Nowhere to Run

by Suzanne Brockmann

  But right now, he had to make it through the next five minutes. “Delmore’s office was clean,” he said, roughly clearing the thickness from his throat, “so I logged on to his computer.”

  “You’re kidding.” Emily was appalled. “Jim, what if someone had come in while you were online?”

  “They didn’t,” Jim said shortly.

  “But what if—”

  “Em, it was cool. Nothing happened. No big deal.”

  “No big deal? If Alex had found you down there, with his computer on—”

  “Look, you want to know what I found out?”

  “Yes. But…I can’t believe you.”

  “His records all looked perfect,” Jim said, interrupting her. “At first. See, Delmore has all of his business transactions and records on his hard disk, and everything was very tidy. But I started thinking. If an honest, upstanding, tax-paying millionaire uses some of his millions to buy illegal drugs and sell them at an enormous profit, how’s he gonna explain this enormous profit to Uncle Sam?”

  He glanced at Emily. He knew she hadn’t forgotten about being upset that he’d taken such a big risk by prying in Delmore’s personal computer. He was going to hear about it, but not until later. Right now, she was listening intently, her eyes glued to his face.

  “Good question,” she said. “How does he explain it?”

  “I figured he’s got to have some sort of money-laundering operation,” Jim said, “some way to report all that additional income. Because, you know, he can only keep so many millions in small bills under his mattress, right?”

  “How does he do it? And how did you figure it out?”

  “I didn’t exactly figure it out,” Jim admitted. “It was more like I stumbled onto it. See, one of Delmore’s real estate transactions listed for last month was a condo at the same complex where I’m living. According to Delmore’s records, he sold a one-bedroom unit for a hundred and twenty thousand dollars. On the surface, that’s not so strange. There’re plenty of condos around here that go for much more than that. But, see, I tried to sell my two-bedroom a few months ago, but I took it off the market when the agent told me I’d be lucky to get a whopping ninety-five thousand for it. Yet Delmore managed to make the sale of a one-bedroom for twenty-five thousand more? Either I want him to be my agent, too, or something pretty fishy’s going on here. I bet my money on fishy, and dug deeper and found out that on top of the high price, Delmore’s records show he’s working for a twelve percent commission—almost twice as much as the fee other agents take. My guess is he’s boosting both the sale price and his commission percentage on all his records—not by enough to make anyone notice, but enough to provide a supposedly legal source for all his extracurricular income.”

  “So now what?” Emily said. “Can you arrest him?”

  Jim shook his head. “No. We can’t bust him for accounting errors. We still need some hard evidence that proves he’s bringing drugs into the country.” He sighed in frustration. “It would be nice if we could catch him red-handed. I spent most of my time down in Delmore’s office searching for some kind of sailing schedule or calendar—anything that would tell me the next time he plans to be out on his boat overnight.”

  “Monday night,” Emily said. “Alex is going out late Monday afternoon, and he won’t be back until Tuesday.” At Jim’s look of surprise, she explained. “He handed me his personal calendar and told me to pick a wedding date. He told me that anything he had written in pencil could be changed, but I’d have to work around the dates written in pen. I noticed that he had his sailing schedule marked off in pen, and that struck me as odd.”

  Jim was deep in thought as he pulled Emily’s car into the parking lot of her apartment building. “I need to figure out a way to get onto Delmore’s boat, to be there Monday night, when the shipment comes in.”

  “I can get us on board,” Emily said.

  He pulled up the parking brake and cut the engine, turning to give her an exasperated look. “What are you, nuts? No way am I going to let you near Delmore again—and especially not in a situation where you could be face-to-face with the people who are selling the stuff to him.”

  There was a dangerous glint in Emily’s eyes. “That’s strange. I know you wouldn’t dare order me around, but that sure sounded more like an imperial command than a request to my ears.”

  “Emily—”

  She leaned forward and kissed him. “Let’s not argue about this now. Please? I’m exhausted. And I need a shower.”

  “I want you to catch a morning flight up to Connecticut,” he said. “I want you to stay with your folks for a week or so, until we nail this guy.”

  “Jim—”

  “Emily. You’ve got to let me keep you safe.”

  She kept her voice light. “I’m safe. After all, I’m living with a cop.”

  Jim didn’t smile, the way she expected him to. Instead, his face became closed, shuttered. “Hell of a lot of good that did my brother,” he said tightly, getting out of the car.

  He came around and opened her door, standing stiffly, his anger evident in the set of his shoulders. All of a sudden, he seemed almost determined to fight with her. But Emily was just as determined not to argue. Not tonight.

  She took his hand and pulled him gently toward the stairs that led up to the second-floor apartments.

  “I’m serious about you going to your parents’ house,” he said as Emily unlocked her door. “I’m going to buy you a ticket tonight.”

  It was cool and dark inside Emily’s apartment. She closed the door behind them and took off her high heels. The little red message light on her answering machine was flashing. But it was nearly 2:00 a.m. Whoever had called surely wouldn’t mind if she waited until morning to listen to her messages. She went down the hall toward her bathroom without turning on a light.

  “In fact, I’m going to call the airline right now,” Jim said, switching on the lamp next to the couch, “and make a reservation.”

  Oh, no, you’re not, Emily thought, turning on the shower. She took off her earrings and her necklace and put them in the jewelry box in the bedroom before going back down the hall to the living room.

  Jim glanced up at her, the phone to his ear. He was obviously on hold. As she smiled at him, the muscle in his jaw jumped. He was more tense than she’d ever seen him before.

  “Can you help me with my zipper?” she asked, turning around and pulling her hair up and off her neck.

  She heard him stand up and move behind her, and felt his fingers fumble as he searched for the tiny zipper pull. He found it, and unzipped her dress slowly, careful not to catch the zipper’s teeth in the delicate fabric.

  Emily closed her eyes, allowing herself the luxury of remembering the way the world had seemed to tilt several hours earlier, when Jim had asked her to marry him. He wanted to marry her. As in forever. As in happily ever after.

  They were finally alone together, after a grueling evening spent pretending they were something they weren’t. She should be in his arms, he should be kissing her, loving her—they should be getting a head start on that happily ever after.

  But Jim was still so stiff, so tense, so seemingly intentionally unhappy. It was as if he were making himself focus on all his fears about her safety, as if he didn’t want to let himself be happy.

  His hands fell away from her without touching her, without even the slightest caress. He was not going to be easily distracted—not this time. But Emily wouldn’t accept defeat. She knew that he loved her. She knew that. And she was determined to see him smile again before the hour was out.

  Turning, she reached for the base of the telephone, pushed the little buttons and cut Jim off.

  “Damn it, Emily—”

  With first a quick glance at the sliding glass door to be sure the curtains were closed, Emily pushed her dress off her shoulders. It pooled in a silky green pile at her feet. The sudden flare of heat in Jim’s eyes was unmistakable as he took in her lacy black bra and matching
panties, and all the smooth, tanned skin in between. But he stepped back, away from her, as if he were afraid to let her get too close.

  He might be afraid, but she wasn’t. She stepped out of her dress, toward him.

  “Take a shower with me,” she said, feeling her face heat slightly at the brazenness of her suggestion. “Please?” she added softly.

  Jim’s stomach twisted. She wanted to make love to him—she couldn’t have made that any more obvious—and yet he was just standing here, staring at her like an idiot.

  What was wrong with him?

  Ten minutes ago, back in the car, all he could think about was when would they get here, how many minutes would it be until they closed the door to her apartment behind them, and how many seconds after that would it take him to pull her into his arms? Damn, he’d wanted her so badly, he’d imagined himself unable to wait even the short amount of time it would take to walk down the hallway to her bedroom. He’d imagined picking her up, wrapping her incredible legs around his waist and taking her, right there, standing up in the middle of the hall.

  But that had been before she reminded him of Bob.

  Now he still wanted her that badly, but his desire was covered by a sticky blanket of guilt. What gave him the right to spend the rest of the night in Emily’s sweet arms? What gave him the right to have the kind of nearly hedonistic pleasure that awaited him if he took her outstretched hand and let her lead him toward the bathroom, toward the sound of that steamy shower? What gave him the right to marry her, for God’s sake, to spend the rest of his life surrounded by her beautiful smile and her generous, warm, wonderful love?

  The fact that he loved her more than he loved life itself wasn’t enough. And wanting her as badly as he did wasn’t enough, either. Even the answering light of love and desire he could see in Emily’s eyes didn’t erase the guilt he felt deep in his soul.

  But, God help him, if she so much as touched him, he’d surrender completely to the need to lose himself, to bury himself, within her passion. For a while, he’d forget. But the guilt and pain would return. It always did, sooner or later.

  She took another step toward him, and again he backed away, afraid of the power she had over him.

  “Emily, we need to talk,” he said huskily.

  “We can talk later, can’t we?” she said, unhooking the front clasp of her bra and stepping out of her panties. “After we make love?”

  She held out her hands to him, and he was rocked by how vulnerable she was, standing there totally naked, wonderfully, gorgeously naked, with him still fully clothed.

  She was vulnerable, yet she didn’t seem to care as she gave him the ultimate gift of her love. She was offering him her body, and he was well aware it was part of a package deal, tightly tied to the even more awesome gifts of her heart and soul.

  He might have been able to resist the sexual temptation—although where Emily was concerned, he wasn’t totally convinced of that—but the promise of such intense physical pleasure, combined with the pure strength of her love and trust, well, that was something he had no defenses against.

  He couldn’t have backed away from her again if his life had depended on it.

  So he reached for her, lunged for her, and the universe exploded as he met her sweet lips in a piercing, soul-shattering kiss. Her skin was so soft, her body so supple beneath his hands. He heard himself cry out—all his anguish and frustration and pain drawn out in one long, wordless sound.

  Help me, he wanted to say. Save me. But even Emily, with her pure, sweet, nonjudgmental love, couldn’t rescue him.

  He knew he was touching her too roughly, kissing her too hard, and he tried to pull back, afraid that he would hurt her. But she kissed him just as savagely, welcoming the crushing strength of his arms and the fierce urgency of his hands.

  Breaking free, she took his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom, toward the sound of the shower. The tiny room was thick with steam, and she pushed aside the shower curtain, then reached for Jim’s bow tie.

  One swift yank pulled it free, and as he reached for her again, as he kissed her, she peeled his jacket from his wide shoulders. The sleeves were inside out, but he didn’t seem to notice or care as he threw it back behind him, out of the bathroom, onto the floor of the hall.

  Emily unfastened the back catch of his cummerbund as he pressed his thigh between her legs, opening her to his searching fingers. Yes. She clung weakly to him as he explored her most intimate place, as he found her heat. This was what she wanted. This, and more, forever, for the rest of their lives. Her own fingers fumbled as she unfastened the button of his pants, as she pulled down his zipper and—

  With a desperate-sounding groan, Jim picked her up and, stepping over the side of the tub and directly under the pounding stream of warm water, drove himself deep inside her.

  The sensations were incredible—the cold tile at her back, the warm water pouring over them, and Jim plunging harder and deeper within her with each rhythmic thrust. Emily clutched the wet cotton of his shirt—He was still wearing his shirt and all the rest of his clothes, even his socks and shoes!

  He didn’t seem to notice that he was soaked. He didn’t seem aware of anything but this incredible pleasure he was giving and taking. His eyes were tightly shut, and his face was a picture of intensity and emotion, made to seem even more so by the water dripping from his wet hair and running down his cheeks like tears.

  “I love you,” he whispered, his soft voice a gentle contrast to the physical onslaught of his body. “Emily, I love you so much….”

  His words pushed her over the edge. True, the physical sensations were incredible, but it was hearing his confession of love that sent her rocketing toward a climax so exquisite it seemed otherworldly.

  Waves of pleasure racked her body, and Emily cried out, in an explosion of sound that made Jim’s eyes fly open. For several long seconds, he stared into her eyes, and time seemed to stand perfectly still as she felt a connection that was so much more than physical. They were one, two halves of a whole, made complete only by each other’s love.

  Unguarded, his dark blue eyes held such emotion, such love, such endless joy. All the dark clouds of worry, and all the sadness that had shadowed him were gone. He loved her, and nothing else mattered. Nothing else even existed.

  She felt the tightening of his body as he was catapulted over the cliff of his own release. But still he looked into her eyes, holding her gaze as if he, too, wanted to share more than just his body with her, willingly letting her see that she had the power to touch his very soul.

  He loved her. Endlessly, perfectly, truly.

  Jim slowly became aware of the water running down past the collar of his shirt, soaking through the legs of his pants, dripping into his socks, making his shoes a sodden mess. He was still holding Emily. Her legs were still locked around him. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his neck as she clung to him.

  He felt more than heard her laugh softly, felt her mouth curve up into a smile, felt her sigh with satisfaction. Then she lifted her head, and he helped her slide down.

  Together, silently, they unbuttoned his tuxedo shirt and peeled it off him. Jim braced himself against the tile wall with one hand as he kicked off his shoes. His knees were wobbly, and from more than just the physical workout of their lovemaking. It was the emotion that made his legs feel weak, and he smiled wryly, thinking this was why so many men proposed marriage on their knees—their emotions were probably running so high, they couldn’t have stood up if they’d wanted to. God knows right now it was taking all of his strength to stay vertical. Of course, he’d already done his proposing. He already knew that she wanted him forever, though what he’d done to deserve her love was beyond his knowledge.

  A flicker of fear snuck through his sense of contentment, like the cold blade of a tiny knife, small but deadly. He shook his head, pushing it away, refusing it access. Don’t think, he ordered himself. Just feel. Just be.


  Emily threw his socks and his pants in the sink, and he gathered her into his arms, holding her under the stream of water, feeling her heart beating in sync with his own. Here, with the shower curtain drawn, the rest of the world seemed so far away, so remote. Here, in this dim, wet, tiny paradise, there was room only for two.

  It was a crying shame they couldn’t stay here forever.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  REALITY STEPPED IN and, with a swift left hook, knocked Jim out of the warmth of the safe, make-believe world he had allowed himself to be lost in for a while.

  “What’s wrong?” Emily asked softly, using her fingers to comb through his wet hair as he rubbed her dry with a towel.

  “I didn’t use a condom, Em,” he said. A muscle jumped in his cheek as he looked up at her from where he was sitting on her bed.

  That glimmer of darkness, of sorrow or pain or whatever it was, was back in his eyes. But Emily pretended she hadn’t seen it. “You’re only realizing that now?” she teased. “And here I thought it was some kind of macho-male possessive thing. I thought you figured as long as we’re getting married, it was worth the risk.”

  Jim shook his head. “No,” he said. “I was…We…It was too intense. I wasn’t thinking about birth control, and I should have been. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

  Emily leaned forward and kissed him. “I’d love to have a baby with you,” she said simply, then smiled. “Preferably not for a few years, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? Provided the baby has your smile, of course.”

  But he didn’t give her one of those smiles. Instead, he pulled back, out of her arms. “Yeah, well,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m not ready for kids myself, you know? I think it would be a bad mistake right now.”

  That was a bald-faced lie, and Jim looked away, sure that if he met Emily’s crystal-blue gaze she’d see through him to the truth. And the truth was, he would’ve killed for a chance to make a baby with her. Ever since Bob and Molly had had their baby, ever since he had watched Bob holding his tiny daughter in his arms, Jim had wanted a piece of that kind of happiness. And he wanted to share it with Emily. God, he wanted that more than he’d ever wanted anything.