CHAPTER VIII

 

 

Brian moved quickly, but drew up short of contact.  Emily’s eyes were closed tight as if the world would not exist as long as she couldn’t see it.  Still, he did not touch her.  Her arms were hugged tight about her, a means to ward off connection with the rest of the world.

“Emily,” He whispered.

Moist lashes remained fixed against pale skin.

Dammit, he wanted to hold her, but she was standing there mourning over her husband.  His support would be inappropriate.  Instead he watched helplessly as the woman bled pain and sorrow from a self-inflicted laceration.  Screw it.  He reached forward and engulfed her rigid form in his arms.

Emily resisted.  Futilely she struggled to be freed, but she was no match for his strength.  Even now he only used one arm to lock her against his chest, the other was free to caress her hair and sooth her into his embrace.  One searing cry broke from her lips as she wilted against him to the point that he nearly kept her on her feet.

Brian thought of lifting her into his arms, but instead drew her down onto the couch beside him.  There her head remained tucked against his shoulder where she trembled.

It was overwhelming, the whiff of jasmine in her hair, and the warmth of her fingers as they reached up to clutch behind his neck.  There were soft breaths against his throat, tiny hitches of pain that he wanted so badly to soothe with his lips.  But Emily did not belong to him, and all he could offer right now was this brief consolation.

“What did he say, Em?” He murmured against her ear.

Her fingers clenched tighter, but he didn’t mind.  “He wouldn’t tell me where he was.” She gulped.

“But he’s okay?”

She nodded against his collarbone.

“See, it’s alright.  He’s safe, you’re safe.”

“Thanks to you.” Her voice was muffled.

Brian felt tightness in his chest and instinctively held her closer.  Gently, his free hand stroked up and down her arm and then reached to trace a silky strand of hair behind her ear.  His thumb brushed her cheek.

“Tell me.”  He commanded softly.

Emily burrowed in closer as if she wanted every inch of herself connected to him.  In any other venue the instinctive motion would have made him crazy with lust, but here it was endearing, and bittersweet.

“I’m so scared for him.  So much so that I can’t even breathe, Brian.”

Each word she uttered hurt all the more, but Brian only tightened his embrace.

“He’s a lucky man.” He acknowledged throatily.

“Lucky?” Emily’s head tilted back, and in the dim light he witnessed a poignant smile in the eyes that glistened with tears.  “That’s not a word I would associate with Colin.”

She withdrew from his hold, but Brian felt her hesitation, he felt her lingering touch on his arm before she finally dropped her hand and moved to the window.  Now she was nothing more than a silhouette to him.

“I mean look at this,” She swept her arm in agitation.  “A week ago my life was mundane, regimented…and now I’m a criminal.”

“You must love him a lot.” Brian grated.

“More than you could ever imagine.”

That was it.  That was the final nail in the coffin.  The breathless way she declared her adoration was more than he could handle.  He massaged the pain above his temple and tried to clamp his jaw tight, but the words came out regardless.

“If you love your husband so damn much, Emily, how could you kiss me like that?”

 

Emily’s quick intake of breath sucked the oxygen from the room.  Brian remained a menacing form nestled in shadows, his countenance as dark as the background, like one of the handsome barons in a gothic horror movie.  She couldn’t even hear him breathing, but she sure could hear her heart slamming against her ribcage.

“You think that—” It was almost impossible to speak.  Her throat was still tight from the conversation with Colin, and now her vocal chords failed her.

“You think I would—” Married?  Where the hell did he get that one from?

In a fast-forward reel, the past two days blurred through her conscious as she struggled to recall Brian’s introduction to Colin.  True, she had never used the word brother, but she assumed that if he was chasing them, he obviously knew their identity.

“You think Colin is my husband?”  The words came out now, and they sounded awfully shrill.  Near hysterical.

Muted light revealed the grim line of Brian’s lips as they briefly parted, and then fastened shut again.  His arms crossed in a gesture that emphasized the strength in his shoulders, but still he remained silent.

“All this time you thought that Colin was my husband?”  It bore repeating because it was hilarious.  For a minute.  Then it became painful.  The reality of what he must have thought hit her like a fist.

“Colin Brennan is my brother.” Emily looked away.  She couldn’t bear to meet his eyes right now.  “I thought you knew that.  I thought you were after us both, so I assumed you were aware who he was.  Hell, it doesn’t take a scientist to see the similarity.  Aren’t you the head of security or something?”

When there was no response, Emily turned around.  She was met with his stoic stance and unreadable glare.  “What?” She dropped the shade as if the slick plastic had caused a paper cut.

Still, he remained silent.  A brooding giant.  With each second Emily grew fearful.  Till this moment, despite the situation, she had felt a certain rightness in his presence.  Although she would have never admitted it, she trusted Brian Morrison. Perhaps it was that she had witnessed his private side—the side that held her hand through the night and woke to watch her with something akin to adoration.

But now those eyes were as dark as his expression, and they masked all emotion.

Emily chanced a step closer.  Why wasn’t he speaking?  Did he think she had lied again?  That wasn’t fair.  Never once had she considered that he might imagine the last name Brennan was shared in matrimony, not kinship.

“Brian?” She hated the tremor in her voice.

She tried to clear it, but her throat was too tight to manage anything above a whisper.

Braving the gap, she took one last step, placing her into the lion’s trajectory, directly into his den.  Now she could see his eyes.  They followed her, glaring from beneath black lashes.

Emily bristled.  How dare he pass judgment?

“You must have one mighty high opinion of me right now.”  Her hands came to rest on her hips.  “Heck, let’s see.” She held up one finger, “I committed theft, and then I left my husband to flirt with a stranger in a hospital.” Another finger came up.  “I spent the night to make sure this stranger was okay.” She went to extend her third finger, but now her hand was shaking so she lowered it to her side.  “And then, yes, the kicker is that I just shared one of the hottest kisses in my life against the side of a store,” agitated, she plundered on, “and all the while, my poor husband was waiting at home for me.  Does that about sum up my wench status?”

Brian’s arms unwrapped from across his chest, the motion jarring her.  His limbs could be lethal weapons, created with a sinewy strength that may well steal the life out of a man—or woman.

“No,” His voice was husky.

“No?”  Emily swallowed.

“No, that doesn’t sum it up.” Those instruments of terror reached for her, hauling her to within an inch of his chest.  For a frightening moment she thought he might crush her.

In a grave tone he declared, “This does.”

Brian’s mouth came down over hers, and any semblance of air remaining in her lungs rushed into that contact.  He took her.  With little coaxing, his lips parted hers with an incision that released a torrent of sensations.  His hands cupped her face and then slid into her hair, tilting her head back for a deeper connection.  He made her quiver as his mouth brushed against hers, demanding and giving, bringing her towards a pinnacle that made her lightheaded from lack of oxygen.

Need clawed at her as if a trapped animal sought release.  She wound her arms around his neck, matching his ardor with urgent kisses of her own until all that existed was this sensation.  Shock from deprivation came when his mouth left hers, but picked up its assault further down, on her throat, on the throbbing tempo of her pulse.

She now had to grab his shoulders because her muscles had atrophied.  With her mouth free, she managed a tiny croak, “Brian,”

The sound was a ragged intake of breath that he quickly smothered with another kiss.  She didn’t want this to end.  She wanted to climb up onto him and possess him in an erotic attack.  He must have felt the same need because his hands dropped to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.  His kiss entrenched her in a silky pool with no bottom, and she was barely treading water.

Somewhere deep down, a wave began its ascent, the impetus building, overtaking her awareness of his kisses.  She clung to him, but the surf charged forward, a relentless breaker that filled her chest, and swelled into her throat where it rushed to freedom on a rolling sob.

Emily cried out, and her legs would have collapsed were it not for the vise-like arms sustaining her.  Her fingers curled tightly around Brian’s shoulders as her body racked with a keening moan.  Tears poured out with the salty surf, their stream unchecked, moistening the musky fabric her face pressed against.

So many swirling emotions begged for dominance, their effect worse than any form of vertigo.  Her body still hummed with desire while her eyes continued to stream in desperation.

The effect made her feel raw, as if she had just ridden in on a tsunami.

In the distance she heard Brian as a remote echo, soothing with its resonance.  Her sobs diminished into hiccups and she was only vaguely conscious of her feet leaving the ground, her body suspended in air until she came to rest in an insulated shelter.

When the tide finally turned and there was no water left to pour onshore, Emily sniffled and rubbed at her swollen eyes with the back of her hand.  She kept her eyelids shut, afraid of the outside world, but other senses picked up where blindness left off.

Touch.  She felt the strong arms around her, and the rock hard thighs beneath her—a cocoon that offered protection from the demons of the night.

Smell.  The scent of soap and desire was so heady she felt faint with every tremulous breath.  Beyond that, she inhaled the brisk aroma of winter in the woolen fabric, which evoked images of a warm fireplace and beguiling golden eyes.

Taste.  She was held so tightly that her face was pressed into the crook of his neck, her lips touching the beat at the base of his throat where she tasted the salt of her own tears.

And finally, sound.

“I was looking for a way to distract you,” Brian murmured hoarsely, “Did it work?”

With her emotions in chaos, Emily felt a soft bubble of laughter tickle her chest.  “Yeah, yeah that worked.”

“You had that coming, Em.” Soft words tickled her hair.  “You were holding it all in.  You’ve been brave, but you’re also very tired, and emotionally strung out.  You needed release.”

Emily tried to tip her head back, but she was nestled in the crook of his neck, and the steady beat of his pulse was something elemental that she could cling to.

“If you kept kissing me like that,” she whispered, “that release may have gotten carried away.”

 

Those words shot straight to Brian’s groin atop which Emily’s bottom rested.  His jaw clenched and he gently shifted her rear out of danger’s way.  It took a couple sustaining breaths before he could manage to speak.

“Look, I want to be supportive.” He began in a gruff voice.  “But I am human, and comments like that might just end you up on your back in a predicament you’re not ready for.”

Emily’s head wrenched out from beneath his chin and already he missed the heat of her nestled there.  A sliver of light passed by the rim of the shade and scored her face.

Midnight eyes were charged with energy.  Passion and anger combined with fear and desperation to create a maelstrom.  Brian held his breath and waited for the deluge.

“So now that you realize I’m a single woman I’m free game for you?”  Her voice was shaky, a premonition to a full-blown outburst.

“No.  Not at all.”

Wasn’t it true though?  Hadn’t he purposely overlooked the resemblance between the two engineers?  If Emily was married, then she was off limits, and there would be no reason for him to want his hands and his mouth all over the criminal he was pursuing.

Now he was in no-man’s land—torn between an inherent sense of duty, and the soft body draped across his lap.  She still hugged him despite the tension that stiffened her frame.

Brian smiled in the dark.  Such a contradiction Emily was.  Headstrong and courageous, yet even in anger she clung to him.

“Come to think of it,” Emily continued in a tight voice.  “Every time you have kissed me, there’s been some scheme involved.  Hide from the thugs after us.  Distract Emily from becoming a basket case.  You must be happy I played into all of your little acts.”

Brian hooked his finger under Emily’s chin when she would have tried to elude his gaze.  “No, I’m not happy at all.”

 

In one fluid move he lifted her off his lap and laid her down on the mattress, while he shifted to a safe distance at the foot of the bed.

Hunched over, Brian cupped his head in his palms.  What should he do now?

Emily didn’t need him in a physical capacity.  She needed him to help find her brother—that was all there was to it.

“Without the resources back at NMD I can’t trace that phone call,” He sounded detached, “and I can’t ask Phil to go back in the office.  It’s not safe for him now.”

“It was Colin’s cell.” He heard her speak, but refused to turn around and look at her.  “I recognized the pitch of the static.”

Anger was a better venue anyway.  It was something to challenge the other heat inside him.

“Did you ever think this out, Emily?  Did you even once stop to think about what you were getting yourself into?”

With his teeth grating together, the pain shot up into his temple.  “George Barcuda will not stop now.  If your brother has something that he wants, he will get it.  He will not let two insignificant engineers stand in his way.  A lawyer?  That was it?  That was your plan?”

“Colin was not insignificant.  He was brilliant.”

And just like that, she was quick to toss aside her own attributes in favor of her brother.  It made Brian all the angrier.

“Alright,” He was tempted to turn, but no, it was better to speak into the dark and not chance a meeting with her eyes, or risk seeing her lips swollen and glossed with the moisture of their kiss.  “Then if you and your brother are so damn close, how could he stand by and let you put yourself in danger like that?  How could he let you sneak into NMD alone?  God Em, you could have been shot.”  A staggering thought made his voice ragged.  “I could have shot you.”

Brian would have never aimed to kill a trespasser, but the rules were stringent at NMD.  He would have debilitated her if he had to. God damn.

Emily’s weight shifted on the bed behind him.  “Colin didn’t know about it.  He didn’t know until I was on the highway, heading towards Albany.  You’re right, he would have never allowed me to do that, and that’s why, that’s w—” She cleared her throat, waited, and said thickly.  “That’s why he won’t tell me where he is.”

Brian felt her fist impact the mattress.  “He wants to do this alone,” She cried.  “and I can’t let him.”

This time he swiveled, and there was Emily watching him from the shadows.  Her eyes were beseeching and her shoulders were tensed in confrontation.  Wisps of cinnamon hair curled against her cheek, tempting his fingers.

“Okay,” he said softly.  “We won’t let him do it alone.”

 

We.

Emily was rooted in place, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting atop her knees.  Outside, the cold January wind summoned with a siren’s pitch, the shrill song vibrating the window panes.  She shivered, but it wasn’t from the chill.  At the foot of the bed sat a man with black hair, a tense jaw, and broad shoulders—a shadow that could loom from the dark and consume her in its obscurity.  She sensed the strain in his body, as if his immobility was something he struggled to maintain.

“Why would you help me Brian?” She whispered.  “You don’t trust me.”

The weary giant rubbed at the chorded muscle above his ribs, and pain lanced his face.  Emily’s body uncurled, ready to crawl to his aid, but something in his expression warned her off.  It wasn’t hostility.  It was passion.

Maybe it was a cliché, but his eyes undressed her.  Not merely the elemental jeans and sweatshirt—he stripped to the core and left her naked in all respects.

“You need sleep.” She said and swung her legs off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Brian growled after her.

“You’ve been in a major car accident, you haven’t eaten or slept in nearly two days,” The wicker couch that she slumped down onto wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it offered an opportunity to flee him.  “I’ll stay here tonight.  You take the bed.”

With a deep breath, Brian rubbed his palm over his face.  The motion drew her attention to the dark stubble, another indication as to how long it had been since he had last slept.

“Emily,”

“Don’t argue with me.”  She was not intimidated by his tone.  “I just—I just don’t want to argue right now, okay?”

“Neither do I.”  He rose, the pop of a bone cracking in his hip reverberated it the quiet room.  He approached the couch, and stood before her.

“I want you in bed with me.”

Emily gasped.

“Listen to me.” He continued.  “You are a beautiful woman.  Damn, you’re sexy as hell and you know I’m attracted to you.  I was attracted to the woman who saved me on that dark street.”  He reached out and traced a strand of silky hair, the tip of his pointer finger skimming across her flushed cheek. “And now I’m attracted to the outlaw.”

She trembled at his touch.

“But honey, the God’s honest truth is I am too tired to be much of a threat to you.”

 

Watching Emily’s variable expression was like looking into the tumult at the bottom of a waterfall.  Her sloe eyes went from glittering compassion to heated desire, and flashed with anger and resolution.

The effect left Brian on edge.

“Well, that’s a relief.” She exhaled.

Brian held out his hand.  “Come on, we’re both too exhausted to argue.”

If only that were true, but she apparently had one more round in her.  Brian dropped his hand and awaited her outburst.

“What is it?” Emily challenged.  “If I’m not right under your grasp, you’re afraid I’ll escape?”

Pain throbbed dully behind his eye as Brian pinched two fingers at the top of his nose.  He shook his head and managed levelly.  “Do you want to escape?  I won’t stop you, you know.”

Emily’s back was ramrod straight, “I am a thief.  It was less than twenty-four hours ago that you yanked the distributor cap off my car, and now you sit there and say you won’t stop me?”

“I’m just asking you, Em,” He glanced up, and in the dark sought her gaze in the shadows.  “Do you want to escape?”

With a twitch, her neck turned as she searched the back porch through windows that had grown murky with frost.  Her fingers splayed against the frigid panel and when she withdrew them, a moist impression of her hand remained.

“No.” She said desperately.

Brian felt an extraordinary sense of tenderness overtake him.  “And why do you suppose that is?” He whispered.

She refused to turn his way, but the rigid set of her shoulders slumped in defeat.   “Because,” the words choked out, “I believe I can trust you.”

Something akin to contentment settled over Brian.  He reclined on the bed and groaned when one ankle hooked over the other.  Rolling his head to the side on the pillow, he looked at the pensive figure by the window, like Tinkerbell trapped in a jar.

“Emily,” He beckoned softly.  “Come here.”

She tensed.  “What do you want?”

Such a loaded question. “I want you.”

Outside, frozen branches engaged in a swordfight, a duel between two surly maple trees searching for dominance over the roof of the portico.  Their serenade momentarily returned Brian to that cold blacktop, where the same dance of limbs snapped above him.  And just like that bleak night, Emily’s soft voice drew him back.

“I am not going to sleep with you.”

Brian chuckled, growing lethargic as he lifted his arms and rested his palms beneath his head.  The motion made him ache, but the lushness of the mattress eased the pain.

“Figuratively or literally?” He prompted.

Emily turned away from the window, and the gravity of her eyes swiped the grin from his face.  “I mean it Brian.  If I lie down next to you, don’t expect, don’t—” Her hand picked up where her voice failed her.

“No,” Brian reached across and latched onto those fluttering fingers.  The jolt was instantaneous, as if her touch alone bore the power to bring a man to his knees.  This man.

Was it the haunting recollection of the hand that held faithfully to his through the night?  The hand that he accredited for the swift recovery of his wounds?  Was she truly an angel struggling to do right?

“Nothing will happen between us tonight.” He vowed.

The fingers in his hand trembled.  He tugged ever so gently till she stirred like the tide.  The warm Caribbean Sea washed over him and rolled to a gentle froth by his side.  Fresh jasmine cascaded across the pillow, and a long feminine body depressed the mattress.

I believe I can trust you.  When Emily said those words it sounded as if they were torn from her, and the release seemed to have cost her.  A shadow of fine eyelashes showed that her eyes were shut, but he knew she was feigning sleep.  And her posture, though in repose was stiff with uncertainty.

Emily’s breathing evened out, her face so close he felt the soft breath brush across his cheek.  If he tilted his head ever so slightly, he could touch her mouth with his.

Was that it?  A sexual attraction?  Hell yes.  But he’d felt that tug numerous times in his life.  This was alarmingly different.  Right now he wanted to haul her into his arms, pin her thigh between his and fall asleep in an embrace that sheltered them from the night. Emily.  He caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb, but still she slept.

Fatigue arrived in a dark cloud to consume him.  Just a few minutes sleep would help to regain focus.  Brian surrendered to the fog as his last conscious gesture was to link his fingers with hers.