Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily) (13 page)

She stands her ground with a stubborn thrust of her chin. “Not particularly, no. And from the look of things, you two could use a mediator.”

Ignoring her, Adam faces me again. “Yes, making sure people are safe is part of my job, but standing between you and Mark is different. You are…” he stops talking and lets out a breath. “You’re not just a job to me. You haven’t been since the moment I saw you.”

My anger slowly deflates only to be replaced by sadness that wraps itself around my heart. I touch his face with gentle fingertips. “Fear can make me irrational sometimes.” I lean my head into his chest.

He cups the back of my head. “I get that. It’s okay.”

“But you can’t get in the middle of me and Mark. Not even that badge and gun of yours is going to stop him.”

“I don’t need either to keep him from you. Guys like him don’t stand up to men. They prefer to torment women, and when I tell you he won’t get anywhere near you as long as you’re here, it’s a promise.”

Francine nods her head. “He’ll have to go through me first, and, as you can see, I’ve got a big brother with a hell of a right hook. That bastard friend of Mark’s might have gotten in a couple of good licks, but he’s the one with the broken ribs. Art fights a little mean.” She sniffs and shrugs. “But he gets the job done.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, my fingers curled tightly around a soft, cotton shirt hanging out of my suitcase. “The night I decided to leave Mark, I knew I was taking a risk, but I was okay with that. It was just me. My life I was risking. I can’t ask any of you to put yourselves in danger.”

“So don’t ask.” Adam sits next to me, puts his hand on my leg. “It’s time to fight back, Emily, and you can’t do it alone. It takes an army to kick a dictator’s ass.” He cups my cheek and glides his thumb across my lower lip. “We can be your army.”

I close my eyes and lean into his strength, my resolve weakening. I know Mark’s capabilities, and the fear is so strong it’s almost crippling. I want to be strong, to show him there’s more to me than the cheerleader who worshipped him in high school. But I don’t know if I’m ready.

Adam’s offer of strength might help me, but at what cost? Would Francine end up paying for my acceptance in the end? Or would Adam bear the brunt of Mark’s fury?

“Stop overthinking it.” Adam interrupts my musings. “You have a chance to start over here. Are you going to throw that away because your ex-boyfriend is an asshole?”

The question brings a smile to my face. What I’ve found here in Juniper Springs gives me hope, and I don’t want to lose it. When my gaze meets Adam’s, I silently give him my answer.

Art leans across the counter, a shiner covering his right eye. He’s sharing the full story with three of his customers who are taking great delight in every detail. They grin each time he swings a fist to demonstrate how he whacked Jeremy.

“Each time he tells that story the number of times he thumped that guy will double.” There’s laughter in Francine’s voice.

“Now will you tell me about that phone call you got yesterday?” I give her a look that I hope tells her I mean business.

“It was someone asking for you. When that Jeremy guy showed up, I recognized his voice. If Art hadn’t come over when he did, I was going to cross his eyes with a baseball bat. I already had it in my hand.” She grins. “I’ve never been good with a gun, but I could hit a 90mph fast ball on the first try. Imagine what I could do with a head the size of Jeremy’s.” She waggles her eyebrows, and I start laughing.

Her attempts to take my mind off Mark’s next move are working. The amount of customers pouring through the door doesn’t hurt, either. Since word of Art’s fight has gotten around, Baby’s Diner has been packed wall to wall. Coming in to help with the crowd was the least I could do to make up for his bruised eye.

“I asked Adam if Jeremy said anything about pressing charges against Art, but he didn’t know.” I glance at Art who, by this time, has an audience of seven men and two women, all listening to his story with rapt attention. “Now that I think about it, though, he won’t press charges. That isn’t what he was here for, and it would interfere with Mark’s plans.”

Francine hands me a new ticket book. “Plans don’t always come to fruition.” She nudges me with her shoulder.

“Adam said he was going to have a talk with Jeremy.” It’s already been two hours since I’ve seen him, and he hasn’t called. I’m anxious to hear about the conversation. Most importantly, I want to know what Mark’s next move is.

The bell over the door jingles, and several men walk in together, each trying to crowd the other out of the doorway.

“For the love of Pete,” Francine mutters and moves to intercept before the pushing match escalates.

I watch as she calms everyone down and offers them coffee. Then I realize someone is watching me, and I look back to the door. Adam is standing just inside the diner. He isn’t moving, and when my gaze meets his, I know something is wrong. Really wrong. I place a cup of coffee in front of a customer at the counter and slip through the crowd of people to greet him.

“Hey. Did you get a chance to talk to Jeremy?”

He takes hold of my arm. “We need to talk. Let’s go into the kitchen.”

Whatever he has to say isn’t going to be good. My feet move like they have leaden weights tied to them. From behind me, I hear Francine’s shoes slapping against the tile. She’s right on our heels.

“Francine, I need to speak to Emily alone.”

“Whatever you have to say to her, you can say to me and Art because this doesn’t look like it’s going to be good news.” She barrels into the kitchen behind us and comes around to block Adam’s path. “What’s going on?” Arms folded, she looks ready to do battle.

Adam rubs a hand over his face and looks like he’s ready to argue then he shakes his head. “Dammit. I don’t want to do this.”

“What is it?” I keep my voice soft because I don’t have much oxygen. There’s no sense even trying to brace myself. Whatever he’s about to say is going to be bad. I just have to hang on the best I can.

Hazel eyes fill with regret. “I just got a call from the Sheriff in Ogilvie County.”

I can’t breathe.

“There’s a warrant for your arrest. I’m to hold you at our jail until a deputy gets here to take you back to Broomtown.”

My heart drops, and I close my eyes. Francine speaks for me. “What’s the charge?”

“Attempted murder.”

The handcuffs dangle around my wrists, too loose to really do any good. Francine protests when Adam puts them on me, but he tells her it’s procedure. At least he leads me out the back door so the diners can’t see my humiliation.

We don’t speak as he places his hand atop my head, and I slide into the backseat of the cruiser. Francine rushes out, waving her hands wildly.

“You can’t do this, Adam. You know that girl ain’t guilty of anything of the sort, and if you do this, you’re giving that ex of hers exactly what he wants.”

“I don’t have a choice, Francine. I have to uphold the law whether I like it or not.” His gaze drops to my face. “And I don’t like it. I wish you’d told me.”

“I couldn’t. Not yet.”

“And now it’s out of your hands.” Adam’s jaw clenches, and he leans in to me, putting his face so close to mine his warm breath caresses my cheek. “I can’t fix this without your help.”

I draw back and look away. “You can’t fix this at all, Adam.”

With a curse, he straightens. Before he can close the door, Francine wedges her body in the gap. “I won’t let you do this. You’re not taking her.”

“Francine, for the love of all that’s holy!” Art storms toward his sister, his round face flushed from the heat of the stoves. “You can’t interfere with the sheriff. He’s just doing his job.”

“A little too well in my opinion.” She leans in and pats my face with her fingertips. “Don’t you worry, Emily. We’re gonna get you a good lawyer. In the meantime, you just keep quiet. Not a word.” She wags a finger then pulls back to glare at Adam. “Don’t you try to get any information out of her, Adam Madison. She has the right to keep silent.”

“Which I’ve told her.” Anger creeps into his voice. “You think I want to do this? I have an arrest warrant. A deputy from Broomtown will be here tomorrow morning to transfer custody, and—”

“Tomorrow morning!” Francine thumps him in the chest with the back of her hand. “You expect her to stay in that drafty old cell all night? Why can’t those lazy asses get here any sooner? It’s not like we’re five hundred miles away.”

“The sheriff said they were short-handed.”

Adam’s getting tired of the discussion. The tension in his jaw shows it, but Francine misses the obvious and plows on. “That’s some bullshit if I ever heard it.”

“Francine, you don’t know anything about it. It could be true.” Art takes hold of her arm and tries to rein her in, but she shakes him off like he’s nothing more than a bothersome fly.

“What I know is that Emily didn’t try to kill anyone, least of all that useless ex of hers. And even if she did,” she spares me an apologetic look, “she was completely within her rights. I’ll bet it was self-defense.”

“That’s up to a jury to decide.” Adam tries to move Francine back, but she isn’t budging. “I need to take her in. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

I listen to them arguing, but I’m not hearing most of what they say. Numbness has set in. I knew Mark would play his ace, but this move has his father written all over it. Ike Metzger would do anything to help his son get what he wants. And this is the path he’s chosen. There’s no fighting it. At least not for now.

Lips pursed, Francine backs up. “You just tell that deputy, whenever he decides to saunter in tomorrow morning, that Emily has friends here, and we’re going to stand behind her. And if knows what’s good for him, he’ll make sure she gets back to Broomtown safe and sound. I know how to find people.”

“I believe I’ll leave the threat out of it when I talk to him.” Adam sighs and closes the car door. Now the conversation is muffled, and from the corner of my eye I see Francine’s hands waving frantically. She’s nowhere near done with what she has to say, but Adam is finished listening.

She taps the window to draw my attention. I look at her, and she tells me it’s going to be okay. But I know Mark. I expected him to come looking for me, but this, whoever’s behind it, is a whole new level of mean.

I train my gaze on the trees out the window, watching them swaying in the chilly breeze. I shouldn’t be surprised that Ike is playing dirty. It’s what he does best. And Mark’s always been his puppet.

The driver’s side door opens, and Adam gets into the front seat. He sits there for a long moment without starting the engine even though our breaths are frosting in the air. “Dammit, Emily. Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

“I barely know you, Adam, and I don’t make a habit of spilling my guts to people I don’t know.” It’s the first excuse that comes to mind. Telling Adam had been so far down on my list it was barely visible. Because I didn’t know how he would respond. If it would end what we’d found together.

“But sleeping with them is okay?”

The bitter words create a knot in the pit of my stomach, and I glare at him in the rearview. “I think I’m going to take Francine’s advice. I wouldn’t want you to have to testify at my trial.”

“Did you tell Francine anything about this?”

I refuse to answer, and after another long moment littered with Adam’s curses, he starts the car. The heater blasts out hot air in a matter of seconds, but I still can’t feel my skin. I’m wrapped in a shroud of ice as I face a past I’ll never escape.

Chapter Ten

Keys clank when Adam opens the door to a cell that holds a cot with a wool blanket and a calendar hanging on the wall. The last resident had marked red x’s through the dates leading up to yesterday. I wonder if he was pardoned or transferred to prison.

Adam opens my cuffs and removes them from my wrists. Before I move away from him, he catches me with one arm around my waist. He draws me in slowly, and it’s like a dance, a sad pirouette from a disgraced ballerina.

When my breasts touch his chest, I bite back the tears. Last night seems so very far away. He holds me, his hands splayed across my back, and I breathe him in, knowing it could be the last time we’re this close.

He pulls back and lifts my chin with two fingers. We stare into one another’s eyes before the distance between us evaporates. The air morphs into a vacuum, and we need to be close to breathe. His hands capture my face, and his lips take mine in a bruising kiss that’s part anger, part desperation.

I feed off his emotions, fisting my hands in his hair and arching my body against his. Will this be our last connection? The question resounds in my head as he slams me into the iron bars. I grip them behind me, the contrast of cold welcome against the heat singeing my skin.

We leave words behind, our bodies becoming our only means of communication. Adam lifts my blouse over my breasts but doesn’t remove it. Anyone could walk in. See us. His career would be destroyed. I try to protest, to remind him, but he’s on fire, igniting me.

His hands claim every inch of my body, and I’m panting when he lowers the zipper on my jeans. We shouldn’t do this. Common sense is a whisper in the back of my mind, but this all-consuming hunger speaks louder. It demands satisfaction.

Adam lifts me, his hot hands cupping me as he swings me around to the painted brick wall. I hear the sound of his zipper. And I reach for him, grasping any part of him I can. Just needing the contact of flesh against flesh.

Our bodies come together in a mad rush of slick heat and punishing strokes. Each thrust fuels his fury, but I welcome it. It’s a feeling. Something I can cling to. He wouldn’t be angry if there wasn’t something uniting us. A reason he wants to save me.

My release comes too soon. I bite into his shoulder to quell my cries, but he doesn’t hold his in. When his body sags against mine, I cradle his head and kiss the top. It’s the final brief moment before he lowers my feet to the floor.

In silence, we restore our clothing. He kisses me once more, a sweeter touch of his lips against mine, then walks out of the cell, closing it behind him.