Bending the Rules

by Margaret Watson

  Emma shivered as the wind continued its assault. Her jacket was made for cold weather activity, but she was standing still. Patrick stamped his feet. The tips of Nathan’s ears were red, and his hand was bluish where it clenched his cane.

  Nathan continued the story, telling her about the bribes to the building inspector, the expedited building permits, even the mysterious disappearance of the alderman’s son after a drug arrest.

  By the time Nathan finished, Emma couldn’t feel her toes. She was teeth-chattering, bone-shaking cold. “D-do we have to stand out here to talk about this?” Emma said. “Hush-hush is fine, but I’m freezing.”

  “Yeah, Paddy, let’s go inside.” Nathan’s jaw was clenched and lines bracketed his mouth. She wondered if the cold was making his leg ache. But she knew he’d rather die than admit it.

  “You want the kid to hear this stuff?” Patrick demanded.

  “Harley is talking to Marco.” Emma narrowed her eyes on Patrick. God, what was it with these single-minded Devereux men, focused on the problem rather than the child. Nathan had been the same way.

  At the beginning, she admitted to herself. Not as much now.

  “So?” Patrick said. “Nathan probably scared the shit out of her. If she thinks we’re talking about what happened today, she’ll want to know.”

  Nathan spun around, dropped his cane, shoved Patrick back. “Listen, asshole...”

  Emma grabbed Nathan’s hand, pulled him to her side. Her temper simmered as she glared at Patrick. “Nathan handled it perfectly. He told Harley just enough to satisfy her curiosity, not enough to scare her.” She forced herself to hang on to her temper. This was Nathan’s brother. Harley’s uncle. “And Harley’s not going to eavesdrop right now. She’s into food and cooking. She and Marco are either talking about food or tasting food. She won’t even notice us coming inside.”

  Patrick held his hands up and kept his gaze on Emma. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to imply Nathan doesn’t know how to handle kids.”

  He turned to his brother. “Sorry, Nate. This case has frustrated the hell out of me.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Nathan answered gruffly. “Shouldn’t have called you an asshole. Even though you were.”

  His words made Patrick laugh briefly. “Yeah, I guess I was.” He bent and picked up Nathan’s cane, wiping it on his jeans before handing it back. “Let’s go into the dining room.” His gaze flickered to Nathan’s leg. “You’re right, Emma. It’s cold as hell out here.”

  Nathan yanked the door open and put his hand on her back again. Even through her jacket, she felt him shivering. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded once to Patrick. He hadn’t been great with Harley, but Patrick knew his brother’s leg was bothering him. He got points for that.

  “Want some coffee, Emma?” Nathan muttered as they passed the stoves in the kitchen.

  “I’d love some. Thanks.”

  Nathan detoured to a coffeemaker in a corner of the kitchen, and Emma followed him, watching Harley discreetly.

  She was standing over a sauté pan with Marco. Harley was pointing at something in the pan as she talked, and Marco shook his head. “No, no. Not shallots and onions both. Shallots are delicate. The onions will overwhelm them. Got to pick one or the other.”

  Emma’s irritation with Patrick faded away. Harley loved this. Snowboarding and cooking in the same day. Maybe the girl wouldn’t be quite so upset about leaving the ski hill early.

  She turned to find Nathan trying to juggle two cups of coffee and the cane, and she took the cups from him. “Lead the way,” she said.

  She followed him into the dimly lit dining room, where she sat at the big table next to the doors. “Our family table,” he said as he eased into the chair next to her. “When we were kids, all the family meetings were here.”

  “Nice tradition,” Emma murmured, running her hand over the gleaming wood. The last time she and Harley were here, they were guests, sitting in a far corner. Today, Harley was cooking in the kitchen with her uncle and Emma was at the family table.

  Beneath the varnish, there were scratches and gouges in the wood, and she wondered how they’d gotten there. Were some of them from Nathan, bored with a childhood meeting?

  Steam from the coffee warmed her face, and she took a sip. The heat flowed through her body, easing her shivers. As she took another sip, Patrick hurried through the door and sat on the other side of Nathan. In a moment, Darcy came in as well and sat next to her fiancé.

  “We need Darcy’s perspective,” Patrick said.

  What perspective was that? Emma waited, but Darcy didn’t speak. Instead, she took Patrick’s hand and interlaced their fingers.

  Darcy didn’t need to be here, Emma realized. Patrick just wanted her close. Emma found herself leaning toward Nathan. She straightened and took a sip of coffee.

  “Okay, here’s what we need to do,” Patrick began. “Like I started to say earlier, I don’t think Harley’s a target. But just in case, maybe you guys should take a trip. Get out of town for a while.”

  Emma narrowed her eyes. “Harley has to go to school, and I have to work. We can’t run away.”

  “Then maybe she should stay with you, Nate.” Patrick turned to his brother. “They won’t be expecting that. It’ll throw them off.”

  “No.” Emma flattened her hands on the table. “That is not going to happen. Harley isn’t moving in with Nathan. She’s staying with me.”

  “Emma, be reasonable,” Patrick began. “Nathan knows what these guys look like. He’s better prepared to protect her than you are.”

  “No, Patrick, you be reasonable. This is a thirteen-year-old girl. She lost her mother less than two months ago. She’s just getting used to living with me, and I’m not going to uproot her again. I’m not going to send her to live with someone she barely knows.”

  She turned to Nathan and put her hand on his arm. “Is that what you want, Nathan?”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched, and she saw the faint panic in his expression. “I want Harley safe. That’s the bottom line. But you’re the one taking care of her. You get to make that call. And if staying with me will protect her, then yes. I won’t let her get hurt.”

  “Mr. FBI Agent said that was unlikely. What do you think?”

  “I think we can’t guarantee anything,” he said quietly. “Since we don’t know who’s behind the money, we can’t predict what they’re going to do. Although no one’s been hurt yet. No one’s even been threatened.”

  “Except for the bribe not being paid,” Patrick said. “You were right, Nate. That was a threat. A subtle one, but still a threat.”

  Emma pressed her fingers into the table. What should she do? How should she handle this? “No one’s taking her away from me.” That was nonnegotiable. Whatever the decision, Emma was with Harley all the way. The girl wouldn’t be alone again.

  Nathan put his hand on hers. Caressed the side of her wrist with his thumb. “You have the final say in this, Emma. Let’s get Harley and go back to your place. We’ll have dinner and talk some more.”

  Emma nodded. Yes. Her and Harley and Nathan. At her apartment. Eating dinner, talking about everything that had happened today.

  Just like a real family would do.

  Now she was building castles in the sky. Family wasn’t in the cards for the three of them. Heck, Nathan couldn’t even commit to Harley—he’d been very clear about his desire to visit Italy. Alone.

  And they wouldn’t just be talking about a fun day. They had to
figure out how to handle a possible threat. How to keep Harley safe.

  This wasn’t about Harley meeting her father and getting to know her new family anymore. It was more urgent than that. More dangerous.

  Scared for Harley and all too aware of Nathan holding her hand, Emma tugged her fingers out of his grip and pushed her chair back too fast. She barely managed to grab it before it toppled over. She needed Harley.

  “I’ll get her.” She turned, tried to smile at Darcy and Patrick. “Darcy, it was good to see you again. Patrick, thank you for trying to protect Harley. I appreciate it.”

  “Emma,” Patrick began.

  She held up her hand. “Not now, okay? There’s a lot to process. Nathan and I have to talk about all this.”

  “Right. Good.” He reached for Darcy’s hand while still studying Emma. “Whatever you and Nate decide, I’ll help. Darcy and the rest of the family, too.”

  “Thanks.” She nodded to the other couple, pretending she had a clue about the next step, then headed for the kitchen. Marco and Harley had three carryout boxes lined up on the counter, and they were apparently arguing about what to put in them.

  “Don’t try to tell me what Nate would like,” Marco said. “He’s my frig...my brother. He eats my food all the time. I know what to give him.”

  “I’m just saying I want a box of this special, too. It’s awesome.”

  Marco pointed a spatula at her. “Oh, so now I know how to cook? I’m not a jerk anymore?”

  Harley grinned at him. “Nah. You’re just a jerk who can cook.”

  Marco clutched his chest. “Right to the heart.”

  “I doubt that. It’s too small a target.”

  Nathan stepped behind Emma, pressed his fingers into her hip. “She’s amazing. Also a little scary,” he whispered. His breath stirred the fine hairs at her temple. She wanted to put her hands over his, press his hands more tightly against her hips. She yearned to lean back, feel his solid strength against her. Instead, reminding herself of thugs and mysterious money, of Italy, she gripped the table to keep from moving.

  Marco’s lips twitched at Harley’s words, then he saw Nathan and Emma. “Looks like someone’s waiting for you. Come back soon, though. I’ll look forward to hearing you point out more of my flaws.”

  “Hey, someone has to do it.”

  “And you nominated yourself.”

  Harley grinned. “Who better? They’ve all known you for years. Probably just ignore you by now. Me? I’m willing to step up and do my part for the family.”

  Nathan’s fingers tightened on her hips, then he let her go and stepped back. Emma stared at Harley in shock. The family. She already considered herself one of them.

  This is what Emma wanted, wasn’t it? It was what Sonya had hoped she’d do—foster a bond between Harley and Nathan.

  Before long, Nathan wouldn’t need her to mediate when he spent time with Harley. It would be father and daughter, and Emma would be the outsider.

  Suddenly she was cold all over again.

  If only Sonya hadn’t died. If only Emma had had a chance to get to know Nathan without Harley between them. Things might be so different.

  She wanted Nathan. She had from the moment his laughing blue eyes met hers outside FreeZone. Maybe she needed to gather her courage and reach for what she wanted. Maybe they wouldn’t have long, but they could have something for a while. Until he took Harley to live with him. Until he went to Italy.

  * * *

  NATHAN EASED HIS SUV into a cramped spot on Emma’s street, then climbed slowly out of the vehicle. Everything today had conspired to punish his still-healing bones—the long drive, sitting for several hours on the hard bench, then standing in the cold to humor Paddy’s ridiculous need for secrecy.

  Now, instead of sitting with his leg up, drinking a beer and watching the football playoffs, he would spend the evening rehashing problems for which there was no easy solution.

  Figuring out how to keep Harley safe without freaking her out.

  Emma shoved her hair away from her face and the sun glinted off a silver earring. Her hips shifted as she hoisted her snowboard out of the back of the SUV. On the positive side, Emma would be there.

  And so would Harley. This morning, on the way to pick them up, Nathan had thought of a hundred things he’d rather be doing. But to his surprise, he’d liked spending the day with Harley. Her delight at learning to board had made him smile.

  And he’d been able to talk her out of her sulk on the way home. He was proud of that. Pleased he’d made her eyes light up when he promised another trip. He’d sit in an uncomfortable, drafty lodge for hours to see that happiness in her eyes again.

  Emma unlocked the front door of her apartment building and stood aside for him to enter. “Sorry,” she said, glancing at his cane. “There’s no elevator.”

  “Not a problem,” he said. “Stairs are good exercise. I do them at rehab all the time.”

  “Not after a day like today,” she murmured. Two stairs up, he glanced back at the lock as it clicked back into place. It didn’t seem very secure. Easy to pick.

  “You okay?” Emma murmured.

  “I’m good.” He didn’t want to worry Emma, either.

  Harley bounded ahead of them, and Emma hooked her arm through his. She acted as if she was just being friendly, but he suspected it was really to help him up the stairs.

  A week ago, he’d have been mortified at needing the help. But Emma was different. He’d never seen pity in her eyes, or impatience. Only a steady gaze that focused on his face rather than his cane.

  Longing in her expression when she thought he wasn’t watching.

  Longing was good. Because there was a lot of that going on at his end, too.

  By the time they reached Emma’s second-floor apartment, the door was ajar and Harley was inside. “I’m getting the food ready,” she called when Nathan and Emma walked in.

  “Okay. Need any help?” Emma replied.

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  Nathan examined the locks on this door. A little better—a dead bolt as well as a keyed lock.

  Emma smiled at him, clearly having no idea what he was thinking about. “Can I hang up your coat? Or are you still cold?”

  “Not at all.” Emma holding his arm to her side had done wonders in warming him up. He pushed the door closed, engaged the dead bolt and shrugged off the leather jacket. As Emma took it, he looked around her apartment.

  Color was the first thing he noticed. The couch was covered in denim, but red, blue, yellow and green pillows were scattered over it. The rug was an oriental that glowed in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

  Bookshelves lined two walls, and a small flat-screen television was nestled on the shelf opposite the couch. Artwork was proudly displayed—some of it framed, some of it children’s drawings that had been carefully taped to the creamy walls.

  Magazines littered the end tables and coffee tables, and a laptop computer sat on a tiny desk in one corner, half-hidden behind an easy chair. The room was lived in. Messy enough to be a real home.

  “Have a seat,” Emma said, clearing the magazines off the coffee table and piling a couple of the throw pillows on top of it. “You probably need to put your leg up.” She waited as he lowered himself to the couch, then helped him settle his ankle on the pillows. Her hands were cool where they slid beneath his jeans to brush against his bare leg, her skin smooth and soft.

  She stepped back
, her face flushed. “Can I get you something to drink? A glass of wine? A beer?”

  “God, you read my mind,” he sighed. “I’d love a beer. Thanks.”

  She returned a minute later with a bottle of Goose Island 312. “I didn’t think you’d want a glass.”

  “Nope. No glasses for manly men.” He took a drink of the crisp, lemony beer and relaxed into the cushions. “One of my favorites, too. You’re doing everything right.”

  “You’re easy to please,” she said with a smile. “A pillow on the table and a bottle of beer? You’re a cheap date, Nathan.” She stood in a shaft of sunlight that made her hair gleam and her eyes look dark and mysterious. Her face was still pink from the sun and wind.

  He settled the bottle on his knee, hoping it would cool his overheated skin. “Not always,” he said quietly. He held her gaze and let her see the desire that had been bubbling beneath the surface all day. “Sometimes I want more than a beer and a place to rest my leg.”

  “Really.” More color bloomed in her cheeks. “We’ll have to discuss your...wants one of these days.”

  The beer bottle nearly slipped out of his grasp. He set it carefully on a coaster on the end table. “Can’t wait to do that,” he said, his voice like sandpaper.

  Emma leaned closer, her lips parting. She swallowed, and he wanted to press his mouth to the muscle in her neck.

  “Hey, guys, the food’s ready.”

  Emma jerked upright as Harley appeared in the hall to the kitchen. “You want to eat in here, or the kitchen?”

  “Kitchen,” he and Emma said at the same time.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A HALF HOUR LATER, Nathan set his fork on his plate. He had no idea what he’d eaten. It had been good—Marco’s food was always good. Harley had been chattering away. But Emma had filled his senses. He couldn’t recall a word Harley had said.

  He’d watched the way Emma’s mouth opened for her fork, her eyes closing as she savored the food. The way her lips had kissed the wineglass. The tiny drop of red at the corner of her mouth that she licked off.