by Green, Stacy
She choked back a sob. “What do I do now?”
“Whatever you need to do. Cry, get angry, mourn her. Talk to your stepfather.”
“I don’t know if I can go to the funeral.”
Nathan wished she would. Getting out of the state might be the safest thing for Emilie. “Don’t worry about that right now. There’s plenty of time for that.”
“Speaking of time, you should probably go.” Emilie rested her forehead against his chest. His heart sped up at the contact. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“I’m not ready to leave you.” He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.
“Me, either.”
“Promise me you’ll stay safe. Let Jeremy play chauffeur. If he can’t, call me.”
“Jeremy can take me. You have to be careful.”
“Not for long.”
“You’re the only good thing to come out of this mess. If not for the Taker, we would have never met.”
“Maybe fate would have brought us together in another way.” Nathan’s heart hammered against his chest as Emilie edged closer, her eyes boring into his.
“Do you believe in fate?” Her lips were only an inch away.
“I’m starting to.”
Emilie seized his shirt and pulled his face down to meet hers. “Me too,” she whispered just before their lips met.
Heat erupted inside Nathan as his mouth moved with hers. Need raced through him. He wound his fingers through her thick hair, moaning as Emilie’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.
The Taker had to be caught, and soon.
Chapter Thirty
After a hot shower and allowing Jeremy and Sarah to fawn over her, Emilie settled into the guest room’s plush window seat to watch the fading sunset. Bordered by a throng of desert willows, the Vance’s backyard was a safe haven. The peaceful landscape calmed her shattered nerves.
Otis hopped onto the seat and crawled into her lap.
“You always know when I need you.” Emilie scratched the top of his head. “I wish my life could be as simple as yours. All you’ve got to worry about is who’s going to feed you and change your litter. And you get to sleep most of the day.”
Sleep sounded like the perfect solution. She’d be safe from the Taker’s stalking eyes, and no one else would be at risk.
But that wasn’t true. The Taker would come for her eventually. Nathan was right.
She brushed her fingers against her lips, remembering the kiss. Emilie had never felt so emboldened or content. Kissing Nathan had been like waking up. For the first time, Emilie felt alive, impulsive. And she wanted to do it again.
Her cellphone rang. She knew it was Sam calling. She didn’t want to talk to him again. Telling him about Claire’s murder had been enough.
“Hi, Sam.”
“How ya holding up, kid?” Sam’s voice was missing its usual luster.
“Fine. What about you?”
“Haven’t gone home yet.”
“Sam, it’s past ten. You need to go home and rest.”
“Not sure I can.” He breathed deeply. Emilie realized he was trying not to cry. “We’ve lived separate lives for years. Ever since you left, really, but knowing she’s never coming back…I just can’t walk into that house right now.”
“I’m so sorry. The Taker killed her for me.”
“She shouldn’t have been in Vegas.”
“Did you know why she came?”
“Not until after she left. Claire gave me this song and dance about burying the hatchet between you two.” He grunted, and then laughed. “I wasn’t sure I believed her, but I thought maybe nearly losing you had woken her up. Then I discovered the bank withdrawal and put it all together.”
“I turned her down.”
“And you should have. The last thing Claire needed to worry about was her damned reputation.”
“I wouldn’t have told the story. For your sake.”
“I shouldn’t be spared. I stood by like a damned coward and didn’t try to stop you. Guess I was blinded by love. Stupid.”
“Sam.”
“I should have stopped you. Even if it meant losing Claire, I should have brought you home, convinced you not to run off with Evan. You could have stayed in Portland. I would have put you through college, found a place for you. God, I’m sorry, Emilie.” His voice broke. “If I’d had any guts, none of this would have happened.”
“I wouldn’t have stayed. You weren’t the only one blinded by love.”
“Come home now,” Sam implored. “I’ll get you set up in a place, help you find a job. You’ll be safe from the bastard stalking you.”
“He’d find me. And I have a life here, Sam. I can’t run away. Not again.”
“Will you at least come to the funeral? I’d like to see you.”
“I…I’m not sure that’s appropriate. All the attention would be on me. You and I both know Claire would hate that.”
“That’s not what’s stopping you. What else?”
Emilie hadn’t told him about Claire’s ultimate deception. She had no idea how to break the news.
“Come on, kid. Whatever it is, level with me. No more secrets.”
He was right. Secrets were festering time bombs waiting for the right moment to explode and destroy everything in their path. Telling Sam the truth about her paternity was worse than calling him with news of Claire’s death. What kind of person did that make Emilie?
“Jesus Christ. Do you believe her?” Sam asked when she was finished.
“I’m not sure. Father is marked as unknown on my birth certificate. She had it with her.”
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“Nothing you can say. Truth died with Claire. I’ll never know.”
“Bullshit.” His tone gained vigor. “You deserve the truth, and so does Mark Chambers. We’ll find him and do a DNA test. At least you’ll know.”
“I don’t want to find my real father. There’s no point.”
“That’s up to you. But both you and Chambers need to know.”
“You’re right, but the cost… “
“It’s the least I can do.”
“I’m sorry for all of this, Sam. I’m sorry you’ve been brought into my mess and had to suffer.”
“Don’t be. I should have put an end to all this years ago.”
“You need to get some rest. Go to a hotel or something.”
“Hell, I’ve got a nice, comfy couch right in my office. Not the first night I’ve spent here.”
“I’m not sure when she’ll be released.” She closed her eyes at the memory of her mother’s body lying still and cold on the steel gurney.
“Yeah, I know. Your Agent Ronson said she’d keep me informed. Guess I’m in a holding pattern for now. Sure you won’t change your mind about the funeral?”
“I just can’t,” Emilie whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand. Maybe when this is all over, and you’re safe again, we can get together.”
“I’d like that.”
Sam cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, I always considered myself your father, even though I did a lousy job. I’d like to try and make it up to you.”
“Hopefully I’ll see you soon, then.”
The dam of tears broke as soon as she hung up. They flowed down her face and soaked Sarah’s designer pillowcase.
All the years lost with Sam. All three of them had been cowards, running from the truth in their own selfish ways. So many things Emilie could have done differently. She could have seen Evan for what he was and stayed in Portland, forging a life without Claire right under her mother’s nose. She could have confronted Claire instead of running away.
But none of that mattered now. The past couldn’t be changed—only the future.
* * * *
Nathan sat across from his father at Sean’s worn kitchen table, both men looking awkwardly at the floor. “You got plans for tonight?”
Sean ope
ned a can of Coors. “Just to plant my ass in the chair and watch the game.”
“Who’s playing?”
“Braves and Philly. Should be a good one. What about you?”
“Depends.” Nathan counted the scratches on the old table.
“On what?”
“On how this conversation goes.”
Sean tipped the chair back on its hind legs. Deep wrinkles creased his forehead. He rubbed the side of his face. “What’s going on?”
“I want to talk about Jimmy.”
The chair’s front legs thudded against the floor. The beer can clattered against the wood table. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Dad, please.”
“Jimmy’s dead and gone. Talking about him won’t change things.”
“No, it won’t bring him back. But it’s time things changed.”
A blush of anger crept across Sean’s fair skin as he stood and glared down at Nathan with cold, piercing eyes. He hadn’t seen that kind of passion from his father in fourteen years.
“Why are you doing this? Life’s gone on, and so have I.”
“Seriously?” Nathan stood as well. He refused to back down from his father’s angry stare. “You stopped living the day he died. You just exist. And you can’t even stand the sight of me.” His voice cracked as long pent-up emotion threatened to spill out.
“What?”
“Come on, Dad. Let’s be honest with each other for once. You just tolerate me. When was the last time you had any real interest in my life?”
The angry set of Sean’s jaw relaxed. “Nathan, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I went to every track meet, every swim meet, every debate, graduations. I’ve always been there for everything in your life.”
“In body,” Nathan yelled. “You think I can’t tell you’d rather be anywhere but in close proximity to me?”
“What do you want from me?” Sean threw his hands in the air. He braced himself against the counter and looked out the large window over the kitchen sink. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because life’s too short for you and me to keep doing this stupid dance. We need to talk about what happened.”
Nathan’s guts twisted painfully at the thought of his father finally unleashing blame on him. But remaining in limbo was no longer an option. Emilie and Claire had done as much, and now Claire was dead, leaving her daughter with no closure.
“If I could go back and change that night, I would. I should have remembered curfew.”
Sean’s back was rigid. His weathered hands gripped the counter. “Please, don’t.”
“I must have asked myself what I could have done differently a thousand times. Why do you think I’m a cop, Dad?”
“Because you’re a good kid.”
“No. Every time I go to work, I’m trying to make up for what I did to Jimmy. Each time I help someone, I think maybe I’m balancing the scales. Maybe I won’t be judged so harshly when my time comes.
“But I’m finally able to accept Jimmy’s death wasn’t my fault. Now I’m here asking you to do the same.”
Sean cocked his head. His meaty hands released the laminate counter, and he turned back around. His tired eyes were red-rimmed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m asking you to forgive me, Dad. Do you think Jimmy’d want you hating me for the rest of your life?”
“Is that how you see it?” Sean stepped forward. His graying eyebrows knitted together to form a single line across his forehead. “That I hate you?”
“You blame me. I get it. But I’m asking you to give me a second chance.”
A long, shaky sigh escaped Sean’s open mouth. He leaned against a chair for support, looking every bit his fifty-seven years. “I never realized. I just assumed you felt the same as me.”
“Until now, I have.” Nathan pushed on, surprised by his father’s lack of anger. “But something happened to a friend of mine that made me realize I’ve got to do everything I can to heal our relationship. To earn your love again.”
“Nathan, I’ve always loved you. Not one day has gone by that I didn’t thank God you weren’t taken from me that night.”
“Then why—”
“Because I’m an old fool.” Sean fell into the chair and put his head in his hands. “You never should have been left to walk home in the first place. Don’t you know that?”
“I don’t remember.”
“That morning, I told you I’d pick you up at your friend’s. I got delayed at work, and next thing I know, I get a call from the police saying Jimmy was dead and you’d been beaten.”
Sean looked up at Nathan. His tears soaked into the wrinkles around his eyes. “I’ll never forget the way you looked when I got to the hospital. You still had Jimmy’s blood on you. You wouldn’t look at me.”
“All I remember is sitting in the back of the police car.” How the hell had he forgotten such important details? Was his guilt so strong he’d simply blacked it out?
“My God. I never realized.”
“What else am I forgetting?”
“At the hospital, I kept telling you I was sorry,” Sean said. “I told you I’d never leave you alone again, that everything was going to be okay. You still wouldn’t look at me. I knew then you’d never forgive me.”
“How could I have forgotten?”
“Doctors said you were in shock. Aunt Kay was with you more than I was, and she said you never wanted to talk about it. I thought if we just moved on, you’d be all right. You didn’t want to be around me, but I could accept that if it meant your having a normal life.”
“You were so standoffish,” Nathan said. “I thought you were angry with me and that it would be best for me not to bother you.”
“Fucking hell, I swear I never knew.”
“You thought I blamed you?”
“Why wouldn’t you? I blame me. If I’d done my job as a parent, Jimmy would be alive, and you wouldn’t have carried this burden with you.”
“Why didn’t you ever try to talk to me about it?”
“I didn’t want to make it worse. You were doing well in school and seemed adjusted. I figured I’d let you live your life and maybe one day, you’d forgive me.”
“All this time I’ve been simultaneously hating and feeling sorry for myself, and all I had to do was say something to you.” Nathan couldn’t believe he’d been so foolish.
“No, I failed you, again.” Sean pulled a worn, blue handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. “I got so swept up in my own guilt and pain, and I should have sucked it up and talked to you, been a decent father.”
“I’ve seen bad fathers, Dad. You aren’t one of them.”
“You grew up thinking I didn’t love you.” Sean slammed his hand down on the old table. “It’s a credit to your aunt you turned out the way you did.”
“Let’s call the blame even. We both could have done things differently.”
“I’m so sorry, Nathan. You and your sister are the best things I ever did.”
Nathan’s throat constricted painfully. His eyes stung as he struggled against the tears. “Thanks, Dad. I love you, too.”
Sean jumped to his feet and pulled Nathan into a bone-crushing hug. He held tight to his father, tears of gratitude finally trickling from his eyes.
“Why don’t you stay and watch the game?” Sean released him. “We can order a pizza and pig out without Aunt Kay on our asses about cholesterol.”
“On your ass, you mean. I’m in awesome shape.”
“You’re young. Give it another ten years.”
“No anchovies,” Nathan said as his father reached for the phone. “I’m not eating those stinking fish.”
“Pussy.”
Chapter Thirty-One
She’d gone into the tunnels with Madigan? To their special place? Didn’t she understand what he’d done for her? Or was Madigan’s interference clouding her judgment?
“You’re sure of this?” Julian asked.
“And the hostage negotiator accompanied her?”
“That’s what I was told.” His informant blew a foul gust of smoke in his face. “Apparently, he’s her new champion. Fighting for her, even.”
Julian crushed the hundred-dollar bill he was holding. “I hadn’t foreseen this complication. Why was she there?”
“Maybe she’s grown a set. Or maybe she just wanted to see what you had planned. How should I know?”
“That’s what I’m paying you for, isn’t it?”
“You want me to leave another message?”
“No. I want you to find out if Emilie reciprocates this attention. If she has any interest in this man.”
The smoker took another drag. “You promised me I wouldn’t still be in this mess after you robbed the bank. I thought she was just your extra bit of sugar icing.”
“Do I look like I need to rob a bank? You’re a fool for ever believing that.”
“I still want my cut.”
“I’ve already given you plenty of cash.”
“Easy come, easy go. And that cash wasn’t half of what you originally promised.”
Julian had grown tired of the conversation. “Find out how Emilie feels about this negotiator, and I promise you shall have payment in full.”
The cigarette was smashed beneath the toe of a black dress shoe. “You’d better. I can always go to the cops and cut a deal.”
“Just do as I ask. You’ll be well taken care of.”
Julian slipped through the horde on the Strip, impervious to the shouts of the drunk and greedy. He’d anticipated Emilie to feel a rush of grief and guilt at her mother’s death, but after the initial shock, she should have been relieved. Grateful, even. Claire Chambers deserved to be eliminated. She had only cruelty to offer.
The gluttonous pig had begged for her life, growing so desperate as to plead for a second chance for her daughter’s sake.
Julian would have preferred a quick and easy end, but Claire needed to be held accountable for the years of misery afflicted on Emilie—all thirty-four of them.
The duct tape had muffled Claire’s screams. The woman’s face was streaked with tears and smeared make-up. Her cold eyes grew glassy as her body lost more blood.
