Slow Motion

by Evelyn Adams

  The words should have been reassuring but hearing him lay everything out so clearly brought all her emotions rushing back. The vulnerability, the fear, and the creepy feelings of violation at the idea of someone standing beside her unconscious body while they called the rescue squad.

  “Hey,” Emerson said, reaching for her hand. “That was supposed to make you feel better, not worse.”

  His hand dwarfed hers, wrapping her in his warmth and reassurance. His words might not have helped, but his touch did. Until she started thinking too much about how good her hand felt in his and then her nerves kicked up a notch, and she yanked her hand free. God, she was such a freak. They were holding hands, not playing tonsil tag. Even her analogies were old fashioned. At this rate, she was going to die a virgin.

  “It’s not your fault. I guess hearing you say it all just made it real again. Not that the bruise on the back of my head isn’t real enough, but you know what I mean,” she said, praying he actually did.

  “Yeah, I think I do. It’s easier to ignore things when someone isn’t holding them up in front of you.”

  He eyed her half-eaten stack of pancakes and she wondered if he was talking about the robbery or her breakfast choice. She slid the plate across the table. He’d have to roll her out of the diner if she finished all of them, and if he ate her food on top of his egg whites and steamed veggies, she could feel a little better about her breakfast choice.

  “I can get more whipped cream,” she said as he gave in to the temptation of the melted chocolate chips.

  He coughed around a mouthful of pancakes and she worried for a minute she might have killed the man. It’s not like she’d offered to let him eat the whipped cream off her, although there were so many reasons to get behind that idea. Then she decided knocking carefully controlled, responsible Emerson off his game might be her new favorite thing. It seemed to have a kind of magical effect on her confidence.

  “Do you want me to?” She blinked her eyes—all innocent/ not innocent—and tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. For a moment, she worried that all she’d succeeded in doing was giving herself the start of an eyelash fluttering-induced headache, but then she saw him inhale, making his nostrils flare and a flicker of heat set up residence in her chest.

  “They’re perfect just the way they are.” He pinned her with his gaze as he put another forkful of chocolatey goodness into his mouth. It was her turn to suck in a breath. It was like teasing the Big Bad Wolf or playing chess with a master when she had no idea what the rules were.

  EMERSON HAD NO idea where the whipped cream comment had come from or why it had thrown him. It wasn’t like he had any business thinking about whipped cream or chocolate or anything else sweet in conjunction with the woman he was supposed to be protecting. Especially since the idea seemed to shake her up as much as him. She pulled away from his touch and then flirted with him a minute later.

  He was too old for her. That’s probably what threw her. Not in years exactly—he was thirteen years older than her, but he felt like he had a lifetime’s more experience. She was sweet, innocent even, and he’d seen some of the worst people could do to each other. He’d never served in a war zone or seen a great deal of physical violence but he was done being surprised by the rules people were willing to break to acquire and hide money. Sophie spent her days making and fixing beautiful things, the kind of things people gave each other as gifts or to celebrate special occasions—hell, weddings even—he had to assume she saw the better side of humanity.

  None of that mattered anyway, he thought as he followed her into the parking lot. After breakfast, they’d swung by the jewelry store to retrieve her car. She’d tried to convince him to leave then but he couldn’t bring himself to go. He told her he wanted to make sure she got home okay, which was true, but his mind started working overtime with every step they took closer to going their separate ways. He didn’t have a reason to stay. He had no place in Sophie’s life, but he didn’t want to walk away and never see her again either. The idea didn’t sit well with him. He pulled his SUV in beside her car and hurried to meet her at the driver’s side door. He’d keep trailing along until he either figured out what he was doing or felt comfortable walking away. It was a toss-up which would come first.

  “Thanks for seeing me home,” she said as he waited beside her car. “I really am okay. I hate taking up any more of your time.”

  She shifted on her feet as if she were uncertain about something, but she searched his face, her blue-eyed gaze intent. And she didn’t tell him to go. He was hanging onto that for the time being. It felt like grasping at straws but until he had a better idea of what was holding him in place, he’d take what he could get.

  “Let’s get you inside. I’ll carry that.” He took the Styrofoam takeout container they’d brought from the diner.

  There was enough chocolate crammed into the pancakes; she might be able to ignore the slightly soggy textures of the leftovers. He knew from his previous forage through her fridge, she didn’t have any whipped cream, but there was no way in hell he was suggesting they go out to get any. He’d settle for knowing she wouldn’t go hungry and leave it at that.

  Resisting the urge to rest his hand on the small of her back, he stayed by her side as they crossed the parking lot. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent this much time thinking about touching or not touching a woman. He couldn’t remember wanting to touch one more. Something about her called to him. He had no idea what to call it, but it was the same thing that kept him standing by the hospital bed, waiting for her to open her eyes.

  As she started up the steps, he glanced over to the building next door. In hindsight, he still wouldn’t be able to tell what made him look that way. He hadn’t gotten the back of the neck feeling that often came in dangerous situations. He’d really just been looking around while his mind worked out what he was going to do when they got to her apartment door. The glint of light coming off the rifle scope was so unexpected; he was grabbing Sophie and pushing her to the ground before he realized what he’d seen.

  She didn’t have time to scream. She let out an oompf as he flattened his body over her, shielding her. The bullet ripped into the side of the building where she’d been standing a fraction of a second earlier, spraying his back with bits of masonry. Keeping his head down and Sophie mashed under him, he scanned the area for anywhere they could take cover. Protecting her with his body might be a nice gesture, but that’s all it would be if the shooter got a clear shot at them. With a high enough caliber, the bullets would pass through him and hit her. There was a beat-up Toyota a few feet to the left of them. It wouldn’t offer much protection if the shooter moved but it would give them more cover than they had now. Hopefully someone had heard the shots and the cops were already on their way.

  “Sophie, are you still with me, sweetheart?” He pressed his lips to her ear and felt the slight nod of her head. She hadn’t made a sound since they hit the pavement and he was worried she might be slipping into shock. Everybody handled danger differently and there was no way of knowing how it would go until you were balls-deep in shit. “We’re going to move behind that blue car, okay?”

  He didn’t ask if she could do it. He’d carry her if he had to. Every second they were out in the open felt like another second closer to the end of the world. It had been quiet since the first gunshot went off but there was no way in hell he was counting on it staying that way.

  “Three, two, one, go.” He pushed up to plank and held himself over her as they crab walked to the Toyota. As soon as he was sure she was as safe as he could make her, he flipped open the catch on his ankle holster and drew his weapon. They were in a residential neighborhood. He couldn’t risk a shot in the direction of the shooter, but he could give them some cover if the shooter came closer.

  Sirens screamed, growing closer by the minute, and his chest relaxed a fraction of an inch. Enough for him to pay attention to the woman underneath him. She felt small and delicate
and somehow strong at the same time. Soft until she was pushed. She smelled like the tea roses in his mother’s garden. He shoved the thought away so he didn’t get them killed because he was too busy sniffing her. He didn’t imagine the shooter had hung around once the sirens started but he wasn’t assuming anything. That kind of thinking led to funerals.

  The wail of the sirens reached earsplitting levels and tire crunched in the gravel. Things could get dodgy pretty quick if the cops couldn’t hear what he was saying. He was grateful a moment later when the sound shut off.

  “Over here!” He shoved the snub nose gun away from his body, making sure his hands were visible. He turned his head and shouted, but he stayed in place over Sophie. The last thing he wanted to do was pop up between parked cars at an active shooting scene. “The shots came from the brick two-story.”

  “Don’t move.” The uniformed officer peered around the open door he was using as cover until they figured out what was going on.

  “I’m private security,” said Emerson. “Someone took a shot at my client.” Underneath him, Sophie made a small, helpless sound that tore through him. He had no idea what was going on, but he’d make damn sure nothing hurt her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe now.”

  With him mashing her into the gravel, it was a hard sell, but he didn’t think she was in danger now that the cops were on the scene. It didn’t make any sense. Of course, none of this—from the break-in until this moment—made much sense but he’d push those thoughts aside for the time being.

  “Is anyone injured?” asked the cop, kicking the gun out of Emerson’s reach.

  “No. We’re okay.”

  Static burst from the radio clipped to the cop’s waist, and a disembodied voice called an all clear, confirming what Emerson thought.

  “Can we get up now? The woman just got out of the hospital for a head injury. She’s going to need help to stand.” He expected Sophie to give him shit about not being an invalid. The fact that she didn’t showed how shook up she was.

  “Just keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Emerson didn’t blame the guy. The officer got called to an active shooter scene, and he was the only one with a gun. It made sense for the cop to be careful. Keeping his hands away from his body, he got to his feet. Sophie was already scrambling to her feet when he reached for her, steadying her. He missed the contact immediately and he couldn’t bring himself to move away from her, not when minutes earlier he’d been afraid he was going to lose her.

  “Are you okay, miss? Do you need an ambulance?”

  Dust covered her jeans and there were smudges on her pretty pink shirt. Seeing the dirt on her clothes sent his protective side into overdrive. Hyperdrive, rather; he’d been in overdrive since he saw the glint off the scope.

  “No, Officer. I’m okay.” She sounded winded but steady, which was good. He didn’t think he could take it if he heard fear in her voice. It was bad enough seeing it in her beautiful eyes.

  He reached for her hand, twining his fingers with hers as they answered the officer’s questions. He had a feeling it would be awhile before he made sense of what happened, but at least he had the answer to one question. He knew what he’d be doing where Sophie was concerned. After what just happened, there was no way in hell he was leaving her alone.

  SOMEONE TRIED TO KILL THEM. Clasping her hands in front of her to stop the tremors running through her, Sophie rolled the idea around in her head. It didn’t get any better the more she thought about it. Given his line of work, it made sense for Emerson to have enemies, but he seemed certain the shots were intended for her. With the break-in at the store and the attack at her apartment, it was hard to argue with him, but the idea that someone hated her enough to try to kill her sent a chill down her spine. She’d been cold since she got the breath knocked out of her when she hit the gravel. Even Emerson’s body covering her hadn’t warmed her. It had knocked the terror back to almost manageable, though, and made it possible for her to lay still without screaming.

  She glanced over to where he stood, talking to the police. He’d stayed with her through the detective’s never-ending questions, shielding her from the stress the same way he’d shielded her body from the bullets. He hadn’t left her side until he made sure someone else was there to care for her. She must have looked shaky enough for them to call the paramedics. Thankfully, they’d settled for letting her sit in the back of the open ambulance instead of hauling her back to the hospital. She didn’t want to go back there, but she didn’t want to go home either. For the first time in her life, she was scared to be alone in her own apartment, and she hated it.

  Emerson had been ready to die for her. He barely knew her, and he’d been willing to use his body as a shield to protect her. Most guys she’d known had a hard time committing to dinner a week into the future. Okay, that might be a bit melodramatic but not far from the truth. Which said a lot both about the men—boys really—she’d dated and the man standing across the parking lot sorting things out for her. Neither of which helped her with the most pressing problem facing her. What was she going to do when Emerson finished with the cops and decided it was time to hit the road? She couldn’t expect him to hang around. Not when he wasn’t getting anything out of the arrangement.

  Even with the little bit of money she’d managed to squirrel away, there was no way in hell she could afford to pay him for his services. She didn’t know how much he charged, but she’d seen the way he’d handled himself when the bullets were flying. That kind of competence didn’t come cheap. He glanced over as if he sensed her watching him or maybe to make sure she was still there. Since he walked over to talk to the officers, he’d kept checking in every couple of minutes, just a glance and what she was pretty sure was his version of a reassuring smile. That’s the effect it had on her, anyway.

  Gravel crunched as what felt like a fleet of black SUVs pulled into the parking lot. Adrenalin made her nerves fire to life and the officer talking to Emerson immediately shifted his stance, readying himself for an invasion. Emerson motioned toward the vehicles and the cop relaxed, but it did nothing for her nerves. Especially when a team of huge guys, each seemingly bigger than the previous one, dressed like Australian commandos and moving like the Rebel Alliance, piled out of the vehicles.

  Emerson made a motion with his hand and one of the smaller guys—small being relative—peeled away from the group and headed straight for her. Not feeling its warmth, she pulled the blanket the paramedics had given her tighter around her and sat up, ready to bolt if it came to it. It was an irrational reaction, but at the moment, her body didn’t seem to care all that much about rationality.

  There was something familiar, even reassuring about the man, and as he got closer, she realized he and Emerson must be related. Brothers maybe? That would make sense. It might be the only thing in the last forty-eight hours that did.

  “You must be Sophie.” The man offered his hand, wrapping her fingers in his strong grip. He held them for a moment longer than was necessary for a polite greeting, and she wondered if her hands felt as cold to him as they did to her. “I’m Gabe Southerland.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. Or it would be if it weren’t because of...” She waved a hand around her as her words trailed off. It was stupid. She was babbling; she’d never have met him if it wasn’t for the shooting.

  He searched her gaze, and she put some extra effort into appearing normal. Or at least as normal as someone could look after being attacked twice in the same week. The last thing she wanted was for them to think she needed extra medical attention.

  “Hang here for just a minute. Let me check in with my brother and make sure the officers don’t need you for anything and then we’ll get you upstairs and get you something to eat. Pizza okay?”

  “God, yes,” she groaned, shocked to realize she was actually hungry.

  It felt like hours since they’d eaten. Apparently, adrenaline burned calories. She gave a wistful thought to the takeout box of pan
cakes laying somewhere in the parking lot, probably crushed under one of the dozens of police cars and Southerland Security vehicles. Greasy cheesy pizza sounded better anyway.

  “A woman after my own heart. Back in a minute.” Gabe gave her a playful grin, completely at odds with Emerson’s serious expression.

  The similarities in their features made the differences more obvious. She’d bet Gabe had a lot more fun than his older brother. The thought made her curious and a little sad. She glanced in Emerson’s direction and found him giving instructions to his waiting men. Everything in his mannerism telegraphed he was clearly the one in charge. He glanced up as Gabe approached and then immediately shifted his gaze to her. She tried to smile and might actually have managed it, because the corner of his mouth curved in answer. Gabe said something and Emerson’s expression changed, a crease forming in the center of his forehead. She had a sudden, completely irrational urge to smooth the crease out with her finger.

  Before she had time to wonder what caused the inconvenient crease and even more inconvenient feelings—on her part, at least—Emerson nodded. Gabe headed back in her direction, a smile lighting his face in a way that made it seem like he was crossing a bar instead of a crime scene.

  “Come on, beautiful,” he said, taking her by the hand. “Let’s get you into your apartment and fed.”

  She imagined he called every woman he ran into beautiful, but he had such a warm, easygoing manner, she couldn’t muster the energy to care. She headed for the stairs, with Gabe following right behind her. Her steps faltered as she neared the place where Emerson had pushed her to the ground and saw the yellow police tape.

  “We’ll go in the front.” A strong hand took her by the elbow and led her away from the tape. She glanced up to see Emerson staring down at her, concern clear in his expression. She hadn’t heard him approach them, a testament to how badly the police tape shook her, but she exhaled in relief at the feel of his hand on her arm. She’d already developed a pretty strong codependent thing where he was concerned. It was going to make it even harder when she had to say good-bye.