Читать книгу No Place To Hide - Madalyn Reese - Страница 10

The boardroom had fallen quiet. Only the sound of Layne’s pen scratching on a legal pad could be heard while Anthony stoically picked at a brass rivet on his chair arm. He didn’t know what came next, but the day had to take an upward turn soon.

But not quite yet. The door opened for Jim and Hornsby, followed by Brady Wilson, who hadn’t changed one bit. He still had that snooty demeanor. Anthony had no idea why Emma put up with the guy.

“Where’s Emma?” Layne asked after chilly introductions.

“Upstairs,” Brady answered. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, Bracco.”

“Mr. Wilson,” Jim cautioned, “Your personal grievances with Anthony can wait. Right now we have business to discuss.”

Brady sat down at the head of the table, the snootiness evaporating before their eyes as he said to Jim, “Look. Let me be straight with you. There’s a lot going on around here that you don’t understand, and I’m not at liberty to share. But I have to ask that you keep Emma out of this. She’s got enough on her plate.”

“What do you mean?” Jim asked.

Brady looked down at the table. “Just understand that if she’s not real cooperative, it’s not her fault.”

“So how do you suggest we make things easier?” Jim asked.

Turning his eyes on Anthony, Brady said, “Get him out of here, for one thing.”

“I’m sorry but we can’t do that,” Walter said. “I appreciate the warning but you need to understand what we’re up against. We’re trying to install a reliable security system at Anthony’s house, and we’ve had to tear out and upgrade all the electrical wiring to support it. The same drill you went through when you upgraded the store’s system.”

Brady grimaced.

“Yeah. It hasn’t been a small or easy task. So until that’s finished we simply don’t have the men available to protect two people at separate sites.”

But Brady started shaking his head. “We’ve got security here at the store. Can’t we use them?”

“No,” Jim said, “They have their own job to do.”

Layne said, “Anthony, why don’t you step outside for a while? See what you can do to smooth things over?”

He got up while Brady protested, “It’s not that simple. He can’t just—”

“Give him a chance,” Layne said. “Trust me, Brady, none of us wish to upset Emma. But this is the hand we’ve been dealt, so we’ve all got jobs to do, including you. You’re in charge of protecting Emma’s businesses during this investigation. The Bureau’s job is to protect her from the suspect. But none of us can protect Emma and Anthony from each other. That’s something they have to work out for themselves.”

Brady sucked his teeth, took a deep breath, then shot Anthony a glance full of defeat and frustration. “She’s in the guest bath upstairs.”

Anthony left and stood in the hall, thinking about what Brady had just done. Pretty shocking, considering what Emma might do if she found out what Brady had told them.

What did he mean by “a lot going on around here that you don’t understand”? Was it business or personal? Charles had told him Emma was ready to rip the roof of the insurance office to get at the stones they’d helped her acquire. But that would hardly be enough to send someone like Emma over the edge.

Hoping Brady was exaggerating, Anthony headed toward the office steps, and on his way upstairs he gave himself a pep talk. He wasn’t the same person he’d been back then. Not everything was win or lose. There were degrees now, and he had rules.

Rule number one: Keep life simple. That was laughable under the circumstances. Dop aside, Emma was as complicated as it got. Keeping her here wouldn’t be easy because he was already fighting the urge to run rather than tangle with her again.

The woman was flat-out vicious. He hadn’t known how vicious until that night they were supposed to sign the contracts giving him fifty-one percent control over Toliver’s Treasures.

Not for one second had he planned on actually taking the store from her. He may have been jealous of her for who she was and what she had, but he’d never intended to let things go that far. He’d singled her out for one reason and one reason only. The temper. He’d been counting on her to use it. But not the way she had. She was the one who’d made things personal.

When he got to the apartment that night, he found candles, champagne on ice and Emma in a filmy black silk dress that didn’t hide one dang thing. And she’d stroked his ego, thanking him for solving the crisis he’d created.

He should have seen it coming—should have known she’d mercilessly use their powerful attraction against him the same way he’d used it against her. Giving him hungry looks and touching him, whispering things that made his blood roar after ten days of a strict hands-off policy.

She’d ripped his original plan completely off the rails. Made him believe, if only for a few minutes, that he could pull it off. Get what he’d come for, and keep Emma and the store, too.

By the time dinner was over, she’d had him so drunk on his own power, and so beyond ready to rip that dress off with his teeth, he’d never considered he might already be in her temper’s grasp.

Idiot. Just before she’d nuked him, the only thing on his mind was feeling her beneath him, making her surrender everything until his greed for Emma Toliver had been sated.

And nuke him she had. One nanometer away from a kiss and she’d punched him so hard his jaw was sore for weeks afterward.

Then she’d started yelling, things that were carved into his skull to this day. Sadistically awful things, like he destroyed companies to make him feel as powerful as his father.

One ego brutally murdered. Granted, it had needed killing. But for a couple weeks, he’d refused to relive what she’d said. Why should he? Emma hadn’t really known anything about him. She couldn’t understand the pressure he’d been under or the hell his father put him through. She’d been his ticket out of the war with Maxim Bracco, and another casualty had meant nothing to him. Especially a casualty who had a fiercely loyal clientele, a perfect life and a respectable business to run.

She’d made a fool out of him, and since that’s what he’d singled her out to do in the first place, it shouldn’t have hurt quite so much. Somehow those moments where he’d believed he could defeat his father and win Emma had never completely gone away, despite the nuking. And her judgment of him hadn’t been exactly accurate, but she’d been right enough that two years later he still judged himself by it.

Anthony took a deep breath and let it out. Sometimes it floored him to remember the way he’d been. He couldn’t even conceive of that mind-set anymore and he’d spent most of the last year trying to make up for his former life, donating time, money and brain power to the people he’d hurt.

Emma had been a problem, though. He’d had no idea what to do about her. Eventually the guilt goaded him into picking up the phone and the rest was history. Charles had been a godsend. When he’d called about that material auction, it seemed like the perfect solution: a way to make amends without having to see her again.

Face it, pal, he told himself. You’re scared of her. And if that auction comes back to haunt you, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

Which reminded him of rule number two: Never take yourself too seriously. Also laughable. Between Jim and Emma, there wasn’t a slug’s chance in a salt mine he’d be allowed to regrow the ego.

And in light of the reunion with Emma, Anthony wouldn’t even touch his third rule: No women for a while. Now that he’d seen her again, his sacred, final law was dead as a doornail. He might be afraid of her, but she owned him.

Reaching the top of the staircase, Anthony hesitated, finding himself in an office that hadn’t existed two years ago. It wasn’t really a surprise that the business was invading her living space, nor that it was right next door to her bedroom.

Don’t peek. Get your mind right before you go any farther.

Pressing fingertips to his forehead and grimacing, Anthony tried not to look. But he couldn’t help himself. He peeked into her bedroom, and all he could see was that evil black dress.

It took more than one deep breath to clear the image from his mind. The war is over, he told himself. You don’t have to be like your father anymore. You can’t. You learned the hard way. Now be a real man and face the music.

Keeping his eyes out of her bedroom, Anthony moved on down the hall to knock on the bathroom door. “Emma, let me in.”

“Go away.”

“I’m not going away. In fact, I’m pretty certain you’ll have houseguests for the foreseeable future.”

There was no response.

“Are you gonna make me stand out here all day? What if one of your employees comes upstairs?”

That did it. “The door is open, Einstein.”

Anthony drew one more deep breath and turned the knob. Stepping inside to find her slumped on a brocade bench, he said, “My mother did teach me some manners, you know.”

The jade eyes turned on him and for a moment Anthony hardly recognized her. She seemed shrunken. Vulnerable. And white as paper. He’d never seen her this way and he abruptly realized why Brady was so concerned about Emma.

Not until that moment had he ever realized how much he relied on Emma Toliver being evil. It was easier to justify what he’d done to her when he thought of her as a witch.

Blowing out a breath, Anthony leaned against the door and stuck his hands in his pockets. He needed to get her talking, so he said the only thing that came to mind. “Did Jim upset you?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Neither would I, but tell me anyway.”

Emma bit her bottom lip, an action Anthony remembered well. She always did that when trying to control her temper. After a pause, she said, “He told me what happened to you.”

“Jim has a tendency to be blunt. I’m sure the truth isn’t half as bad as what he told you.”

“It doesn’t get much worse than nearly dying, Anthony.”

“No, you’re right. It doesn’t. But you can see for yourself I’m fine. No harm done other than the obvious.”

“How can you be so…”

Emma trailed off and fiddled with the big diamond on her right hand. Feeling relatively safe—safe enough to let his guard down a bit—he soothed, “I’ve had more time to deal with this than you have. Believe me, a week ago I wasn’t quite so flippant.”

Keeping her eyes on the gem, Emma nodded. “You’re moving in?”

“I believe so. We’ve been hopping from one hotel to the next because they’re still installing a security system at my house. Here, everything is contained under one roof, needs-wise.”

“Yes, everything of mine. What happens if you need to work?”

“I don’t work. My former life as a lecherous, corporate-raiding swine was very profitable.”

He’d given her the perfect opportunity for sarcasm, but she didn’t take it. Instead, she said, “How’s your mother? She must have been terrified.”

“She was, but Mom’s resilient. So far she’s doing all right. And she’s got Geoff. My stepfather, in case you didn’t know.”

The platinum head nodded, but Emma still wouldn’t look at him. “Do you like him?”

“Yes. I didn’t always. We’ve gotten to know each other better, though, and that helps.”

“I suppose saving your life helped, too.”

Anthony grunted out a laugh. “Yeah, that helped, too.”

He wondered about this gentle probing she was conducting. Asking after his mother was the last thing he would have expected. But he could handle this. In fact, it would almost seem restful if the subject wasn’t so dire.

He shouldn’t have relaxed. The next probe was not gentle.

“You said ‘former life.’ Are you asking me to believe you’re no longer a lecherous, corporate-raiding swine?”

“I’m not asking you to believe anything.”

Emma finally looked up, and to his relief there was color in her cheeks. Not the blazing, angry stain he’d learned to fear, just an innocent, healthy glow as she said, “Try to understand. As much as I’d love to blame you for this, I know you’re not really responsible for Dop’s actions.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows. Someone had been in therapy. She said, “But you and the FBI can’t be here. I’ve got a storeful of employees who’ll be in danger if I stay. And I know you want to scream every time I say this, but my clients are like family. I can’t see any other solution than to leave. If we’re gone, nothing will happen.”

A silent curse echoed in Anthony’s head. She’d already made up her mind, and it wouldn’t be easy to sway her now.

“You can’t leave,” he said, buying time to come up with some leverage. “Mom said you have a Red Cross thing Thursday night. And there’s a rumor going around that some jewelry honcho will be there to see a design that might earn you a patent. Well, it wasn’t a rumor. Layne told me.”

“How did she know that?”

“I wish I knew. She scares me senseless. I haven’t gotten away with any of my usual tricks since she showed up,” Anthony said, only half-joking.

“Liar. You managed to get here, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but she probably let it happen. Look, I know this situation has to be overwhelming, but if you turn your intelligence on it, you might prove to be a valuable asset to—”

Oops. Anthony thudded to a halt at the sight of her hostile glare. He’d attempted to call on her pride, and she’d seen through him in seconds.

“Nice try,” she muttered as he backpedaled, crouching in front of her to make eye contact she couldn’t evade.

“If you run we’ll never catch him.”

“Run? That’s your department. I’m protecting people because I care what happens to them, not saving my own a—”

“Emma.” He cut her off, his eyes involuntarily dropping to her mouth. Blood pounded through his veins and a slow breath escaped as Emma’s own eyes mirrored the action a moment later.

He had to get out of here. The attraction still had him in a stranglehold. If she did that again he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing what he itched to do. Touch her. Feel her cool skin heat as his hands explored.

But if he did it, Emma would leave. Layne would find her, tell her about Charles and that auction, and then Emma would hunt him down.

“Listen,” he said, starting again. “I know you’re scared right now, but you need to understand something about Dop. If he feels you’ve cut off access, he’ll take his frustration out on someone important to you. Or he could pick another victim who doesn’t have the resources we do. How will you feel if that happens?”

She scratched at an eyebrow with a long pink nail, and the scar on his shoulder burned in response. Pushing harder, he added, “I know you don’t trust me, and frankly, I don’t blame you. But I haven’t been idly sitting by and letting this happen. I’ve learned there are ways of surviving the FBI, and if you’re not careful, your perverse nature might find it amusing.”

“Jerk.”

“Sorry, but I’m sick of being serious all the time. So how about this? We could work out some ground rules so we know how to act around each other.”

“Can I ask you something first?”

“Can I stop you?”

Emma gave him a pained look and fired. “Is this whole attitude adjustment a near death epiphany or what? Because I find it very disturbing.”

“There you go, sugarcoating everything again.”

“Answer the question, smart aleck.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Why won’t you ever talk about anything?”

“Isn’t this where the nun smacks our knuckles for bickering in class?”

Emma sagged against the wall, looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. “I’d forgotten how irritating you can be.”

Relaxing a bit, he scooted her over on the bench and sat beside her. “So you’ll stay?”

“As if I have a choice,” Emma answered, leaning away. She still couldn’t believe this was happening.

How much worse could it get? On top of everything else, a stalker and Anthony Bracco had been added to the pile. Not to mention having him in her home, along with the FBI.

And was she supposed to be buying his act? He’d deflected the question about his attitude the same way he used to deflect any question that hit too close to his schemes. She wasn’t blind. He might have changed, but not in any significant way.

All the same, he was playing the responsible role quite well, warning her about Dop and what he might do if she left.

But whether Anthony had changed or not, there was still anger simmering between them, and no matter how many ground rules they hid behind, it would eventually boil over.

And anger wasn’t the only thing simmering. He hadn’t been here more than an hour, and twice already she’d felt that familiar separation of brain and body. Her brain would tell her to keep away, but her body had its own ideas.

Even now, sitting beside him, she could feel herself responding. His energy may have been subdued but it was still there, if a little different. Emma had never understood why he affected her this way, but apparently it was something that would never change or lose its power.

When his eyes had fallen to her mouth a few minutes ago, she knew she wouldn’t have rejected his kiss. Any form of comfort would have been welcome, but she must be losing her mind if she considered Anthony Bracco an acceptable alternative to cheesecake.

Struggling to pull herself together, Emma answered, “I need time to think.”

“How much time?”

“You know what? Forget it. I can’t believe I’m even speaking to you. I’m going back to work.”

She rushed into the hallway with Anthony in pursuit, urging, “Emma, you can’t pretend this isn’t happening.”

Just as he figured, reasoning with her was a waste of breath. By the time Emma reached the stairs leading to the sales floor a professional smile was plastered on her face.

Denial. Complete and utter denial.

Emma’s attitude worried him, but Anthony knew he’d dodged the first bullet. It took him a moment to figure out how he’d accomplished that. And then he realized something vital as he watched her shake hands with an older gentleman and lead him gently toward a counter.

Quiet moments were the enemy. If Emma was angry, she’d run, just like he always did. Except she’d run straight downstairs to work, where he was supposed to keep her. And since angering Emma Toliver seemed to be Anthony’s specialty, Layne might never get a chance to deliver on that threat.

“Where’d she go?” Jim asked from down the hall.

Anthony turned, gesturing toward the counter. “Downstairs.”

“We’d better give her some time to recover before we take it any further. Hornsby’ll be talking to store security in a minute. I’ll have to help with the employees, but let’s have a talk first.”

Jim closed the door as Anthony sank into a creaky chair. “So,” the agent said simply, his eyebrows raised.

“Would you accept a bribe in lieu of this particular conversation?” Anthony asked.

“Not on your life.”

“Don’t even think it. You know why I’m off women.”

“Yeah, you screw up and run away,” Jim said. “Been doing it as long as I’ve known you. But Emma’s got a lot going for her. She’s smart, gorgeous and doesn’t take any of your crap. Not too many women around with all those attributes.”

“There’s one key factor missing in your summation. She’s a witch of the first order. You want her? She’s all yours.”

“Generous offer. I’d accept, but you’d probably rearrange my anatomy if I did. Anyway, Layne told me what you and Charles have been up to. Can’t help thinking you went through an awful lot of trouble for someone you can’t stand.”

“I didn’t do it for her,” Anthony told him. “It was my version of making amends, which, translated, means I did it to make myself feel better.”

“Okay.” Jim sighed. “But you have to keep her here somehow. Are you grasping the irony? You, the speed and distance record holder, have to keep someone else from running away.”

“Yes, one of those moments I’m convinced God’s up there laughing.”

Jim didn’t bite. “You know, if you’d talk about things once in a while, you’d be better off. Emma’s father wasn’t exactly saint material, either. Maybe if you explained what happened—”

Giving his friend a wry look, Anthony interrupted, “Sorry, but I like to keep the number of people trying to kill me down to a bare minimum.”

“Ah, yes, here comes the sarcasm. I’ll stop. So back to business. We’re about to get a whole lot more aggressive.”

“How?”

“Several ideas are on the table. Dop’s gotta make a mistake somewhere along the line. We’ll help him do that.”

Anthony held up his hands and waited expectantly.

“You and your results mentality,” Jim complained.

“Well, it’s a little hard to be patient, Jim. He’s already blown every profile you’ve come up with. It’s like he’s deliberately changing course just to throw you off base.”

“You’re right, he is doing that. But meanwhile he’s showing us he’s done time in either law enforcement or prison. I’d guess the latter. Guys in there study how we work. He’s also highly intelligent, efficient and patient. When we bring him down I’ll definitely be publishing his case.”

“If we bring him down.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Jim commented. “Look, I need to go help Hornsby. You keep an eye on Emma. Make sure she doesn’t take off on us.”

“Yes, sir. Hey, wait a second,” Anthony said. “What did you make of Brady?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m not sure I buy his altruistic act. He grew up at the store, same as Emma, but she’s holding all the reins. And Brady’s wife left him a couple of weeks back. Emma doesn’t know that, though, so keep quiet about it.”

Anthony sighed. “Did some digging before this morning?”

“It’s a sickness. I can’t help myself. And speaking of which…”

“I’m going!” Anthony groused. He left Jim to his beloved cellphone, which seemed to be permanently attached to the man’s ear.

Descending to the jewelry department, Anthony found Emma stubbornly immersed in work. She was still attending to the older gentleman, talking over a tray of rings.

Anthony took up position by the workroom door, receiving a flurry of suspicious looks from Emma even while she showed the utmost patience to her client. It was a learning experience, seeing her smile the way she used to when he’d first met her. Genuine. Kind. He found it hard to believe that striking face could turn so cold.

Wondering how, exactly, one got on Emma’s good side, Anthony rubbed his shoulder against the doorjamb. The itching was a constant reminder of Dop, and though the doctors said it was a sign of healing, it was yet another irritant in an already full load.

As Emma moved on to the next client, Anthony decided to do double duty. There were ways to make this easier. He’d done enough damage in her life already and now he was adding a stalker to the tally. Right now, planning might do more good than an apology that would satisfy no one.

So he took out his own cellphone and got to work, spying as Emma milled around a constantly busy sales floor.

Her state of denial began to slip when Hornsby and Brady pulled a security guard from his post. She went white, then red, but didn’t interfere. That was good, Anthony supposed, although she would almost certainly take it out on him later.

She handled the next round better, showing nothing but calm as Jim made off with department heads, one by one. Emma rotated to cover their absences, and it wasn’t always easy for Anthony to find an unobtrusive vantage point. He finally gave up and sat on the oak staircase as she took over the china department. It was nearly noon by then and the hot, viciously humid weather had slowed down even the most avid shoppers.

Anthony was virtually alone with her now, watching as she tidied an already pristine set of displays. He wondered what she was thinking, but didn’t mind the cold shoulder. It gave him a chance to stare.

The yellow dress was straight out of a Doris Day movie—sleeveless, tailored and prim, yet somehow managing to show a mile of tanned skin. His eyes moved to her legs, where high heels, nice ankles and the curve of firm calf muscles held his interest for quite some time.

And then suddenly she was walking right toward him, like a warrior on a mission. Anthony’s spine straightened abruptly at the obstinate look on Emma’s face. He was unprepared for another showdown.

“You need to answer a question,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Did you really believe I was behind this?”

“At first, yes,” he said. “And you thought it was me.”

“The thought did cross my mind.”

“Well then, that’s out of the way. How’s your stomach doing? Better? Feel like lunch?”

Emma eyed him warily for a moment. “No,” she said. “But I suppose if I’ll be having houseguests I’d better call the grocery store.”

“Already taken care of. My housekeeper will be here later with provisions. And I’ll make a deal with you.”

“What?”

“I’ll cook if you scratch on demand.”

“If I what?” she asked.

“The scar. It itches and you have long fingernails.”

There was another pause, but this time Anthony could see what she was thinking. Having houseguests was one thing. Touching him was another. They both knew they were in trouble under the enforced proximity. It only remained to be seen which one of them would slip first.

“Are you supposed to be scratching?” she asked.

“Probably not. But the deal stands.”

“Fine.”

“All right. Why don’t you come upstairs for a while, anyway? I can scare up lunch and tell you what the FBI’s been up to.”

“I can’t. When they keep pulling people off the floor we’re short of help.”

“You’re also short of customers. Look, I know this is awkward, but I promise no mischief if you promise not to flirt.”

“Excuse me?” Emma exclaimed indignantly.

“I’m only teasing. Lighten up.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered. “You don’t have to watch your back every—”

Anthony laughed out loud at the horrified look on her face.

“What’s so funny?” she chirped, then smiled sheepishly. “Man, talk about putting your foot in your mouth. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I think that’s the first time I’ve laughed in weeks.”

They started up the stairs, Emma’s expression sour. “You must be pretty desperate if you’re laughing at that.”