"I'm starting to worry that you could hurt me far worse than anyone else. And that scares me."

Emilie looked like a lost little girl hoping against all odds she would be offered shelter.

"I won't hurt you. I swear."

"You're sincere now. But who knows what the future holds?"

He had no idea how to answer. Now was not the right time to tell Emilie she affected him like no other woman ever had-that he couldn't get his mind off her, that just to be in her presence made him feel content. He'd just have to prove it to her. Eventually.

"You'll see." He brushed his lips across her forehead. "One day you'll understand."

She blinked, her eyelids moving so slowly he could see the flesh wrinkle as they moved. "You're ready to pa.s.s out." He took her hand. "Let's get you home."

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Julian sat in his darkened study and stared out of the bay window into the garden. The distinct colors of the azaleas and gardenias were lost in the moonlight, but the wrought-iron pergola he'd spent years searching for stood out like a sentinel. Wisteria climbed up the structure's iron legs, but the purple blooms were fading. In contrast, jasmine and rose bushes grew in abundance, their white blooms still beautiful under the moon. Two chairs sat beneath the pergola. In one lay a single white lily for the little girl he would never forget.

But even this peaceful view could not quell his anger tonight. A child should be nurtured and loved by the woman who gave birth to her-not treated like an abomination.

He'd known Claire Chambers was a vile woman long before he first laid eyes on her. But to hear the words she'd shouted at his poor sweet Emilie infuriated him. Hidden in the alley, he'd barely been able to keep his anger in check.

Julian had risen from his crouch, ready to whisk her away to their secret hideout. She would escape the torture of this life and be at peace with the new reality he'd created for her. But the opportunity had never presented itself.

And then she drank her sorrows away. That was not his Emilie. In all the months he'd observed her, not once did he see her in such an establishment. She never purchased alcohol at the store, either.

His fury at Claire morphed into anxiety as Nathan Madigan appeared and entered the bar in a hurry. Had she called for him? What could he possibly have to offer her?

Julian waited for Emilie to exit. Would she and the negotiator be locked in a heated embrace? Was she dating Madigan behind his back?

His answer came soon enough. Madigan emerged, supporting a very inebriated Emilie. She drunkenly clung to him, but Madigan's stance was gentlemanly. He handled her with care, easing her into the pa.s.senger seat of his car and fastening the seatbelt.

Emilie paid him no mind, leaning her head against the gla.s.s. Perhaps she hadn't made a bad decision after all.

But how long would Madigan stay at her home? Going near Big Horn Condos was out of the question. He resolved to trust Emilie and left for home, praying her innocence was still intact.

A chiming brought him back to the present. After more than a hundred years, the English grandfather clock still told perfect time. Julian rose from his chair and poured himself a midnight brandy. He looked again at the text message he had received several hours ago.

Claire Davis had attempted to buy her daughter's silence. The entire bank staff had witnessed the altercation and Emilie's subsequent breakdown. She was unstable and relying on the wrong sort of man to steady her.

Something had to be done.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

A ten-pound weight had taken up residence inside Emilie's head. Strange voices and annoyingly cheery music rang in her ears. She forced her sticky eyelids open to find herself watching a commercial for dog food. She'd slept with her mouth open, and slimy drool plastered her right cheek to the couch. At least her impromptu nap had lasted long enough for the room to stop spinning.

She smacked her lips together. Her tongue tasted like she'd spent the last hour licking a dirty sock. Emilie rolled off the couch and stumbled into the bathroom. She stuck her mouth under the faucet and slurped as much of the liquid as she could.

Otis sat on the toilet seat, his eyes narrowed in disapproval.

"Clearly I can't handle my liquor."

She had pa.s.sed out seconds after Nathan deposited her in his car. He'd practically carried her to her condo, and then insisted she eat something. Emilie grumbled in protest, but sat obediently at the counter as Nathan sat a bag of food in front of her.

"When did you get Subway?" she asked in confusion.

"While you were pa.s.sed out. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so it's just turkey and cheese. Do you want me to put anything else on it?"

Emilie shook her head. "It's all good."

Nathan had offered to stay, but Emilie didn't trust herself. The alcohol was still strumming her libido. She wasn't going to put him in another compromising position.

"Lock this door behind me," he said. "I'm standing on the other side until I hear it click."

Emboldened by the rum, Emilie wrapped her arms around his neck. She wanted to be close to him one last time.

Nathan returned the embrace. She could feel the hammering of his heart against her ear.

"Call me tomorrow. I can take you to work if you want."

"Don't you have a shift?"

"Tomorrow night."

"I'll call you. But I'd better take myself to work."

"Please let me know you're there safely."

"Yes, Officer Madigan. Wait, is that your t.i.tle?"

"Close enough." He still held her. "You're going to be all right?"

"I'll be fine."

Nathan gazed down at her and ran his tongue over his lips. He wanted to kiss her. She didn't think she had the strength to stop him.

A loud beeping shattered the intense moment.

"s.h.i.t." Nathan yanked a pager from his pocket. "I have to go. SWAT just got called to help bring in a fugitive."

A wave of sobriety washed over her. "Is it the Taker?"

"No. A dealer Narcotics has been after for months. They've got him cornered."

"Will you be negotiating with him?"

"No hostages. I'll be going in, probably with Chris and Sarge. That's usually how we run it."

"Your job is dangerous," she said, realizing that fact for the first time. "You could be killed."

"We know what we're doing."

"s.h.i.t happens."

"It won't." The pager sounded again. "Call me tomorrow. And lock this door."

"Please, be careful."

"Always."

Now mostly awake and sober, Emilie sank down to the bathroom floor and ran her fingers over the chocolate brown rug. Nathan was a good man, the sort of person she'd always wanted but never thought she'd have a chance to be with.

He was also a cop. Until tonight, she'd only thought of him as the hot negotiator standing safely outside the danger zone. Nathan had promised he would never hurt her, but his job put him at high risk. His life could be taken at any time.

Then again, so could her own.

Otis hopped down from the toilet and stood on his hind legs to sniff her face. He blinked, trying to figure out why she was lounging on the bathroom floor.

Why had she gotten drunk?

Claire's horrible words came back to. Her real father wasn't Mark Chambers but some random stranger.

Maybe it wasn't true. Maybe Claire had been lying in one last attempt to shatter her daughter. The father's name on the birth certificate was marked 'unknown.' Claire could have simply taken an extra step to cover her tracks.

Asking Mark Chambers for a DNA test was the only way to know for sure. Whatever anger she'd felt at Mark had dissipated the moment she'd gazed at her birth certificate. He was a victim of her mother's selfishness too. He deserved the truth.

Emilie resolved to call a private investigator tomorrow. He would find Mark, and together they would discover the truth, once and for all.

"And G.o.d help Claire if she lied to me again." She climbed into bed. "Or that nosy reporter will find herself with one h.e.l.l of an exclusive."

Nathan dumped his Kevlar vest into the SWAT truck and took a long pull from a water bottle. Locals hung out on the fire escapes and sidewalks as the suspect was loaded into a waiting squad car. Nathan kept silent as the rest of the team celebrated the bust. His mind was on Emilie.

"What's going on with you?" Chris asked as he unloaded his a.s.sault rifle.

"Nothing."

"Bulls.h.i.t. Either you got man PMS or something's up. Talk."

"I can't here. Too many sensitive ears. Let's go to Ike's after shift's over."

"I only need one guess to know what-or should I say who-you're referring to."

"The correct phrasing would be 'to whom.'"

"Shut up, nerd."

Ike's was an all-night diner just a few blocks from the station. Cops usually filled the seats, but between the shift change and the early hour, the place was mostly empty. A few early birds-or late-nighters-sat at the counter. Nathan and Chris settled into a back booth.

"So Emilie Davis has your panties in a twist?" Chris dumped a load of creamer into his coffee.

"Yeah."

"Not smart."

"I know."

Chris sighed with pleasure as the server placed a large plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. "She must be one h.e.l.l of a woman to pull your head out of the sand."

"She is." Nathan slathered mustard onto his bacon cheeseburger. "She's smart and funny. She's been through a lot, and she's tough."

"I've never heard you talk about a girl like that. The closest thing was that b.i.t.c.h Ava, and you settled for her."

"Emilie's different."

"You're walking a fine line." Chris dumped ketchup onto his eggs. "She's an open case."

"We haven't done anything inappropriate."

"Yet."

"I can keep myself in check."

"Right. No one's perfect, dude, not even you. Hormones get the best of us all sometimes."

Nathan didn't want to admit how right his friend was. "I don't know what to do. I can't stay away from her. h.e.l.l, I can't even stop thinking about her."

"You're sure about that?"

"Why?"

"I'm sure she's great, but she's also damaged goods. Whatever her story is, she's got a ton of baggage."