OMG Isaac just relax. Trust me. I’ll be fine.
Isaac’s fingers trembled. He typed out I love you Emma then let his thumb hover over the send button for a full ten seconds before he deleted the message and dropped the phone on his bed.
He’d lain awake since arriving home in the middle of the night after her rescue, unable to sleep until he heard directly from her. The agonizing hours had been hell, filled with emotions he could barely keep in check. Fury and rage, despair, and crushing sadness had taken turns flying through him while he’d waited, all fueled by the nearly overwhelming need to break down Emma’s door to make sure she was still safe, regardless of Alex’s presence.
It was all his fucking fault, Isaac thought. Slatter would have never hurt her if it weren’t for him.
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m fine?”
He stood, then lowered himself back onto the bed as a wave of dizziness hit him. He was exhausted, had been running on adrenaline since she’d been taken hours ago. His head throbbed. Isaac lay on his back and closed his eyes against the late morning light that filtered through his half open blinds. In one hand he held his cell phone, which rested on his chest, just in case she needed him.
You can tell me over and over, he thought as sleep began to take him. It won’t ever be enough until you’re away from him.
—-
Emma reclined on her couch, scratching Laska behind her ears absentmindedly, thinking about how she needed to free herself of the nightmare she had caused, when her cell phone began a furious buzz. She knew it was Alex without even looking at the screen. Glancing at the clock, which showed her it was a bit past six at night, she groaned. Can’t even get twenty four hours away from him anymore.
“Where are you?” Not even a greeting when she’d answered the call. He didn’t bother to ask how she was feeling.
“Home.”
“I want you to come downstairs. Wear your grey dress.”
“Alex, no. I’m in pain.”
“Please. I have something for you.”
Unease settled inside of her, like an anchor pulling her down into the couch.
“What is it?”
“You’ll like this. I promise.”
Of course, she had agreed, telling herself this was the perfect opportunity to see if she could break things off with him. Within fifteen minutes she was riding her elevator down to the ground floor, clad in her grey dress and a thick, green, plaid overcoat, purse over her shoulder. The weight of her hidden Ruger soothed her.
Alex, attire immaculate as always, waited for her outside. His dark hair was perfectly placed, and his glasses framed those cool, green eyes she’d once found so tempting. She smiled to hide her unsettled nerves, and climbed into the backseat of Nate’s SUV as Alex held the door open for her.
“You look astonishing.” He said once they were on their way.
She didn’t bother with a blush. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Alex reached out and put his arm around her shoulders. Although his touch was gentle, Emma winced.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re sore.” He moved closer to her, sans seatbelt, putting his arm around her once more. She felt him kiss her temple and found herself leaning into his embrace against her will, desperate for any sort of comfort. Why can’t Isaac... Angry with herself, she cut off her own thought and focused her gaze away from Alex, out the window at the passing city.
The car pulled to a stop minutes later. She paused once Alex had opened her door. Cool air tickled the skin of her bare arms. Alex put his arm around her waist and slowly led her toward a dimly lit restaurant that overlooked the river.
“They’re open tonight?” she asked.
“They’re ours tonight,” he corrected. Alex knocked on the glass door. A moment later, a short, thin, well-dressed man came into view, a courteous smile on his thin lips. He quickly unlocked the entrance and stood aside as the couple moved into the warm interior.
“Right this way,” he said in a high, soft voice. A decadent smell of seafood wafted through Mariner’s Cove, one of Redborough’s finer restaurants.
“Did you...?” She looked at Alex, who merely winked at her.
They chose a small, square table with a brilliant white cloth draped over its surface and allowed their escort to seat them. Emma overlooked the expansive view of the water with Alex on her left. The small man excused himself for a moment, only to return with an expensive bottle of white wine, pouring each a glass.
“Thank you, Marcel.” Alex nodded once, in a dismissive gesture, then turned to Emma, smiling. “The appetizers should be out shortly. They’ll make you whatever you want for your entrée.”
“You made them clear the place the day after Thanksgiving?” Emma lifted her wineglass to her lips and took a sip. The wine was sweet and it trailed a warm, pleasant feeling along her tongue and down her throat.
“I offered a sum, and they accepted. It was their choice.”
“You didn’t have to do this, Alex.”
“Of course I did. I want to make you happy.” He reached a hand into his suit coat and her stomach jumped. She felt her entire body tense. There was no one around, not even Marcel. All Emma could think of was his rage, and she gripped the edge of the table.
“This is for you.” Alex withdrew a small, flat, white box tied with a lavender ribbon. Her body relaxed, but her heart still thumped against her ribcage. She looked at him, wary, and accepted the box. Emma opened the gift and stared at the simple yet beautiful diamond necklace that glittered inside. Her mouth open slightly, she didn’t look up as Alex stood, plucked the jewelry from its resting spot, and slowly slid it around her neck, pushing her hair to the side. Once it was secure, he rested his hands on her shoulders and kissed the nape of her bare neck before he returned to his chair. Emma looked at him then as her fingers brushed the hard stones of the necklace.
“Alex, thank you. What is this for?” She felt an odd emotion, one she couldn’t name.
“Christmas.” His smile finally faltered and fell away, his green gaze somehow sad.
“That’s a month away.”
“True, but when I saw it, I knew you had to have it. You can wear it during your infiltration, and can think of me while on the job.”
Her stomach soured. “I don’t know what to say.”
Alex held up a hand. “The fact that you’re here, that you’re safe, is all I need, Emma.” He reached forward and took her hand as Marcel arrived with their appetizers. He deposited three small platters: one full of large, elegantly arranged shrimp, another with thick, bronze, crusted crab cakes, and the last with two delicate chicken and mango skewers. Emma felt her mouth begin to water at the aroma as he spoke.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Alex continued.
I like how he never says, ‘I thought you were going to die.’ Just talks about me like I’m property he lost. She glanced away.
He squeezed her hand, his palm tight around her fingers. “It was entirely my fault, what happened to you. I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself. Emma, you were almost killed.”
She watched him as his words came out and found herself full of thoughts about leaving town with Isaac, figurative pockets stuffed with cash from her successful infiltration. Emma suddenly realized he was waiting for a response.
“I shouldn’t have pushed things with Slatter so far, not in front of you. I was just doing my job, but I should have thought of your feelings.” She squeezed his hand back.
“I know,” he said. “But that’s in the past, both of our mistakes. All that matters is that you’re safe.” He let go of her hand and speared a shrimp with his fork.
Emma didn’t understand. He was so controlling, so manipulative, and now he was giving her jewelry, a private dinner. Maybe I’ve been too paranoid about everything. Maybe I’m wrong about him. Emma pushed her chair back and stood. Alex copied her, and she felt his arms wrap around her waist as she kissed him.
> “Thank you.” She kissed him again. He was smiling, and color had risen to his cheeks.
They finished the appetizers quickly, along with the bottle of wine. Shortly after clearing their plates, Marcel arrived with the next course: a strip loin with Bordelaise sauce for Alex and fresh, blackened salmon smothered in a lemon caper topping for Emma. Neither mentioned work as they ate. Instead they conversed about things they’d never talked about before. It was as if they were on their first date, which, in a way, they were. They discussed their tastes in music and spent a long time talking about her hobby of sketching portraits. Emma found she couldn’t stop telling him about books and games she loved, thrilled at the fact that he was finally listening to her with genuine interest. By the end of the night, her cheeks were flushed and she was full of a warm glow, and didn’t even need to button her coat as they moved from the restaurant to the SUV that waited for them. Their conversation continued during the ride back to her place, and up the elevator to her front door.
Emma giggled as she slid her key into the lock. She kicked off her heels and knelt down to greet Laska, who eyed Alex as he hung their coats in her front closet.
“So wait,” he was saying. “The game takes how long? People spend an entire day doing this?”
“I’ve heard of campaigns lasting over ten hours.” Emma stood, then gasped as her torso twinged in pain. Alex’s grin dropped from his face and he quickly moved to her side.
“Want me to draw a bath again?”
“No, but thank you. I think I just need to lie down. Can you take Laska out?”
Alex paused, and looked down at her dog, who stared back at him. “I suppose. Get yourself ready. I’ll be right back.”
Instead, Emma padded to the kitchen and poured herself some ice water. She sipped the drink, wary eyes on the front door. He had taken her keys with him, and minutes crawled by. She began to fret. I should have gone with, she thought, then the door opened and Laska burst forward into the apartment.
“That dog’s a handful,” Alex said. He sounded annoyed.
“She’s a good girl.” Emma kissed Laska’s head and stood to see a slight look of distaste on Alex’s face. She ignored it, too exhausted to start anything. He tangled her hand in his and led her to the bedroom, shutting Laska out. They brushed their teeth and prepared for bed in silence, his eyes constantly drifting over at her. Alex helped her out of her dress and stared at the bruise that had already formed where the captor had kicked her. He caressed the area with his fingers in a gentle, smooth motion.
“This is my fault...” he said softly, his eyes faraway.
She needed him to focus on something positive, feel like she appreciated him. “You saved my life. I wouldn’t still be here without you.” Emma put her hand on the side of his face and turned it toward her.
Alex pulled her into an embrace, lips on hers, his still clothed body pressed against her nearly nude form. She could feel his desperation, and suddenly closed off.
“Alex, I can’t.” She winced, then nodded to her right side. “I’m in too much pain.”
He kissed her again, his hands rough against her back, which caused her torso to throb. She attempted to back away from his advances again, but he moved with her, mouth now on the side of her neck, his passion apparent against her thigh.
"Alex," she begged. She pushed both hands against his chest with force, her heart in her throat. "Stop!"
He ignored her still, his expression one of frustration at being pushed away. He grabbed Emma's arms just below her shoulders and pushed her into the bedroom wall and pressed against her once more. The discomfort from her injuries flared to an agonizing level as her back and head thumped into the drywall. A cry of pain flew from her throat, and Alex paused. She looked into his eyes, tears in hers, and she watched his face as his anger drained in a quick snap. Suddenly, his eyebrows came together and concern replaced every emotion she'd seen moments earlier. She felt a tear loose itself and run down her cheek as she stared at him with fear.
Alex looked at her, silent. His hands still gripped her upper arms and she began to grow nervous. She opened her mouth but didn't know what to say, so she simply stared into his hard green eyes and waited for his reaction.
Then he smiled. “I understand.”
Chapter Twelve
“I told you, I’m never drinking again.” Shawn held his white walking stick in one gloved hand while the other pinched the neck of his coat together. It was colder than they’d expected for the first week of December in Oregon, and he, Jaxon, and Cassie huddled together as they stood in line for one of their regular hang outs, The Dirty Martini. They were the third group of people from the entrance.
“We’ll only stay for one drink.” Jaxon’s voice, normally melancholic, sounded light and cheery for once. Shawn grinned, remembering how his brother had excitedly told him the night out with Cassie had gone better than he’d hoped. He’s finally on the upswing.
“This line is huge,” Cassie chimed in. “I’m not turning around after waiting here over a half hour.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Shawn felt a shiver trail down his back.
“Here we go.” Jaxon led his brother forward as the line began to move.
Shawn slid his walking stick from side to side in front of him as they finally were admitted to the establishment. A warm gust of air blanketed the trio as they stepped inside.
“Oh, wow,” he heard Cassie say.
“Damn,” Jaxon murmured.
“What? Tell me!” Shawn asked, baffled. He saw nothing but a light blue blur dotted with soft illuminations. It brought an instant sense of calm, which was increased by pleasant notes of smooth jazz that caressed his ears.
“Looks like they remodeled.”
Shawn felt Jaxon’s hand on his left shoulder. He let his brother guide him as he folded his walking stick onto itself and slipped it into his deep coat pocket.
“Hold up.” Jaxon’s voice came from his left. “We’re at the bar.”
Shawn reached out and leaned forward until his fingertips grazed a cool, wooden surface.
“Remodeled how?”
“Well,” he heard Jaxon say, his voice elevated to be heard over the music. “This place looks amazing.” Shawn listened intently as his friend described the atmosphere. “Everything is really elegant now, the booths are bright and huge. Man, I feel underdressed.”
“You look fine.” Cassie’s voice was slightly distant, and Shawn assumed she was preoccupied with the new venue.
His relaxed smile faltered a moment as he found himself wishing again that he could see. Not a day had passed that he hadn’t thought about the phone call from the anonymous man. How could I not be truly blind? Shawn had spent countless hours poring over every possibility but none made sense to him. He’d kept his phone close to him should the man ever call back. It was just a prank. Some sick asshole pranking a blind man.
“There’s these huge round balls made up of tiny light bulbs that are hanging from the ceiling at different heights.” Jaxon was still talking, seemingly unaware of his brother’s sudden mellowness. “The bar is white and huge, and the bottles behind it are all different colors.”
“Hi.” Shawn heard a man say. The voice sounded as if it belonged to someone young, around their age. “Welcome to The Dirty Martini. Can I get you three anything to drink? If you want something special from tonight’s menu, everything on it is half off. Otherwise we can whip up just about anything you’d like.” Shawn could hear a smile in the man’s voice.
Cassie ordered a drink Shawn couldn’t pronounce, and Jaxon ordered a whiskey sour. When it came to Shawn’s order, he simply shook his head with a grin. “Just water for me.”
“On it. Thanks!”
“That guy was sweet,” Cassie said.
“Yeah, the way he took our order was just so charming.”
“Oh, hush.”
Shawn felt someone bump into him from behind, and he scooted away with an apology.
“No, it’s m
y fault,” he heard a woman say. “It’s packed in here. I get clumsy when surrounded by so many people.”
He grinned. “Me, too.”
“Introverts unite.”
Shawn laughed. “What are you doing out in a crowded bar then?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m the designated driver for these two schmucks.” He jerked a thumb, hoping Jaxon and Cassie were still next to him. The woman giggled, and Shawn felt his grin widen. She has a nice laugh.
“I’m sorry.” The woman sounded suddenly shocked. “I’m not laughing at you. I mean, your...oh, no...I don’t mean—”
Shawn turned his body to fully face her voice. “So you’re not laughing at a blind man, just with him?”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” She let out a soft chuckle.
“I’m kidding, you can laugh all you want. Just don’t make fun of my deafness. Or my limp. Oh, God, not the limp!” The woman’s laughter swelled again, and Shawn felt his cheeks warm at the attention his goofiness drew from her.
“Hi, I’m Cassie.”
Shawn cleared his throat.
“Hi,” the woman said brightly. “Emma.”
He smiled. Pretty name to go with a pretty voice. I wonder what she looks like.
“And is this your boyfriend, Cassie?”
“Jax? No.”
“Nope. Definitely not her boyfriend.” Shawn’s brother’s voice held a hard edge to it.
“Oh, is...?”
“I’m as single as they come, m’lady. Probably because of my introverted behavior.” He held out his hand. “I’m Shawn, by the way.”
“I hear you there. Must be why I’m still searching for Mr. Right, myself.” They shook. Shawn loved the soft skin of her delicate fingers, and he cleared his throat again.
“Coming down with something, dude?” Jaxon teased.
“Your drinks hath arrived, lady and gentlemen.” The younger man’s voice returned. A soft clink sounded as he set their glasses on the bar.
Shawn held his water glass close, suddenly nervous. I have no idea how to keep her talking to me. Thankfully, his brother came to the rescue.
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