blood. Her eyes prickled, and she blinked rapidly to keep herself from crying. Guilt and tears were not luxuries she could afford.

The locket was still warm from contact with Nate’s skin. Nadia pressed on the clasp, and the locket popped open to her picture, which she took a moment to regard with a critical eye.

She’d known that Bishop had put a picture of her in the locket, of course. Hard to pretend it was a gift from her if her picture wasn’t in it. But she’d never actually looked at it before, and she felt an uncomfortable stirring in her gut now that she did.

There were thousands of pictures of her available on the net. Even if she hadn’t been semiengaged to the Chairman Heir, her status as daughter of a president made her a favorite with the press. Most were posed shots, where she wore her practiced Executive smile. Some were the embarrassing, unflattering shots the press loved with mean-spirited glee. Things like the picture of her at the age of three, all dressed up in pink velvet and ruffles, with her finger up her nose. The press had just
loved
that one—as if it somehow should have been embarrassing for an Executive three-year-old to act like a three-year-old.

Of all the thousands of shots Bishop had to choose from, he had chosen the very shot she would have if she’d actually had to choose herself.

It was a true candid shot, one she’d had no idea was being taken at the time. Although he wasn’t in the picture, Nadia remembered that she’d been talking to Nate. It had been the occasion of his eighteenth birthday, a gala ball that made the wedding reception that led to his death seem like a small family gathering by comparison. Nate and Nadia had been cornered by the Terrible Trio, who had, as usual, flirted and simpered and fed Nadia a steady stream of sly, backhanded compliments.