by Rebecca Shea
I’m pressed against the wall, my fingers digging into my thighs. “There’s someone outside.”
“Get down,” he orders me. I crouch down and Sam moves quickly to the side of the window. He glances discreetly outside, his eyes scanning the yard. “Stay here and don’t get up until I come back.”
Fear sets in and my entire body begins to shake uncontrollably. This is the first time I’ve felt real danger, and the combination of adrenaline and fear sends me into a state of panic. I huddle in the corner of the room, my arms wrapped tightly around my legs, and I rock slightly back and forth to remain calm.
A few minutes later, Sam finds me and kneels next to me on the floor. “It’s fine, Emilia. You’re fine.” He wraps a gentle hand around my bicep. “I checked the security feed, and there was no one out there.”
I frantically shake my head. “There was. I saw someone, Sam. I’m not lying.”
“I know you’re not,” he consoles me. “But I think maybe it was a shadow from a tree, or you’re just exhausted and seeing things.”
“I’m not seeing things,” I snarl at him.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls me into him. My head rests against his bare chest, and I can smell the light musky scent of his skin. It’s clean but masculine. His embrace is comforting, and I sink into him, enjoying the temporary comfort of his arms.
“I’m going back to the living room. If you need me, call for me.”
“Stay with me.” I need him. I love Alex, but right now, I need Sam.
His eyes are conflicted and his posture hesitant, but he nods and sets his gun on the nightstand. Crawling into the bed, he lies down on his back, as close to the edge as possible, arms above his head. His dress shirt falls open and I can see the tight curves of his muscles and a light sprinkling of dark hair just below his navel.
I slide back to the other side of the bed and lie on my side, facing him, my knees pulled up to my chest. We lie together in silence, our eyes locked. That eye contact and our breathing are the only ways we communicate with each other, but we can read each other without muttering a single word.
For the first time since meeting Sam, I see his face etched with an unknown pain. It’s there, written across his face like a map, and I want to ask questions, but I don’t. Silence fills the space between us, until the physical distance is too great. Hesitantly, I reach out and rest my hand on his chest, just over his heart. He holds his breath as my fingers come into contact with his soft, warm skin, then he lowers an arm and wraps my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze and pulling me closer. He holds my hand until we both fall asleep.
THE FAINT SOUND of a phone ringing pulls me from a deep sleep. Sam is on his stomach. Long, relaxed breaths tell me he’s still asleep. I gently slide my arm out from under his and try my best to get out of the bed without waking him.
“It’s too early for you to be awake,” he grumbles.
I startle. “I was trying not to wake you.”
He rolls to his side and half opens one eye, while I sit on the edge of the bed. “Come here.” He tugs me back, his arm finding my waist, and we both lie on our sides, facing each other. “Stay with me.” His voice is raspy and his hair is messy, but there’s nothing unsexy about this man in the morning.
“I can’t, Sam. I’m sure it’s a conflict of interest with your case… but I made up my mind last night. I’m going to Oregon.”
And there’s that pain again. “What’s in Oregon?”
“The ocean,” I whisper to him. I remember telling Alex about Oregon and what his response was. “If you ever get the chance to go to Oregon, go.”
Sam runs his fingers along my jawline, over my lips, and up my cheeks. “I’d really like you to stay… with me,” he says as I shift on the bed. He pulls me even closer, and I can feel his warm breath sweep across my cheek as he exhales. As he presses a kiss to my forehead, I close my eyes.
“I want to kiss you here.” He presses another kiss to my forehead. “And here.” His lips brush against my cheekbone. “And here.” He pulls my bottom lip into his, and I gasp. “And I want to touch you, Emilia.” His hand gently rubs my arm. My body betrays me and reacts to his touch, but as I close my eyes, I envision Alex’s hands on my body and Alex’s lips on mine.
“I can’t,” I whisper against his lips.
“You can, Em,” he insists.
The phone in the other room begins ringing again, and Sam sighs loudly, grudgingly pulling away and sitting up.
“You should probably get that,” I say quietly just as it stops ringing.
“I’ll call them back. Do you want coffee?” He stands and stretches, then steps out.
“That’d be great. I’m going to shower really quick, but I’ll be out in a minute.”
I stumble into the attached bathroom and close the door behind me. While the shower runs, I quickly brush my teeth and then step into the stream of water. It’s hot and scalds my skin and temporarily washes away the guilt I feel for letting Sam kiss me. Without changing the temperature, I lather up a washcloth and wash my face and body before quickly washing and conditioning my hair.
A moment later, there’s a light rap on the door just as Sam’s voice comes through. “I have to run out for a bit, Em. I’m setting a mug of coffee here for you.”
I stick my head out from behind the curtain just as Sam reaches in and sets the steaming mug on the counter. “Thanks!” I respond and shut off the water, wrapping my hair in a thick towel and patting my body dry with another. As I wait for the mirror to de-fog, I sip on the hot coffee. It’s perfect, and within minutes, begins to energize me. In the bedroom, I pull on a pair of panties and throw on a sundress.
With an arm full of wet towels, I walk back toward the bathroom, but a tall chest of drawers catches my attention. It’s not actually the chest, but the picture that sits on top of it. With a shaky hand, I pick up the photo and gasp. But… It can’t be. In a matter of seconds, my worlds collide and everything I thought I knew about Alex and Sam comes to a screeching halt.
I PACE THE kitchen, waiting for Sam to arrive. I fucking hate waiting. I’m impatient and I’m used to everything magically appearing within minutes—until yesterday. Sam, however, is on his own timeline. Fucking bastard. When Emilia left, she turned my world upside down. I had a plan; I just needed a little more time to execute it.
I eye the stack of folders on the kitchen island and the flash drive with every last detail about the Estrada family business. Lacing my fingers behind my head, I look up at the ceiling. My stomach clenches, and I inhale a deep, cleansing breath as I try to settle my nerves.
Finally, there’s a firm knock at the door. “’Bout time,” I mumble as I hurry to the front. And as the door swings open, I see that Sam is standing there, his hand gripping his holstered gun.
“You won’t need that,” I grit out as I step back and hold the door open for him.
Sam looks over his shoulder before stepping over the threshold and into my condo. He lets out a whistle as he heads down the hall and into the main living area. “Murder, guns, and drugs do a man good, huh? Nice to see you living so well.” His voice drips with sarcasm.
“Fuck off, Sam.”
He chuckles, although I can tell he’s mentally taking note of everything in my condo. “So, I’m not usually one for making house calls with criminals, but since we both have an interest in Emilia, I’m assuming that’s why you called me here?”
Just the sound of her name rolling off his tongue makes me violent. I clench my jaw and take a deep breath as I try to keep my composure. Rubbing the back of my neck, I close my eyes and give my decision one final thought. It’s now or never. I’m in or out. Both have dire consequences.
“I’m ready,” I say, my voice steel.
“For what?” he sneers.
“To make a deal.”
His eyes widen in shock, and he props both hands on his hips, holding back his suit jacket. “Why now?”
“For Emilia.” Anything for her. Be
cause she’s everything.
He’s silent for a moment. “You’re making a deal because of Emilia?”
“For Emilia,” I repeat. Not because of, but for her. I nod and swallow against my dry throat.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he mutters and shakes his head slowly. “So what do you want?”
I take a deep breath. “I’ll give you everything for immunity from prosecution and witness security for Emilia and me. I keep my cash assets. You can seize the properties. I’ll give you everything. Most of it’s in these folders and on that flash drive.” I gesture to the stack of file folders on the kitchen island, the flash drive on top.
He smirks and rubs his chin. “I’ll have to take this back and see. You know I don’t have the authority to approve a deal.”
“I know.” I clench and unclench my hands, so fucking nervous I don’t know what to do with myself. Sam holds the key to my future, and I don’t like trusting anyone with my future. “But it needs to happen fast. I need to get Emilia out of here.”
“A deal like this doesn’t happen overnight, Alex. You’re a smart man. You know this. This could take months at the very minimum.”
Goddammit. “We don’t have months.”
His face turns hard. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before you involved Emilia in your business.”
Fuck you. Although he’s right, I hate that he’s right. “She was involved before I came along, and she didn’t even know it. If I hadn’t found her, she’d be in the desert somewhere with a fucking bullet in her head.” I shut my eyes tightly at that reality, then open them back up, staring him down. “I had no idea until yesterday that Judge Martin was her father.”
Sam’s eyes narrow on me. “I find it very hard to believe that it was only two days ago that you found out Jeffrey Martin was her father.”
I throw my hands out. “I honestly had no idea. I don’t even think she knows her father is Judge Martin.” I roll my neck, trying to relieve some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. “I was in Mexico last week and pulled files from the computer at the house. When I got back, I found Emilia’s picture in a folder with Judge Martin’s. There were also pictures of her mother.” I have Sam’s attention now. He’s listening to every word. For once, I think he believes me.
“Here.” I stride over and pull the top file folder off the stack, sliding it across the granite counter to him.
He opens the file and looks up at me before flipping through the stack of pictures.
“The last one.” I pause and take a deep breath.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sam growls as he picks up the picture. It’s the one of Emilia’s mother, a bullet hole in her head. And that’s not even the part that’s disturbing. He sees exactly what I see. He knows what I now know.
That picture is almost an identical copy of my mother’s crime scene photo from twenty years ago—the way the body is positioned, the gun in her hand—all of it is identical.
“He did it. He did all of it,” Sam says, his voice eerily quiet and horrified.
I nod my head slowly in agreement with Sam. “I was in denial about Mom’s murder.” It’s the first time Sam and I have talked about her since the day my aunt and uncle took him away from us, from me and our father. My dad did a great job teaching me to hate Sam. He made it clear that Sam didn’t have it in him to run our business. He wasn’t smart enough or strong enough. Problem is, my dad knew better. My dad knew that Sam was smarter than all of us.
Sam slides into a chair at the kitchen counter and drops his head into his hands. We sit for a moment before I speak up. “I never wanted to believe he would do that to her… to us,” I say, my voice pained. “I just kept telling myself he was innocent.” Now, I’m not sure how I never saw my father’s lies, what was right in front of me this whole time.
“He’s a fucking pig,” Sam says, disgusted.
“I started piecing everything together. Dad killed Em’s mom as a message to Judge Martin. Only Emilia told me they’ve had no contact with him since the day he found out Emilia’s mom was pregnant.”
Sam raises his head. “So, Dad killed her for nothing. Judge Martin doesn’t give a fuck about his ex-girlfriend from twenty-some years ago. The only thing that accomplished was leaving Emilia with no one.”
I nod, and he blows out a breath.
“I need to take this information and see if we can get it to the judge before his bail hearing,” Sam jumps up quickly.
“Too late,” I say, feeling furious and helpless. “His hearing was this morning. I haven’t heard from the attorney, but if it went well, he’s processing out right now.”
“Fuck.” Sam slaps the counter with his open hand. “I need time!”
“Everything is in those files. They’re yours as long as you can give me what I want. I’ll talk. I’ll give you written and verbal statements and any physical evidence you need.” I run a hand over my face.
Sam pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me get to the office and see what I can do. This would’ve been helpful a couple weeks ago.” He scowls at me.
“A couple weeks ago, I didn’t know what I know now,” I shout, feeling riled up.
There’s a loud knock on the door, and Sam jumps, positioning himself with his hand on his gun. “Expecting someone?” he asks, stepping into the kitchen and out of view from the front door.
“No,” I say as I approach the door. Through the peephole, I see Emilia as she pounds on the door again. Flinging the door open, I immediately see anger and hurt in her eyes. “Em…”
“How many more are there?” she spits at me.
“How many what?” I’m sure whatever it is, it’s true. And whatever reaction I get from her, I deserve.
“Lies. How many more?” Her eyes are full of unshed tears. I want to reach out and touch her, to pull her into my arms, but she’s angry. “Were you honest with me about anything?”
“Come inside,” I urge her, and she steps inside the door. I slam it behind her.
“There are two men on this earth that I was learning how to trust, Alex. You and Sam.”
I look over her shoulder and see Sam stepping forward from the kitchen. I fucking hate that she trusts Sam and I can feel the bile rise from my stomach. He stands quietly behind her as she speaks. She doesn’t know he’s here.
“And both of you have done nothing but lie to me.” Her voice breaks.
“Em,” Sam says quietly, pulling her attention to him. She turns around quickly and faces him. “Of course you’re here!” She raises an arm in exasperation.
“What is this about?” Sam steps forward toward her.
“The picture.”
“What the hell is going on? Please explain this to me, because I’m confused as hell,” I say as her eyes dart back and forth between Sam and me.
“I think it’s safe to say we’re all confused right now.” Sam sighs. “Let’s sit down and talk. Alex and I can fill you in on a few things.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” The voice behind us is low and demanding.
Sam freezes, Emilia frowns, and I turn to fucking ice all in one second.
Slowly, we all turn to find Saul and my father standing just inside my door.
“Emilia, come here. Now!” Sam pulls his gun from the holster on his hip, while I step in front of my father, distracting him so that Emilia can safely get to Sam. Saul has a pistol aimed at Sam, but he watches me closely.
“What is this, a goddamn family reunion?” My dad laughs, but I see the anger coursing through him. The vein in his neck throbs as he glances between Sam and me.
“Antonio,” Sam says coolly, refusing to call our father anything personal. “Who’d you bribe to get bail? Or maybe I should be asking if Judge Anderson is on your payroll now? There’s no way in hell you should’ve been offered bail.”
I shoot Sam an annoyed look. Now is not the time to piss off our father or agitate him further.
“Agent Cortez.” My dad smirks when he s
ays “Cortez.” It’s my mother’s maiden name and the last name of my aunt and uncle who raised Sam after my mother was murdered. “Nice to see you outside the confines of a jail interview room. Here for business or pleasure?” He cocks his head and looks at Emilia, the smirk falling from his face. “It appears that this may be the first time you two actually have a common interest.”
My dad steps around me and, to my horror, approaches Sam and Emilia. When I try to follow, Saul steps in to block me.
“Look at what we have here.” My father’s gravelly voice echoes around us as he approaches Emilia. Sam steps in front of her, and my dad lets out a huff. “I just wanted a closer look.”
“There’s nothing to see,” Sam grits out, Emilia clinging to the back of his jacket. She’s afraid, and instead of me, she’s holding on to Sam. I push Saul out of the way and lunge toward my father.
“Stay away from her,” I snarl at him through gritted teeth. Suddenly, I hear the click of a gun safety and feel the hard metal barrel resting against the back of my head.
“Everyone, stop.” Emilia’s voice is weak and timid, but she steps out from around Sam.
What the fuck are you doing? No!
My father chuckles, low and evil. “I can see why my son and Agent Cortez are both attracted to you,” he says as he pulls a piece of her hair into his fingers. She jerks away, but my father only chuckles again. “Feisty. Just like your mother.”
“Don’t…” I warn my father, but Saul presses the gun harder into the back of my skull.
“What about my mother?” she asks, her voice breaking, her eyes horrified.
He comes up close to her face. “I said you’re feisty like her. She put up a good fight until she finally realized it was just easier to submit. Sorry to leave that mess for you, but sometimes sending an important message gets messy.”
A guttural cry comes from the back of Emilia’s throat. “You did it?” she screams at my father and falls to her knees. “Why? She was all I had.” She struggles to catch her breath in between sobs. Everything in me longs to run to her.
