by Jenna Elliot
“You ladies own this vehicle?” another officer asks.
“I do,” I say. “The car’s mine. I just left it here for a little while.”
“Disturbance was just called in. Employee came out to take the trash to the dumpster and saw the damage.”
“So you don’t know who did it?” Mia asks.
The officer motions to another cop who’s sitting in her patrol car. The woman gets out, looking no nonsense with her knifepoint-creased pants and shiny shoes, and I see she’s wearing rubber gloves and carrying something . . .
She holds out a note as the officer who was talking to us says, “Maybe you can help us figure that out.”
“Oh God,” Mia leans over the note.
I lean over and read it, too.
“Go to hell, bitch.”
“Any idea who’d vandalize your car and leave this?” the officer asks.
Suddenly all eyes are on me. But all I can do is fight back nausea as my throat constricts and two things become very clear.
There was nothing random about this vandalism.
And someone followed me from the club.
32
Emme
I HAND OVER MY identification to the officers, and they direct me to the second patrol car. By now, I shake so bad my teeth chatter. The woman opens the back door and directs me to sit. I do, then the officer leaves again.
Mia takes one look at me and says, “Let me grab a sweater from my car. You’ll be okay for a sec?”
I nod. But I’m not okay. I’m not even close.
Someone must have followed me from the club. How else could anyone know my car was parked in this random lot? Someone following me blows up the whole theory about random kids trashing my apartment because they got high. This is personal.
The scene is surreal. Red and blue lights slash the darkness. I sit in the back of a patrol car, trying not to unload the contents of my stomach. Again. Story of my life lately. Then, there’s this other life inside me. The one that turned Ace from sexy and charming to dark and closed off and sent me packing. Not that he wouldn’t have anyway. Tonight was our last night together.
No, I’m definitely not okay.
Mia returns and wraps a sweater around my shoulders. She kneels in front of me and takes my hands in hers.
“Oh, God.” I cling to her. “Someone is after me.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispers. “But you have to tell the police everything, Emme. They can’t help you if you don’t.”
“Like that will do any good.” My head spins.
She massages my hands, trying to warm my fingers. “I heard them say they’re sending a unit to your apartment. They probably ran your address and saw the open investigation.”
I have barely gotten it back together and can’t even wrap my head around the thought that it may be trashed again. “They haven’t been all that much help, you know?”
“I know. But this is serious, Emme.”
I meet her gaze and nod. The threat on the note loops in my head. Go to hell, bitch.
“You’ll tell them everything?” she asks.
“Yeah.” But I don’t want to hash through all this again. I want to climb into my bed and sleep off this horrible nausea.
Not an option. I no longer have the luxury of thinking only about what I want. I might want to deny the risk here, but can I afford not to take what’s happening seriously?
If I die, my child won’t be born. Wouldn’t Ace like that? There’s a thought. Not only would he be free from the complication of a baby, but he could stop payment on his check.
“When I told Ace I was pregnant, he was furious. Do you think he . . .” I can’t even say the words aloud.
How could I have been so, so wrong about him? But I was. The memory of him telling me he never wanted to see me again feels like an open knife wound. It’s the only thing that penetrates the horrible way I feel, the swimming head, the nausea. Thinking he might want me and our child dead . . .
“I don’t think he’d give you three hundred grand and then trash your car,” she says.
“Maybe the check is his cover.” In spite of our fight, in spite of my anger, I just don’t think Ace could possibly be that cold. The man who led me through the last weeks of a sexual adventure with such exquisite care?
“Ace couldn’t have known you were pregnant when your apartment was trashed,” Mia points out. “You didn’t even know you were. If you were.”
I’m pretty sure I know exactly when I realized I was pregnant. The instant all this nausea started. “You’re right.”
“Doesn’t seem like his style,” she adds.
I just shrug. I agree. I think. It’s not exactly like I know the man well. I don’t.
But I can’t help thinking about all the darkness I glimpsed beneath his smiling, gracious surface. The distance he keeps from people. The solitude that he finds in crowds. So many people around him, yet no one ever gets close.
Even now, the thought of such loneliness makes me sad. I am such an idiot. The ass just threw me and his child out of his office, and I feel bad for him. What the hell is wrong with me?
“There’s Jason, too,” Mia says. “You refused his proposal.”
That certainly makes a little more sense. “You think he would have done this?”
“You said the fight you had was ugly.”
“But whoever smashed my car followed me from the club. They had to have. The only reason I even stopped was because I was so upset that I kept getting sick.”
She frowns, tightens her grip on my hands. “Are you sure Jason doesn’t know about the club?”
“I certainly haven’t said anything to him. I haven’t told anyone.” Who would admit something like this to anyone except someone close like Mia, who would understand?
“Then he got that upset because you refused his proposal, upset enough to retaliate?”
“I don’t know. When he’s drinking, he’s out of control. Usually he cries. But I once saw him punch a wall. And he was furious I spent the night on the yacht and—” I stop. I stare at Mia. “How did he know I was on the yacht?”
“The wedding?”
“I didn’t tell him about your wedding. I didn’t even talk with him.” I replay the events of the week between my trashed apartment and Mia’s wedding, the idea gaining speed in my head. “I never told him where I was that night. But he knew.”
“You’re absolutely certain?”
I nod.
“Then he may have been following you.”
Stalking me.
I can’t say that aloud either.
“But if he has been following you around to find a good place to propose, why on earth would he threaten your life? That doesn’t make sense.”
“If he found out I went to the club . . .”
“I never got the sense he was mentally unstable,” she says slowly. “You? You never said anything to me if you thought so.”
“Can we really trust what I think? I had no clue he was sleeping with someone while he was engaged to me.” And I was sleeping with someone I knew would break my heart.
“Do you think Jason would do something like this?”
“I don’t know.” And I genuinely don’t. I have no freaking clue what’s going on. The only thing I know is that everything in my life has changed, and the men I sleep with suck.
And then another thought collides with all the others looping through my head. And the most obvious problem is the most shocking, the one I’ve avoided until this very second because it is just too horrible to contemplate.
I test the words in my mouth, barely able to comprehend such a frightening reality. “If the police don’t catch who is after me, I may not be safe.”
Mia’s expression collapses. No arguing. No comforting me with false reassurances or soothing possibilities to make me feel better. It’s not about how I feel any longer.
“You’re staying with me and Ethan,” she says fiercely. “Absolutely no argumen
t.”
Her offer is the second thing tonight that feels real, and gives me a little hope. The first was Mia coming to get me when I needed her. She cares so much. And experiencing her care and concern is the only thing that penetrates my hurt and fear.
I bring her hands to my cheek. “I can’t even imagine my life without you.”
“Ditto, my dearest Emme. Ditto.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, a silent one, filled with so many years of closeness, a bond that has supported each of us through so many upsets and life lessons—triumphs, too.
She manages a smile first. “I feel so much better now that’s settled.”
I manage a smile, too. “I’d like to stay, but I can’t.”
All vestiges of peace vanish in an instant. She narrows her gaze and practically growls, “Why the hell not?”
“Because Ethan will know I’m there, and he’ll tell Ace.”
“No, I’ll tell him—”
“I won’t put you in the position of lying to your husband. I won’t put Ethan in the position of lying to his partner.”
I care way too much.
“God damn it, Emme.” She knows there’s no point in arguing with me about this. “Then you have to go home to your parents.”
“I might. But I’m not sure I should. Maybe it’s better if they don’t know where I am, either. If someone’s following me, then all I’ll do is lead them to my parents. If it’s Jason, he already knows where my folks live.” But not Ace. But how hard would that information be to find out? For a man with his resources, not hard at all. If he is responsible . . .
“You’re no longer a member of this club. I don’t want to see you again.” His words replay in my memory, each one brutal.
If he’s not responsible, then he won’t bother to find me.
“No,” I say decidedly, the path before me suddenly clear. “You’ll have to trust I’ve got this under control, Mia. I can’t tell you where I’ll be. Not until the police catch whoever’s after me. I won’t put anyone else I love in danger.”
“Ohmigod, Emme. What are you saying?”
I stare at her, press my lips to her knuckles so she knows how much I appreciate her. And to draw my own strength to accept what I know I have to do to protect everyone I love and my baby. “I’m going to disappear.”
Looks like I’ll be cashing Ace’s check after all.
33
Ace
“I DON’T WANT to talk about Emme.” I hand Ethan a whiskey and Jax a beer. We’re in my office. It’s late Friday night and the club’s busy.
“Too bad, dude.” Ethan kicks back his drink in one swallow. “Because I do.”
“Don’t bust my balls.”
“Then don’t talk, Ace. Listen.” Jax knocks a beer cap off a bottle, using the edge of my desk. He does it just to irritate me, which doesn’t take much. I’ve been pissed all week.
Since Emme left.
“Shit,” I say. “You two bros keep up this motherfucking bullshit, and I’m walking.”
I don’t care that it’s my office. Better yet, I’ll toss both their sorry asses out the door and have security strike their names on my approved list. My legal team can conduct our business.
Jax knows I’m not playing, so he leans against the door like he can block my escape. Right. I’ll take his sorry ass straight through the door.
Ethan takes a step forward, too. “You’re not going anywhere until you listen to what I have to say.”
I grab the whiskey bottle and upend it. The heat sears my throat deep, but doesn’t reach the dark place. Nothing touches me there. Nothing ever comes close. Except for one sweet little number with creamy thighs and freckles . . .
I tilt up the bottle again, ever hopeful.
“Enough.” In an unexpected move, Ethan propels himself over my desk and snatches the bottle right out of my hand. Whiskey splashes all over the week’s invoices.
“Jesus Christ,” I explode.
But he’s already in my face, fingers grabbing my collar tight. “I don’t know what happened between you and Emme—”
“And it’s none of your fucking business. She’s no longer a member of this club.”
“You kicked her out,” Jax says. “We know that part. We want to know why.”
“Since when do I answer to you for membership approval?”
“Since it’s Emme’s membership.” Ethan eyes me narrowly, judging whether or not to let me go. Whatever he sees in my face makes him back off. The pressure at my throat loosens, and he steps back. Mr. Hothead Badass rethinks the consequences.
“If you’re so fucking concerned about Emme’s membership, I’ll write you a check for her fees.”
Jax shakes his head. “Not the problem, Ace. Just tell us why you kicked her out.”
Damn it. I do not want to go here. I don’t even want to think about this shit, let alone explain. But I can’t honestly say I didn’t expect to have to deal with the situation eventually. No matter how much I wished it would all vanish like a nightmare. Hell, Mia and Emme are BFFs. Ethan was going to find out some time.
“Emme says she’s pregnant.” Just saying it aloud pisses me off. Because this makes it to my dark place, unnerves me in a place that nothing has touched in so long. Why this? Not booze. Not sex. Only this.
Jax levels that silent stare of his, not accusing, not condemning, but somehow making me feel like the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.
Ethan takes another step back, shoves his fingers through his hair. “Son of a bitch.”
“Not my fault, man.” I spread my hands in entreaty. “No one knows the rules better than I do.” I made them and enforce them for Christ’s sake. “Every damn time we fucked, I was protected. For all I know, it’s not mine.”
“Did she tell you it was?” Jax asks.
I nod. Can’t get the words out on that one. “I wrote a check. Either way, she’ll be fine, and it won’t be a problem for the club.”
“You selfish prick.” Ethan looks like he’s about to lunge at me again. “That woman is carrying your child and someone’s stalking her, maybe trying to kill her. All you’re worried about is a motherfucking check?”
Takes me a minute to process that with the blood suddenly roaring in my ears.
“Back the fuck up.” I grind out between clenched teeth. “What the hell are you talking about? Who’s trying to kill who?”
“Ready to listen now, are you?” Ethan cocks a hip against my desk and folds his arms over his chest, looking worried as shit. “Emme. Someone’s after Emme. Trashed her apartment. Trashed her car. Left threatening notes. Cops think it’s personal.”
“Head’s up,” Jax adds, looking just as worried. “You’re on their suspect list.”
I suddenly don’t have a response—everything inside me goes black. All I feel is that same dread I felt the night of the wedding when I found out Emme’s apartment had been trashed. A feeling so overpowering that only anger gives me any control over it, makes it manageable again.
I’m still reeling as Ethan and Jax treat me to the details of what happened after Emme left the club on the last night of her candidacy, the night I threw her out. I sink down into my chair as I recall I was brutal to her, and Ethan tells me about the damage to her car. And the note.
I also remember what I told her on the night of the wedding. And what she told me.
“I didn’t think you were interested in my personal life.”
I am such an asshole. I singled her out. I knew crazy shit would happen to her just because she’s around me. The whole reason I never let anyone get close. I know better. But Emme got under my skin, and asshole that I am, I just went with it, pretended not to know what was happening, what I was risking, because she made me feel good.
For a few fucking stellar minutes, her light chased away all the shadows.
Until being with me snuffed out her light.
I’m suddenly on my feet and heading for the door. But Jax is still there.
“Out of my way,” I growl. I fucked this up big, and I’ve got to fix it.
He doesn’t move. “She’s gone.”
“Gone?” The word is out of my mouth before I even comprehend the thought, the manifestation of the blackness that haunts me, tortures me without relief.
“Disappeared.” Ethan hands me back the bottle. I want to slap it away. “No fucking clue beyond that.”
“No ransom note, if that’s any consolation,” Jax adds.
Consolation? I slowly set the bottle down on my desk. I’m past the agony now. No booze is going to dull the edges of this. “What are you saying?”
“So far as any of us know, she’s okay.” Ethan explains. “She was afraid for her life, and her child’s. She went back to her apartment, grabbed some shit and took off.”
Her child. Our child.
Because once the horror causes me to lose my grip on denial, I know Emme would never lie. She would never try to foist off a child on me that belonged to someone else.
I’m poison to her, and our unborn child.
“Does Mia—”
“Emme wouldn’t tell Mia where she was going.” Ethan reaches for the bottle this time. “She didn’t want Mia telling me and me telling you.”
“Makes sense,” Jax says matter-of-factly.
And it is matter of fact. So much fact that I want to punch my fist through his face.
I remember the way her expression collapsed when I shoved a check at her. Worried about myself, keeping my denial in place, not letting anything touch my rigid control.
I touched hers, though. I remember her beautiful face suddenly blank with shock, the freckles standing out against her pale skin, the way she flinched when I moved near her as if I would hurt her physically the way I hurt her mentally.
And still that wasn’t enough. I wanted to make sure I shoved her far, far beyond the boundaries of my influence, so I stuffed that check in her bra.
My every action was instinctual, designed to offend and place as much distance between us as possible. I got my fucking wish.
