Slow Motion

by Evelyn Adams

  There was no room for reservations or second thoughts. She didn’t have space in her head for anything but the feel of his lips on hers, his teeth tugging gently on her bottom lip while she tried to breathe him in as if all these years it was really Emerson she needed and not air. His hand in her hair guided her, angled her head to give him better access to her lips and she softened, needing to get as close as she could, closer than was physically possible. She hooked her leg behind his thigh, desperate to pull him closer, to feel all of him. His hand slid from her waist to palm her ass, lifting her, fitting her to him. She felt the evidence of his arousal against the V of her body and she rocked into him, instinctively seeking more, needing so much more.

  “Sophie, wait,” he said, his voice jagged. “Wait.”

  It took a moment for her to realize the buzzing she heard was his phone and not the humming of her overheated blood racing through her veins. She’d never felt anything as powerful as Emerson’s kiss. Now that she had, she wanted all of him; every single thing they could do together, everything he could teach her.

  “What?” She twined her fingers behind his neck and tried to draw her to him, but he held firm.

  “It’s Gabe. I’ve got to get this.”

  He cuffed her wrists with his hands, pausing for a moment and simply holding her. Letting out a shaky breath, he peeled her fingers off him and reached for his phone.

  “Yes.” He growled the word at his brother.

  Knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him took some of the sting out of his rejection. She didn’t have to ask herself if Emerson liked her or if he was just doing her some kind of favor. She’d felt the truth of his body’s response. The problem wasn’t getting him to want her.

  It was getting him to act on it.

  EMERSON WAS GOING TO KILL his brother, hide the body and spend the rest of his life as his parents’ only son. Sure, they’d mourn for a while, but they’d get over it.

  He could still feel the remnants of their kiss, Sophie’s lips against his, the way her body fit against his, her slender arms twined around his neck, her leg around his hips as he cupped her perfect ass with his hand. Gabe’s ringtone had been enough—just barely, but enough—to break through the spell she’d cast over him. Now that he’d stopped kissing her, all the reasons he shouldn’t have done it in the first place came crowding back in. Another reason to murder his cockblocking younger brother.

  “What crawled up your ass and died?” asked Gabe.

  More evidence that some things just needed doing. His parents would be fine. They’d still have him and his sisters.

  “I presume there’s a reason for this call.” Beyond your death wish.

  “I found something I think might be connected to the break-in at that store Sophie works at. I assumed you’d want to know. I can pass the information on to Andrews if you’d rather not be bothered.” Emerson could picture Gabe’s smug grin as he waited for his response.

  “I’ll be right there.” Not bothering to wait for a reply, he pocketed the phone and drew in a slow, steadying breath before he turned to face Sophie. “I’m sorry. I crossed a line I shouldn’t have.”

  Her expression moved from open and expectant to steel so fast it was as if someone had thrown a switch.

  “Emerson Southerland, don’t you dare apologize to me. Not for doing something we both wanted. Something I have every intention of doing again.”

  He had almost a foot and over fifty pounds on her but the look in her eyes had him shifting nervously in place. The woman was fierce. Head-to-head against her, he didn’t stand a chance, which was another reason to head downstairs immediately.

  “I need to go. Gabe found out something about the break-in.” He didn’t bother to contradict her statement. He could repeat Sophie is off-limits like his own personal mantra, but as long as he was in the same room with her, he didn’t trust himself to keep his hands off her. Not when she wanted him to touch her.

  Her expression clouded—the woman’s face was like a billboard, broadcasting everything she felt—and his chest tightened, knowing the reminder of the attack was the reason. A few words and the ease of their afternoon evaporated, and she was back to feeling threatened again. One more reason to get his ass back to work and figure out who was responsible.

  “Of course. I understand.”

  He saw her begin to curl in on herself, and he couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the idea of the bright, vibrant woman he’d held in his arms moments earlier being afraid.

  “Hey,” he said. Reaching out, he cupped her face in a move that was sure to prove a colossal mistake. So much for holding boundaries and crossing lines. But he couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to. When he saw the way her eyes lit up, felt the way she softened at his touch, he knew without a doubt: he didn’t want to stop touching her. Not if he could give her any kind of comfort. “It’ll be okay. I’ll keep you safe.” She nodded, her skin soft and warm against his palm, and he let out the breath he’d been holding. “Lock the door behind me.”

  He took a step away and turned to leave before he did something stupid. He couldn’t count on his brother saving him twice.

  EMERSON SPENT THE elevator ride to the Southerland Security offices shoving his feelings for Sophie into a box and running through account payables to crowd the taste and feel of her out of his brain. By the time he strode into Gabe’s office, he was mostly back in his right mind, but he wouldn’t place bets on how long it would last.

  “That was fast,” Gabe said, spinning his chair away from the monitor in front of him. “With the way you bit my head off, I thought I might have interrupted something.” He waggled his eyebrows, looking more like a fourteen-year-old kid than a partner in a security firm. It was a good thing, clients found his pain in the ass younger brother charming.

  “Fuck off.”

  “Nice.” Gabe nodded his head, a knowing expression plastered on his smug face.

  There was a reason fratricide was a thing.

  “Show me what you found.” Emerson pulled up a chair next to his brother and turned his attention to the monitor.

  “Remember that data breach at Seaton a couple of months ago? The way it seemed like the hacker was just screwing with us?”

  “The Toy Barn guy? Of course.” It was one of the reasons Emerson had been paying such close attention to the pearl broker’s account. Someone had started poking at the company’s database without ever quite breaching the walls they’d put in place. They hadn’t exactly been hiding either. It was more like the hacker laid a trail of bread crumbs leading them through other servers, including a big toy store. Hence the nickname. “That guy’s work isn’t on the same level as the B&E at the jewelry store. What makes you think they’re linked?”

  For as sophisticated as the cyberattacks had been, the robbery was just the opposite, almost clumsy in the way it was executed. The only thing they had in common was that neither had really been successful. Almost as if the perpetrator hadn’t really wanted to succeed. It was still a very thin thread between them and not nearly enough to build a connection.

  “Have you ever heard of shell parties?”

  “How about you get to the fucking point and tell me what you found?” The never-ending questions frayed the last scrap of patience he had left. Lack of blood flow to the brain and interrupted kissing seemed to have that effect on him. It probably made him a bad person, but it gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction to be able to direct his ire at his pain-in-the-ass brother.

  “Fine. Shut up and listen then.” Gabe looked too damn happy with himself. “Shell parties started out as a multi-level marketing thing. Kind of like Tupperware parties. The guests paid twenty bucks or so for an oyster, which the host opened in front of them. The hustle was convincing the new pearl owner to spend upwards of two hundred dollars to turn their treasure into a piece of overpriced jewelry. The whole thing was limited in size and mostly harmless. Worst-case scenario, the client spent too much for a piece of jewelry. Some
thing’s value is in what people will pay for it. As long as they’re happy, what does it matter?”

  It was a simplistic view of the world in general and fraud specifically but not too far from the truth.

  “Again, the point?”

  “Live online videos changed all of that and Seaton started using them to move their lower end product, the stuff jewelry stores didn’t want to buy.” Gabe clicked to a different tab on his monitor and the screen filled with a dude in a purple satin shirt holding an oyster in front of him with the flair of a TV game show host.

  He hit play and the man kept up a steady stream of chatter while he pried open the oyster with the skill of a chef working a Chesapeake Bay raw bar.

  “It’s twins!” he exclaimed, holding the shell up to the camera. “Guuurl, you are so lucky. Look at these beauties!”

  He chattered on as comments and hearts and smile emoticons rolled across the bottom of the screen. It was like a train wreck. Emerson didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t look away.

  “He’s good, right?” said Gabe, not waiting for Emerson’s response. “That’s Jonathon Rainier, aka Johnny Luster. He’s our hacker. He did shell parties for Seaton for nine months before they ended the program. People started to complain about the quality of the goods and I guess they figured it wasn’t worth the hit to their reputation. They put Johnny there out of business almost overnight.”

  “Okay, assuming he’s our guy.” He held a hand up to stop Gabe’s protest. His brother was a pain in the ass, but he was also good at what he did. If he believed this Johnny guy was behind things, there was a very good chance he was right. “I get that he’s having fun, and not getting to host some online parties might make the guy want to screw with Seaton. But it’s hardly enough motivation for robbery and assault.”

  He thought about how casually whoever did it attacked Sophie and what could have happened. He had to force himself to unclench his fists.

  “The guy was pulling in upwards of seventeen grand for every party and taking home almost half of that. He went from making twenty-two K selling electronics to over a hundred and fifty thousand in one year. He lived like it too. The guy’s a financial mess, up to his eyeballs in debt. Seaton turned the cash spigot off almost overnight. Where else is a guy like him going to make that kind of money?”

  “That’s motivation.” Emerson’s pulse kicked up. If this really was the guy, proving it should be easy enough. It didn’t explain the attempted shooting but it was a tangible start.

  “And means.” Gabe clicked the screen over to an image of credit card charges at a gas station down the road from the store. “He was in the area the night Sophie was attacked.” His voice lost its teasing edge and when he met Emerson’s gaze, something passed wordlessly between them. Gabe might ride him mercilessly about Sophie, but he’d protect her with his life too.

  “Want to go with me to pay Mr. Luster a visit?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  EMERSON KNEW SOMETHING was wrong as soon as he got close enough to see the door. They’d taken a chance and gone in the back. Rainier’s car was in the alley and the TV flickering through the window certainly made it look like the guy was home. There weren’t any firearms registered to the guy, which didn’t mean he didn’t have one, but everything Emerson read about him painted a picture of someone more suited to a life of cybercrime than violence. Even the way he’d called in the robbery—if it had indeed been him—and got Sophie help was consistent with someone who didn’t carry.

  Standing on the back deck, he saw what looked like pry marks on the splintered doorjamb. Apparently, they weren’t the first ones to go looking for the party guy or from the looks of things, the fastest to find him. Gabe gave him a look and when Emerson nodded, they both reached for the holsters strapped to their waists. Holding the Glock in both hands, he thumbed off the safety and nudged the door open with his boot. The smell of decay overwhelmed him, and he didn’t need to see Johnny Luster to know they were too late.

  “Jesus.” Gabe reared back at the stench.

  “That about sums it up.”

  Gun raised, he slipped into the house with Gabe and cleared each room until they reached the main living area. And Rainier.

  Rainier’s death hadn’t been a quick one. He’d been tortured before the shot to the center of his forehead blew off the back of his skull. And given the state of the body, he’d been dead for at least a day, which meant whoever killed him either knew where to find him or was faster than Southerland Security.

  “Call the police,” said Emerson, heading for the porch and fresh air. They weren’t going to find anything to help protect Sophie in Rainier’s house and hanging around with guns drawn at the scene of a murder would raise more questions than they answered. “Make sure you go through Detective Westfield.”

  Private security and law enforcement overlapped occasionally. Going through the officer who knew them would get the fastest response and require the least amount of explanation. Seeing the condition of the body changed the threat level. It had been high to begin with but whoever killed Rainier had been willing to take a lot of chances, presumably to find out whatever he knew. It meant they wouldn’t hesitate to take more chances to get to Sophie. Not bothering to wait for Gabe to make his call, Emerson pulled out his phone and dialed Anthony Perez. He’d rather have Liam, but the other man was cloistered away on a goat farm and couldn’t get there fast enough.

  He relayed instructions to the man on the other end of the phone and then hung up and called Sophie. Perez was good at body work, better than Emerson. He’d make sure she was safe. If she’d listen to him.

  “Does this mean you’re too chicken to come home?” she said, a teasing note in her voice.

  He hated being the one to take that away from her, to steal the playfulness and replace it with fear.

  “Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me.” He heard her suck in her breath at the endearment, but he didn’t have time to worry about crossing lines now. A man had been brutally murdered in the house behind him. All that mattered was keeping her safe. “There’s been a change in plans. One of my men is on his way up to wait with you. He’s going to stay with you until I get home. I’m going to stay on the phone with you until he gets there.”

  “Is everyone okay? Gabe’s not hurt, is he?”

  He fought back the tiny sting of jealousy. Of course, she’d be concerned about his brother. He knew it didn’t mean anything. But part of him would always resent a little bit, the easy way Gabe had with people. He was the serious one, the stealer of fun. Gabe brought the party with him. He’d always been that way, since they were kids.

  “He’s fine. Everyone’s fine.” Unless he counted Rainier, which he wasn’t going to do at that moment. “I just need you to stay with Anthony for a little while.”

  “Hold on. I think I hear him.”

  “Don’t open the door, Sophie,” he said more sharply than he intended. “Make him tell you his name and show you his ID. He can hold it up to the peep.”

  “Okay.” He heard the tremor in her voice and hated himself for being the one who put it there but not as much as he’d hate it if something happened to her.

  Listening to the noises coming through the phone, he heard her ask Perez for his ID and heard his man comply. A door opened and shut and then she was back on the other end of the line.

  “He’s here. Can you tell me what’s going on, please?”

  “When I get home, sweetheart,” he said, knocking down the boundaries between them as fast as he set them up. He hated knowing she was worried and not being able to do anything about it. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  IT WAS HOURS later before he stood in front of the doorway to his apartment. Regardless of how well Detective Westfield knew him, the police didn’t appreciate that he and Gabe were the first on the scene of a murder. They’d answered the same questions dozens of times, more he suspected because the detective was looking for a legal way to give him
grief than out of some misguided attempt to link them to the crime.

  While he’d waited, he worked out an increased security detail for Sophie. His apartment was as safe a place as he could stash her. But if the guys who killed Rainier found out about him through the break-in at the jewelry store, it was only reasonable to expect they’d eventually find out about Emerson’s company’s involvement. The real question was why the burglary was even on their radar. And who the hell were they?

  He’d need help to keep Sophie safe, and there wouldn’t be any more impromptu trips to the grocery store or anywhere else for that matter. Until he found out who was threatening her and why, and put an end to it, they’d be bound together, which would make keeping his hands off her damned impossible. Maybe having his guys around would act as a buffer. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or resent the idea. Before he keyed in his code, he sent a quick text to Perez, letting him know he was the one at the door.

  “Thank God you’re safe,” said Sophie as soon as he stepped into the apartment.

  Ignoring the man standing beside the door, she threw her arms around him, burying her face against his neck, fitting her slender body to his. He breathed in the crushed rose scent of her and for a moment simply held her. Over her shoulder, he saw a flicker of interest cross Perez’s face but it was gone as fast as it came. Stoic disinterest was a job requirement in his business.

  “I’m fine. I was never in any danger.” He reluctantly disentangled himself from her arms but she twined her fingers with his. It would take more strength than he possessed to let go of her hand. So maybe having his guys around wouldn’t be the buffer he needed. None of which mattered while she stared at him with her wide blue eyes filled with concern. “Come on. Sit down and I’ll explain.”

  Sparing her as many of the gruesome details as he could, he told her his suspicion that Rainier was responsible for the attack and what they’d found when they went to his apartment.