by Lisa Eugene
“Aren’t you going to help a sister up?”
Grudgingly offering a hand, I hoisted her off the floor, which was no small feat especially when she insisted on playing the injured.
“Are you okay?” Mom asked her, brows pleated with concern. When Wanda nodded, she said, “I’ll take care of dinner, Wanda. You go and sit.”
I bit my tongue as Wanda hobbled out of the kitchen on my arm.
“What the hell was that about?” I asked when we were safely away from the kitchen.
“That was about averting world war three. You’re both under a lot a stress and don’t need to be going at it.”
I looked at her like she was crazy. “So you pretended to slip on the floor?”
Wanda, now miraculously healed, lowered herself onto a crate. “Well, yeah, plus it got me out of making dinner, didn’t it?”
Shaking my head in disbelief, I let my gaze roam Wanda’s face. Her eyes were rimmed red. She’d probably been weeping in the kitchen, worried, as we all were, about Emmy. My gaze went back to the kitchen.
“Mom is just so opinionated and stubborn. She believes what she wants to and doesn’t listen to anyone. She drives me nuts sometimes, Wanda.”
My friend raised a brow slowly. “Thank goodness you’re nothing like her.”
When I opened my mouth to knock down her snarky comment, she cut me off.
“You are both hurting, and easy targets for one another. You’ve been here all day. Call it a day and go to Chase’s. You’re burnt out. We can handle things here.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Rubbing my temples slowly, I sighed.
“Any word on Steven?” she inquired.
I shook my head in response. The authorities still hadn’t found him. And I still believed if they did, they wouldn’t find Emmy. The search and recovery efforts so far had been fruitless.
“I should go,” I conceded, exhaustion creeping into every joint. Plus, Chase had been texting me almost every hour. “You’re right.”
Wanda stood and gave me a hug. We clung to each other, both hungry for the comfort in that heartfelt moment.
***
When the flip phone buzzed that evening, it was Chase who was standing closest to the table. Walking from the kitchen, I had to stop and place the glass of water I was carrying on the floor. My hands started shaking so badly, the vessel wouldn’t have made it the few yards to Chase.
Our gazes collided, holding a tense conversation for the few seconds it took him to get to the table. This could only mean Los Lobos had found Emmy. Hope leaped inside me, spreading its wings. Flipping open the phone, he brought it to his ear, then turned and gave me his broad back. He didn’t want me to see his face, to see his expression in case the news was bad.
My heart suffered each moment with painstaking strokes, my breath an atomic cloud in my chest. Chase responded with a terse “okay” twice, then asked, “was she there?” He pulled the phone away for a second and his gaze lowered to the screen.
Skirting around him, I pleaded silently, scrambling to snatch the phone from his fingers. He signed off and trained a precise gaze on me.
“They’ve found Emmy,” he breathed, relief forcing the wind from his flared nostrils. “She’s okay. They’ve anonymously tipped off the police.”
My shaky palms flew to my mouth, weak barriers for my inarticulate gurgles of joy. I stared at his face through a vision that was quickly blurring with thankful tears.
Chase wasn’t smiling.
Something was wrong.
Raising my brows in question, I faced him squarely.
“What?”
“Steven had her,” he explained simply, then turned the phone to show me the screen.
Shock moved through me in slow motion. Still reeling from the news about Emmy, everything that followed seemed muted in my happiness, even the picture of my ex-husband buckled on the floor with a bullet through his forehead.
“They had no choice.”
I raised my gaze to Chase’s face.
“He got what he deserved.”
***
I sat on the very edge of the couch, hands folded in my lap. Despite every effort to keep calm, my palms were knotted into tight fists. Next to me, Chase relaxed on the couch, an ankle casually propped on one knee. I marveled at his cool demeanor, his effortless verbal salvo with the commissioner, who I could tell was starting to lose his patience.
“We would just like to ask Emily a few questions,” the commissioner repeated.
Chase shook his head before I could even open my mouth to tell him to go to hell.
“I’m sorry, Sean,” he said, managing to sound contrite. “Emmy’s already been through enough and we’d like to spare her any additional trauma. You’ve spoken to the psychologist who’s seen her several times this week. There’s no more to add. And as you know, she doesn’t speak.”
“I’d heard she does at times,” Commissioner Murphy countered.
“Rarely,” I chimed in. “And she hasn’t spoken since she’s come home.”
Commissioner Murphy gave a nod of understanding, but I could tell he wasn’t finished.
“It seems Mr. Carmichael pissed someone off enough to put a bullet through his head,” the commissioner drawled.
I held my breath as Chase stared steadily. His mouth firmed into a thin line. “My only regret is that I didn’t pull the trigger myself.”
Letting my gaze swing between the two men, I forced my pulse to slow. The commissioner held Chase’s gaze, a weighty silence creeping between the two men.
It seemed the older man had something on his mind, questions I knew he wouldn’t dare ask. Chase could be the next mayor and the commissioner wanted to keep his job. Instead, they’d thrusted and parried for the last half hour in a tedious match of meaningless words and innuendos.
Emmy was asleep in the other room. All I wanted was to get back to her and reassure myself she was safe. Although she appeared unharmed, I couldn’t imagine what she’d been through the five days she’d been with Steven.
Los Lobos had assured us she hadn’t seen the shooting. She’d been in another room preoccupied with sorting rubber bands. I was relieved, but the constant requests from the police to question her had my nerves running amok.
“Mr. Carmichael was a criminal, a known drug addict,” Chase said casually. “I’m sure he had a lot of enemies.”The other man ran a hand over his face. “That he did. It turns out he owed a lot of money to some very dangerous people. What I haven’t figured out is why Mr. Carmichael never asked for a ransom. We’d also like to know if he’d met with anyone while he was at the motel. Emily perhaps could shed some light.”
“You’ve spoken to the manager of the hotel. He already told you he hadn’t seen anyone.”The commissioner nodded. “He hadn’t even seen the child, apparently. Mr. Carmichael had made himself scarce. He’d paid in advance for three days, and then kept stalling. He’d obviously run out of money. Why hadn’t he asked for a ransom?”
“I can’t begin to guess what was going through the man’s head,” Chase said calmly.
At first, I’d been convinced Senator Kensington had paid Steven to take Emmy, but Steven hadn’t made any deposits, and he hadn’t been able to pay his motel bill.
It appeared he’d acted alone. Chase had been right. The pending court case, his dependence on drugs, and his intense hatred of me, had pushed him over the edge. Eventually he would’ve demanded a ransom, I was certain of that. Perhaps he’d been afraid to contact me given the intense manhunt in progress, or maybe he’d wanted me to suffer as long as possible, restitution for the wrongs he’d imagined I’d committed against him.
I could summon not an ounce of remorse for his death, sadness for a life wasted, but not sympathy. The psychologist had been able to gather some information from Emmy. Steven had stolen her from the Academy by hiding in the back of one of the trucks delivering smart boards to the school that day.
He’d gagged her mouth to stifle her screams, the
n secreted her down the back stairwell. Steven was evil. He’d made our lives hell. Rage bubbled up inside me, freshly renewed. I’m not sure what look must’ve crossed my face, but I felt Chase’s large palm slide over my hand.
He gave it a gentle squeeze, bringing me back to the present, to the police commissioner who was still regarding us with too much suspicion. Chase’s eyes met mine with the deepest understanding, and not for the first time I wondered exactly what instructions he’d given Los Lobos. Had he told them to kill Steven? It didn’t matter. Steven was dead. This ordeal was over, and I couldn’t treasure Chase any more than I did at that moment.
“I just like to have things squared away,” the commissioner explained.
Chase shrugged his broad shoulders, then stood, a cue for the other man. “Emmy is back safely with her mother. That’s all that matters.”
With a crisp handshake at the door, Chase said good-bye to Commissioner Murphy, then closed the door and faced me.
Exhaling a tight breath, I watched him slide his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks and lean back against the door. He was so tall his head almost reached the doorframe; so handsome I couldn’t take my gaze away.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded, but could still feel the uneven tempo of my heart. “Do you think he suspects we were involved?”
Chase pushed off the door and strolled toward me, his long legs making fluid steps. The couch dipped under his weight as he settled next to me and pulled me easily to his lap.
“He wouldn’t be commissioner if he didn’t, but he has nothing to go on.” He tucked a tight curl behind my ear.
“And Los Lobos?”
“Are long gone, I suspect. They didn’t bring Emmy home themselves because there would’ve been too many questions if she’d just magically appeared on our doorstep, especially with your ex dead. It was better for the police to have been tipped off by someone in the motel who’d heard the gun shot and called the cops.”
Snaking my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, needing to be enveloped in his warmth, to soak him in like the hot summer sun. I needed him to chase away the shadows that had followed us for the past two weeks. After a moment, Chase eased away, planting soft kisses along my jaw before he captured my lips. I moaned and plunged my tongue deep into his mouth, sliding my lips against his.
This man amazed me at every turn. He’d come into my world and shattered every notion I had about people, about life, and about love. His was a debt I could never repay. He’d cared for me, comforted me, defended me, and put his trust in me when he had no reason to. And, he’d done the same for my daughter.
He’d given over his company to a partner he didn’t trust, shelled out more money than I could ever repay, taken a back seat in the mayoral race, lost a pivotal supporter to his campaign, as well as his campaign manager—all for me.
He’d done everything for me. And now, I had to do something for him. He’d spent the last two weeks repairing my life. It was time I allowed him to work on his own. He was still devoting most of his time to me and Emmy. We’d become the focus of his world.
Misery spread like a wave cresting and falling, drowning the excitement he kindled. I blinked back tears and pulled away.
“Chase . . . Chase . . .” I pushed gently on his chest when his lips followed. He sucked the pulse at my neck and skimming my exposed collarbone. His teeth scraped my skin and I gasped, arousal tightening my nipples. It had been a while since we were intimate.
A firmer push had him sitting up, brows raised in confusion.
Clearing my throat, I looked away. “I think it’s time I moved back to my apartment.”
He blinked, lust quickly clearing from his eyes. He opened his mouth to protest, but I lunged ahead. “You have to focus on your campaign, and I have to get back to my life. The reporters have eased off about us, but now they’re sniffing around asking questions about Steven’s murder and Emmy’s abduction. It would be best to distance yourself from this. You have to get your platform out there without these distractions.”
I didn’t want to mention that my mother had been riding me all week about coming home.
Chase’s face darkened. He was obviously not happy with my decision. He’d had all of mine and Emmy’s clothes moved to his apartment.
“Plus, I think it would be best for Emmy to be back home, in an environment and a routine she’s familiar with. The psychologist agreed. I have to go.”
“Have to, or want to?” His hard voice made me cringe.
“I’m doing what’s best.”
“Best for who? You? Emmy? Don’t pretend you’re doing it for me,” he scoffed. “You hate your fucking apartment!”
“Yes, but it’s my home until I can find a new place.”
“You have. Here. I have plenty of room, and we could convert the study into a bedroom for Emmy.”
I was shaking my head. “That’s not a good idea.”
A storm brewed in his eyes, blue skies with ominous dark clouds. “You’re running away.”
“No, I’m not,” I responded heatedly when he moved closer, his large size threatening.
“This isn’t about my campaign, or about what’s best for Emmy.” He was a whispered breath away, heat emanating from him like a furnace. “You’re afraid of this.”
His lips crashed down on mine, devouring me like I was his last meal. He forced my back into the couch. His broad chest grazed the thin fabric of my blouse, scraping my nipples. Despite myself, I shivered and returned his kiss, hungry for his taste.
“Admit it, Dani,” he growled against my lips. “You love me. You want me—us. You want to stay here. Say it.”
I sucked in a shaky breath when his entire body covered mine. He palmed my ass and circled his hips, grinding his thick erection against my clit over and over again. “You want my arms around you, my lips on you, you want my cock filling you every night.”
“Shit!” I breathed. I couldn’t think when he was doing this to me, couldn’t reason when my sex was begging for him.
“You love me. Say it, dammit!”
Blinking fast at the truth stinging my eyes, I bit my tongue. I wanted to admit it so badly, I vibrated with the words. I loved him desperately, loved that he cared so much for me and Emmy, loved that he’d put so much on the line for us. But those words would do neither of us any good, would only make this harder. Wiggling from beneath him, I tried to center my thoughts and cool my body.
“We have a contract, Dani,” he bit out. “How many times do I have to remind you of that? We made a promise to be here for each other.”
“I will be here for you,” I said softly, my palm cupping his cheek, trying to soothe the hurt from his eyes. “Always. But the best thing for you right now is not having us here.” I emptied my lungs in one long breath when his jaw squared defiantly. “I’d better go check on Emmy.”
“You’re giving up, running away,” he accused as I stood and straightened my clothes. “You still harbor some ridiculous notion that we’re too different. You think I give a shit about race, or what other people think about us? You’re afraid I’m going to hurt you again. You know I would rather die than do that. You’re afraid. And you’re not the type of woman who’s afraid—who runs. You’re a fighter, Dani. Fight for me! Fight for us!”
I stared into his handsome face, surprised at how hard I was hit by his words and the painful accusation in his eyes.
“I’ve been through hell the past week, and honestly, I don’t know if there’s any fight left in me right now. This isn’t just about deciding whether or not I’ll keep our Tuesday appointment. This isn’t about escaping for one hour a week. What you’re asking for is so much more.”
The bad decisions you make affect everyone around you.
Emotion closed my throat. I thought back on my mother’s words, about some of the decisions I’d made in my life. As much as I wanted to stay with Chase, as much as I needed him, this wasn’t the right decision for us, or him righ
t now. And I was trying hard to make the right decision for everyone.
“My mind is made up, Chase,” I said, then turned and walked down the hall. Although my feet moved with smooth, purposeful steps, I couldn’t help feeling like I was running.
***
A few weeks later, I relaxed on a crate, the biggest smile filling out my cheeks as I watched Emmy’s fingers dance across the piano keys. She was playing a new song Mrs. Nancy had taught her, a beautiful up-beat piece by Hungarian composer Béla Bartók. I’d never heard of him, but the joy his music infused in my daughter was remarkable. Her eyes were closed as her slim shoulders jogged along with the playful tempo.
Music did something to Emmy, transformed her into pure emotion, and it was marvelous to see. She ended on a medley that drummed my pulse with the beat, and I laughed and applauded with the final, jubilant note.
“I think that might be my favorite piece,” I exclaimed with a smile.
“Mine too,” Chase said from the couch. He was still applauding, a wide grin on his handsome face. “You just keep getting better and better. Amazing.”
Emmy swiveled on the piano bench, suddenly looking bored, her gaze hovering somewhere above our heads. She was done performing for us amateurs. She scanned the room and I knew she was in search of her rubber bands.
“Kitchen table,” I said, remembering where I’d last seen her backpack.
I smiled when she hopped off the bench and made a beeline for the kitchen.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s playing Carnegie Hall one day,” Chase said, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV.
Cutting an eye in his direction, I picked up the newspaper I’d been reading and moved next to him on the couch. I hadn’t seen him in almost two weeks and hated to admit it, but I missed him terribly, secretly wished we still lived together.
His campaign was in full swing, his new manager keeping him busy twenty-four seven. Snaking an arm around my shoulder, he pulled me close, his soft lips grazing my temple. I tossed my legs over his, loving the feel of his hard thighs beneath me.