CHAPTER Eight

 

 

Nate 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 could lock it out. Her arms were hugged tight about her−providing her own force field.

“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.

He considered 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 citrus 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 away. 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.

Nate felt tightness in his chest and 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 in a soft voice.

Emily burrowed in 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, Nate.”

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

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

“Lucky?” Her 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 he 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 shadow 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,” Nate grated.

“More than you could ever imagine.”

That was it. That was the final straw. 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 flew out regardless.

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

***

Emily’s quick hitch of breath sucked the air from the room. Nate 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 mind as she struggled to recall Nate’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. Nearly hysterical.

Muted light revealed the grim line of Nate’s lips as they 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.” She looked away. She couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. “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 unreadable glare. “What?”

Still, he remained silent. A brooding giant. With each second her fear inched up a notch. Despite the situation, until this moment she had felt a certain security in his presence. Although she would have never admitted it, she trusted Nate Morrison. Perhaps it was that she had witnessed his private side—the side that was quiet and humorous in the early morning hours. The side that forgot his job.

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

Emily chanced a step closer.

Why doesn’t he say anything? Does he think I 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.

“Nate?” 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 in the wolf’s trajectory. Dark eyes glared at her 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. “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 while my poor husband is in danger and on the run. Does that about sum up my wench status?”

Nate’s arms unwrapped from across his chest. The motion jarred her. His limbs were born of sinewy strength that may well steal the life out of a man—or woman.

“No,” his voice was husky.

“No?” She 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.”

Nate’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 union. She quivered when his mouth brushed against hers, demanding and giving, bringing her towards a pinnacle that made her lightheaded.

Need clawed at her−a trapped animal that sought release. She wound her arms around his neck, matching his ardor with urgent kisses of her own until all that existed was this passion. 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, “Nate.”

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 and make all the pain and apprehension fade away. 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 bottomless pool, 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 buckled were it not for the vise-like arms sustaining her. Her fingers hooked around Nate’s shoulders as her body racked to the tune of 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.

In the distance Nate’s voice was muffled and it soothed her even though she could barely hear or understand him. Her sobs diminished into hiccups and she was 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 on shore, 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 his 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,” he murmured. “Did it work?”

In a state of emotional chaos, Emily nonetheless felt a bubble of laughter tickle her chest. “Yeah, yeah that worked.”

“You had that coming, Em.” Soft words brushed against 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 Nate’s groin atop which Emily’s bottom rested.  His jaw clenched and he gently shifted her rear out of that erogenous path.

“I want to be supportive,” he began, “but I am human, and comments like that might just end putting us in a predicament neither is 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 from outside scored her face.

Passion and anger blended with fear and desperation to create a maelstrom in her eyes.

“I−I−I’m confused. I don’t know what you want from me.” Her voice shook.

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

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.

Nate smiled in the dark.  Such a contradiction she 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.  Distract Emily from becoming a basket case.”  

Nate hooked his finger under her chin. “You are no basket case. You are an intelligent woman pushed to extremes you’re not accustomed to.”

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, he cupped his head in his palms and contemplated what to do next.

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 pointed out. “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 say, but refused to turn around and look at her.  “It has this recognizable pitch.”

Anger was a better venue for him. It countered the heat.

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

Grating his teeth only exacerbated his headache.  “George Barcuda will not stop now.  If your brother has something that he wants, George will get it.  He will not let two insignificant engineers stand in his way.  A lawyer?  That was it?  That was your plan?”

“Colin is not insignificant.  He is brilliant.”

And just like that, she was quick to toss aside her own attributes in favor of her brother.  It angered him all the more.

“Alright.” He was tempted to turn, but no, it was better to speak into the dark and not chance meeting her eyes. What if he caught a glimpse of her still moistened lips?  

“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.”

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

Emily’s weight shifted on the bed.  “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 and added thickly, “that’s why he won’t tell me where he is.”

Nate jolted when her fist slammed down on the mattress.  “He wants to do this alone,” she cried. “And I can’t let him.”

He swiveled and caught the beseeching eyes and tense shoulders. She was honed and ready to lash out at anyone.

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

***

We.

Emily wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin atop her knees. Outside, the January wind summoned with a siren’s pitch. She shivered, but it wasn’t from the chill. At the foot of the bed sat a man—a shadow that could loom from the dark and consume her in its obscurity. She sensed the strain in his body, as if immobility was something he struggled to maintain.

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

The weary giant rubbed at the corded muscle above his ribs. Pain lanced his face. She wanted 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 her to the core and left her naked in all respects.

“You need sleep,” she announced and swung her legs off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Nate growled.

“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, he rubbed his palm over his face.

“Emily.”

“Don’t argue with me. 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 in 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 the God’s honest truth is I am too tired to be much of a threat to you.”

***

Emily’s gaze was as tumultuous as the bottom of a waterfall.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she exhaled.

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

“Are you afraid that I’ll escape if I’m not handcuffed to you?”

Aspirin. God he needed aspirin. He shook his head. “Do you want to escape? I won’t stop you, you know.”

“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. 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 whispered.

Nate felt an extraordinary sense of tenderness possess him. “And why do you suppose that is?”

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

He reclined on the bed, hooking one ankle over the other. Rolling his head to the side on the pillow, he looked at the pensive figure by the window. She looked 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 to come here.”

Outside, frozen branches engaged in a swordfight.

“I am not going to sleep with you.”

He chuckled, growing lethargic as he lifted his arms and laced his palms behind his head.

“Figuratively or literally?” he prompted.

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

“No,” He 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 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 until she stirred like the tide. The warm sea washed over him and rolled to a gentle froth by his side. Fresh citrus cascaded across the pillow, and a long feminine body depressed the mattress.

I believe I can trust you. When Emily made that declaration, it sounded as if it had been torn from her, and that release seemed to have been costly. A shadow of fine eyelashes concealed her eyes, but he knew she was feigning sleep. And her posture, though in repose, was stiff with indecision.

Emily’s breathing eventually evened out, her face so close he felt the trace of air brush across his cheek. If he tilted his head just a bit, 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 past. 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 she was now sound asleep.

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