Freedom

by S. A. Wolfe

  He and Emma sit on the couch while I stand against the wall, anxious and too frustrated to sit.

  “Your dad sent me to check on you. He’s worried about you with all this crap Robert is getting into. I heard about him showing up here.” Sean sighs and leans back, crossing his legs and spreading his arms across the back of the couch.

  “I can handle Robert. There’s nothing new there,” Emma responds.

  I ignore her remark and direct my attention to Sean. Fathers don’t send guys like this to check on their daughters unless something is very wrong, and I suspect this guy is carrying at least one weapon under his expensive suit.

  “What’s going on with Robert? What have you heard and why does he keep contacting Emma? He even called her on one of the prepaid phones she carries. How did he get that number?” I ask Sean sternly.

  He sighs. “Robert can get pretty much any number or address he wants. There’s always someone who will tip him off. And Emma knows enough people that could easily inform Robert, even if it’s unintentional. Robert has his ways.”

  “What does he want with Emma?” I push. I’m sick of these roundabout excuses that have no definitive answers.

  “Old ties are hard to break,” Sean says while looking sympathetically at Emma.

  “I’ve put him in my past,” Emma tells Sean.

  “I know that, but Robert doesn’t think so, and when a man is down or running scared, he tends to turn to those who make him feel safe,” Sean responds. “Vinnie is having problems with the organization and the Feds. Some think he may turn on his own son. Unthinkable that a parent would do that, but Vinnie’s desperate, and it’s ugly.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Emma says sadly.

  A moment ago she was happy and ready to go to bed with me. Now—with this turn of events where she pouts over a former flame—it’s infuriating; this conversation is beginning to turn my stomach. I want to take Emma in my arms and make her feel safe, yet I have no clue what they are talking about, and this Sean guy has the upper hand on me—a history with Emma and her trust.

  “Who is Vinnie? And why do we give a shit about Robert?” I am getting angrier.

  “Are we good to talk here?” Sean asks Emma.

  “Yes, Dylan is my… my roommate and we work together. His brother hired me and knows a little about my situation. He spoke to Dad before hiring me because every girl loves having a prospective employer call her daddy for a reference.” She snorts.

  Sean chuckles and then turns to me. His gaze lets me know that he’s aware I’m the roommate that wants to screw his beloved Emma. He looks at Emma’s skimpy dress, and realizing she is revealing a little too much, she throws one of her knitted blankets across her lap.

  “I suppose you should know who I am,” Sean says to me. “I was hired by Emma’s father when Emma had just became a teen. His auto business was growing and he was getting shaken down for more money, and he began to worry about Emma’s welfare. And, well, because she was taking an interest in Robert and his friends and spending a lot of time around those kids. I’m a hired gun—protection for Emma’s family. I’m one of the good guys.” He smiles.

  “Oh, great. So you are carrying a gun.”

  This is so far out of my realm in the furniture business. I am pretty sure Carson already knows about this guy, too, which means Sean knows about me. Wonder what he thinks about a former resident of Willow Haven Treatment Center hanging out with his precious, little Emma.

  “Everyone carries.” Sean regards me carefully, trying to sum up where I fit in with Emma and if I am trustworthy.

  “I don’t.” Emma adds quietly, “Not anymore.”

  I scoff and take a moment to study the woman who moments ago reminded me of a gypsy Tinkerbell.

  “Jesus. What about Robert?” I ask Sean. “When he came around here… I can assume he’s packing, too?”

  “Always,” Sean confirms.

  “Robert is old fashioned, but he likes to carry a Glock,” Emma says, as if this is helpful.

  “What the fuck does that mean ‘he’s old fashioned’?”

  “He would never shoot someone,” she adds quickly.

  “Em,” Sean says wearily.

  “Then why does he carry it?” I glare at Emma.

  “He likes to carry something longer than his penis?” she jokes, looking at Sean with a gleam in her eye.

  “Jaysus,” Sean chuckles.

  “You’re scaring me.” I point my finger at Emma.

  Sean laughs more loudly and then I crack a tentative smile. It’s all too weird—I have to smile. Besides, I am majorly hung up on her, and I want to be with her all the time, especially if she needs protection.

  She shrugs apologetically with a look of embarrassment in her beautiful eyes that practically knocks the wind out of me.

  “I’m not sure I find this humorous for the right reason,” I state. “Seriously, Emma, you’re all kinds of crazy.”

  “Doesn’t that make you feel normal?” She smiles and Sean catches the look between Emma and me. I don’t want to have a personal conversation in front of him.

  “So, who is Vinnie?” I get us back on topic.

  “Vincent Marchetto is Robert’s father,” Sean explains. “He’s running the show. Without going into all their business dealings, he’s been snagged on a few big Fed sweeps. Some of his guys got caught in a major drug bust, and some of it can be traced back to Robert.”

  “What? Robert doesn’t work for his father. He joined that big deal law firm. He was never in the family business,” Emma pleads Robert’s case with too much love as far as I’m concerned.

  “Em.” Sean shakes his head.

  “What did you think Robert was involved in—cupcakes?” I say too harshly to her.

  “Robert was let go from the firm, Em. He’s on the run because even he thinks his dad is going to make him the scapegoat.”

  “Vinnie cut him loose, didn’t he? That’s why I didn’t see another guy with Robert when he was out here. He came by himself,” she says.

  “Afraid so.”

  “What does he want with Emma?” I question. “How can she possibly help him out of this jam?”

  Sean shrugs. “Either he’s looking for a friend or he thinks Emma can help. Any ideas about that, Em?”

  Emma shakes her head. “I haven’t had a lengthy conversation with Robert since the Christmas party. I don’t want to even see him, but he’s been insisting on meeting with me.”

  “Goddammit. This is so fucked up,” I say.

  “Robert is not about hurting Emma; she’s right about that. I’ve studied that guy for years, though something is going on in his head that only he knows about.”

  “So you think we have a rogue mobster hiding in the woods, looking for Emma?” I ask.

  They both look pretty calm for two people who are talking so casually about criminals and a possibly dangerous stalker. I try to breathe slower and count backwards, so I’m not tempted to strike an inanimate object out of rage.

  “Robert is not the type to hide in the woods. He has a network of contacts that are untouched by his father, which means he’s probably with one of them. He’s not hiding in this town, either. It’s too small. Don’t worry about that,” Sean says reassuringly, at least to Emma.

  “Jesus, Emma, why couldn’t you have a Dr. Seuss life? Why this Godfather crap? Shit.” I pace the living room.

  “I would have preferred a Dr. Seuss childhood, but it wasn’t exactly my choice.” Her words are clipped.

  “Who wouldn’t?” Sean adds. “I love The Sneetches and that Circus McGurkus kid. I read those books to my niece all the time. Great books.”

  Emma smiles and pats Sean’s large hand.

  I am out of my element here. This news is pissing me off, and these two are acting like we’re simply talking about a bad weather system coming to town.

  “Listen,” Sean stands, “I just came to check on you and make sure
you’re doing okay so I can report back to your dad.”

  “Wait a minute. What about Robert?” I question. “If I see him, do I just beat the bloody shit out of him?”

  “Sure, you could do that.” Sean smiles. “He deserves it.”

  “That’s it? We’re winging it?” I ask.

  Emma stands and puts her hand on my arm as Sean watches closely.

  “There’s not much we can do right now. Do you want a gun?” Sean inquires, beginning to reach into his jacket.

  “No. No guns. I can handle this guy.” I look at Emma, and she gives a slight smile.

  She trusts me enough to be here instead of in her father’s armed fortress with Sean and his arsenal. That counts for something, but it doesn’t mean shit if I get killed trying to be the hero in a game I have never played before.

  “Em is fairly well-trained in defensive moves,” Sean adds.

  I look at her with surprise. She shrugs again.

  Interesting. All this talk about her background has her suddenly clammed up.

  “She has a great roundhouse kick, and her specialty is something she calls the Vulcan Grip.” Sean chuckles as he says this.

  “I think I know that one,” I state pointedly to Emma.

  ***

  After Sean leaves, I sweep the house, checking windows and the doors, thinking of anything I can do to improve our security while Emma quietly sits on the couch knitting. I don’t know how she can be so calm about this.

  I head into the kitchen and pull my meds out of the cupboard above the fridge. I pop my antidepressant with a glass of water as Emma enters the room and watches me. Then I take out the Xanax I haven’t used in ages, but the situation seems to warrant something for my growing anxiety.

  “What does that one do?” Emma asks, appearing behind me.

  “One is my antidepressant and the other is a mood stabilizer. I take them every day. And this other little orange one is for bodyguards who tell me we’ve got a gun-toting ex-boyfriend after you.”

  I swallow the pills while Emma watches me with sympathetic eyes. I hate sympathy.

  She walks closer to me and puts her hand on my back. “I’m sorry I put you in the middle of this. I can move in to a motel if this scares you too much,” she says softly.

  Great, now she thinks I’m too weak to handle her problem. “I’m not scared, Emma. I’m pissed because that guy gets to run around and do this to you. You’re not going to a motel.”

  I snake my arms around her back. “I’m certain you think you know everything about me. Lauren has told you plenty, but I’m not taking strong doses that can make me zone out or flip out if that’s what you’re worried about. These pills balance me out so I don’t have the urge to hunt down people and beat the living day lights out of them… Shit. I’m making it sound worse… They’re low doses. The pills help me. That’s all.”

  “I’m not judging you. I know you take medicine, and I know you see a psychiatrist. I understand that. But I don’t want my situation to make your life harder.”

  I pull her closer. “It already has. Even without this asshole in the picture. The minute you showed up at work, my life became harder.”

  Her brows furrow at my remark.

  “In a good way.” I kiss her forehead. “Being the exercise-workaholic was getting boring. You’re not going anywhere.”

  She puts her hands on my waist and leans her head against my chest. “I do wish I had a Dr. Seuss life and less drama.”

  “Well, I didn’t have one, either, and for a long time, I made my life and Carson’s worse, so we’re even there.”

  She looks up at me. “Sean has always watched over me as much as possible. I kind of shut him out when I was at college and seeing Robert, but Sean always managed to be close enough to make sure I was safe. The only reason he left us here alone is because he trusts you. He must know that you’re good.”

  “Maybe, but he sure is a mood killer. Jesus, my meds haven’t affected my libido at all, but that guy kind of ruined the moment.” I chuckle nervously because I can’t believe I’m telling her this.

  She purses her lips in a retrained smile. “So, how about a date? We can watch a movie?”

  “I can’t wait.” I fake a smile.

  ***

  We sit on the couch where Emma’s legs are tucked to the side, resting on mine as she knits and watches the film. My legs are stretched out and I have an arm around her shoulders. My thoughts are elsewhere, thinking about what Sean has said and wondering about Emma, therefore it is a full twenty minutes into the movie before I realize we’re watching Goodfellas.

  “I can’t believe we’re watching this,” I comment.

  “It was in the DVD player.” She clicks her needles together and studies her knitting.

  “It’s Lauren’s. She always brings these mob movies and thrillers over when she hangs out with Leo.”

  Emma laughs. “I forgot about that. She was like that at school, too. Such a hypocrite. She’d lecture me on Robert and all his nefarious ties, and then she’d watch Godfather marathons.”

  “This movie is doing nothing for me, but that clickety-click sound you’re making with those needles is kind of turning me on,” I say, watching her knit.

  She pauses and looks at me with a mischievous smile. “Really?”

  I run my hands along her bare legs. Her skin is so smooth that, just like that, I am rock hard again. Her hands are poised in mid-air, holding her knitting needles as I lean in to kiss her. My lips push against hers and she eagerly opens them, letting me run my tongue inside. I know where I want this to go.

  I immediately grab her needles and toss them before pulling her to her feet.

  “You’re not my roommate. Let’s go to bed,” I say, walking her briskly to the stairs.

  “Technically we’re housemates since we’ve never slept together.”

  “We’ll fix that,” I reply, scooping her up at the bottom of the stairs and carrying her to my bedroom.

  Fourteen

  Emma

  I had every intention of seducing Dylan when I floated downstairs in that little black dress that barely covers my thighs until Sean waylaid those plans. I thought talking about Robert and guns would not only kill the mood but would turn Dylan off me for good.

  I watch him quickly drop his jeans and step out of them before pulling off his t-shirt and flinging it. In his black boxer briefs, I can see every curve of every muscle, and all I can think about is running my tongue over every one of them. His firm abs narrow down into his briefs, and I stare at that flat, taut skin that I want to touch and lick. God, something about him makes me want to lick him all over. I shiver.

  “Well, are you joining me?” he asks as he pulls the covers back on the bed. “Because if I have to throw you on this bed and strip you myself, I will.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say but don’t move.

  He strides over to me and pulls my stretchy dress over my head and slingshots it across the room.

  “Oh, yes,” he says, admiring my black lace bra and matching thong. “Good thing I didn’t know this is what you had on underneath, or I would have asked Sean to leave sooner. This is perfect.” His voice is deep and seductive.

  He runs his finger slowly underneath my bra, causing my nipples to bud, while he watches my aroused expression and his breathing becomes heavier. Then, when his finger trails down my stomach to my thong, he slips it underneath the stretchy fabric and traces just above my wet folds.

  “Mmm,” is all I can manage to say.

  “Mmm, yes,” he murmurs.

  When both of his hands slip under the thong and caress my ass, one hand comes back to the front and sweeps across my clit, and I am about to collapse. Dylan hoists me against him by holding my ass. He drops me on the center of the bed and climbs on all fours, looking down at me with a bemused expression.

  “Hi.” His sexy voice causes my wet center to flex and tingle with anticipation.

/>   “Hi, you,” I respond. I reach up and pull his head down until our noses are almost touching. I am eager to have his mouth on me—all over me.

  “I want you,” he says gruffly.

  You would expect, for our first time together, that we would rush and claw at each other, yet Dylan is keeping it slow and teasing. He kisses me leisurely, and no matter how aroused and wet I am, I can’t get him to move faster. He has definitely taken over, keeping his kisses and finger action painfully slow.

  As his hand trails up my torso and pulls down one side of my bra, his mouth descends on my aching nipple. He licks and sucks it hard before going to the next breast. I moan and arch into him. I could easily be satisfied if he would plunge his cock into me now. This has been building for two weeks, and I want it hard and fast. He seems to have other plans, though, and is exhibiting more control than me.

  “Dylan,” I moan. “I’m ready.”

  “I can see that.” He smiles against my mouth as he slips two fingers into me and swirls them around the wetness that’s building. “We’re not rushing this. I’m going to touch every part of you until you’re screaming in ecstasy.”

  “That may be any moment,” I reply as I run my hands across his broad back.

  He shuts me up with more kisses, this time going deeper, while his hand works over my clit. I am wriggling and pushing into him beyond any semblance of my earlier thoughts of a sultry seduction. I reach for his bulging erection and rub my palm slowly against the fabric. His breathing escalates and he moves my hand away, so my next assault is under his briefs. I am fast as I push under the waistband and wrap my hand around the silky skin of his cock and pull it out of his underwear.

  “Oh, shit,” he groans into my neck.

  I enjoy Dylan’s spontaneous expletives and groans, letting me know that he is losing control. I would hate to think that it’s easy to manage his arousal with me; I want him falling apart like me.

  He helps me push down his briefs, pulling them off and tossing them the way of the rest of his clothing. Then I unclasp my bra and throw it before reaching for his engorged cock again. He grunts and removes his hand from my wetness so he can yank off my thong.