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Emerson is staring at her hands in her lap when I turn the car on and peel out of the parking lot. Again, I’m faced with the urge to take her back to my penthouse, but I’ve already thrown so much at her in such a short span of time, I need to tread carefully or she’s going to run in the other direction. That’s the last thing I want. She’s already fighting herself at every turn. Her body wants to submit to me. She craves it, but her mind is telling her to get as far away from me as she can.
I reach across the console and grasp her tiny hand in my much larger one, the need to touch her overwhelming. “What’s wrong?” I ask gently.
Before I met Emerson, I didn’t know I had a soft bone in my body. I mean, I kill people for a living, but she brings it out in me. Hiding under the tough exterior, she shows everyone is someone in need of softness, and I want to be that for her.
“This is…” She hesitates, picking her words carefully. “A lot. It’s a lot to take in and I’m not used to being told what to do.”
I look over at her, my face deadpan. “Shocking.”
Emerson giggles and fuck me if it’s not the most beautiful fucking sound I’ve ever heard in my life. “Shut up. I just mean I’ve never relied on anyone before, and it’s not as easy as you seem to think it is.”
“Careful who you’re telling to shut up.” I smirk. “What about your dad?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. Not since I was a kid when my mom was around. When she left, my dad didn’t cope well and spent all his time at the Center. I picked up the cooking, cleaning and general life stuff, and haven’t really allowed myself to lean on anyone else since.”
If I hadn’t spent the last two weeks I’ve known her obsessing over every move she makes, I wouldn’t notice the sadness in her voice, the loneliness that tugs at my own.
I don’t bother asking about her mom, because I already know the answers. I read the file Everett sent me with every other documented part of Emerson’s life.
“It’s foreign to me to have someone want to take care of me,” she explains. “I guess I’ve always been good at keeping people at arm’s length so it doesn’t hurt when they leave.”
I squeeze her hand. “Well sweet girl, you better get used to leaning on someone.” I half expect her to fight me like she has at every other turn, but instead she squeezes my hand, and when I glance over at her, she’s smiling.
We drive in comfortable silence, the soft hum of the radio filling the car as we turn toward her apartment. I’ll need to broach the subject of her car and housing situation soon, because neither are safe and I can’t handle the idea that she’s in danger.
When we pull up to her apartment, Emerson turns in her seat to face me. “Thank you for everything this morning, and for driving me home.” She smiles, finally pulling her hand from mine. I feel the break in our contact immediately, missing the warmth I feel when our bodies touch.
“You don’t think I’m going to let you head up there alone and start working, do you?” I chuckle.
Her eyes widen. “I wasn’t going to work, I thought you were just dropping me off…”
I shake my head. “No such luck.” I wink and quickly push my door open, jogging around to her side just in time to meet her as she climbs out.
“You don’t have to come up, I know you’re busy.” Emerson lifts the heavy handbag onto her shoulder.
“Not too busy for you, sweet girl.” I hold my hand out to her and she only stares at it for a moment before she hands it over. “Keys?”
Emerson sighs as we start walking toward the entrance to the stairs, tugging her car keys from the pocket of her jeans. “You’re bossy, you know that?”
“Get used to it.”
13
Emerson
Having Rayne in my shitty apartment makes me nervous. The space is so small, only really big enough for one person, and he’s huge. Even if he wasn’t six foot four and built like a tank, his personality would be too big from the shoebox I live in.
He puts my bag down by the door and quickly shrugs out of his jacket. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact he’s staying. I’ve seen the availability he provided to Dad before he started working with us, and while he has deviated from the schedule some days, he’s never written off a full day.
“Are you sure you’re not too busy?” I ask.
“Are you trying to get rid of me, sweet girl?” Rayne smirks.
I shake my head. “Of course not. I just don’t want you wasting your day on me.”
He sighs. “Emerson, any time I spend with you is not a waste.”
I’m feeling awkward as I glance around at anything but Rayne. Everything he’s said, everything he’s done seems like a direct contradiction to who I thought he was. Even though I know he walks on the wrong side of the law at least some of the time, I can’t bring myself to care. I should because I’ve seen so much at the Center, everything revolving around gang violence, and if Rayne had anything to do with any of it, I should be hightailing it out of here, but strangely, after his reaction to Brad and then Russo, I feel drawn to him, safe even.
