by Elle James
She raised an eyebrow. “You do?”
“Mmm.” The hand he’d been smoothing along the side of her cheek turned and cupped her chin. “Danger is the operative word here. I’m definitely feeling it now.” He bent to touch his lips to her forehead. He let them linger for a moment. Then he sighed, wrapped the towel around her and stepped back.
Emily swayed toward him as if gravity pulled her in. The cool air between them slowly brought her back to her senses.
Clutching the towel around her, she turned and entered the room. As she closed the door, she shot a glance back out into the hallway.
Colin still stood where he’d been, his gaze on her, his eyes inscrutable.
Once the door was closed between them, Emily drew in a shaky breath. Her entire body was on fire. Never in the ten years she’d been married to Alex had she felt this kind of heat. This desire.
She wasn’t sure how she could face him again after he’d seen her naked. That thought didn’t slow her from dressing quickly and pulling on her shoes.
As embarrassed as she’d been to be caught naked in the hallway, she was still anxious to see Colin again. Was she just a glutton for punishment?
Wearing jeans, a soft baby-blue sweater and a pair of riding boots, she combed the tangles out of her hair and blew it dry. After applying mascara and a dab of lipstick on her mouth, she felt ready to face the man who turned her inside out.
Her hand paused on the doorknob, her pulse racing. Would he be standing outside her door? How easy would it be to drag him into the bedroom and make sweet love to him?
Sweet Jesus, what was wrong with her? Colin was an honorable man. He wouldn’t make a move on his friend’s widow.
Emily cursed beneath her breath and yanked open the door.
Thankfully, Colin wasn’t standing there, giving her a few extra moments to pull herself together before seeing him again.
The scent of bacon drifted up from the first floor.
Emily’s stomach rumbled. Alex had never cooked breakfast for her. She usually cooked for him, getting up earlier and earlier to make that happen. When she’d moved out of their bedroom, she’d stopped getting up that early.
Alex hadn’t complained. He’d left before she’d gotten up and hadn’t gotten home until late at night, long after a reasonable dinnertime.
Following the smell of breakfast cooking, Emily descended the stairs, cringing at the lingering odor of soot and gasoline. It would take a lot more cleaning to eradicate that scent.
The frying bacon helped to mask it, if only for a little while.
As she entered the kitchen, Emily’s breath caught in her throat.
Colin stood with his back to her, one hand holding the handle of the skillet, the other wielding a spatula as he fished crispy bacon out of the grease.
“I thought, since you had the ingredients, we’d just eat here and get on the road sooner.” He set the bacon on a plate covered with a paper towel. “If you could butter the toast and fill the glasses with orange juice, I’ll have the eggs cooked in no time.
The bread popped up from the toaster on cue.
“I can do that.” Emily pulled the butter from the refrigerator and a knife from a drawer close to where Colin stood. Her shoulder brushed his, causing a lightning bolt to shoot through her nervous system. She dropped the knife, narrowly missing her foot.
“You okay?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder, a frown creasing his brow.
“I’m fine,” she answered quickly.
Emily scooped up the knife, tossed it into the sink and got out another. This time she made it all the way to the toaster without losing it.
She had to get a grip. There were lots more important things to worry about. Drooling over her old friend wasn’t one of them.
By the time she buttered the bread and poured orange juice into two glasses, he had the eggs fried to a perfect over-easy, sliding them onto clean white plates.
Emily carried the orange juice to the little kitchen table in the corner and returned to the counter for the toast.
She and Colin settled onto the bright red vinyl seats at the vintage Formica-topped table she’d found in an estate sale several years ago.
“I like the table,” Colin said. “It reminds me of the one my grandmother had in her house.”
Emily plucked a piece of toast from the stack and laid it on the plate beside her eggs. “I remembered that time she invited the three of us to have lunch with her. I loved that table so much that when I saw this one, I knew I had to have it.”
Colin tilted his head to one side. “I wonder what happened to that old table.” He stared at the one beneath his plate.
“I found this one in an estate sale at Old Mrs. Belamy’s home when she passed.”
“My grandmother’s table had a nick in the surface from where my father had banged his fork into it once too often as a toddler.” He ran his fingers over the surface.
“I remember her telling us that story,” Emily said softly, memories of a simpler time filling her with warmth.
“This one is in better shape.” Colin glanced up. “It suits you.”
“Alex didn’t think so. He thought it was too old-fashioned.” She smiled weakly. “He wanted me to donate it to the Bozeman Women’s shelter.” Emily smoothed her hand across the surface. “I dragged my feet.” She’d planned on taking it, but Alex had been shot. He was gone, and the table stayed.
She forced herself to eat some of the eggs Colin had cooked, all the while memories of better times warred with memories of her marriage. It hadn’t all been bad. Alex really had loved her and had tried to make her happy.
A hand slid across the table and covered hers.
She hadn’t realized she’d set her fork down until Colin’s fingers curled around hers.
“I’m sorry about what happened to Alex,” he said softly.
“Me, too,” she replied. “And I’m sorry about everything that led up to it. If he hadn’t been trying so hard to make me happy, he wouldn’t have gotten into this mess. He wouldn’t be dead.”
Emily looked up, meeting Colin’s gaze.
“This isn’t your fault,” Colin assured her. “Alex made poor choices. Someone else pulled the trigger. You didn’t.”
“I might as well have.” Emily tugged her hand from beneath his, gathered her plate full of uneaten eggs and carried it to the counter. “I’ll do the dishes when I get back from Bozeman. We should get moving.”
Colin rose from the table and carried his plate over, setting it beside Emily’s. Once his hands were free, he gripped her arms. “You have to believe it. You didn’t cause any of this to happen.”
She shook her head. “Not directly. But I did indirectly. If I had loved Alex as much as he loved me, none of this would’ve happened. He’d be alive. We’d have been a happily married couple, growing old together.”
Colin tipped up her chin. “Lots of people marry too young and discover too late they aren’t suited as a couple. You two were young.”
“Yeah, but I should’ve known better than to marry my best friend. Not only did I make his life miserable, I lost my best friend.”
“I thought I was your best friend, too.”
Emily drew in a deep breath. “You were…”
“Were?” His brow furrowed.
She nodded. “Until you kissed me.”
He stood for a long time, holding her arms in his grasp. “I’d say I was sorry…” he shook his head, “but I can’t. I’ve never been surer of kissing someone in my entire young life. I am sorry, however, if it made you uncomfortable.”
She stared up into his eyes, afraid he’d see the truth. More afraid that he’d miss it. “It made me very uncomfortable.”
“You should have told me.”
“You were on your way out of Eagle Rock. I was scared.” She shrugged. “Alex was safe.”
“I’m not sorry I kissed you. I could never be sorry about that.” He let go of her arms and stepped backward. “I would
never have kissed you, had I known it would have frightened you so much.”
She snorted. “You must have missed the fact that I kissed you back. It doesn’t matter now.” With a wave of her hand, she pushed the past to where it belonged. “But we have bigger fish to fry than teenaged kissing. You need to find your father, and I need to see what’s in that safe deposit box.”
And talking about kissing wasn’t making it any easier to keep from repeating the mistake.
Newly widowed women shouldn’t go around kissing men. Especially, when the man was the one who’d kept her from fully loving her deceased husband. Not that she’d ever tell him that. What good would it serve?
Chapter 6
After carefully checking the surroundings and deeming it safe for Emily to come out of her house, Colin led the way to his truck.
Once he had Emily safely positioned in the passenger seat, he climbed into the driver’s seat and drove out of Eagle Rock, headed for Bozeman.
They accomplished the long drive in relative silence.
As they neared Bozeman, Colin glanced at the clock on the dash. “The bank won’t be open for another forty-five minutes. Want to see if the sheriff has had a chance to interview your arsonist?”
“Good idea.”
He headed for the hospital, passing the bank as he did.
Emily’s gaze locked in on the bank as they passed. “I wonder if the people who attacked my house last night know there’s a ledger in the bank.”
“If they do, you won’t be safe going in.” Colin frowned. He didn’t like the fact Emily was a target. “We’ll have to think that through.”
They arrived at the hospital with forty minutes to spare until the bank opened.
As Colin climbed down from his seat, he spied Sheriff Barron’s service vehicle near the entrance. “Looks like the sheriff is here.”
“Great. Maybe he can shed more light on who’s behind the attacks.” Emily started to slide out of her seat.
“Hold on. Let me get around to you before you get out.”
“I’m capable of climbing out of a truck on my own.”
He chuckled as he closed his door and hurried around to her side of the truck. “I know you’re capable, but you’re not bullet-proof.”
She frowned as he handed her down from her seat. “What? So, you think you’re going to be my shield?” Emily shook her head. “I don’t want you taking a bullet for me.”
“You said it,” he reminded her. “It’s what a gentleman would do.” Then he winked. “My protecting you is a deterrent.”
“If they want me dead, they’ll take you out to get to me.” She touched a finger to his chest. “I refuse to be responsible for another man’s death.”
He captured her finger in his and pressed a kiss to the tip. “Again, you aren’t responsible for anyone’s death. And most certainly not my potential demise. You aren’t pulling the trigger.”
“Shut up and step away from me. If someone is determined to shoot me, I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.” She stepped out, trying to get ahead of him.
Colin easily caught up to her and cupped her elbow in his palm. “You’re still as stubborn as you were at seventeen.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, her chin held high.
They entered the hospital and crossed to the information desk where they found the sheriff talking to the volunteer behind the counter.
She was just giving him the room number.
When the sheriff turned toward the elevator, he spied Colin and Emily. “Ah, good. I’m glad to see you two. I just got word that our arsonist-shooter regained consciousness. I was on my way up to question him.”
“Mind if we come along?” Colin asked.
“Not at all,” the sheriff said. “Though you’ll have to wait outside his room while I conduct my interview.”
“Fair enough,” Emily said. “Though I’d like to hear his answers. After all, it was my house he tried to burn down and my life he tried to end.”
Colin chuckled. Trust Emily to throw sarcasm into the mix.
As the elevator door slid open, the sheriff gave her a crooked smile. “Understood. But you’re not law enforcement. This is my job.”
Emily stepped into the elevator car. “I understand. We’ll wait outside the room.”
Colin followed her in.
The sheriff was the last to climb in, hitting the button for the floor where his prisoner was located. “I’ll let you know whatever I find out. Did you have any more trouble after we left last night?”
“No, sir,” Colin responded. Only a sleepless night filled with a tremendous desire to pull Emily close and hold her until the danger went away.
The elevator stopped on their floor.
As the door slid open, a scream sounded in the hallway.
The sheriff pulled his service revolver and ran out into the hall.
A woman wearing blue scrubs raced toward the nurse’s station. “Code blue. Code blue! Someone got past the guard. The prisoner isn’t breathing.”
Sheriff Barron ran for the room number he’d been given.
A man dressed in a county sheriff’s uniform struggled to rise to his feet from the floor with the help of a nurse. He had an ugly gash on his forehead and blood dripping down his face. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said as the sheriff approached. He pointed to a tall food tray cart. “He pushed the food cart by, and before I knew it, he hit me in the head with something hard.” The deputy pressed his fingers to the wound and winced.
“Let us take care of that,” the nurse said.
“In a minute,” the deputy said and pushed past her and into the room. “I must have blacked out. What happened to the—”
Inside the room, several people were bent over the man in the bed. One had paddles in her hands. “Clear!” she called out and applied the paddles to the man’s chest.
The man’s body lurched as a charge of electricity jolted him.
The nurses standing by stared at the heart monitor. A green line crept straight across.
“Again,” the nurse holding the paddles called out. “Clear!”
Everyone stood back as she applied the paddles again. And, again, the man’s body rocked in the bed.
The green line remained flat.
A doctor arrived, pushing through the crowd gathered at the door.
An older nurse moved toward the people gathered in the doorway. “Everyone out. Please. Wait in the lounge. We’ll keep you informed.”
The sheriff, deputy, Colin and Emily backed away from the door, leaving the medical staff to do their work.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the deputy said. “I didn’t see it coming. He was dressed in scrubs like everyone else. I thought he was delivering food to patients.”
“You couldn’t have known,” the sheriff said.
“What did he look like?” Colin asked. “Besides the scrubs?”
The deputy shook his head slowly. “He had dark hair and a goatee. And I think I saw a tattoo on his right forearm.” He shook his head. “I wish I’d paid more attention.” He swayed.
The sheriff grabbed his arm to steady him. Then he snagged a nurse as she passed him in the hallway. “Can we get someone to take care of this man?”
She stared up at the deputy’s forehead. “He should go to the emergency room. That big a cut might need stitches, and we’re not equipped to perform sutures in this department.”
The sheriff nodded and turned to the deputy. “You heard the lady. You’re going down to the ER.”
“I’ll get a wheelchair,” the nurse offered.
“I can walk,” the deputy argued.
“Look,” the nurse planted a fist on her hip, “I’ll get you down the ER in a wheelchair, or not at all. I don’t have time to argue or pick your sorry ass off the hospital floor.”
The deputy grinned and winced. “Okay, okay, you don’t have to be so cranky.”
“Want me to go with you?” the sheriff asked.
The deputy shook his head, cringing. “No. I can take care of this. You need to be here to learn our prisoner’s fate.”
The sheriff gently clapped the man on his shoulder. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Colin glanced down at Emily. “Stay with the sheriff. I need to check on something.”
She frowned. “What do you need to check on?”
“I left my phone in my truck,” he lied.
Her frown deepened. “I’ll go with you.”
“No,” he said. “I’ll be right back. No use going all the way down to the parking lot. Besides, you’ll want to know what happened to the prisoner as soon as they come out of there.”
Emily chewed on her bottom lip. “Okay. But don’t be gone long. We have to make it to the bank when it opens.”
Colin didn’t respond. He left Emily standing in the hallway with the sheriff. Instead of taking the elevator, he took the stairs to the ground floor, careful not to touch the bars across the doors if he could help it.
If the guy who hit the deputy and then attacked the prisoner wanted to get out of the hospital, he’d have taken the stairs instead of the elevator. He’d get to the ground floor faster and be less likely to run into anyone on his way down.
As he emerged from the stairwell, Colin glanced left then right, trying to think like a man running from a murder scene.
To the right was the front entrance to the hospital, with people coming in and possible security cameras pointed in that direction.
He turned left and followed the exit signs for that direction. Hurrying through the hallways, he imagined the murderer walking fast, but not necessarily running. Running would draw too much attention. Since he’d commandeered a food trolley to hide his moves until he’d reached the deputy, he was smart enough to know he had to blend in.
A nurse in scrubs passed him.
Colin stopped her. “Did you see a guy wearing scrubs pass through here in the past few minutes?”
She smirked. “I’ve seen a dozen.”
“One with a goatee?”
The smirk left her face, replaced by a frown. “Actually, yes.” She rubbed her shoulder. “He bumped into me and didn’t even say an excuse me or kiss my ass.”