Mick was next to her in a second. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t even look at him. “I have to go. We have to go.”
He grasped her arm. “Tara. What’s the matter?”
She shook her head. “I need to get Nathan out of here.”
“Is something wrong?”
Her head shot up, and she could barely meet his gaze. “You know what’s wrong,” she whispered. “How could you do this?”
His eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
She moved away from the crowd of players and wives and girlfriends, taking Nathan with her. “Mom, what’s the matter with you? Why are we leaving?”
“We’re done here.” She was done here. She was done with Mick.
She passed by Elizabeth and saw the look of triumph on her face.
Yes. Liz had won. Finally. Tara was finished with Mick. With all of this.
MICK THREW HIS KEYS ON TOP OF THE TABLE NEAR THE front door, flopped into the chair, and grabbed the remote. He turned on the TV, needing background noise to drown out his own thoughts, because all he’d been able to think about for the past several hours had been Tara.
She’d been upset. Even more than upset. She was mad as hell. At him. And he had no idea why. He’d tried calling her cell. She wouldn’t answer, despite repeated attempts.
He drove by her house and rang her bell, but she wouldn’t answer, even though he knew damn well she was inside. Short of busting down the door, which he didn’t think was a very good idea, there wasn’t much he could do.
So now he sat here like a dumb-ass, flipping through channels and trying to figure out what the fuck he’d done to make her so mad.
They’d barely even had any time together today. She’d been busy all day with the event, and she’d done an incredible job. He’d been so proud of her, and so had Irvin Stokes, who’d come looking for her. Mick had made up an excuse for her, saying she was probably wrapping things up. Earlier in the day she’d been a little harried, but smiling and happy. And then boom—disaster. But he hadn’t said anything or done anything to make her mad at him. Not mad enough to storm off without an explanation or refuse to take his calls or answer the door.
He didn’t get it.
The news was on, and they had a report about the event. Mick clicked up the volume to hear Liz talking up the foundation. Mick saw himself, Nathan, and a few other kids behind Elizabeth while she talked about the kids. He leaned forward when Liz motioned toward Nathan, looked at him, then described the problems kids in the foundation had, from abuse to drugs to everything in between. And then Liz brought Nathan forward, then Mick.
What. The. Fuck. Liz might as well have hung a sign on Nathan and used him as a poster child for damaged children. And there Mick was, smiling and slinging his arm around Nathan, totally clueless about what Elizabeth had just done.
Son of a bitch. She’d used Nathan. Hell, she’d used him, too. And Mick would wager a year’s salary that Tara had seen it and thought he and Liz had cooked it all up as a promotion and even planned to use Nathan in it.
Fuck! He threw the remote across the room and stood, shoving his hand through his hair. He knew Liz was a master manipulator, but he’d never known her to go this far. He never minded her using him or an actress or model to get a good promo shot, but a kid? Oh, hell no.
He grabbed his cell phone and dialed Liz’s number. Even though it was late, he knew she would answer.
“What’s up?”
“Get over here. Now.”
She laughed. “I’m kind of busy here, Mick.”
“I don’t give a shit how busy you are. Get your ass over here.”
There was a pause. “Here being your place?”
“Yeah.”
“A problem?”
“You have less than an hour.”
“I’ll be right there.”
He continued to pace the living room, then decided he should fix himself something to drink, realizing he’d really like a shot of whiskey. His gut churned, and the need for alcohol made his hands shake.
He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then went to fix a glass of iced tea.
He was on his second glass when Elizabeth knocked at the door. Glass in hand, he went to the door and opened it. She strolled in, hair pulled up, earrings sparkling in the overhead light of his living room. She had on some fancy dress and heels.
“You tore me away from a very important business dinner, honey. Now what’s wrong?”
“What the hell were you doing at the carnival today?”
She arched a brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Care to be more specific?”
He hit play on the news spot he’d recorded. Liz watched, then turned back to him. “Okay. So?”
“So? Are you kidding me? You used Nathan.”