Nowhere to Run

by Suzanne Brockmann

  It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but he answered it anyway. “I thought I did,” he said. “But I guess I didn’t really know how tough you could be.”

  Jim had always thought of her as someone fragile, someone to be protected from the harshness and unfairness of life. But here she was, taking a stand for something she believed in. For Emily, there was no gray to the black-and-white issue of drug trafficking. She believed that it was wrong, and that it had to be stopped. End of discussion. The fact that the leading suspect in the case was her almost-fiancé made no difference to the overall picture.

  “I hate drugs,” she said, her words somehow more emphatic for the lack of emotion in her voice. “I hate crack. It kills my kids. Or, worse, it turns them into animals.”

  “Your kids?” Jim said.

  “My students,” Emily said. “For every kid like Jewel who makes it into rehab, there are plenty of others who don’t. They wind up on the street. They steal or turn tricks to support their habits. If they don’t end up in jail, they usually end up dead.” Her voice shook slightly, and she stopped and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, she was back in absolute control. “You’re a cop. You know the story.”

  “Yeah,” Jim said. “I do.”

  “If Alex Delmore is bringing drugs into the country,” she said, “then he’s made a fortune from other people’s misery.” She disappeared down the hall. “And I’m going to make damn sure he goes to jail.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “THEY ARE SITTING at a table with four other couples,” Felipe Salazar’s voice reported over the telephone. “Everything is—”

  Jim interrupted him. “What about Emily?”

  He was pacing the length of the living room, carrying the phone with him as he impatiently walked back and forth, back and forth.

  “Emily looks enchanting,” his partner told him from the telephone at the country club’s bar. “She is wearing a very…beautiful dress…”

  “I know how she looks,” Jim said, fuming. God, he couldn’t believe how Emily looked in that blue dress. He’d known that she had gorgeous legs, but in that short, sexy dress, with black high heels, her shapely legs looked five miles long. And the way that dress clung to her slender curves should be illegal. She was wearing her hair up, off her smooth, bare shoulders, in some kind of elegant twist thing that emphasized her long, graceful neck.

  In that dress, with her sweet girl-next-door face, Emily was an incredible combination of fresh innocence and pure, unadulterated sex. It was mind-blowing. When she first walked out into the living room, Jim’s blood had run hot—and then cold, as he remembered she was going out to spend the evening with Alex Delmore.

  So far, nothing about this evening had gone right.

  Delmore’s limo had arrived nearly twenty minutes early—without Delmore. The millionaire had been tied up at the office, and would meet Emily at the country club, or so the limo driver had informed them. So much for their plan to introduce Delmore to Emily’s brother Dan. And so much for Jim’s chance to finagle an invitation onto Delmore’s yacht.

  But worst of all was the fact that, with Delmore’s limo driver standing sentinel in the living room while Emily put the finishing touches on her makeup, Jim hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her, to make sure she was okay, to make sure that she hadn’t suddenly gotten cold feet. He hadn’t had the chance to give her any advice, any warnings—or any reassurances.

  Then she had come walking out of the bathroom, wearing that amazing blue dress with her amazingly long legs, and Jim’s heart had nearly stopped beating. But he’d barely had enough time to focus his eyes before she was gone.

  After an hour and a half of pacing the floor, he’d given in, called the country club and paged Salazar.

  “Emily is eating the veal Oscar,” Salazar told him. “It’s very tasty. I was eating it myself, before I was called away to the telephone—”

  “Phil.”

  “Diego. She is fine. I am here—”

  “And I’m not,” Jim muttered.

  “You care for this girl more than just a little, don’t you, man?” his partner asked.

  Jim evaded the question. “Nothing’s gone right tonight, Felipe. Make sure Emily knows where you are at all times, in case she needs assistance. God knows what else will go wrong.”

  “She knows where I am,” Salazar told him. “She is doing fine. She’s quite good at pretending that she is enjoying herself.”

  “And Delmore?” Jim asked.

  Salazar laughed. “Mr. Delmore does not have to pretend that he is enjoying himself. Ah, I see them now, out on the dance floor. You tell me—what man wouldn’t be pleased to hold a woman as beautiful as Emily Marshall in his arms?”

  Jim briefly closed his eyes, trying to banish the sudden, vivid picture of Emily dancing with Delmore’s arms around her, swaying in time to some old romantic song. “Damn,” he said.

  “Excuse me?” Salazar said.

  “Stay accessible,” Jim ordered him. “And call me when they leave.”

  EMILY MADE HER WAY SLOWLY to the ladies’ room, taking her time and stopping to chat with a group of Alex’s friends who greeted her. In between the small talk, she glanced toward the bar, where she’d last spotted Detective Salazar, hoping that he was still there. She was in luck—he was. And he was watching her. She caught his eye, hoping he would be able to read her mind. She needed to talk to him. To her relief, he nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  She went out into the lobby where the ladies’ room was located, to find that it wasn’t deserted as she had hoped. Instead, groups of men and women were standing and talking, away from the noise of the dance band. Emily hesitated, unsure of what to do. A soft touch on her arm made her spin around.

  “I’m sorry,” Felipe Salazar said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Emily stared at him. Were they simply going to stand here, in full view of everyone, and carry on a conversation, as if nothing were wrong?

  “Ms. Marshall, is it not?” the detective said, and suddenly she understood.

  “Yes,” she said. Of course they could stand here and talk. As long as they appeared to be making party chatter, talking here, out in the open, would look far less suspicious than whispering together in some dark, secluded corner.

  “Felipe Salazar,” he said, holding out his hand to her and smiling charmingly. “We have a mutual friend, remember? A Ms. Hays.”

  “Yes, of course,” Emily said. “How is Jewel?”

  “She is doing as well as can be expected,” he replied, then lowered his voice. “There was space for her and Billy in one of the mothers-and-toddlers dorms. I had her put on a waiting list for a semiprivate room. She was very frightened when I left. I’ll go back tomorrow to see how she’s doing.”

  “Don’t go out of your way,” Emily said. “She’s a tough kid. She’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not out of my way,” he said.

  “Be careful that she doesn’t get too dependent on you,” she warned him.

  “Better to be dependent on me than on crack,” he said with a shrug. He lowered his voice even further. “Was there something you wished to tell me? And don’t look so serious. This is a party. You’re supposed to be having fun.”

  Emily smiled at him brightly. “Right. Fun. Alex has to leave. He says it’s business, but it seems odd to me. It’s a little bit late at night for regular, legitimate business, don’t you think?”

  Felipe glanced at his watch. It was nearly ten-thirty.

  “His driver is going to take me home,” she said. “But I wanted to tell you, in case you wanted to follow Alex, see what he’s up to.”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  “I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” Emily said, as if she were ending just another casual party conversation. “Take care.”

  “I will,” Felipe said. “And say hello to your brother for me.”

  Her pretend brother. Jim. Who was waiting at home for her. Who had looked at her as if he w
anted to devour her whole as she nearly ran out the door tonight…

  Could this night get any worse?

  EMILY HEARD CARLY’S familiar husky laughter as she opened her apartment door.

  Jim was sitting in the rocking chair, his feet still bare and his shirttail untucked from his shorts. He looked up at Emily with real surprise in his eyes. “Hey!” he said. “What are you doing back so early?”

  “Wow!” Carly said from where she was sitting cross-legged on the couch. “My dress looks great on you.”

  “Alex had to cut our date short,” Emily said, closing the door behind her. As she crossed toward the kitchen and put her purse on the little dining table, she could feel Jim’s eyes on her. “He had his driver bring me home. Apparently he had some unscheduled business to attend to.”

  She turned toward Jim, to emphasize her words with a silent message, but his eyes weren’t on her face. They were traveling slowly up her legs, then up her body. Finally he met her eyes and smiled. Emily felt herself flush. The nerve of the man! He was practically propositioning her with his eyes, yet not even five minutes ago he’d been getting cozy with Carly.

  “Poor baby,” Carly was saying. “So you didn’t even get properly kissed good-night.”

  Jim was still watching her, and Emily felt his gaze intensify. She pointedly turned her back on him and looked into the oval mirror that was on the wall beside the front door. “I’ll live,” she said. She began unfastening the clips that held her hair in place.

  Actually, she’d been relieved when Alex didn’t give her more than a cursory peck on the cheek as he said goodbye. She’d been dreading the moment all evening long. It had been hard enough to dance with him, to have him hold her as close as he had.

  Emily tossed her hair clips on the table next to her purse and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “So,” she said to Carly, “I go out for only a few hours, and when I get back I find you hitting on my brother.” Her tone was light, teasing, but inside she was feeling oddly off balance. The thought of Jim and Carly together was disturbing. She glanced at Jim. “Or were you hitting on Carly?”

  “Oh, I wish,” Carly said, with a flirtatious smile at Jim. “No, I was working late, and got home about a half hour ago. I saw the light on, so I came over. Dan was telling me about how he used to chase you around the house, making monster faces at you, when you were kids. You know, I had an older sister, and I remember that she used to…”

  Emily sank down next to Carly on the couch and put her head back. Brother, she was exhausted. And…relieved? Oh, shoot, was it possible that she was actually relieved that Jim hadn’t invited Carly over here, that he hadn’t been hanging out with her all evening long?

  Jim met her eyes and smiled, and Emily realized that she’d been staring at him. She quickly looked away, hoping that he hadn’t somehow managed to read her mind. Lord, if he got the idea that she still found him desirable, he would be all over her. Relentlessly. She closed her eyes, trying to banish the unbidden memory of Jim holding her on the beach.

  “…she was awful,” Carly was saying. “No redeeming qualities. Her one goal in life was to torture me. Was Dan like that, Em?”

  Carly was talking to her. Emily opened her eyes. “Dan?” she said foggily. Dan who?

  “I wasn’t awful all the time.” Jim jumped in and saved the day before she blew his cover. “I tried to take care of her—she was so little. Big brothers are supposed to do that, right? They protect you, keep you out of trouble, make sure you fly straight. They’re always there for you, you know?”

  Something about Jim’s voice caught Emily’s attention. He wasn’t just making things up in order to keep Carly believing he was Emily’s older brother. He was speaking from experience. But it sounded like it was the experience of a younger brother who had had an older brother to look up to and admire.

  That was odd. Emily knew that Jim had several older sisters, but the only brother he’d ever mentioned was much younger than he was. She would’ve remembered him talking about a big brother, wouldn’t she?

  “Look, Carly,” Jim said, standing up, “Emily looks beat, and—”

  “We should let her go to sleep,” Carly said, also getting to her feet. “So…do you want to come over to my place?”

  Jim looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected Carly to issue such an invitation. And then he actually looked flustered. “Ah…” he said. “No. Thank you,” he added quickly, “but…I don’t think that would be a good idea. You see, I’m—”

  “No need to explain,” Carly said good-naturedly, handling the obvious rejection like a pro. “It was just a thought.”

  “I’m involved with someone,” he said. “It’s pretty serious.”

  “You are?” The words were out of Emily’s mouth before she could stop them.

  Carly laughed. “Uh-oh,” she said, opening the door. “I think you just woke your sister up. Gee, maybe you two can have a double wedding, save your parents some bucks. See y’all tomorrow.”

  Emily could feel Jim watching her as he closed the door behind Carly.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, bending to pick her shoes up off the floor. “Whether or not you’re involved with someone isn’t my business.”

  “I’m involved with someone the same way you’re involved with Delmore,” Jim said quietly.

  Emily looked up at him, not understanding.

  He sat down next to her on the couch. “It’s fictional, Em,” he said. “See, I don’t need Carly hanging around all the time, getting in the way of this investigation. So it’s easier to tell her I’m involved. You hear what I’m saying?”

  Emily nodded, looking down at the shoes she held on her lap.

  She looked so tired, and so damned fragile. Jim wanted to touch her. He wanted to hold her close and—

  “Tell me more about this unscheduled business of Delmore’s,” he said.

  “He got a phone call,” Emily said. “At about ten-fifteen. When he came back to the table, he apologized and said he had to leave, that some important business deal was finally going to go through.” She glanced up at Jim. “I managed to tell Felipe, and he followed Alex.”

  “That’s why Phil didn’t call me when you left the country club,” Jim said.

  “Oh, no!” Emily said, sitting up straight.

  “What?”

  “I just realized…” She turned to Jim, her eyes wide with dismay. “Alex left so quickly, he didn’t…we didn’t make another date. As it stands now, I have no plans to see him again. What if he doesn’t call me?”

  Jim had to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He was grinning with genuine amusement, his eyes sparkling and dancing with humor as he looked at her. “Trust me, Em,” he said. “The guy is gonna call you.”

  “There’s no way you can know that for sure,” Emily argued.

  Jim scratched his head, still smiling at her. “I’m as sure of this as I’m sure the sun’s going to rise in the morning. Delmore will call.”

  “Suddenly you’re a psychic?”

  “No, just a man.”

  She still didn’t understand.

  “Come here,” Jim said, standing up. She didn’t move to follow him, so he reached down and took her hand and pulled her up off the couch.

  “What are you doing?” Emily halfheartedly tried to pull her hand free, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “I want to show you something,” he said, leading her down the hall.

  Emily’s bedroom was dimly lit by the streetlight that shone in through the open blinds. Jim tugged her gently into the room and pushed the door closed.

  Her heart was pounding. What was he doing? What was he—?

  He stood behind her, held her gently by the shoulders and pointed her toward the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. “Look,” he commanded.

  He was standing so close behind her that she could feel his body heat. His grip on her shoulders tightened slightly as she met his eyes in
the mirror.

  “Look at yourself,” he said.

  Emily looked. She saw…herself. Sure, the dress was fancy, and its style flattered her trim body in a way that could be called sexy, but underneath it all she was still Emily. True, she rarely showed other people the side of her personality that liked wearing little blue sequined dresses, but it was part of her just the same.

  Her legs were long and in good shape. In fact, her entire body was well toned. Her face—It was the same face she’d had all her life. It was pretty enough, she supposed. At least, taken all together, her features seemed to fit in the space provided for them. Separately, her nose was a little too big and slightly crooked, her mouth was a touch too wide, her chin a little too pointed.

  She looked closer. She should have looked tired—jeez, she had been exhausted just a minute ago—but she couldn’t see even a hint of fatigue in her eyes. No, they were bright with an odd mix of wariness, fear…and anticipation.

  “Look at how beautiful you are,” Jim murmured, and Emily looked up at him. “And that’s just the wrapping on the package. There’s no man on earth who wouldn’t call you for another date.”

  He ran his rough fingers down the lengths of her arms, lightly caressing her bare skin, as Emily stared at him, frozen in place. In the mirror, his lean face looked mysterious, almost frighteningly intense. He’d long since stopped smiling, and his deep blue eyes glittered colorlessly in the darkness with unconcealed desire.

  But then his eyes met hers.

  Jim pulled his hands away and took a rapid step back, putting some space between them. She was still staring at him, and he knew from her expression that everything he’d been feeling and thinking had been clearly written on his face. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  He ran one shaking hand through his hair. Damn! What was he doing? Another minute and he might have started undressing her. God knows he wanted to. He couldn’t remember when he’d last wanted a woman this badly—

  Yes, he could. Seven years ago. Then, too, the woman he’d wanted so desperately had been Emily. He’d wanted her enough to throw away all his good intentions. He’d actually gone and made love to her, despite his resolve to stay away from her.