Born in Ice
Page 72
“I don’t want to hurt you, Brianna.” He linked his fingers around her wrists. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know that.” He would, of course. She wondered that he couldn’t see he would hurt himself as well. “We’ll take the now, and be grateful for it. But tell me one thing,” she said and kissed him lightly. “What was your name?”
“Christ, you don’t give up.”
“No.” Her smile was easy now, surprisingly confident. “It’s not something I consider a failing.”
“Logan,” he muttered. “Michael Logan.”
And she laughed, making him feel like a fool. “Irish.
I should have known it. Such a gift of gab you’ve got, and all the charm in the world.”
“Michael Logan,” he said, firing up, “was a small-minded, mean-spirited, penny-ante thief who wasn’t worth spit.”
She sighed. “Michael Logan was a neglected, troubled child who needed love and care. And you’re wrong to hate him so. But we’ll leave him in peace.”
Then she disarmed him by pressing against him, laying her head on his shoulder. Her hands moved up and down his back, soothing. She should have been disgusted by what he’d told her. She should have been appalled by the way he’d treated her in bed. Yet she was here, holding him and offering him a terrifying depth of love.
“I don’t know what to do about you.”
“There’s nothing you have to do.” She brushed her lips over his shoulder. “You’ve given me the most wonderful months of my life. And you’ll remember me, Grayson, as long as you live.”
He let out a long breath. He couldn’t deny it. For the first time in his life, he’d be leaving a part of himself behind when he walked away.
It was he who felt awkward the next morning. They had breakfast in the parlor of the suite, with the view of the park out the window. And he waited for her to toss something he’d told her back in his face. He’d broken the law, he’d slept with prostitutes, he’d wallowed in the sewers of the streets.
Yet she sat there across from him, looking as fresh as a morning in Clare, talking happily about their upcoming trip to Worldwide before they went to the airport.
“You’re not eating your breakfast, Grayson. Aren’t you feeling well?”
“I’m fine.” He cut into the pancakes he’d thought he’d wanted. “I guess I’m missing your cooking.”
It was exactly the right thing to say. Her concerned look transformed into a delighted smile. “You’ll be having it again tomorrow. I’ll fix you something special.”
He gave a grunt in response. He’d put off telling her about the trip to Wales. He hadn’t wanted to spoil her enjoyment of New York. Now he wondered why he’d thought he could. Nothing he’d dumped on her the night before had shaken that steady composure.
“Ah, Brie, we’re actually going to take a little detour on the way back to Ireland.”
“Oh?” Frowning, she set her teacup down. “Do you have business somewhere?”
“Not exactly. We’re stopping off in Wales.”
“In Wales?”
“It’s about your stock. Remember I told you I’d have my broker do some checking?”
“Yes. Did he find something unusual?”
“Brie, Triquarter Mining doesn’t exist.”
“But of course it exists. I have the certificate. I’ve got the letter.”
“There is no Triquarter Mining on any stock exchange. No company by that name listed anywhere. The phone number on the letterhead is fake.”
“How can that be? They offered me a thousand pounds.”
“Which is why we’re going to Wales. I think it would be worth the trip to do a little personal checking.”
Brianna shook her head. “I’m sure your broker’s very competent, Gray, but he must have overlooked something. If a company doesn’t exist, they don’t issue stock or offer to buy it back.”
“They issue stock if it’s a front,” he said, stabbing at his meal as she stared at him. “A scam, Brie. I have a little experience with stock cons. You get a post office box, a phone number, and you canvas for marks. For people who’ll invest,” he explained. “People looking to make a quick buck. You get a suit and a spiel, put some paperwork together, print up a prospectus and phony certificates. You take the money, and you disappear.”
She was quiet for a moment, digesting it. Indeed she could see her father falling for just such a trick. He’d always flung himself heedlessly into deals.
In truth, she’d expected nothing when she’d first pursued the matter.
“I understand that part, I think. And it’s in keeping with my father’s luck in business. But how do you explain that they answered me, and offered me money?”
“I can’t.” Though he had some ideas on it. “That’s why we’re going to Wales. Rogan’s arranged for his plane to meet us in London and take us. It’ll bring us back to Shannon Airport when we’re ready.”
“I see.” Carefully she set her knife and fork aside. “You’ve discussed it with Rogan, him being a man, and planned it out between you.”
Gray cleared his throat, ran his tongue over his teeth. “I wanted you to enjoy the trip here without worrying.” When she only pinned him with those cool green eyes, he shrugged. “You’re waiting for an apology, and you’re not going to get one.” She folded her hands, rested them on the edge of the table, and said nothing. “You’re good at the big chill,” he commented, “but it isn’t going to wash. Fraud’s out of your league. I’d have taken this trip by myself, but it’s likely I’ll need you since the stock’s in your father’s name.”
“And being in my father’s name makes it my business. It’s kind of you to want to help.”
“Fuck that.”
She jolted, felt her stomach shrivel at the inevitability of the argument. “Don’t use that tone on me, Grayson.”
“Then don’t use that irritated schoolteacher’s tone on me.” When she rose, his eyes flashed, narrowed. “Don’t you walk away, goddamn it.”
“I won’t be sworn at or shouted at or made to feel inadequate because I’m only a farmer’s daughter from the west counties.”
“I know that.” He would, of course. She wondered that he couldn’t see he would hurt himself as well. “We’ll take the now, and be grateful for it. But tell me one thing,” she said and kissed him lightly. “What was your name?”
“Christ, you don’t give up.”
“No.” Her smile was easy now, surprisingly confident. “It’s not something I consider a failing.”
“Logan,” he muttered. “Michael Logan.”
And she laughed, making him feel like a fool. “Irish.
I should have known it. Such a gift of gab you’ve got, and all the charm in the world.”
“Michael Logan,” he said, firing up, “was a small-minded, mean-spirited, penny-ante thief who wasn’t worth spit.”
She sighed. “Michael Logan was a neglected, troubled child who needed love and care. And you’re wrong to hate him so. But we’ll leave him in peace.”
Then she disarmed him by pressing against him, laying her head on his shoulder. Her hands moved up and down his back, soothing. She should have been disgusted by what he’d told her. She should have been appalled by the way he’d treated her in bed. Yet she was here, holding him and offering him a terrifying depth of love.
“I don’t know what to do about you.”
“There’s nothing you have to do.” She brushed her lips over his shoulder. “You’ve given me the most wonderful months of my life. And you’ll remember me, Grayson, as long as you live.”
He let out a long breath. He couldn’t deny it. For the first time in his life, he’d be leaving a part of himself behind when he walked away.
It was he who felt awkward the next morning. They had breakfast in the parlor of the suite, with the view of the park out the window. And he waited for her to toss something he’d told her back in his face. He’d broken the law, he’d slept with prostitutes, he’d wallowed in the sewers of the streets.
Yet she sat there across from him, looking as fresh as a morning in Clare, talking happily about their upcoming trip to Worldwide before they went to the airport.
“You’re not eating your breakfast, Grayson. Aren’t you feeling well?”
“I’m fine.” He cut into the pancakes he’d thought he’d wanted. “I guess I’m missing your cooking.”
It was exactly the right thing to say. Her concerned look transformed into a delighted smile. “You’ll be having it again tomorrow. I’ll fix you something special.”
He gave a grunt in response. He’d put off telling her about the trip to Wales. He hadn’t wanted to spoil her enjoyment of New York. Now he wondered why he’d thought he could. Nothing he’d dumped on her the night before had shaken that steady composure.
“Ah, Brie, we’re actually going to take a little detour on the way back to Ireland.”
“Oh?” Frowning, she set her teacup down. “Do you have business somewhere?”
“Not exactly. We’re stopping off in Wales.”
“In Wales?”
“It’s about your stock. Remember I told you I’d have my broker do some checking?”
“Yes. Did he find something unusual?”
“Brie, Triquarter Mining doesn’t exist.”
“But of course it exists. I have the certificate. I’ve got the letter.”
“There is no Triquarter Mining on any stock exchange. No company by that name listed anywhere. The phone number on the letterhead is fake.”
“How can that be? They offered me a thousand pounds.”
“Which is why we’re going to Wales. I think it would be worth the trip to do a little personal checking.”
Brianna shook her head. “I’m sure your broker’s very competent, Gray, but he must have overlooked something. If a company doesn’t exist, they don’t issue stock or offer to buy it back.”
“They issue stock if it’s a front,” he said, stabbing at his meal as she stared at him. “A scam, Brie. I have a little experience with stock cons. You get a post office box, a phone number, and you canvas for marks. For people who’ll invest,” he explained. “People looking to make a quick buck. You get a suit and a spiel, put some paperwork together, print up a prospectus and phony certificates. You take the money, and you disappear.”
She was quiet for a moment, digesting it. Indeed she could see her father falling for just such a trick. He’d always flung himself heedlessly into deals.
In truth, she’d expected nothing when she’d first pursued the matter.
“I understand that part, I think. And it’s in keeping with my father’s luck in business. But how do you explain that they answered me, and offered me money?”
“I can’t.” Though he had some ideas on it. “That’s why we’re going to Wales. Rogan’s arranged for his plane to meet us in London and take us. It’ll bring us back to Shannon Airport when we’re ready.”
“I see.” Carefully she set her knife and fork aside. “You’ve discussed it with Rogan, him being a man, and planned it out between you.”
Gray cleared his throat, ran his tongue over his teeth. “I wanted you to enjoy the trip here without worrying.” When she only pinned him with those cool green eyes, he shrugged. “You’re waiting for an apology, and you’re not going to get one.” She folded her hands, rested them on the edge of the table, and said nothing. “You’re good at the big chill,” he commented, “but it isn’t going to wash. Fraud’s out of your league. I’d have taken this trip by myself, but it’s likely I’ll need you since the stock’s in your father’s name.”
“And being in my father’s name makes it my business. It’s kind of you to want to help.”
“Fuck that.”
She jolted, felt her stomach shrivel at the inevitability of the argument. “Don’t use that tone on me, Grayson.”
“Then don’t use that irritated schoolteacher’s tone on me.” When she rose, his eyes flashed, narrowed. “Don’t you walk away, goddamn it.”
“I won’t be sworn at or shouted at or made to feel inadequate because I’m only a farmer’s daughter from the west counties.”
