The Fifth Season

by Korzenko, Julie

  “Nate, you have to leave.”

  “Why?” He yanked her into a fierce hug. “I miss you baby girl.”

  She pushed back, patting his cheek and smiling. “I miss you, too. But Stone’s threatened me with dismissal if he catches you on the property.”

  “I see,” he said. A familiar cloud descended across his eyes, and she couldn’t hold in her derisive snort. “What?”

  “You and Stone have a lot in common.”

  “I should hope not. I’d hate to think he’d fallen down the same hell-hole I did.”

  “Maybe not the same, but he’s somewhere blacker than a bear’s butt.” Emma walked to her door and made sure she couldn’t hear the approach of footsteps.

  “Who taught you to speak like that?”

  “You did,” she smiled then sobered. “I’ll come to you.”

  He stared at her long and hard then shook his head. “Don’t you dare. It’s too risky.”

  “No it’s not.”

  “Emma, there’s been talk in town.”

  She frowned and wondered at the sudden change in conversation. “What kind of talk?”

  “An Irish political member, possibly Seamus, is searching for property to purchase in this area. His goons have been blabbing all about his wealth and celebrity status. They’re stinking up the saloons.”

  His last words froze her in place. “What’re you doing in the saloons?” Why hadn’t she been told? Time for new spies, Emma quickly decided.

  “It’s not what you think, sweetie. I’m collecting their old bottles and making lamps.”

  “Lamps? Since when?”

  “Remember I made the one for the Christmas party last year? Billy Perkins loved it and stuck it in his store. Apparently, a lot of other people loved it too. I’m doing quite well. But this is all beside the point.”

  Emma’s mind spun. Nate committing to something? Doing something with his life? She’d become used to her job of making sure he felt connected, making sure he didn’t slip down the alcoholic landslide that’d left him broken and alone. “I’m sorry, Nate. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay, baby girl. I wanted it to be a surprise. I’ve started building my cabin on that lot Margaret left me. I feel good.”

  “I love you,” she said, her eyes tearing up. She’d been a fool to think he couldn’t survive without her.

  “Back to the men in town…”

  “It could be anyone,” she said. Her fingers twined together, and she dug her nails into her skin.

  “It sounds like him.”

  “Do you think he knows I’m here?”

  Nate ran his hand over his face and shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it’s too close. If he gained access to privileged files, he’d know about me. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. He’s done it before.”

  “But why now? Why fifteen years later?”

  Nate scratched the back of his head. “Elections, I gather. Let me do some more digging and see if something’s triggered this renewed search, if that’s what it is. Then again, baby girl, it could all be innocent.”

  If Seamus Adams were here, her life flipped from complicated to impossible. The man that scraped a bloody knife across her mother’s throat and watched coldheartedly as life slowly seeped from eyes that used to bathe Emma in love, was closing in. “I don’t think so. I’ve felt exposed and wary ever since Margaret passed away. I’m thinking now’s a good time to trust my spidey sense.”

  “No, you’re hurting. We’re all hurting. But I want you to promise me something.” He squeezed her shoulder.

  “Anything, Nate. What can I do for you?”

  “No. It’s what you can do for yourself.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to ask my son for help.” His words slammed into her like an icy snowball.

  “No.”

  “He’ll help you,” he said. “I can’t anymore.”

  “No. He’s not the boy you remember, Nate. He’s no hero just a broken man mad at his father and the world.”

  Nate frowned and shook his head. “I think you’re wrong, at least partially. I’m sure he’s mad at me. I did some unforgivable things. But he’s not broken, not my son…not a Connor.”

  “Whatever,” she sighed. “But I’m not asking for his help.”

  “I’ll not leave until you promise.”

  “I can’t make that promise. You’d better go. Old soft shoe himself could come barging in here at any moment and send us both out on our skinny butts.”

  Instead of going to the window, Nate walked to her door. He opened it and proceeded to walk out.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “To tell my son you need help.”

  Emma’s heart stopped. No. If Nate knew how much Stone hated him, it’d send him back to the bottle for sure. If Stone knew Nate was here, it’d send her right out into the cold and smack in the face of Seamus Adams.

  “I promise,” she said softly.

  “I didn’t hear that?”

  “I promise.”

  Nate grinned, stepped back into the room and kissed her cheek. He then slipped silently out the window. Emma swore silently. With the threat of Seamus Adams, she needed to insure her job was safe. As much as she hated the idea, an apology was in order, but she’d hold off on her promise. Nate hadn’t specified when she needed to confess.

  ***

  Emma stood outside Stone’s door. She hated groveling but revenge wasn’t a worthy ally.

  One cheek biting apology needed delivering.

  Knocking gently on the door, she waited. Was Tilly still inside performing all sorts of contortions on his body? Jealousy wasn’t an attribute she usually labeled herself with, and she didn’t like it one bit.

  Knocking once more, her breath hitched when she heard a soft moan.

  A muffled scream followed. Emma turned to leave, hating the bitter emotions swirling in the pit of her stomach. Another yell stopped her. That wasn’t erotic, it was panicked. The following howl, propelled her forward, through the door at a dead run. Something was wrong.

  Stone was in bed, alone, tossing back and forth fighting an invisible demon. Emma rushed to his side. She grabbed for his arm.

  “Stone, wake up.”

  He struck out. His fist connected with her cheek, knocking her off the side of the bed. Scrambling back to her feet, Emma climbed on the mattress and straddled his chest. She couldn’t match his strength. Struggling against his powerful muscles, she called his name.

  “Dammit, Stone, wake up.”

  All motion stopped. She exhaled in relief when his eyes opened. Her heart caught as her gaze fell into sapphire pools of raw pain.

  “You were having a nightmare.” Heat soaked through the sheet, through the fabric of her pants, and straight into her core.

  The anguish written across his face sliced through her soul. Wherever he’d just been must have been three levels lower than hell.

  He reached up, caressing her cheek. His touch sparked flames that simmered and burst into a raging inferno. She closed her eyes. Pulling her down slowly, he touched his lips hers. Jolts of desire slammed into her chest, causing her breath to catch. Stone deepened the kiss, running his tongue across her mouth and then tugging her closer and plundering within.

  He needed. She gave.

  It was a kiss meant to heal but instead Emma felt as if her world disintegrated into nothing more than the ashes left behind by summer firestorms. He consumed her, touched and taking with his tongue more than she’d bargained for.

  Blood pounded through her brains. Emma knew if she didn’t break the kiss, she’d be lost forever.

  ***

  Stone was dying. Every nerve fired blasts of desire and need, burning through his reserve. The feel of Emma’s lips against his triggered emotions he knew weren’t ready to see the light of day.

  Taking one last sip of pure ecstasy, he held her face gently between his hands. Running his tongue lightly over the sweet edge of p
aradise, he inhaled the light scent of jasmine that swirled and touched his senses then committed it all to memory.

  He couldn’t have this.

  Stone closed his eyes, pushed Emma back and pulled away.

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” he said. He brought forth the memory of the life fading from his men--it helped crash down the gates against the enticing allure of Ms. Emma O’Malley.

  “You were having a nightmare.” The sudden confusion in her voice twisted his gut into knots.

  “I thought you were someone else.”

  “Oh, I see.” It didn’t matter that she hid her face and scrambled off the bed faster than a coyote leaping for its kill, Stone saw the pain. He also saw a huge dark smudge beneath her left eye.

  “What the hell?” Reaching across the bed, he grabbed her arm and pulled her closer so that the dim light of the bathroom highlighted her face. She turned away. “What happened to your face?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me. It looks like you’ve been hit.” Lifting her head slowly, Stone inhaled at the anger blazing from her emerald eyes…eyes that belonged in a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow and not shadowed by fear and disgust.

  “I was.”

  “Who?” He ran his finger across the swelling flesh, and she pulled back as if his touch revolted her.

  “You. You hit me.” Emma jumped off the bed and dashed from the room.

  Stone collapsed back onto his pillows. His head pounded and felt too heavy to hold up. Scrunching his eyes closed, he tried to breathe past the pain in his chest. Another person he’d hurt. Another innocent life his poisoned fingers had touched. He could remember her smile, remember her laugh at his clumsy attempt to help her pig, remember the wonder on her face as she watched an eagle fly. But he couldn’t remember his fist connecting with her soft skin. What fuck-up.

  Laying quietly, he ignored the tear that slipped from the corner of his eye.

  Chapter Five

  Stone entered the kitchen, inhaling the sweet scent of coffee. He sauntered over to the array of silver dispensers, snatched a mug off the counter and filled it with the piping hot brew. Emma pulled a tray from the oven. Steam rose from the top of what appeared to be blueberry muffins. With a frown, he studied the edge of her cheekbone. Over the past days, the mark he’d left on her face went from an innocent light red to an ugly patch of muted yellows and greens. His stomach rolled at the reminder of his weakness.

  “I’m heading into town this morning. Do you need anything?” He cleared his voice of the rough edge and offered what he hoped was a warm smile. “I’m happy to go wherever.”

  Emma glanced up from her scrutiny of the muffins. “I’m good. Just testing a new recipe – let me know if you taste the hint of cinnamon in these.” She removed a muffin from the tray, placed it on a small plate and handed it to Stone.

  Stone glanced at the plate, then put it on the counter and grabbed the muffin. He bit into the center and closed his eyes in sheer pleasure. “This is good.” He polished the rest off in two bites and grinned at Emma. “Don’t know a thing about the cinnamon but that was a little slice of heaven.”

  Emma rolled her eyes and smiled. The only thing marring the beauty in the frame of his gaze was that horrible bruise. Stone’s smile slipped, and he nodded at her. “Call my cell if you think of anything you’ll need. I shouldn’t be gone more than a few hours.” He hated the warmth that drained from her face the second his tone turned gruff, but he didn’t know how to handle what she offered. Distance was better, for now.

  ***

  Stone pulled his Jeep onto the gravel drive of River’s Edge Ranch. He sighed as waves of his childhood crashed across the green fields and licked through cattle fences. The warmth of childhood memories blanketed his unease and anxiety and by the time he reached the main house, the thought of seeing his cousin filled him with an edge of happy. Stone shook his head, exited the Jeep and strode onto the wide front porch. He knocked on the door, turning and surveying the ranch while he waited for an answer.

  “Stone?” A deep voice boomed as the front door opened. “I couldn’t believe it when Alexa said you were stopping by. It’s great to see you, man.”

  Stone turned and faced his cousin. They were about the same height, but where Stone was dark, Ethan was light. Except the eyes. Ethan’s were somewhere between honey and mud, and Stone had the Connor blues. “Ethan, long time no see.”

  Ethan pulled him into a gruff bear hug. “Hate the story I’ve been hearin’.”

  “I know, man.” Stone slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s been a rough year.”

  “Care to share,” Ethan grinned and sauntered onto the front porch. They headed down the stairs in tandem step and did what they’d always done as children, walked to the barn.

  Stone shook his head. “Not particularly. But I would like your help.”

  “Emma’s story?”

  They reached the horse stalls, and Ethan tossed him a shovel. Stone grabbed it and flung open the gate to the first bay, his movements honed over years of growing up around River’s Edge. “Yeah, how’d you guess?”

  “Margaret. She was worried about her decision and asked that when the time was right I help you understand.”

  Stone huffed out a frustrated breath. “Understand? Hell, she’s pretty much confined me to jail.”

  “Help me finish the stalls, we’ll grab some brewskies and kick back in the rocking chairs. I’ll spill my guts.” Ethan pounded his fist against the wooden railings. “Deal?”

  “Deal.” Stone tucked into his chores and allowed the physical workout to heat his muscles and sooth the anger lying beneath his skin. It felt good. To be here, with a person he trusted with his life, and not hear the hollow laugh of Death.

  “I guess we’re done,” Ethan called from other end of the barn.

  Stone glanced up, rested the shovel and pitch fork he’d been using to muck the stalls and add fresh hay against the wall and surveyed the length of building. “I’d say it looks that way. Beer?”

  “You betcha,” Ethan laughed.

  They headed back to the porch. Stone fell into one of the aged rockers and kicked his boots off. Ethan returned from the house a few minutes later with a bucket laden with ice and half a dozen bottles of a brand Stone recognized as one of the local microbreweries. “This stuff any good?”

  “Yeah. Who’d figured T. J. would actually be good at anything?”

  Stone laughed. “Well, his Pa did like making moonshine.”

  “True that,” Ethan said and grinned. “What can I tell you that you haven’t already figured out about Emma?”

  “She clearly has issues and an unhealthy obsession with River Run.” Stone popped the cap off his bottle, took a healthy swig and grinned at Ethan. “Good.”

  “Are you telling me that covert ops Ranger extraordinaire Stone Connor hasn’t accessed confidential databases to unearth the identity and background of Emma O’Malley?” Ethan appeared honestly perplexed.

  “Why would I have done that?”

  Ethan barked out a hearty laugh. “Boy, she’s blinded you with those wicked green eyes and Irish red hair.”

  Stone frowned not finding any of this funny. “I realize 2 and 2 are not adding up to 4 – but why would I ever think to do a background check on her. Is she a criminal?” That thought didn’t sit well, deepening the edge of his frown.

  Ethan handed Stone another beer. “No. She’s not. She’s actually not a real person.”

  “I’m listening.” Stone stated, his tone flat in contrast to Ethan’s slightly amused lilt.

  “Don’t get pissed off until I explain. Apparently your…um, Nate owed Emma’s father a personal debt and agreed to smuggle her out of Ireland and keep her safe here in Jackson. She’s using a false name and has no formal identity in the States. Margaret donated quite a healthy sum to the local schools to keep that fact quiet. So, in a nutshell, she’s kind of in our very own homegrown Connor family witness protection program.” Etha
n glanced at Stone and nodded. “It’s the truth.”

  “You don’t say,” Stone drawled. His mind worried through Ethan’s words and came up with an amount of questions that gave him a headache. “Who is she?”

  “Emilie Gallagher, daughter of an ex-Irish political leader named Hugh Gallagher. Her mother was murdered in front of her fifteen years ago. Her father disappeared, presumed dead. The man Emma claims murdered her mother is none other than Seamus Adams.”

  At that, Ethan had Stone’s undivided attention. “The dude running for Prime Minister?”

  “One and only.”

  Stone picked at the label on his beer. “I saw him on the news last night. He’s here in town.”

  “Looking for property, they say.” Ethan tilted his head and shrugged.

  “You think he knows about Emma?”

  “I think if I’m vying for the most powerful seat in my homeland, I’d be damned certain there was nothing between me and that election.”

  “This is a lot to absorb. I need to do some research on our Mr. Adams.”

  Ethan nodded. “And Emma?”

  Stone shrugged. “I’ll talk to her. Now, here’s the million dollar question. What the fuck was Margaret thinking leaving me River Run?” He snagged the last beer in the bucket and inhaled a gulp.

  “I don’t think your grandmother expected you to want River Run. What she expected was for you to protect Emma.” Ethan sighed and squeezed Stone’s shoulder. “I also believe she prayed you and your daddy would find a way back one another.”

  “That’ll never happen.” Stone recognized Ethan’s silence for what it was. Disagreement. He appreciated his cousin’s refrain from verbalizing what Stone didn’t want to hear.

  Ethan finally let out a shallow laugh. “And, deep down, I think she was playing matchmaker.”

  “What? Me and Emma? We’re like oil and water, man. That’s also never gonna happen.”

  “Really?” Ethan said, his mouth twitched with laughter.

  Stone glared at his cousin. “Really.”

  “Have you looked at her? I mean really looked at her?”