“Emmy?”
At first, I thought it was Black who’d spoken, but as I blinked back tears, I saw the blurry outline of Alaric standing in the doorway. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How much had he heard?
“Are you okay? I came to talk over the case, but I heard shouting…”
“I’m fine. Perfectly, wonderfully fine.”
I took one last glance at Black, sitting motionless in semi-darkness, and pushed past Alaric. Horror turned into devastation as I walked and then ran through the house, barely noticing when I smacked my bare hip bone on the edge of a door. I had to get out of that place. Get home to Little Riverley, call Ana, scream.
I was fumbling with the lock on the front door when a hand closed over mine.
“Get off me!”
“Cinders, you can’t go outside like that. Here…” Alaric tucked his sport coat around my shoulders. “What happened in there?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” Alaric shrugged, accepting, always accepting. “But if you think I’m letting you run upset into the night, you’ve got another think coming.”
“I need to get out of here.”
“Then I’ll walk you home.”
CHAPTER 37 - ALARIC
WAS EMMY CRYING? Emmy never cried. She seemed to have loosened up a bit emotionally since the old days, but tears? What the fuck had happened in that room? Was there trouble in paradise? Alaric had never seen Black look so…contrite.
Turned out the iris scanners didn’t work when Emmy’s eyes were watering. Alaric leaned forward and stared into the lens himself, and the bolts securing Little Riverley’s front door shot back with a muffled thunk.
“What can I do? I hate seeing you like this.”
Emmy started to wave him away, but when she held up a hand, they both saw it was shaking.
“Shit,” she muttered. “Pour me a glass of wine.”
“Alcohol isn’t the answer.”
“Where have I heard that before?”
At a guess? Toby with an outside chance at Ana.
Alaric nudged Emmy inside and closed the front door behind them. Gee, this wasn’t awkward at all, standing in front of his half-naked ex.
“Let’s find you some clothes.”
When Emmy made no move towards the stairs, Alaric pressed the button for the elevator. The fact that she didn’t complain was a testament to just how unsettled she was. Usually, she hated the thing, and anyone caught taking it got forced to do push-ups as a penalty.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” Alaric promised as they climbed on board.
She didn’t even acknowledge his words.
The last time Alaric had been in Emmy’s bedroom, on that fateful visit when Emerald’s pay-off had disappeared, the decor had been blue and white. Today, it was earthy tones—browns, creams, and beiges—complete with a driftwood sculpture in one corner. What was it? An ostrich? A canoe?
“It’s called ‘Dragon Fruit,’” Emmy said when she saw where he was looking, followed by a sniff. “Bradley bought it from some bohemian artist in Portugal.”
“Aren’t dragon fruit normally pink, spiky things?”
“The front end’s a dragon and the back end’s a banana. The sculptor’s doing six months for possession now.” Pain filled her eyes again. “I guess I should get dressed.”
“Do you have pyjamas?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“There’s probably a pair somewhere, but…” She shrugged. “Usually, I sleep in a T-shirt and a pair of Black’s boxers, but tonight…no.”
That must have been some bust-up. Alaric was curious as hell about the circumstances, but he also knew Emmy would never talk if she didn’t want to. She’d done drill after drill as a prisoner of war, stress test after stress test, and she’d protect Black the way a momma bear protected her cubs even if he wasn’t her favourite person at the moment.
Alaric’s jacket slipped off her shoulders, so he darted into the walk-in closet and grabbed the first thing that came to hand—a sparkly pink dress completely unsuitable for the occasion—and quickly tugged it over her head. Actually, was it a dress? It barely came to mid-thigh. Hard to tell.
And that wasn’t the only problem. He headed back into the closet, which was bigger than the first apartment he’d rented in Thailand, and rummaged through the drawers. Wallets, purses, a selection of firearms… Eight drawers in, he found a selection of underwear, not the sporty stuff she used to wear but frilly, lacy lingerie, each set in its own compartment. He grabbed a black bra and panties and tossed them out the door.
“You’ll need these.”
And pants. She needed pants. Skinny jeans, or leggings, or…yes, this looked like a cross between the two. And that shawl would work as a cover-up. When he’d first met Rune, she’d been a quivering mess for weeks, and she’d liked to wrap herself in a blanket. Even now, she resorted to scarves and big, bulky jackets whenever she felt insecure.
“Here you go.” He emerged into the bedroom just as Emmy tugged the panties up her legs, and he hurriedly averted his eyes. Yes, he’d seen it all before, but that was then and this was now.
“Good thing I waxed, huh?”
Even joking, she still sounded sad, and when Alaric tried to wrap the shawl around Emmy’s shoulders, she shrank back.
“Cinders, I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“You already did,” she muttered.
He deserved that.
“And I’ll forever be sorry, but I’ll never do it again.”
“Thanks, but you can go now.”
That stung. After the way he’d run out on her, he deserved to be pushed away, but it still stung.
“I’m not leaving you alone. Who can I call? Who do you trust?”
“Right now? No one except Ana, and she’s out.”
“What about Dan? Mack? Nick? Sofia?”
Emmy shook her head. Why not them? They were her oldest friends. Alaric’s synapses fired, and suddenly he understood. Shared loyalties. They were Black’s friends too.
“If you want space, I can sit downstairs.”
“Just leave. You lied to me. Everybody lies.”
“Cinders, if I could turn the clock back, I would, but I can’t. I left you, and I’ll always
