“I’ve got to make a call.”
She nodded and turned her back.
“Emily,”
There was still a faint tug when she heard him say her name in that husky voice. Why? Why was there a tug? “Yes?”
“We’re going to have to work together here.”
“Do you think you can do that? I mean, work with someone you don’t trust?”
A puff of air slipped through his lips, a faint billow of mist whisked away by the brusque wind. Then he surprised her and smiled. The boyish grin on a man that seemed so rugged, so constrained, made her stomach twitch.
“I just won’t turn my back on you.”
“You already did—in the closet.” She mused. “I could have pulled a knife on you, you know?”
“Would you have?” He sobered.
“No.”
“You need me.”
I want you. Oh God, where the hell did that come from? “Trust me, if I were on my own right now, I’d be ecstatic.”
“I don’t trust you.”
Emily scowled, but sensed that he was baiting her. In her search to find clarification in his expression, she happened upon the smudge of grease on his cheekbone. Where had it come from? Without thinking, she reached up with her thumb to swipe it off.
Their eyes locked.
Under the winter sun, looking into his eyes was like looking into a clear brook loaded with a bed of shiny nuggets. It was a mesmerizing effect that she wrenched away from.
“Don’t look at me that way,” Brian said in that husky voice.
With a jerky movement, he hauled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Excuse me. I have to make that call.”
A slap of reality woke her from what could have proven to be an embarrassing stupor. What was the attraction to a man that obviously no longer trusted her? A man who was hell-bent on bringing you to justice? Sure, he was gorgeous, but she was not shallow. Nothing was going to make her lose control. Nothing was going to keep her from finding her brother. Not even Brian Morrison.
Control? Hah, who was she kidding? Her brother was gone. If he wasn’t safe, then it was all for naught. This whole disastrous plan was a grand mistake, and rather than helping Colin, she had most likely condemned them both. And now she stood here, immobilized beneath the ardent stare of a man she barely knew.
Emily slipped her fingers through the diamond fencing that surrounded a meticulous backyard. Even in the dead of winter this owner had taken the time to shovel a path to his white-wooden gazebo. As a youth, she had believed gazebos to be mystical gateways to another world. If she stood in the very center at sunset, when the last errant stroke of sun brushed against her body, she would be transported to a land where she was a princess and she had a knight that loved her, and their castle was the most magnificent one in a kingdom etched as beautifully as a painting.
“Phil, I need a favor.”
There were no King Phil’s in her land.
Emily started at the sound of Brian’s voice and returned from her childhood daydream. Beside her, Brian’s hand was likewise hooked in the fence, his gaze absorbed by the trickle of cars slowly making their way down the avenue.
“This is a big one, buddy. Yeah, yeah, I know. I lost them, they traced the Blazer. I can’t afford to be seen in that anymore.” Brian kicked at the slushy snow. “Kind of ironic, don’t you think? Now I’m on the run. What?” He stopped and focused on Emily. “Is she worth it?”
Emily expected a sarcastic denial. She didn’t expect his dark lashes to lower in a soft assessment before meeting her eyes again. “This isn’t about her.”
Riveted by his gaze, Emily started when the backdoor of the church lunged open. Brian’s move was fluid, his arm circling her waist, drawing her behind him.
It was only an aged priest relying on the wrought iron rail to assist him down the icy steps. Emily inhaled air tainted with snow, and clutched her fingers tight into Brian’s jacket. When she caught him staring at her, she quickly back-pedaled towards the fence, and glared at his quick grin.
“What, yeah, I’m still here.” Brian cocked his head and prompted Emily to follow.
She shoved her hands deep into her pockets and cast one last peripheral glance, hoping by some miracle her brother would emerge from behind a tree and laugh at the look of worry on her face, like he always used to.
“Phil, you are the best. Okay, tomorrow morning then. Whatever you do, don’t go back to the office. Hell, until this is resolved, don’t stay home. Get a room somewhere.”
Brian’s hand snatched out to catch Emily’s elbow as she started to slip on a buried patch of ice.
“What am I supposed to do? No.” The gruff way Brian uttered the last word made Emily look back at him curiously.
Gone was that hint of a grin. His mouth was grim, and the eyes that traced her reflected the gray of January. “No, I have no intention of sleeping with her.”
Once Brian’s hand released her elbow, Emily felt unsteady. She knew she looked horrified, but the emotions that besieged her were not so neatly categorized. She tugged the collar of her jacket around her ears and looked away.
Colin where are you?
“Alright, enough. Till tomorrow then.” A car trudged past in the slush. Brian’s edginess wore off on her.
“What twenty dollars? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have amnesia, remember?” Brian’s chuckle seemed forced. “Yeah, you too. Stay edgy, friend.”
With his conversation concluded, the sounds of the street became more prevalent. A blue jay crowed an alert to its mate, while the snap of a heavy icicle dropping off the roof of the Church triggered a seismic tremble inside her.
“How are you holding up?” Brian asked.
“Don’t do it,” She whirled on him. “You’re not concerned about me, so why pretend? Let’s just find Colin and finish this whole mess.”
His lips compressed. “Fine, I couldn’t agree with you more, Ms. Brennan.” He moved to touch her elbow, and then thought better of it, instead, punching his fist into his pocket.
The monotonous drone of ice-bitten wind was broken by the sound of their boots scraping snow. Quiet with inward thoughts, they hiked the circumference of the dormant racetrack.
“Not quite like it is in the Summer.” Brian mused, eyeing the snow-covered track, the white inner railing appearing to be only a foot high. With such an unblemished surface, the track looked more like an Olympic venue for a speed-skating trial. In sedate beauty, the Grandstand was no less elegant in her slushy cloak as she watched over the paddocks. Snow-covered spires and sweeping stands could almost make one hear the thunderous pound of hooves as they rounded the far turn.
“You come here in the summer?”
“Phil drags me along. If there’s something to bet on, he’s your man. ”
Brian saw her shimmering eyes widen in curiosity. “Hey,” He held his hands up. “I never said I gambled.”
Skeptical, her brows climbed.
“Who’s Phil? I’ve heard you talk to him on the phone.”
Uncomfortable standing before the gate while the main thoroughfare beamed with traffic, Brian nodded for them to move along.
“Conversation, Em? I thought you staved off all communication with me.”
A flip of cinnamon hair tossed in the breeze. “There’s no need to be uncivil. I’m just curious.”
“I’m curious too, but you never seem to answer my questions.”
Emily sighed and paused before the rusted fence.
Brian followed her gaze. The grounds were nothing like they were in the summer. Gone were the vendor tents and the multitude of families picnicking under a canopy of trees. Paths that normally bustled with people placing wagers in one of the many outdoor kiosks now were latent with snow.
Nowhere in this silent haven was there a sign of her husband the engineer. By the way she rested her forehead against the fence and bobbed her throat in an attempt to hold back tears, he could tell it was slowly taking her down.<
br />
“Em?”
“What?” She didn’t look up.
Brian touched her shoulder. “We’ve got to move. We can’t stay idle.”
A hostile eye peered at him from wind-strewn bangs. “I’m well aware of that, but how do you expect me to find Colin if you don’t give me a minute to look around?”
“And how do you expect me to keep you alive if you don’t listen to me?”
It took nearly an hour to completely circle the track. Most of their path had not been plowed, and the hike across mounds of snow began to wear on them. Brian bore the signs of strain, his arm clutched about his side for support, his limp more noticeable.
From the looks of it, Brian could tell that Emily was faring no better. Hair turned moist by fine precipitation was now a dark shade of sable, and yanked securely behind her ears. Tiny bruises of fatigue underlined her eyes to give her a haunted veneer. The image tugged at him, which was just plain aggravating.
“Alright, stay alert.”
At the next junction, the quiet street morphed into a bustling avenue lined with shops and restaurants, the increase of traffic spitting up a mixture of snow and dirt onto the sidewalk.
Brian’s hand was on her arm again, though this time she offered little resistance. Alert to the intent shoppers, some in designer coats, some in stylish survival gear, Brian weaved through them, combing the busy avenue for the path of least resistance.
In his grasp, even beneath the thick down of her jacket, Brian could feel Emily’s arm flex. He chanced a quick glance at her and saw that her head was tucked down, her eyes shifting beneath lowered lids, constantly on the move, constantly searching. She looked like a quarry expecting her predator to attack from any angle.
“Okay, at the end of Broadway there’s a Bed and Breakfast—small, inconspicuous, we’re going to meet Phil there.”
“A bed and breakfast?” She repeated vacantly.
“Yes.”
A group of college-aged kids flanked the span of the sidewalk, forcing Brian and Emily into a storefront alcove. Under the guise of window-shopping, he used the glass façade to survey the street behind him.
“A couple hours rest is going to do both of us some good.” His eyes met Emily’s pensive reflection. “No offense Em, but you look like you could use it. And I need a place to regroup and plan our next move.”
“I thought your next move was to turn me in.” She said, but it didn’t seem that her heart was in the baiting. “How about that place?” She nodded.
Across the street sat the Adelphi.
It was a three-story Victorian Hotel, with an Italianate façade that conjured up images of Model-T Fords parked before its curb, and women in grand gowns descending the wide flight of stairs—their elegant gloves tracing the ornate balustrade.
“Completely inconspicuous.” He snorted.
Son of a—
He saw them. The black raincoats in this jumble of color were as inconspicuous as a criminal holing up in the Adelphi. How did they find them so quickly? Phil. Brian’s cell phone was incapable of being traced, but Phil probably called from home.
There was less than a second before the sidewalk crowd would shift and expose them. Brian shoved Emily back into the corner of an alcove and felt her breath rush across his face when her back impacted the wooden partition.
“What the—”
In the glass facade he saw them approach. Three of Barcuda’s men, only a few short yards away, scanning the crowd before them, thus far not noticing the couple huddled in the doorway. But for as much as Brian credited them with the intelligence of a tick, they were still pit bulls, with one goal in their small minds. He was pinned here, and just prayed they would move on far enough that he and Emily could fall into the opposite flow. Of course, the ubiquitous shoppers picked that moment to suddenly dissipate, either pausing to window shop, or purchase a latte, leaving Emily and he with no barrier to conceal them.
Brian pushed Emily back, pinning her flush against the wooden façade. He surged his hands into her hair, his palms cupping her cheeks, rendering her imperceptible to the outside world. In the window’s reflection, he caught sight of one of Barcuda’s henchmen turning his head in their direction. There was no time for consideration, Brian dipped his face and took her mouth.
CHAPTER VII
At first Emily was only aware of the stab of pain in her shoulder where Brian rammed her into the wood and brick nook. Her mouth opened, ready to lay into him but then he filled it. The kiss was so sudden—so unforeseen, and so…breathless. With it, conflicting waves of emotion lie trapped in a tight gurgle at the bottom of her throat. Pressed tight against her, Brian’s solid frame flattened her to the wall so that her hands were forced flush against his chest. Even beneath the thick jacket she could feel the erratic pounding of his heart.
Held immobile by his hands, Emily couldn’t shift her head. She was locked into his rough kiss, pinned in place by muscular thighs, although her struggle struck her as half-hearted. His grip was tight and his kiss was relentless.
Wild with confusion, Emily shoved with all she was worth. Brian grunted at the impetus, but dug his hands deeper into her hair and forced his body tighter against hers. The outside world was a herald of echoes, and all sensation now focused exclusively on the touch of Brian’s mouth. His lips parted with hers for a breath, and then softly returned to drag across the swollen flesh. He came back for another arousing swipe, and Emily whimpered. Why?
Rather than answer that question, she clutched his shirt, and held on for dear life.
After the first contact with her mouth it took Brian a blinding second to remember what his goal was. He was conscious enough to conceal Emily’s hair under his wide grasp. Shiny cinnamon strands like hers would draw attention. As best he could tell, only the outline of his back was revealed outside the alcove. If he hunched into her body. If he seemed intent enough. Maybe, just maybe Barcuda’s men would walk on by.
Emily’s protests grew weaker. He was able to lift his eyes for a split second to glance over her shoulder into the reflective glass. The menacing trio paused to look at the storefront, but their eyes shifted, taking in the stores adjacent to it as well. For one panicked heartbeat, Brian felt a set of eyes bore into his back. He dipped for another kiss and felt Emily’s fingers clutching his shirt beneath his jacket.
The scent of fresh-fallen snow and jasmine at the soft curve of her throat was intoxicating. He drew it in and under heavy eyelids, lingering without thought for a second just to revel in her scent. Finally he chanced another look in the window, relieved to see that Barcuda’s men had moved on.
Brian traced his thumb on Emily’s cheek and brushed a much gentler kiss on her lips. She returned it, her lips parting enough to make him slip his palms down her spine and rest on her hips, which he wanted to tug closer.
Son of a bitch. She was a married woman. Obviously, not a happy one, but he had to smarten up. He had to withdraw. He had to ignore that purr that just sounded deep in her throat.
“Emily.” He whispered against her lips, the sound seeming to jolt the woman in his arms.
Sapped of energy, he propped his hand on the doorjamb and used that leverage to shove off of her. He could not look her in the eyes. Instead he scanned the crowd and tugged her back out into a throng of indolent shoppers.
“Come on,” He uttered gruffly.
Stumbling on the uneven sidewalk, Emily resisted. “But—”
“Not now.” It wasn’t his intention to sound so harsh, but they were vulnerable here, and his senses were on high alert. Only two more blocks until they reached the tiny Inn that would offer him somewhat of an advantage over their pursuers.
Emily kept her hand linked with his, a reluctant admission of trust.
“Almost there,” He said.
The storefronts ended and opened into an antiquated cemetery flanked by a wrought iron fence. Crumbling tombstones rested askew, some completely toppled over, their epitaphs obscured by ice. Still, there w
as a regal peace to this graveyard, as if the dusting of snow was a meant to protect the honored citizens beneath. Beyond the churchyard spanned a stretch of residential homes lined down the quiet end of the boulevard. In front of each of these ornate Victorian mansions were mounted hand-painted signs with bold script. The Moorings B & B. Sweet Mary’s Bed and Breakfast.
Cautious now, Brian slowed his pace. On this end of town they were exposed, with no crowd to mingle in and definitely no storefronts to ravage a woman in front of. There was nowhere to hide. Aged oaks, normally lush with greenery were now distorted snarls of black limbs, each writhing branch seeming to have a finger on its end pointed at them. They’re right here.
Edelweiss. There it was. Two potted pine trees with pink ribbons wrapped candy-cane style about their limbs flanked a sidewalk that showed signs of neglect. A shovel had cleaned the path, but the job was a hasty one, leaving only a foot wide gap between snow banks. Climbing steps that groaned under the pressure, Brian drew back the door to the screened portico and winced against the shriek of the hinges, throwing a hasty glance at the snow-swept yard.
“Charming.” Emily murmured.
He turned to offer a cynical reply, but his breath hitched as he looked at her. Emily’s eyes were bright and alert, restlessly searching the empty terrace. The brisk cold flushed her cheeks, and enhanced the vivid blue sky circling her wide pupils. His glance dropped to her lips, still moist and swollen from his kiss.
Damn.
“Take a picture,”
“Touché, Em.” He dragged his gaze from her to assess the garden, and felt there were no signs of Barcuda’s men. “Inside, darlin’.”
The look she gave him was unreadable. She either just condemned him to hell, or she mirrored his own emotions and thought how much she wanted to battle the cold with warm flesh on flesh.
“Can I help you?”
Brian’s head snapped. “Umm, yes,” He patted at his shirt pocket and extracted a credit card. “I believe I have a reservation. Clyde Smith.”
A quick appraising glimpse over glasses perched on the tip of a bulbous nose, the woman behind the podium flipped open a huge ledger. He estimated her to be nearing seventy. The fingers that drummed on the wooden stand were already curved with arthritis.
Borrowed Time Page 9
