by Harper Sloan
“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He reaches out, my savior, and takes me out of my hell.
I don’t look back once.
* * *
Coop takes me back to his hotel, helps me get cleaned up, and offers me some clean clothes that don’t smell like an ashtray. He only leaves me long enough to get some bandages to clean up the cuts on my back. I’m not sure what it is about him that has me trusting him instantly. Maybe it’s because, as far as options go, he’s my best one. For all I know, he’s some crazy serial killer and I’m playing right into his hands.
The whole time he dabs alcohol on my back, I don’t utter a word. Not until he tells me that I won’t ever have to go back there. I sharply turn my head and look right into his eyes before laughing.
“I have no where else to go. I have to go back.”
He shakes his head and smiles. “Nah. I’ve got your back now. Chin up, buttercup. We’re a team now.”
* * *
True to his word, Coop became almost like a brother to me. He took me in and helped me get stronger. He had to go out to California, where he worked for a security company, but he made sure I was taken care of. They stayed busy and he hated leaving me alone, always worried that something would happen.
Six months after the momentous day he saved me from Shawn, he finally introduced me to Axel Reid, the owner of Corps Security, where Coop worked. Axel was apprehensive about hiring me since I was so young, but their company was growing so quickly, and college education or not, I’m now gratefully employed as a secretary for Corps Security.
For once, things are starting to look up. I have a great friend and a caring boss, and I wasn’t scared. I’ve mapped out my five-year plan, and I’m finally allowing myself to dream. All of those dreams explode in my face when I finally come face to face with him.
“Uh . . . can I help you?” I ask the man standing in front of my desk.
“Name.”
“Excuse me?”
His face remains expressionless. His dark eyes don’t travel down to my chest like I’ve been used to over the years, but he keeps me tapped in his gaze. My body becomes more and more paralyzed with each passing second that I look at this man.
“Your name,” he repeats.
“You want my name?” I stupidly reply.
One dark brow cocks without losing his stoic mask and he just waits. My cheeks heat and I have to fight my body’s reaction to this man in front of me.
“Em . . . Emersyn. Emmy. I mean, I’m Emmy,” I whisper.
He nods and then walks past my desk and down the hall.
It takes me a second to clear the unexpected fog of lust that is taking over my body. I jump up from my seat so quickly that it rolls into the wall behind me before I run after the tall, dark, stranger.
“Wait!” I yell.
He stops but doesn’t turn.
“You can’t just walk in here,” I gasp at his back.
“It’s fine, Emmy. That’s Locke. He’s our technical specialist. He’s just been out of town.” Beck says softly behind me.
I turn to gape at Beck, my mouth opening and closing like a guppy.
He just shakes his head and looks to where Locke is still standing with his back to us. “It’s cool, Em. Just go on back to the front, okay?” He offers me a sad smile and turns to walk over to Locke.
I give him another glance, noticing how tense his body is strung. His hands are clenched in a firm fist and his shoulders are pulled tight.
I head back to the front, thinking about Locke. He’s so intense. My body was on fire just from his eyes. He spoke three words to me and I’m already hooked.
It wasn’t love at first sight, but I’m drawn to him. Even now, with him down the hall from me, I can feel my skin tingle with the memory of his black eyes holding my own.
With a smile, I return to my work and think to myself that my five-year plan just got a lot more interesting.
CHAPTER 6
Emmy
Present Time
That son of a bitch!
Who the hell does he think he is? For years, he’s treated me with indifference. The only time I got past his thick shield was at Axel and Izzy’s wedding. He had so much to drink that he doesn’t even remember that he almost took me against the wall at the reception. Not one of my finest moments, but I savored those precious memories of his mouth and hands on my body. I’m not proud of it or what it makes me, but that small memory has carried me through some tough times lately.
Like a naïve little girl, I’ve harbored my crush on Maddox Locke since the first time I met him back in California. It took losing the one person I considered family to wake me the hell up. I’ve been panting after the one man who couldn’t care less about me, giving him every second of my dreams, only to get pushed down each and every time. Sure, I’ve dated here and there, but no one has ever made me feel the way he did. It was hopeless.
Every since the day that Coop died, I feel like I’ve been struggling to find my place. Find where I belong. His death kills me daily. We weren’t as close as we had been four years ago. Between things picking up at CS and our moving from California to Georgia, we were just too busy. I regret that daily. I know I looked stupid for running, but I couldn’t stay. Not when I’d lost the one person who’d had my back like no one else. Sure, I was close with the girls—especially Melissa—but something held me back from giving them one hundred percent of Emersyn. To this day, the only ones who know my whole story are Axel and . . . well, Coop.
I’m sure the other guys know bits and pieces, but they don’t know everything. Axel made me a promise the day I met him that he would do his best to never let my past come up again. I’ll never forget his words.
“We all have our battles. We get past them the best we can by putting one foot in front of the other. Looking back doesn’t do anything but make it hurt a little more.”
So that’s what I did. I did it for four years as I worked for the boys and then I did it again when Coop gave his life and saved me again.
One foot in front of the other.
“You have a lot of nerve, Maddox Locke,” I deadpan.
He takes his eyes off the road and levels me with what I’m sure is meant to be one of his signature shut-the-hell-up glares. They don’t work on me anymore. I don’t care. He’s kept me dangling by a string of desire for years now. I prayed that he would just look at me. And now, now that I’m working on fixing myself, he thinks he can just storm right in and save the day.
“What do you want from me? Huh? Is this some sick game with you?!”
He ignores me. Not that I expected anything less. But it does nothing but fuel my fire. How dare he!
“Four years, you idiot! I all but handed myself over to you. The only thing that was missing was a freaking bow and a cherry on the top! Four stupid years I wanted you. And now . . . What is this now? I’m not good enough for you, but you still want me to die a little inside by forcing me to be around you?”
His jaw ticks, but that’s all I get.
“Answer me! Why! Why now?”
Nothing.
“I hate you!” I exclaim, hating the taste of those words from my mouth when directed him. I don’t hate him and I probably never could. I’m not really sure what that says about me at this point.
I have to hold on to the dash when his car suddenly swerves to the shoulder and comes to a jarring halt. He doesn’t move to face me. Hell, he doesn’t move at all. He just faces forward with his white-knuckle grip on the wheel and his chest moving rapidly with each breath he forces through his nose.
But he still refuses to speak.
“I loved you once, you know,” I whisper more to myself than to him, but he hears me because I watch his eyes close. “I loved you unconditionally even though I was—no, even though I am—nothing to you. I left because being around you and trying to get over the fact that I’m the reason why Coop is dead was just too much. I was dying, daily, every time you would look at me but look right through me.
I’m not sure why I thought that you would somehow be there for me when you never had been before.”
He doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to remain silent and let my confession linger in the air. His eyes are still closed, his body pulled tight, reminding me of the first time I met him. Even all these years later, we’re still no further than we were the first time we met when it just took three words for me to be hooked.
I let out a choppy breath and fist my hands tight, letting the pain of my nails take away the urge to cry. Gazing out the window, I beg myself to get it together.
I’m done crying over Maddox Locke.
“Chin up, buttercup.” My chest hurts when I remember Coop’s thing for me. He was constantly saying that to me when I was having a hard time.
I hear Maddox mumble under his breath and I turn my attention back to the driver’s seat. He’s looking at me with an expression I’ve never seen on his face before. I frown and let my eyes take in every inch of his face, attempting to place whatever he’s trying to tell me with his eyes. I come up empty and sigh. Why did I think I would get anywhere with this man? I look away when he doesn’t speak.
“You were never nothing, Emmy. Never nothing. Not to me. You’ve been everything for longer than I care to admit, but you deserved more than a poor bastard like me.”
I almost miss his words, but my eyes snap back to his and my jaw drops.
“For such a smart man, you really are clueless. I never wanted anything but you. What I deserved was you not pushing me away like yesterday’s trash. What I deserved was you treating me like a human being with feelings and not to play games with my heart.”
“I never played games with you, Emmy. I just tried to get you to recognize a lost cause. I wouldn’t be able to live with hurting you.”
“Are you blind?! Jesus, Maddox! That’s all you ever did was hurt me.” I laugh without humor. Then I angrily swipe at the tear that sneaks past my demand to stay locked inside. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Just drive to wherever the hell you’re determined to take me so I can get some sleep. We can talk about it later before you take me back to Syn and head home.”
“I am home, Em,” he says under his breath.
I have no desire to argue with him, so I just lean my head against the glass and work on my strength to get past the next stage in his game.
CHAPTER 7
Maddox
I pull into the hotel, shut off the engine, and try to calm myself down. I’ve worked for over a decade to keep my emotions sealed away, determined not to let anyone in while I deal with the stone-cold truth that I ruin everything and everyone. I did exactly what she accused me of. I pushed her away. I was intentionally cruel to her by throwing other women in her face. Women I had no real taste for at all. Fillers, they were a means to a distraction. Let’s face it—eleven years is a long fucking time to go without sex.
So I used them. Paraded them in front of Emmy when the few social settings we were in deemed it worthy. I’ll never forget the look of pure agony the first time I brought one of them around. Daisy, a chick who knew that, when I called, all I needed was her to meet me at the local hotel and check in. She did me a favor and played the part, but all I got out of it was the feeling of sinking in the middle of the ocean with no boat in sight.
She’s right; I played games to keep her from getting too close.
By trying to protect her, all I did was screw with her mind and hurt her anyway.
I look over at her sleeping form, and for the first time since we lost Coop and she ran, I allow myself to breathe without the fear holding me hostage. I let go of the bone-crushing thought that she’s going to disappear and allow myself to feel. It would be easy to take what she was so willing to give me. To feel the blessing of her love shining on me.
With the floodgates open wide, I let the love I feel for this woman out. It will bring me to my knees if I let it. I don’t want to keep pushing her away, but how do you take something that has been integrated into your mind for so long go and move on? How do you change your whole outlook on life with just a hope that everything you’ve ever experienced from those who should love you was wrong?
“Em?”
She doesn’t even flinch. I remember that, when I saw her earlier, she looked exhausted. I know she’s been dealing with a lot from losing Coop. Hell, we all have, but the Emmy I know is always so full of life.
After twisting from my seat and climbing from the car, I make my way over to her door. My leg has been driving me crazy this week, my stump getting sore from overuse, and I know I did too much with my stunt back at the club. I’m usually good about not overdoing it. I can go about my life almost the same as before, but sometimes, I have down moments. This is quickly becoming one of those times. All I want to do is get this thing off me.
She all but falls into my arms when I swing her door open. I adjust her and take the brunt of her weight, as slight as it may be, on my good side before making my way into the hotel. It’s the nicest place I could find within a thirty-minute drive of Syn, and it’s only five minutes away from the place she’s been staying. I would have gotten something nicer, but I didn’t want to be too far from her. It was bad enough that I hadn’t physically seen her to make sure she was okay in weeks, so this was the best-case scenario for me.
I make the long walk to my room, struggle for a second to get the door open and not drop Em, and then settle her down on the bed. Not one second does she stir, showing me just how exhausted she really is.
Reaching out, I brush one of her honey-blond strands behind her ear. Her lips twitch and she sighs in her sleep. My heart picks up speed when she murmurs my name. Even in her sleep, she’s completely devoted to me.
Why can’t I let go of every fear I’ve ever known and trust that this might be the one person I don’t completely screw up?
I make quick work of stripping off my clothes and removing my prosthetic. My leg is already feeling slightly better now that I know I’ll be able to get off my feet for the night. I carefully move my body towards where she is curled into herself in the middle of the king-sized bed. She continues to sleep contentedly as I pull her into my body and yank the covers over our bodies. With as tired as she is, I just hope that I can catch a few hours of sleep before I need to put my leg back on. I don’t want her to know before I have a chance to ease her into it. It’s been my experience that, when they aren’t prepared for it, the shock is greater, and as much as it hurts to think that she could have this reaction, they’re sometimes disgusted by it. But, like it or not, it’s part of who I am now, and if I’m going to let her in, then she needs to see me for me—flaws and all.
In all the years I’ve known her and dreamt about having her in my arms, there is nothing that could ever have prepared me for the sense of peace that settles my soul by having her here.
* * *
I should have known better than to let my guard down. I wake up screaming, the events that have haunted me nightly since I lost my leg playing out in an endless loop. Only this time, it isn’t Morris’s lifeless body I pull away—it’s Emmy’s. I never thought that nightmare would get worse until I envisioned her lying there, dead.
Gasping for air, I try to bring myself back from the tangled web of pain that always follows my nightmares. I try to remember that I’m not back there, I’ve overcome the aftermath of that dark day, and I’m in control now. I’m alive. Emmy is alive.
FUCK! Emmy . . .
As trepidation fills my veins with ice-cold fear, I look over to her and prepare myself for her revolution. I try to close off myself to what it will do if she hates me now—or worse, if she fears me. My world is rocked to its very core when I take in her pale, tear-streaked face. Her sobs are so violent that they’re shaking the bed, and for the first time since she walked into my life, I have no idea what she’s thinking.
We stare at each other for the longest time. She seems unsure of what to do and say. I’m terrified that, if I move, she’s going to cra
ck. Seeing the pain I’ve caused yet another person because of my demons is slowly killing me. I knew this would happen. I feared this. But despite my best efforts, here we are and she’s seen me at my worst.
I surrender to the pain and drop my head, running my hand over my scalp and wishing that I hadn’t shaved it off so that I would at least have something to pull. To make my body feel pain over my fucking heart.
When I feel her cold hand against my back, I jump, causing her to pull her arm back and cry harder.
“Please . . . please don’t push me away, Maddox,” she begs between her tears. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”
After whipping my head around, I hold her eyes and try to make sense of her words. Push her away? Jesus . . . I’ve never wanted more than to pull her into my arms and forget everything that weighs me down.
“Let. Me. In,” she pleads. “Please let me in.”
“God, Em. You’ve always been in.”
She lets out a shuddered breath and takes a hesitant inch towards me. Her kneeling body moves slowly with the fear I’ve helped plant in her mind that I’ll reject her. I’ve done this to her and I vow to do my best to never make her doubt my need for her.
Her hand comes up from the bed and extends out for me again, her palm caressing my cheek as she takes the last few scoots on her knees to reach me. My eyes never leave hers as I reach out and finally meet her in the middle. I can see the relief in her eyes when, for the first time in years, I take what she’s been offering me. My arm goes behind her back, my hand lightly digging in when I curl it around her ribs and pull her into my chest.
She cries softly, and at this point, I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve given her this moment or because she’s still scared from my nightmare. Her small hands dig into the skin on my chest and it feels like she is trying to fuse our bodies together. I lean back against the pillows and let her have this time to calm down. After a few minutes of silence, she lifts up, her hands still firmly pressed against my chest, her eyes imploring.
“Em,” I whisper, not sure where to even begin.