Don't Walk Away

by Elle Kennedy

  Unease turned to worry. “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. Her assistant, I think. Or someone from New York. She didn’t give me a chance to ask too many questions. She just shouted The sky is falling! then said she had to go.” Another pause. “Well, she didn’t actually say the sky-is-falling part, but it was implied. And her side of the conversation I overheard involved words like arrested and fucking jerk and a lot of oh my Gods.”

  Lorenzo.

  Dean’s chest tightened as he instantly deduced the source of Emma’s latest emergency. What the hell had that Italian idiot done now?

  Then he froze, as something else registered. “She left. Did she head back to the hotel?” Oh fuck. She wouldn’t leave town without calling him, would she? But if Lorenzo had been arrested…

  “That’s all she—”

  “I have to go,” he interrupted. “Thanks for the heads-up, Jonesy.”

  He jammed the disconnect button and quickly brought up Emma’s number, his nerves rising as he listened to the dial tone. Only one ring, and then her phone switched over to voice mail.

  “Hi, you’ve reached Emma Lee. Leave a message.”

  Shit.

  He pressed redial, praying that something might have changed in the three seconds since the first call, but no luck. Then he shot off a quick text and stared at the screen, willing words to appear. They didn’t.

  Okay. No need to freak out yet. If he left now, he could still catch her at the hotel even if she had decided to head to the airport. Though if it were up to Dean, he’d advise her to let that son of a bitch Lorenzo rot in jail.

  Curiosity got the best of him as he hurried out of his office, and he quickly launched the Internet browser on his phone as he headed outside to the parking lot behind the DreamMakers building. New York was three hours ahead, so chances were, Lorenzo’s antics might have already made the news there, if they were serious enough.

  And….yup. It was serious enough.

  He shook his head in disbelief after he clicked on the “fashion” icon on the lifestyles page. The first article on the list featured a truly unfortunate mug shot of none other than Lorenzo Fuoco.

  Lorenzo’s picture had been on the Fire and Ice website, but this shot in no way resembled the suave, dark-haired man from the glamour pose Dean had seen. It was even worse than one of those ambush celebrity shots, the no-make-up, wild-hair photographs the paparazzi liked to snap of people stumbling out of nightclubs at four a.m. Lorenzo’s eyes were bloodshot, his skin pasty, and his hair a tangled mess, and the insolent smirk on his face made Dean’s blood boil. Even in a police mug shot, the asshole looked like…well, an asshole.

  He skimmed the article, realizing exactly why Emma had been so upset. Lorenzo had been hauled in by the NYPD for driving under the influence. He had been twice over the legal drinking limit, coked-up out of his mind, and he’d assaulted the arresting officer.

  Fuck. What was the matter with people?

  Cursing in disgust, Dean tried calling Emma again, got her voice mail, and then started the car. Screw this. He wasn’t letting her go to New York—and not because he was acting on some selfish urge to keep her with him. This was for her. She didn’t deserve the stress and anxiety Lorenzo caused her. And she certainly didn’t deserve to be stuck in a business relationship with a man who was determined to destroy that business with cocaine and whiskey. A man who Dean now knew had been taking advantage of her since day one.

  Fifteen minutes later, he killed the engine in front of Emma’s hotel and dove into the lobby, his boots thudding against the gleaming marble floor. He’d visited her suite enough times he already knew all the desk clerks by name, and he gave a quick wave to the man on duty as he sprinted toward the elevator.

  “You just missed her!” Frank’s cheerful voice called from behind the counter.

  Dean halted in midstep, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach. “Emma?” he said, then felt stupid for asking, because who the hell else was the man talking about?

  “She left about five minutes ago,” the clerk confirmed with a nod.

  Dean strode over, hoping the panic in his eyes didn’t show. “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, but she had a suitcase with her. She hopped into one of the cabs at the taxi stand outside.”

  “But she didn’t check out, right?”

  Frank shook his head. “She still has the suite until the New Year. Looked to me like she was taking a short trip, and she didn’t say anything about not coming back.”

  Relief swamped Dean’s gut. Okay. That was promising, at least. Emma was probably catching a flight to New York to deal with this latest Lorenzo crap, and then she’d come back.

  But…fuck, what if she didn’t come back? What if Lorenzo’s arrest required she stay in New York? For work, or to hold the idiot’s hand during his trial, or…

  Dean breathed through his nose, willing his panic away. No. He wasn’t going to be separated from her again, not after last night. Not after she’d said she loved him, and slept in his arms, and told him she wanted to try again.

  Said that she was his girl.

  “Thanks, Frank. I’ll give her a call and see where she’s at.” But when he drew his phone from his pocket on the way to the entrance, it wasn’t Emma’s number he dialed.

  “Parker,” he barked when his friend picked up. “I need time off.”

  The other man sounded confused. “Where are you? And since when?”

  “Since right now.” He set his jaw. “I’m flying to New York.”

  Silence.

  And then, “Um, okay. How long will you be gone?”

  “I don’t know.” Dean exhaled another breath. “Maybe a day. Maybe a week. Maybe indefinitely.”

  “Are you se—?”

  He disconnected before Parker could finish his shocked sentence, tucking the phone in his pocket as he raced out to his car. If he hurried, he might catch Emma at the airport. He might even be able to convince her to stay. And if he failed, then he’d board that plane with her and hold her hand all the way to New York.

  He’d walked away from Emma Lee once, he’d be damned if he’d do it again.

  Emma stared out the window with an amazing sense of calm as the shops flitted past, one by one. She was so Zen-like that when she caught herself whistling along to the music on the radio it only made her smile.

  What a day, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

  She’d woken up in Dean’s arms, protected and loved, and it had felt oh-so right to have him there. Even the fact that she’d had a breakfast date and he had to run home before he hit the office hadn’t disturbed the blissful state of her soul.

  And maybe the morning sex had contributed a little to the smile on her face.

  Yup, when eventually he’d kissed her goodbye and slipped out the door just like they were a real couple, she’d grinned her way through the phone calls she needed to make, then damn near skipped all the way to her breakfast meeting with Suz.

  Maybe because everything had been going so well, chaos descending in the form of out-of-control Lorenzo hadn’t shocked her one bit.

  Last night she’d made a commitment to Dean, and she intended to keep it. She was willing to do whatever it took to move forward, and if that meant shaking things up here and now, she was ready to rock ’n roll.

  “Where do you want me to drop you?” the cabbie asked.

  Emma spotted her goal only a few doors down. “Right here is good.”

  She stepped onto the sidewalk and waited for him to bring out her suitcase. Then she took a deep breath and marched through the front doors of the DreamMakers office.

  The blonde receptionist standing in the hallway glanced over her shoulder, her welcoming smile vanishing to be replaced with a sudden shriek.

  “Holy shit, what are you doing here?” The instant the words escaped, the woman slapped her hands over her mouth.

  “Didi? Did I just hear you—?” A sandy-haired man stuck his head out of a ne
arby office, frowning when he spotted Emma. “Is everything all right? Didi, why are you scaring this poor woman?”

  The receptionist walked to the side of the room, sighing heavily as she dropped a coin through the lid of a large pickle jar. “I can’t believe I did that.” She gave the man a dirty look. “You boys are a bad influence. And I’m not scaring anyone, Parker. This is Emma.”

  Emma blinked in confusion, wondering how the woman knew who she was when Emma had never seen her before in her life.

  “I looked you up when you and Dean started seeing each other,” the blonde explained when she caught Emma’s expression. “I had to make sure you weren’t trying to take advantage of one of my boys.”

  Her bewilderment got worse. “Um…” She pulled her suitcase to the side, glancing hopefully down the hallway for a glimpse of Dean coming to rescue her.

  Thankfully Parker stepped forward and took control of the situation. “You’re Emma?”

  She nodded. “Is Dean here?”

  “What the hell is going on out here?” Another one of Dean’s partners—Jack, Emma deduced—popped into the front room.

  “Jack, this is Emma,” Parker told the other man. “As in, Dean’s Emma.”

  Jack’s jaw hung open as he glanced between Emma and Parker. “I don’t get it. I thought you said Dean went to New York. Why is he there when she’s here?”

  What?

  “Dean’s gone to New York? Why would he do that?” Emma took a deep breath, refusing to jump to any conclusions, yet it was all too clear she didn’t have to take too hard of a leap. “Oh crap. He thinks I’m going to New York, doesn’t he?”

  Jack shrugged. “He didn’t share his plans with us, but that’s the best we can guess.”

  “But I don’t want to go to New York. I don’t need to go to New York.” What she did need to do was track down her boyfriend.

  She fished her phone out of her purse and hurriedly dialed Dean’s number, but it switched over to voice mail after only one ring.

  “Damn it. Can one of you take me to the airport?” she asked the men. “There’s been a misunderstanding, and I have to talk to him as soon as possible.”

  Dean’s partners proved that their time in the military had not been forgotten—they were still able to follow orders like pros. She was ushered out of the office and into a vehicle before she had time to add please. In spite of her worries that they were going to miss Dean, she found herself chuckling in amusement as Jack worked it from behind the wheel while Parker called out maneuvers to get them through traffic and to the airport faster than Emma thought possible.

  While they were playing Fast and Furious, she tried calling Dean again, but he still wasn’t answering his phone. But there were several missed calls from him on her phone, and she cursed herself for putting her cell on silent. It had been ringing off the hook after the news of Enzo’s arrest had broken, but if she’d just remembered to turn the ringer back on, she wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

  “Don’t worry,” Parker assured her when she mentioned Dean’s radio silence. “There are some dead zones in the airport. We’ll track him down.”

  Jack interrupted, disconnecting the headset he’d been using. “Didi gave me the lowdown on the next five flights leaving for New York. I’ll drop you near the most likely check-in.”

  He pulled up to the curb, and Parker was out before the vehicle stopped rolling. Emma found herself being whisked along at high speeds as they looked for the American counter.

  “What if he’s already through security?” she asked worriedly.

  Parker answered with a grin, pointing down the long foyer. “What if he’s not?”

  Emma turned her attention to the long, snaking line leading into security as a piercing whistle rang from beside her. Everyone in the lineup, plus some spare guards at a nearby check-in desk, all turned in their direction. Everyone, including the most devastatingly handsome man with a pair of dark gray eyes that locked on hers. His shock of dark hair stood in a tangled mess as if he’d just finished dragging his fingers through it.

  An instant later Dean had ducked under the guidance rope and was sprinting toward them, closing the distance in seconds. Parker stepped aside far enough that Dean swept in, picking Emma up and twirling them both in a circle as she clung to him.

  His face was buried against her neck, his hands gripping her tightly. “God, Em. What the hell are you doing here?”

  She patted his head, grinning over his shoulder at Parker, who seemed to think the entire situation was extremely entertaining.

  She couldn’t resist teasing. “What’s wrong, baby?” she whispered. “Why are you running away from me?”

  He pulled back, gaping down at her. “Never. I would never run away…” His words faded as he searched her face. “Are you pulling my leg?”

  “Of course not,” she insisted, unable to keep her smile from escaping. “Well, maybe a little. Do you have a hot date in New York or something?”

  Dean shook his head. “I thought… Damn it, I thought you were leaving.”

  A sense of profound satisfaction deepened her smile. “There’s no reason for me to go to New York. I have everything I need. Right. Here.” She tapped her fingers on his chest and leaned against him, tilting her head back to let him see the sincerity in her words.

  “But Fire and Ice—”

  “—doesn’t exist anymore,” she finished happily. “Well, at least it won’t exist once all the paperwork is done. I called my lawyers this morning after you left. I’d already decided you were right. I need to make a fresh start, and this is where I choose to do it. Here in San Francisco, with you.”

  His jaw fell open. “You made the decision before you found out about Lorenzo?”

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded. “Someone asked me to be his girl. How am I supposed to keep you out of trouble if I’m living all the way on the other side of the country?”

  “So this has nothing to do with Lorenzo getting arrested?”

  For one brief second, her stomach churned, but then she leaned harder against Dean, taking strength from his solid presence. “Nothing to do with him at all. He got himself into that mess, and he can get himself out. It’s none of my concern.”

  All sorts of emotions flitted across Dean’s face—the two strongest were delight followed by confusion. “Suz told me you were in a panic. I went to the hotel and Frank told me you left in a taxi. With a suitcase.”

  Now she understood how he’d gotten mixed up. She wound her arms around his body, offering her most enticing smile. “I wanted to see if my boyfriend was okay with me moving in with him. I didn’t think I should show up with all my luggage—thought that might scare you.”

  Suddenly she was being whirled through the air again, her feet far from the floor as Dean held her tight and spun, laughter pouring from him. He finally put her on the ground, one arm coming around her to hold them together as he flashed the most dangerous of grins.

  “You can take over all my closets and leave your girly stuff all over the sink in the bathroom.” He lowered his voice, intimate, just for her. “You already own my heart, and there’s no one else I want in my bed.”

  Anticipation and sheer joy rippled through her. “So does this mean you’re not going to New York?”

  He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Only to help you move.”

  She caught him around the back of the neck and tugged until he came close enough that she could kiss him for real. A completely carefree and uninhibited demonstration of how much she cared. How much he meant to her.

  They could have gotten lost there for a lot longer if it hadn’t been for Parker clearing his throat. “We seem to be drawing some attention,” he pointed out. “So if no one’s going to New York right now, I suggest we take this discussion somewhere more private.”

  Emma bit back a squeak of protest as Dean swept her off her feet again, this time cradling her in his arms. “Are you crazy? Put me down,” she demanded with a laugh.

 
; He shook his head as he marched toward the exit doors at Parker’s side. “Nothing doing. I’m not letting you go until I know for sure you can’t get away.”

  Emma curled her fingers tighter around the back of his neck, contentment sweeping over her at his sweet and yet protective gesture. She rested her head on his chest and sighed happily, ignoring the questioning glances of the strangers Dean marched past. She didn’t even care that people were staring—she was safe. She was with him.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here in San Francisco,” she said softly.

  Everything, and everyone.

  Gillian

  She took a deep breath and relaxed her grip. Eyeing along the barrel as she calmed herself to the point of absolute stillness.

  A gentle squeeze and the shot rang out, and a cheer rose from the guys lined up in their cubicles at the shooting gallery. All of them were ignoring their own targets and gawking at hers. Gillian felt herself smile with satisfaction—it was the kind of response she’d grown to expect when she showed up. She had a mirror, she knew she wasn’t bad looking, and a woman with curves who liked to shoot?

  Most of the guys were plotting right now how to get into her pants.

  She had other agendas. Her grin must have been downright savage, but she didn’t care. Not when, with deadly accuracy, she squeezed off another five shots in rapid succession.

  The cheering faded slightly. She’d expected that as well.

  Marcus rolled his eyes as he hit the button to pull her target forward. “You’re showing off again, girl. You’re never gonna get a date at this rate.”

  She leaned in to examine the single hole she’d left through dead center. “If I have to pretend I can’t shoot for shit, I don’t want to date any of them.”

  Marcus sighed. “You could date me,” he grumbled. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

  “Aw, there it is. The token flirting.” She handed over the Glock, reaching up to pat him on the cheek. “No, sweetie. I’m not dating you.”