by Maggie Way
An urgency she couldn’t explain gripped her. She pushed to her feet. “I have to go.”
Mina looked up at her. “Right now?”
“I have to find Luke. There’s s-something I have to tell him.”
She couldn’t wait a single moment more to tell him what was in her heart, not when he was hurting and it might give him some comfort.
She didn’t register the wrinkle of worry creasing Mina’s brow.
Three hours later, frustration eroded her fantasy of rescuing him. He wouldn’t answer her texts, or pick up her call when she did the previously unthinkable and phoned him.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out for them. She had to find him and talk to him right away. But how?
Her spine snapped straight when a thought struck.
Emily crawled down Main Street in the sedan, her fifth pass through downtown in the last hour. As she approached the traffic light, it switched to yellow and she slowed the car to a stop. Craning her neck, she peered down the side streets in search of his SUV. Dejected, she slung back in her seat.
That’s when she saw him, pulling up to the stoplight opposite her.
Her heart tripped into an erratic rhythm.
She used to pray for courage. When kids teased her, or her teachers grew frustrated with what they viewed as laziness or defiance, she’d imagined saying bold things. Something clever and quick to knock them back or prove their assumptions wrong.
When her mom grew sick and the doctors kept saying there was nothing they could do, Emily prayed for the courage to fight them. To demand they not give up on Audrey. On them.
She hadn’t found the strength to be brave then, but this time would be different. No matter how difficult, she’d find a way. For him.
The light flicked to green, but she stayed with her foot on the brake pedal while Luke and two more cars progressed through the intersection. Behind her, a car horn blared.
Chewing her bottom lip, she eased the Jetta forward, then whipped the steering wheel hard to the left and executed a U-turn beneath the traffic light.
The sedan following her rocked to a jerky stop. More horns blared. Emily ignored the over-permed, gray-haired woman flipping her the bird as she passed by and pressed down on the gas pedal with steady pressure until she caught up with Luke’s SUV.
She continued to push down on the accelerator, nudging the nose of her car as close to his rear bumper as she dared. His head bobbled back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror. He lifted a hand, as if in question.
With a hard stomp on the accelerator, she swallowed her fear and swung the car out into the passing lane. She breezed by him, topping out at forty-two miles per hour.
Seventeen miles per hour over the posted legal limit.
A stop sign came into view and she slowed, but clearly did not come to a complete stop, before turning right onto Lakeshore Drive. In her rearview, he stopped at the sign, and paused, as if contemplating whether to follow.
She couldn’t give him the option not to.
She punched the accelerator. The Jetta’s engine whimpered and the car lurched forward on the winding coastal drive.
He pursued.
She had him right where she wanted him. Her sole focus shifted to the upcoming turn. At the last possible moment, she cranked the steering wheel hard and—without indicating her intention with the car’s turn signal—whipped into her driveway.
In front of the house, she threw the car in park and scrambled out from behind the wheel.
His SUV ambled up the long, winding drive until finally he rolled to a stop beside her. A pair of mirrored sunglasses masked his gaze and the white stick of a lollipop dangled from his lips.
With a soft electric whir, he lowered the window. He pulled the sucker from his mouth. “What are you doing?”
She swallowed the lump of terror that rose up to clog her throat.
You’re a piranha.
The memory twisted.
He’d touched more than her body. He’d stolen so many of her fears and disappointments. Destroyed her misconceptions about herself. No matter what happened between them, she’d be eternally grateful to him for that.
With her nervous hesitation, he shot from the car. He yanked the sunglasses off his face and green eyes knocked into her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I-I-I-I love y-you.” The words burst from her.
They hung in the air while he stood frozen, staring at her, for a long painful moment. His hand came up and he pressed the heel of his palm to the center of his chest.
Then he eased slightly back. Away from her.
“I just w-wanted y-you to know.” Her skin stretched tight and the air passages in her lungs constricted. “Y-y-you don’t have to say it back.”
On his face, that blank, far-off expression he’d worn so often lately stole across his features. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
She flinched as though struck. The deal? Their marriage was a deal to him?
Her heart shattered. Their marriage was a deal to him. A deal he’d struck because she was pregnant.
He didn’t love her. He liked her, and possibly, he even cared for her, but he didn’t love her. And the feelings she thought she’d seen weren’t his feelings, but her own feelings reflecting back at her.
He. Didn’t. Love. Her.
Harrison was right.
“I didn’t deceive you, Emily.”
“I know.”
She wanted to be mad at him for making her believe, but she couldn’t. He hadn’t done this, she had. He’d proposed because he was an honorable man, and she’d let herself believe his proposal was real because she couldn’t bear to think otherwise.
He’d proposed, but it was a lie, and she’d let herself believe the lie because she wanted so badly to belong to someone. Anyone. Even if they didn’t belong to her.
With his silence, a chill seeped under her skin.
Backing away, she started to shake. “I’m sorry. I m-misunderstood. It’s m-my fault. I thought I could do this, but I was wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
She raced up the porch steps, fumbling for her keys.
His hand came down over the lock to stop her from unbolting the door. “What does that mean, you thought you could do this?”
She didn’t want to be near him while the truth twisted and tormented her. “I h-have to go.”
A long moment passed in which he didn’t speak or move. His face changed and a Luke she didn’t recognize emerged. Not the smooth charmer or the cool cop. This Luke was wild. Frantic.
And angry.
So very, very angry.
Rage rolled off him in waves and threatened to pull her down with the undertow. “You’re leaving me?”
“I don’t w-want to be the only o-o-one in love.”
Hot fury blazed in his eyes. “Have I not given you enough? Have I mistreated you in some way?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then stop this.” He turned toward his car. “I’ll see you for dinner.”
She watched his back as he retreated down the porch steps. Natalie’s words ricocheted around in her mind.
He isn’t capable of love.
Maybe it was true and he’d never love her. He’d never loved any of them. Not Kate. Or Natalie. Certainly not Emily.
“No.” With vicious swipes, she wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I want more.”
“More what?” His voice broke with his frustration.
“More of y-you.”
His eyes glittered. “You want me to cut out my heart and give it to you?”
“Yes.” The word flew from her. “I want your heart.”
A fractured anguish tore across his features, and on a curse, he shoved both hands through his hair.
Desolation surrounded him like a walled fortress, and ripped a tear on her heart.
His head bent, and it took her a moment to realize he’d become riveted by something at
her feet. She looked down to see that morning’s newspaper. On the front page was a picture of her house beneath large black typeface.
All the hot fury in him cooled in an instant.
He crouched down and rescued the paper from the snow. Reading, he unfolded it.
His face darkened.
When his gaze snapped to her face, she shrunk back. A muscle ticked along his jaw. He turned the paper, holding it over his chest.
The headline screamed at her.
House of Porn?
Allegations surround controversial new movie filmed on Thief Island
Words jammed in her throat.
He spoke in a low, dangerous tone. “You lied to me?”
“No. I didn’t m-m-mean to. M-Max, after he changed the script I was w-w-worried, but—”
Betrayal slashed across his features.
She wanted to scream, to beg him to understand, to say all the words, any words, that would erase that look from his face.
As always, no words were available to her.
He whipped the paper to the ground with a violent snap.
Cold green eyes lashed her. “You’re right, maybe it’s best if you go.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The days passed in a haze of despair and whiskey, with sprinklings of work and sleep.
He stared into the bottle of amber liquid, seeing only tormented whiskey-colored eyes. His grip tightened around the bottle’s neck.
Whiskey mixed with agony. The memory of her soft moans invaded his mind and tunneled through his veins.
She’d lied to him. It was the one thing he couldn’t tolerate. Wasn’t it?
Yeah, it was. Because of Natalie. A loathsome, selfish woman.
Who couldn’t be more different than Emily, and who had absolutely nothing to do with any of this anyway.
Fuck.
Through the murky alleys of his alcohol-addled mind, he fought to recall what Emily had admitted to, exactly.
Suspicions. She’d had them. Maybe.
He’d glimpsed the guilt in her eyes and, drowning under the weight of her abandonment, he’d lashed out. As long as she was there, he had a chance of finding his way out of the dark tunnel. Eventually.
But if she were gone, there was no hope.
So like a snarling dog with a bone, he’d latched on to the idea that she’d lied to him because it was far easier to send her away than it was to watch her leave him.
No matter how they’d come to it, the fact was, she was gone, and with the loss, something inside him had snapped.
Was it the same something that’d twisted his dad’s mind after Luke’s mom died? It seemed likely, for the weakness was in the DNA, whether or not Noah believed it.
The fear had formed early and resided deep in Luke’s heart, that no matter how far he ran, or how sophisticated the mask of charm, he might never be able to escape his fate. He was not one of the good guys, and one day that truth would be revealed.
This was that day.
Because she wasn’t there.
He lifted the bottle to his lips, but didn’t drink. The liquor’s stench assaulted his nostrils. He didn’t want whiskey.
He wanted his wife.
When the sun peeked above the horizon, he stared into its fiery flame.
The bottle sat untouched at his feet.
Get up.
I can’t.
You have to. The baby needs you to be strong and well.
So Emily got up. She moved through the empty house with heavy legs and a shattered heart, like one of the soulless zombies in Max’s movie.
A groan of disgust ripped through her as she recalled the article in the newspaper.
Written by a local journalist who’d attended Max’s movie premiere, the column had raised an array of disturbing questions. Was the sexually charged erotic drama a form of artistic expression, or did it cross the line into pornography? Was the filmmaker, a shadowy figure whose mysterious past was locked away behind a closed juvenile record, a budding porn king?
Viewers would have to decide for themselves, the article concluded, noting the controversial film, having gone straight to DVD, was available for purchase at only a select number of retail outlets.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
Regrets. That was all she had now. She should not have trusted Max and she should have told Luke about her suspicions when he’d asked.
Instead, she’d acted like a coward and it’d cost her the only man she’d ever loved. Though in truth, she’d likely lost Luke long before Max and his movie came into play. Maybe he was never really hers to lose.
Better that it happened now, she told herself, before the baby came and it was too late. Or too hard. Or too… sad.
A soft knock sounded on the door to her suite. Emily climbed off the sofa and shuffled to the door.
Mina’s big blue eyes swept her from head to toe. “Did you talk to Luke?”
In answer, silent tears streamed down Emily’s cheeks.
Mina wrapped Emily in her arms and hugged her, a deep-tissue squeeze that set loose the flood of Emily’s tears
The jingle of his cell phone stirred him from a restless sleep.
“Yeah.” His throat croaked with dryness.
“You’re late, Detective Nolan.” Chief’s voice crackled over the connection. “Get your ass out of bed and to my office. Now.”
Given Cynthia’s tone and his general apathy, Luke skipped the shower and drove to the station. Once there, he ignored Newberry at the front desk and took a straight path to the Chief’s office.
As he approached, Sloane slipped through her door.
A sneer curled the bastard’s lip. “Let’s see you sweet talk your way out of this one.”
Alarm bells going off inside his skull, Luke knotted his fists into tight balls. When he rapped on the doorframe, Cynthia looked up from her desk. Her expression turned sour.
She lifted a copy of the Thief Island Gazette. “Did you know about this?”
“Did I know what exactly?” He took a step inside her office.
“That this movie was being made?”
“I knew a movie was being made.”
“The production of pornography is against city ordinance.”
“I know that, too.”
She eased back and folded her hands over her abdomen. “Were you or were you not aware that a pornographic film—?”
He interjected. “Alleged pornographic film.”
Cynthia heaved a sigh. “An alleged pornographic film was being made at a house owned by your wife?”
He scratched a phantom itch over his eyebrow. “There are a lot of questions packed into that one sentence.”
Cynthia leveled him with a look. “A warrant has been issued for your wife’s arrest.”
Her statement hit him straight in the chest. A kill shot. “How? The film isn’t even porn. Who—?” Luke stopped talking when realization struck.
Sloane.
He cursed. All this over a bar fight? What a fucking pussy.
“The charges are serious, Detective.”
He held her gaze while panic rioted through his veins. “The charges are bullshit.”
“Still, as Lieutenant, this could be problematic for you.”
He blinked several times. “That’d be true, if I were Lieutenant.”
“I thought I’d introduce you as such when you’re honored at the ball next month.”
That curse, he bit back. He’d forgotten about that stupid ball with its stupid award. He shoved a hand through his hair with ruthless force. Of course, he’d forgotten.
“Let’s try to resolve this matter with your wife by then, shall we, Lieutenant?”
His knuckles white on the steering wheel, Luke raced to the inn.
Truth be told, the thought of arresting Emily held some appeal. At least he’d get to be near her, and touch her again.
But that was a little like finding the silver lining in a tornado cloud.
&nb
sp; With a severe crank of the wheel, he barreled up her driveway and skid to a stop on the gravel. He stomped up the porch stairs and pounded on the front door with his fist. When she didn’t open, he pounded again and bellowed her name.
Nothing.
Frustrated impotence roared through him and he leaned over the porch balustrade to peer through the pristine glass of the bay window. The one replaced only a few months ago after the rock crashed through it.
As he stared into the empty house, the possibility of life without her opened before him like an abyss. The truth slammed into with the force of a cannon blast.
Loving her didn’t’ make him weak. Losing her did.
When he met her, he was only half a man, but she’d looked beyond his face, into his dying heart, and found the other pieces of him. The parts he’d thought lost, or missing. The parts that, when reclaimed, made him whole. Made him the man he wanted to be, but wasn’t.
Not without her.
Turning away from the house, his gaze searched the premises with frantic desperation. Through the haze of his panic, he realized her sedan was nowhere in sight.
He plunged through the snow to the carriage house and banged on the door.
When his fists summoned a response, he growled at his sister-in-law. “Where is she?”
Mina’s blue eyes grew huge in her small face as her gaze swept over him. He hadn’t slept and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d eaten. Or showered.
“Who?”
His fists clenched at his sides. “Do not fuck with me. I need to find my wife.”
She turned her back to him. At the dining table, she dropped into a chair and took a tiny bite of a bagel.
“There’s a warrant out for her arrest.”
The bagel rattled onto the plate. “What for?”
“I need you to tell me where she is.”
“So you can arrest her?”
His gaze slid away.
Her expression pinched with annoyance. “Sorry, I can’t help you.”
He bit down on the volcanic anger seething inside him. “You wouldn’t aid and abet an alleged criminal, would you?”
“Damn straight I would.”
“I want to help her. Please, tell me where she is.”