Nowhere to Run

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “I mean, we should wait,” he said. “You know, make sure we’re right for each other, make sure it’s going to work out. You hear what I’m saying?”

  Emily’s eyes dropped, and he knew his words had hurt her. She wanted words of love, promises of forever and happily ever after, not down-to-earth real-life warnings and cautions. But this was real life. And real life only rarely worked out. Real life usually sucker punched you, then kicked you when you were down and out. Real life was full of flat tires and broken dreams and forgotten promises. Real life meant getting gunned down in the street by punks out for revenge. Real life was Bob, bleeding to death, gasping his last words of love to Molly, without a prayer of survival.

  Jim stood up, suddenly desperate for some fresh air.

  He pulled on a pair of shorts and went out into the living room, pushing aside the curtains to open the sliding glass door to the deck.

  The night air was humid, hot and thick. He closed the door behind him and sat down heavily on one of the lounge chairs, raking his still-wet hair back out of his face. Damn it, it was impossible to breathe, even out here.

  The door slid open, and Emily slipped out onto the deck. She’d put on a sleeveless white cotton nightgown that made her look both impossibly innocent and gut-wrenchingly sexy. He wanted her again, Jim realized. He’d just had the most intense sexual experience of his life and yet, already, he wanted more.

  He clenched his teeth and looked away from her, afraid to give himself away, afraid to let her see the power she had over him. Still, he heard her nightgown rustle softly as she sat down in the other chair. He felt her watching him.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.

  “Talk about what?” he asked huskily, not daring to meet her eyes.

  “Whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

  What was he supposed to say? I’m scared? Scared of what? He didn’t know. Scared of being too happy, a small voice said, taunting him. Scared of having something you don’t deserve, something you took away from Bob.

  Jim stood up suddenly, gripping the wooden rail of the deck. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to be on Delmore’s boat when he sails on Monday night.”

  “I can get us there—”

  “Me,” he said, turning to face her. “Not you. You’re done. I’m not letting you get within a hundred yards of Delmore again.”

  “Jim—”

  “No.” It came out too sharply, too harshly, and she flinched. But then she lifted her chin.

  “If you’re going to shout at me, we should go inside,” she said.

  “If you think that was shouting, you don’t know what shouting is.”

  “I’m not fragile,” Emily said evenly. “I do know what shouting is. Maybe you don’t know this, but I’ve had kids pull knives on me—”

  “Great. That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Jim, I can get us onto that yacht,” Emily said, leaning forward, as if maybe if she got close enough he’d start to understand.

  “And I’m not letting you do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not doesn’t matter,” he said tightly. “This time I’m not going to let you talk me into—”

  “You won’t even discuss it?”

  “There’s nothing to discuss here. I’ve made up my mind.”

  A spark of real anger lit Emily’s eyes. “Oh, you’ve made up your mind, have you? What about my mind? Or am I just supposed to bow to you?”

  “This time, yes.”

  “What about next time?” Her voice was deceptively calm, deceptively cool. But her eyes couldn’t hide her feelings.

  Jim pushed himself out of the chair. “Look, if you want to marry me, then you gotta get used to me protecting you.”

  He pushed open the glass door and went into the living room. Emily followed. She was no longer trying to hide the anger in her eyes, and she closed the door with a little too much force. “If I want to marry you—? You’re just going to say something like that and then walk away?”

  “The conversation is over,” Jim said. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I’m not going to let you do it.”

  “Right now I’m trying to determine the bounds of this relationship,” Emily said hotly. “I was under the impression that ‘love, honor and obey’ went out of style with…with…beehive hairdos. I thought our relationship was equal, that it was give-and-take. And by that I don’t mean you give the orders and I take them.”

  “No way in hell am I letting you risk your life,” he retorted. “And if you don’t like it…”

  He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

  “What?” she whispered, suddenly terribly afraid. “If I don’t like it, what then?”

  He was staring down at the floor, down at his bare feet. He wore only a pair of gray running shorts. They accentuated his tan and emphasized the long, muscular lengths of his legs. His hair was nearly dry now. It curled around his shoulders, thick and shiny and soft as silk. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. But when he finally looked up at her, his eyes were dull, almost lifeless, and pain was etched into the lines on his face.

  “This isn’t going to work,” he said quietly. “You know. You and me.”

  With sudden clarity, like illumination from a tremendous lightning bolt out of the darkness of a storm, Emily understood. This argument they were having wasn’t about whether or not Emily should risk putting herself in danger again to help catch Alex. Jim was an expert at subtly manipulating people. And it wouldn’t have taken too much manipulation to make her give in. All he’d really have had to say was “I love you, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Please, it’s extremely important to me that you stay away from Alex Delmore,” and she would have backed down. No, there was another reason he was arguing with her this way. There was another reason he’d picked a fight.

  He didn’t want to marry her. He was afraid.

  “Oh, God,” Emily said, as the realization hit her squarely in the stomach.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Em, I swear, I never meant to hurt you, but I can’t…I…have to figure this all out.”

  Emily could feel the tears brimming in her eyes, but she followed him as he picked up his duffel bag and backpack and crossed toward the door. “Whatever the problem is, we can work it out,” she said, and her voice shook with conviction. “You love me. I know you love me. And I love you.”

  “You shouldn’t,” he told her, his voice raspy. “I don’t deserve it.”

  He opened the door.

  “Jim, wait. Please. Talk to me.”

  He stopped and stood there, just outside her door, his head bowed.

  “I need some time to think,” he said, without turning around. His voice was so low Emily had to strain to hear his words. “I can’t think at all when I’m around you, Em.”

  Emily held on to the doorframe, clinging to the memory of the joy she’d seen in Jim’s eyes not more than an hour ago, when he made love to her. He hadn’t been thinking then—only feeling. It hadn’t been until later that the shadows and pain returned to cloud his view. It hadn’t been until later that he tried to deny that their love for each other was enough to let them work through any problem.

  But before she could tell him that, before she could beg him not to go, he had disappeared, fading into the darkness of the predawn.

  THE PHONE RANG.

  Emily leapt up from the couch, praying it was Jim. He’d only been gone a half hour—one long, endless half hour—but maybe he was calling to tell her he’d been wrong. Maybe he was calling to say that he did want to spend the rest of his life with her, that he did love her, that he was coming back, that everything was going to be okay.

  Who else could possibly be calling at four-thirty in the morning?

  “Jim?”

  “No, I’m sorry, Emily. It’s Felipe Salazar,” came Felipe’s familiar voice. He sounded different—tighter, strained, his words almost clipped. “Are you awake? Take a minute t
o wake up, okay?”

  Emily pushed her hair out of her face. “I’m awake,” she said. “I was awake before you called. Is something wrong?”

  Fear flickered in the pit of her stomach. Jim had only been gone thirty minutes. There wasn’t possibly enough time for something bad to have happened to him. Was there?

  “Yes,” Felipe said. “I’m at the hospital—”

  “No,” Emily said, the fear freezing her in place. “Not Jim—”

  “Diego is fine,” Felipe said, and relief washed over her, making her legs weak. She carried the phone over and sat down on the couch. “It’s…” He cleared his throat. “It’s Jewel. She is here in surgery. They don’t know, uh…” He cleared his throat again. “They don’t know if she will…survive.”

  The relief was gone, replaced by new horror. “Oh, God,” Emily said. “Felipe, how? What happened?”

  “She was hit by a car—” His voice broke. “She was walking out on the exit ramp of the highway. She was higher than a kite. The doctor told me there are traces of both crack and LSD in her blood.”

  “Oh, no,” Emily breathed. “Oh, Jewel. I thought she was doing so well. What happened?”

  “I happened,” Felipe said harshly. “I let her down. She needed me, and, damn it, I wasn’t there for her.”

  He was silent then, but Emily knew from the sound of his ragged breathing how upset he was.

  “Felipe, she’s an addict,” she said. “You know you can’t hold yourself responsible.”

  “No,” he said, interrupting her. “You don’t understand.”

  “Where are you?” Emily asked. “I’m coming over.”

  FELIPE SALAZAR looked a wreck. His suit was creased and rumpled. His tie was long gone, and his usually pristine white shirt was wrinkled and partially unbuttoned. His gleaming black hair, usually neatly combed with not a lock out of place, was a wild jumble of curls.

  He was sitting in the hospital waiting room, slumped over, elbows resting on his knees, head down, with his hands locked together on the back of his neck.

  At the soft sound of Emily’s sneakers on the tile floor, he looked up. His eyes were red and his face was tired, but he forced a smile and rose to his feet.

  “Thanks for coming down here,” he said.

  Emily put her arms around him. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Felipe pulled back. “You can help me pray,” he said. “Man, I haven’t prayed this hard since I was eight years old and my little brother had appendicitis.” He shook his head. “It was the middle of the night, we were forty miles from the hospital, in the middle of nowhere, and my father’s car broke down.”

  “What happened?” Emily asked softly.

  “I prayed with all my heart for a miracle,” he said. “Then a car came by, and the people stopped. They were college kids—hippies, you know, with long hair and headbands and everything. They’d gotten lost. They were looking for the highway. I remember they were happy to drive us to the hospital—one of them kept saying that their getting lost was a really groovy coincidence.” He laughed softly. “But I knew it was no coincidence. It was my miracle. God had answered my prayers.” He shook his head, and tears sprang into his eyes as he looked at Emily. “It has been at least fifteen years. Do you think I have a chance for another miracle today?”

  Emily nodded, squeezing Felipe’s hands, unable to speak.

  “Phil, I got here as soon as I heard.”

  Jim.

  Emily turned around to see Jim standing behind her. He met her eyes only very briefly before he returned his attention to his friend. She might as well have been a stranger or a mere acquaintance, for all the warmth—or lack of it—in his gaze. Could this possibly be the same man who had made love to her so passionately just a short time ago? Her stomach hurt, and she tried to convince herself that it was the gravity of the situation that was making him seem so cold. As soon as she had a chance to talk to him, she’d convince him that whatever problems he had could be worked out….

  “What happened?” he asked Felipe.

  “Jewel’s aunt and uncle tracked her down, man,” Felipe said. “They came to the shelter, insisted she was a runaway, proved she was underage. Did you know she was only seventeen?” he asked Emily.

  Emily nodded her head. She hadn’t realized that Felipe didn’t know how young Jewel was.

  “The aunt and uncle said that they were Billy’s legal guardians, too,” Felipe said. “They demanded she and Billy be returned to them. They told Jewel if she made a fuss, Billy would get taken away by the state.”

  He took several steps back, and sat down tiredly on the hard plastic bench. “She called me, Diego,” he said, looking up at Jim. “She called me, man, yesterday, asking me to come to the shelter, telling me she needed me. I was home. I heard the answering machine take her message, but I didn’t pick up. I didn’t take the call, because I’ve been trying to keep my distance, you know? I’ve been staying away. I don’t go and visit her every day like before. I figured that way it can’t get out of hand. But she calls me all the time. I thought this was just another one of those calls. I thought she was trying to be dramatic, trying to get my attention. So I ignored her. Madre de Dios, she was in trouble, and I ignored her.”

  Jim didn’t hesitate. He sat down next to Felipe and touched his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known,” he said softly. “Phil, you can’t blame yourself for doing something you thought was best.”

  “She called me, too,” Emily said, sitting down on Felipe’s other side. “She left a message on my answering machine. I didn’t call her back in time, either.”

  Felipe straightened up, trying hard to compose himself. Jim left his hand on his friend’s shoulder, unembarrassed about offering what little warmth and comfort he could.

  “How’d she get the drugs?” Jim asked.

  “Her uncle made her take them,” Felipe said. “He threatened Billy and forced her to shoot up. He wanted her hooked again, and back under his control.” His face hardened, and his eyes glinted with a hatred so strong that Emily was taken aback. He turned to Jim. “Diego, I need you to help me, man. I need you to find that bastard and bring him in. So help me God, if I have to do it, I am afraid I will kill him. Please don’t let me do that.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Consider Hank Abbott already behind bars,” Jim said, with a certainty in his voice that made Felipe relax slightly. “Where’s Billy now?”

  “With my mother,” Felipe said. “I talked to Jewel before they took her into surgery. She was really out of it, but she was crazy with worry about Billy. She told me where he was hiding and asked me to get to him, to make sure he was safe—” His voice broke again. “She was bleeding internally, man, and her hip is fractured, both legs are broken, but all she could think about was her little boy.” He closed his eyes. “God, please, give me another miracle. Give Jewel another chance—No, I was the one who let her down. Give me another chance. I know I don’t deserve it….”

  “You deserve it, Phil,” Jim said softly. “You do deserve another chance, do you hear me? Everything’s going to work out. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Emily looked up through the tears that were gathering in her eyes to find Jim watching her. But the instant their eyes met, he turned away and stood up.

  “I’ll call you from the station after I nail Uncle Hank,” Jim told Felipe.

  Felipe nodded. “Thanks, Diego.”

  “Be careful, Jim,” Emily said.

  He actually looked surprised at her words. How could he be surprised that she wanted him to take care? How could he not know that his safety was of the utmost importance to her?

  He moved down the hall, and she stood up quickly, following him. “Jim, wait.”

  He stopped, turning slowly to face her.

  “I love you,” she said. “Will you come over later, so that we can talk?”

  He jammed his hands into his pockets and looked down at the tile floor. “N
othing’s changed, Em,” he said softly.

  “It can’t hurt to talk,” she said desperately.

  He looked up at her then, his eyes dark with misery. “Yes, it can,” he said. “It hurts like hell.”

  “Please—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He turned and walked away. Emily watched him go, too numb to move.

  Everything’s going to work out. You deserve another chance.

  Deserve another chance.

  I love you, Emily had told Jim before he walked out the door of her apartment.

  You shouldn’t, he’d said, his voice thick with emotion. I don’t deserve it.

  He didn’t deserve her love. But why not?

  Bob. It had to have something to do with Jim’s brother, Bob.

  He still felt responsible for Bob’s death—so much so that he was determined to deny himself the chance to be happy. In a moment of weakness, he’d let his true hopes and desires come through, and he’d asked her to marry him. But long ago he’d painted himself into a guilt-ridden emotional corner, and he was trapped there, unable to break free. He couldn’t marry her, because he didn’t think he deserved more than the miserable, lonely life he’d purposely made for himself.

  God, it was all so clear now.

  Jim didn’t think he deserved a chance to be happy, and Emily knew with stomach-wrenching certainty that talk alone wouldn’t be enough to convince him that he was wrong. And if she couldn’t convince him of that, everything was not going to work out.

  At least not for her and Jim.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE TELEPHONE was ringing when Emily opened the door to her apartment. But once again it wasn’t Jim on the other end. It was Alex Delmore.