Free A Father For Zach by Irene Hannon

strong.”
    “You were honest. I respect that. And you deserve honesty in return.”
    Her heart skipped a beat. “You’re quitting, aren’t you?” The impulsive words were out before she could stop them.
    He blinked at her, then frowned. “Why would you think that?”
    She toyed with her mug, staring into the dark depths of her coffee. “I’m sure there are friendlier people to work for. I haven’t exactly welcomed you with open arms. Or gone out of my way to be nice.”
    Nathan shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair, his expression unreadable. “You have legitimate reasons for being cautious, Catherine. As for friendliness—I haven’t felt unwelcome since you hired me. I didn’t come here to quit because of what you told me, either. But you may want me to quit after you hear what I have to say.”
    Now it was her turn to frown. “What do you mean?”
    Once more he gripped his mug with both hands. “You didn’t ask about my background when I applied for the job.”
    “You came recommended by a doctor, and you’ve done jobs for one of the local ministers. That sufficed as a reference for me. And I’ve seen your work. It’s excellent. You’re fast, thorough and conscientious. What more do I need to know?”
    “Plenty.”
    The grim line of his mouth put her on alert, even as she fought the surprisingly strong urge to reach over and smooth away the furrows etched on his brow. To tell him to relax. Instead, she sat watching…and waiting.
    He took a sip of coffee, then set the mug aside and folded his hands on the table, his gaze steady. “I’d like to go way back to the beginning of the story, if you’ll humor me for a few minutes. I’ll try to keep it as short as I can.”
    “Okay.”
    “My brother and sister and I grew up in a very blue-collar family that could, at best, be called dysfunctional. From the time I was seven, I was a very angry, messed-up kid. When I was thirteen, my dad deserted us. After that, my mom worked two jobs to try and make ends meet. Our neighborhood was rough, and with her gone so much, I got in with the wrong crowd. My older brother, J.C.—he’s a detective now on the island—did his best to keep me out of trouble, but it was a losing battle. Especially after my mom was killed two years later in a hit-and-run accident.”
    Although his tone was dispassionate, Catherine saw a flicker of pain—and regret—in his eyes. A sudden tingle in her nerve endings warned her she wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell her.
    “You’ve seen the scar on my chest, Catherine. It’s from a knife wound I got in a street fight.” He gentled his voice, as if he hoped that might soften the harsh facts.
    It didn’t. Shock rippled through her.
    “I’m sure you’ve noticed the ones on my face, too. Also the result of fights. The day I applied for this job, Zach asked how I’d broken my fingers. I didn’t answer then, but I will now. A police officer’s baton smashed them.”
    She cringed—an involuntary reaction she wished she could recall when a muscle in his jaw twitched. But he kept going, his expression stoic.
    “I got deeper and deeper into trouble, Catherine. J.C. tried to help me. So did my sister, Marci, in the beginning. I pushed them both away and dropped out of school at sixteen. For the next eight years I lived a life I wish I could erase from my biography. Meanwhile, J.C. became a cop. He warned me my luck would eventually run out.
    “One day, it did. A buddy convinced me to rob a convenience store. With guns. We’d done our share of shoplifting, everything from electronics to jewelry, but this was big-time stuff. I wasn’t gung ho on the idea, but he persuaded me we could pull it off. Except we didn’t count on the clerk tripping the silent alarm. The next thing we knew, the place was surrounded by police.”
    His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’ll skip all the court stuff and cut to the chase. I was convicted of armed robbery and served ten