White Heat (39 page)

“The good news is Norcroft is dead.”

Emily looked up at him expectantly at the pregnant pause.

“The bad news is he had two tats on his back. The black lily and some other damned flower we’re trying to identify.” A little difficult due to the location of a bullets exit wound.
Emily’s eyes went wide. “My God, Max, are you telling me this
isn’t
over? That there’s yet another flower terrorist group out there just waiting in the wings?”

“There’s always another tango group waiting in the wings.” Might as well be honest, he thought a trifle nervously. He watched her eyes, and observed her expression. “There’s a reason an organization like T-FLAC thrives and never runs out of work. Terrorists are like god damned cockroaches. They breed and multiply in the dark— Look, can we talk about this some other time?”

“Will there
be
some other time?”

“I want to ask where you were tonight,” he said, his voice rough as he held her gaze. He scrubbed a hand around the back of his neck, his shoulders tensing again. “But I know I don’t have the right.” He wanted to touch her so badly his entire body ached with the need.

Emily didn’t say anything.

“Who did you dress up for? Who did you go with?” He got up and stalked to the window before pivoting back to face her, his gut knotted. He held up his hand, although she hadn’t said a word. “Don’t tell me, I have no fu- No right to ask. But danm it, Emily. I
want
that right. I want the privilege of knowing where you are, and
how
you are. I want the right to worry about you. I want to meet your friends.” He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling like a lovesick kid on his first date. “I want to see you paint. It’s like this crazy need inside of me, to watch you sleep every night, to watch you wake up every morning. I want—Jesus.” He paused to clear the thickness out of his throat. “This is hard. I want you, Emily Greene. I want you and everything that comes with you.”

“For how long?” Her eyes narrowed and Max regretted that he’d ever given her cause to doubt his love.

“For as long as you’ll give me. Forever.”

“And what will I get in return?”

“You’ll get a man who’ll love you enough for three lifetimes. A man who will honor you, and care about you, and devote his life to making you happy.” He walked toward her, tried to gauge her reactions. “A man who swears that every time he leaves he’ll give you a date and time of his return.”

Her honest laughter cheered him. “As if.”

He smiled back, feeling light and buoyant, and so damned happy he wanted to yell it to the world. “Okay,” he admitted ruefully. “That’s a bit of a stretch. But I swear to you, no matter where I go, I’ll always come back to you as quickly as possible. Considering that I’ll be head of the Italian branch of T-FLAC, I won’t have to stray too far. I need you, Emily.”

She looked at him in surprise, tiny half moons of delight bracketing the corners of her mouth. “There’s an Italian branch of T-FLAC?”

He leaned over, bracing his hands on the arms of her chair, and bent his head to brush a kiss over her smiling lips. “There is now.”

She stood up within the circle of his arms, then placed both palms flat on his chest. The scent of her hair and skin made Max drunk with love.

Winding her arms around his neck, she lifted her mouth to his. He felt her warm breath against his lips.

“That sounds like a promise to me.”

“It is. I love you more than I could ever have imagined was possible.”

“Then welcome home, my love.”