Slow Motion

by Evelyn Adams

  “But I don’t understand.” Her forehead creased. Not wanting to let go of her hand was the only thing that stopped him from reaching out to smooth it with his finger. “I get the robbery. It’s weird because the guy didn’t take much but at least the initial motive makes sense, but why would someone kill him? And why would someone try to kill me? I’m nobody.”

  “You are not nobody.” He brought their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across the back of her knuckles. Her eyes flared, and years of discipline were the only thing stopping him from pulling her into his arms, sheltering her with his body. “I’m not sure about the rest, but I’m going to figure it out. Until I do, I need you to stay here. One of my men will stay in the hallway at all times and you can’t leave the apartment unless one of us is with you.” It would be more than one of them. He wasn’t about to take a chance with her safety. Not with the people who’d killed Rainier looking for her. And he had to assume they were. Nothing made sense yet, but the weirder things got, the clearer it became Sophie was at the center of things. “Promise me, Sophie.”

  “Of course,” she said without hesitation.

  It was kind of refreshing to have a client willing to follow his instructions without negotiations. He’d spent hours explaining to the rock star’s girlfriend how the rules he put in place were for her benefit and not out of some perverse desire on his part to be a pain in her ass, an irony she never understood.

  “It’s just—” She paused, chewing on her bottom lip.

  He held his breath, caught between wanting to be the one tugging her plump pink lip with his teeth—catching her answering sigh with his mouth—and knowing she was about to say something he wouldn’t like.

  “It’s not right for you to use your resources to protect me. I don’t have a way to repay you. It’s not fair.”

  She didn’t say she couldn’t let him take care of her and maybe that more than anything showed him she was afraid for her safety. He didn’t want her to be scared but it was reassuring to know she was taking things seriously.

  “You don’t have to repay me, and I get to decide what’s right for my business. It’s a perk of being the boss.” He let go of her hand to cup her cheek. She turned into his touch and his heart seized. This woman was dangerous. He could lose more than he ever intended to give and smile while she took it. She had an innocence, a guilelessness that stripped away his better sense. “It’s late,” he said, getting to his feet and away from temptation. “I’ve got to finish some work. Why don’t you get some sleep? Don’t worry. Anthony will wait outside until I get back.”

  Feeling more like a chicken than the badass head of a security firm, he headed downstairs to find some work to keep him busy until the woman in his apartment was safely asleep in her own room.

  IT WAS THE SECOND MORNING Sophie had woken up and found Emerson gone. She might have suspected he hadn’t come home to sleep if it hadn’t been for the note he’d left for her detailing her breakfast options by the box of tea in the kitchen. He signed it Eddington, which made her smile, and she wasn’t complaining. How could she when he was going so far out of his way to protect her? She couldn’t think about what might have happened if she hadn’t met him. She was as grateful for that as she was confused by the fact that someone shot at her in the first place. She couldn’t think the words wanted to kill or she might start freaking out and not be able to stop.

  She popped an egg and veggie breakfast bowl—one of the choices from Emerson’s note—into the microwave and made herself a cup of tea. She peered out the peep and saw a guy she didn’t recognize standing like a sentinel in front of the door. He wore a black Southerland Security polo and looked like he was more than capable of taking down anyone who made a run at the apartment. Not that she expected anyone to. Whatever was going on, there was no reason for anyone to connect her with Emerson. Of course there was no reason for anyone to want to shoot at her either.

  She knocked on the door, which was weird because it wasn’t like the guy could open it from his side, or maybe he could. He probably had the code, but she didn’t want to startle him. He put a hand to his ear, said something and seconds later, her phone began to ring.

  “Sophie, is everything okay? Do you need something?” asked Emerson.

  Well hell, apparently they were back to the never-ending questions again. And now she felt foolish. She hadn’t meant for the guy at the door to bother Emerson.

  “No, it’s nothing.”

  “Smithson said you knocked on your side of the door.” He waited, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t getting out of the conversation without an explanation.

  “I thought he might like a cup of tea. I was making one for myself and thought I could make one for him too.” It was an honest impulse. The guy was stuck standing in a hallway at eight in the morning because of her. The least she could do was keep him caffeinated. Listening to Emerson’s silence on the other end of the line just made her feel foolish. “Never mind. I’m sorry to bother you. It’s silly.”

  “It’s not silly.”

  She didn’t know him well enough to be sure, but she thought he sounded amused, which blew a big old hole in his not silly argument.

  “It’s sweet of you to think of it, Sophie, but my men don’t eat or drink while they’re on duty. Someone will be up in a couple of hours to give him a break. He’s fine until then.”

  Of course he was. It had been a long time since Sophie had felt naïve about anything. Maybe since before her mother got sick. She’d been taking care of herself for a long time, and wide-eyed innocence wasn’t a sustainable survival plan. But something about being with Emerson made her feel younger than her years instead of older. She didn’t like it, and it was moving in the opposite direction of her help Sophie lose her virginity plan. The last thing she needed was for him to add too young to his list of barriers to taking her to bed.

  “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” He paused for a moment and she tried to picture him on the other end of the line, running his hand through his hair the way he did when he was trying to figure something out. “Did you find something for breakfast?”

  “Your note and the microwave were both very helpful. Thank you.”

  “We have very high culinary standards at Casa Southerland.”

  She snort laughed.

  “Nice,” he said and this time she didn’t have to work to picture him smiling. She could hear it in his voice. “Don’t try to ply my men with food or drink before I get home tonight.”

  She liked the way home sounded when he said it. It was stupid. If she got her way, they’d be friends with benefits—hot, sweaty, naked benefits—but home and happily ever after wasn’t in their future.

  “Like I’m going to cook.”

  He laughed and she was glad no one was there to see her standing in his apartment grinning like a fool. She liked being the one to make Emerson laugh. She had a feeling he didn’t do it nearly often enough.

  “Brat,” he said, still chuckling. “I won’t be late.”

  WITH THE WHOLE day stretching out before her and literally nowhere to go, Sophie grabbed her jeweler’s kit from the spare bedroom and set up on Emerson’s small kitchen table. There wasn’t a lot of natural light in the apartment. She wouldn’t have been comfortable sitting in front of the window anyway so she appropriated one of the lamps from the living room and made herself a makeshift studio. It wasn’t as good as her bench at the store but given everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure when she’d feel safe at the store again. Even uncovering the tray of pearl flowers she’d been working on the night of the first attack made her stomach twist.

  She could dig through her materials for another project, but she loved the bridal set. She didn’t want to let the stupid attacks take any more from her. Spreading the tiny pearls she still had to match out on a piece of velvet to keep them from rolling away, she started pairing petals with silver leaves. It didn’t take long for her to si
nk into the work and lose herself in the necklace coming to life in front of her. She forgot the last of her tea and worked through lunch. She’d have kept going if a knock on the front door hadn’t broken her concentration.

  Stretching her stiff legs, she crossed the room to peer through the peep. Instead of Smithson or another of the huge guys wearing black Southerland Security polos, she found a petite, friendly looking older woman. She had a pair of reading glasses propped on her head and carried a huge tote bag that said, “When nothing goes right...go left.” Her guard stood behind the woman, which meant she probably wasn’t dangerous—not that she looked it to begin with. She looked like a librarian. A warm, helpful one, and Sophie was letting her stand in the hallway. She hurried to open the door.

  “You must be Sophie,” said the woman before Sophie even got out a hello. “I’m Sarah Southerland, Emerson’s momma. I hope I didn’t startle you. Thank you, Daniel.” She nodded to the security guy, who smiled back at her.

  Given the lack of emotion Emerson’s men usually showed, he practically beamed at the woman as she stepped through the open doorway and made a bee line for the kitchen. Sophie nodded to Daniel—she felt like a bitch for not knowing his first name earlier—before closing the door and following Emerson’s mother.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, searching for something to say that didn’t start with what are you doing here and does your son know.

  “You’re kind, sweetheart, and I’m not here to intrude. Gabe said you were stuck here alone and I know my son doesn’t usually keep more than protein bars in his cupboard.” She shuddered, and Sophie decided she liked Emerson’s mother, and that the older woman must have more in common with his brother Gabe than with him. “I brought a few groceries so you wouldn’t starve.” She unpacked a clamshell of lettuce and some other vegetables, pausing when she opened the refrigerator door and saw it was already full.

  “Emerson took me to the store yesterday.”

  “I see,” she said, making room for the produce and other groceries. “And it doesn’t look like you need these either.” She set a stack of books and a handful of magazines on the counter before walking over to Sophie’s makeshift workspace. “You made this?” She reached a hand toward the necklace taking shape on the velvet but stopped short of touching it.

  When she turned back to face Sophie, the other woman’s face held such wonder it made her heart squeeze. She was used to having people admire her work but something about Sarah Southerland’s words and expression made it feel as if her admiration was for Sophie and not just the jewelry.

  “I did. It’s just seed pearls and silver. Nothing terribly valuable,” she said, not sure why she was downplaying the piece.

  “It’s beautiful. You’re an artist.”

  Sophie felt her face heat, still not sure why a compliment from Emerson’s mother carried so much weight. Whatever the reason, it mattered. Sophie cared what the other woman thought about her.

  “I’ve been lucky enough to make a living doing something I love.”

  “I can see that. It shows.” She hit Sophie with a smile so genuine; it warmed her from the inside out. “So, my ruse of trying to save you from protein bars and daytime television is a sham. You didn’t need anything, and I’m just the meddling mother who’s come to gawk at the woman staying in my son’s apartment. You’ll have to forgive me. He’s just never had anyone stay with him before. When Gabe told me, I got curious.”

  Which meant Emerson probably didn’t even know his mother was here. She wondered how he’d react when he found out—whether it would be a good thing or not.

  “There’s nothing to forgive, and yesterday you would have found bare cupboards. Please, I needed to take a break anyway. Sometimes when I’m working, I forget to stop to eat.” It was the truth, and it made the other woman’s face light up. Sophie found she liked that almost as much as she liked hearing Emerson laugh. Almost.

  “It’s after three o’clock, sweetheart. Don’t tell me you haven’t had lunch yet?”

  Sophie chewed on her lip, and Mrs. Southerland shook her head. “You sit. I’ll make us something to eat. It’s the least I can do.”

  “You’ve already done so much, Mrs. Southerland,” she said, perching on one of the stools at the counter. The woman moving confidently through the kitchen felt so warm, so maternal, Sophie instinctively leaned closer. Her boss Connie looked out for her but it had been so long since she’d really felt taken care of.

  “Nonsense, and call me Sarah. How do you feel about chili?” she asked, digging in the refrigerator for one of the Tupperware containers she’d stashed in there minutes earlier.

  “Chili would be great. Thanks.”

  While the chili heated in a saucepan on the stove, the older woman put cheese on thick slices of bread and popped them under the broiler.

  “I swear, I don’t think that son of mine ever uses his oven. I taught all my children to cook before they left my house, but Emerson always seemed to be going in too many different directions to worry about mundane things like eating. It sounds like that might be something you have in common.” She gave Sophie a considering look and Sophie had a feeling Gabe might have embellished the story about why she was staying with his brother.

  “That smells so good.” It seemed safer not to comment on what she and Emerson may or may not have in common and the chili really did smell good. Now that she’d had a chance to think about eating, she was starving.

  “I hope you like it.” She put two pieces of cheese toast on a plate and set it and a bowl of chili in front of Sophie.

  Sitting on the stool, her legs too short to touch the floor while Emerson’s mom took care of her, reminded Sophie what it felt like to be a kid for the second time that day. Missing her mother was a palpable ache, and she found herself unexpectedly blinking back tears.

  “Oh sweetheart, I know you must be scared,” said Sarah, taking her hand. “Don’t worry. My boys won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe here.”

  Despite her mortification at her emotional outburst, Sophie smiled at the idea of men as physically strong and competent as Emerson and Gabe being called boys.

  “It’s not that. Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m overreacting.” She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and willed back the tears. “It’s just my mother passed when I was young and I haven’t had anyone take care of me in a long time. I didn’t mean to turn into an emotional wreck over chili.”

  “A few unshed tears hardly makes you an emotional wreck, especially given what you’ve been through the past few days. I’m sorry about your mother.” Sarah raised her hand as if she might reach for her but stopped short of touching.

  Sophie was grateful. Emerson’s mother’s hand on her arm would send her over the edge. She’d never be able to hold back her tears.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “I don’t imagine that matters all that much, does it?”

  Sophie gave a rueful smile. The older woman was right. She missed her mother every day. She felt her loss all the time; she’d just gotten better at coping with it. “Not really.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’ve pried enough.” The older woman watched her with kind eyes, eyes so much like her son’s it tugged at her heart.

  Sophie found she wanted to tell Sarah. The fact she wasn’t pushing made it easier to share details of her past. Her quiet compassion felt so maternal; it made Sophie want to open up about things she never talked about, things she hadn’t begun to share with Emerson.

  “No, it’s okay. My mother got sick when I was fifteen—pancreatic cancer.” The words sounded so matter-of-fact, nothing like the horror show of the actual disease. Concern etched Sarah’s face, but the other woman stayed silent, waiting for whatever Sophie wanted to share. “They caught it really late. Stage IV. She didn’t have much time after that.”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  Useless words she’d heard a hundred tim
es before but the intention was right. Sophie knew she was trying to empathize and that counted for something.

  “My brother took care of me.”

  In the beginning, they’d been like zombies moving around the house without their mother, but they’d figured it out. Noah took care of the bills and stuff around the house, and she did the laundry and figured out how to microwave meat pies. Not what they were used to, but they survived. It would have been a thousand times worse if she’d had to go live with strangers. They didn’t have any other family. If her brother hadn’t been willing to put his life on hold for her, she wouldn’t have had a choice.

  “Do you just have the one brother?”

  And just like that, they hit the disaster of her past, the part she couldn’t talk about without seeming like a tragedy case. The loss she couldn’t get through without breaking down.

  “Yes.” She nodded, knowing what came next and not wanting to go there, not even with a woman as warm and obviously loving as Sarah. “We’ve talked about me the whole time. Tell me about your family.” She put a spoonful of chili in her mouth so she couldn’t say anything else.

  Emerson’s mother watched her for a moment, tipping her head to the side, and Sophie could have sworn she knew the whole thing was a diversion tactic. Apparently accepting it for what it was, she gave Sophie a smile.

  “Emerson and Gabe have two sisters: Amanda and Rebecca. Amanda recently got engaged to a nice young man named Michael.” Sarah’s face lit up as she spoke about her children. “Becca is an attorney and works too hard. That seems to be a common trait for my children—all except Gabe.” She smiled to herself and Sophie didn’t have to wonder how she felt about her family. The love was written on her face.

  Without warning, the front door opened and Sophie gripped her bowl of chili tighter, as if the stoneware would somehow protect her from an intruder. She relaxed her grip when Emerson made his way into the kitchen, looking like a man on a mission. She was holding back judgment as to whether it was a good thing or bad.