Page 73 of Killing Emma

“Will we?” I blurt out, feeling like a fucking child.

Her eyes flicker with an emotion I can’t read anytime it shows up. “I guess if we don’t, then it wasn’t supposed to work out. I’ll always be grateful for what you did for me.”

I tense my jaw. “Yeah.” I don’t push it. She’s protecting her feelings. We haven’t expressed love for each other. How could we? We’re in the middle of a fucking nightmare situation. She has to go home and show her face to keep her divorce and inheritance. I have to face the thorn in my side—after I find him.

And that could take months.

But I haven’t told her that.

“Can we at least talk?” Emma’s question confuses me.

“We are talking,” I chuckle, giving Major a pat as we head for the door.

“No, I mean, once you drop me off,” she says carefully. “Can we at least talk? Like can I have your phone number or something?”

“I don’t know.”

She frowns, stopping me before we step inside. “So, you’re going to just… drop me off and leave? Then what do I do? Wait for you to show up?”

“Possibly.” I cringe as the word leaves my mouth. “But it’s not because I don’t want to talk to you. It’s just about—”

“Keeping me safe,” she snaps at me, shaking her head. “It’s always about keeping me safe.” I raise my brows as Emma stalks off inside, and my stomach knots up. This isn’t how I wanted to end this stint of our time together. I need us to be on a high. I need her to want me when this is over.

Because I have no fucking clue how I’d cope without her, and the fear of her choosing to leave is more terrifying than ever before.

“You’re lost in your head today,” Emma says as she sets Major’s dog food down on the floor for him. “I can tell.”

I force a smile. “Well, Little Red, big changes are coming tomorrow.”

“Because this is over.” She motions between the two of us.

“This,” I mimic her gesture, “Will never be over.”

“But you’re saying you’re leaving,” she counters. “You’re saying you’re going to disappear, and I won’t have a clue when—or if—you’re coming back.”

“I promised I’d come back,” I exasperate. “Don’t fucking pick a fight tonight, Emma. You think I want to leave you? No, but I have to. I have to get ahead of the shitstorm.”

“You could take me with you. I’ve done all this working out, and self-defense training, and I can read the GPS on the computer to keep tabs for you. I can—”

“No!” I lose it. “You’re not going to do any of that. You’re going to stay where the fuck I tell you to, and then you’re going to wait for me to come back.”

“Just trading one prison for another, I see.” She rolls her eyes at me, and I clench my fists, tempted to throw the fucking chair across the room. Somehow, I always keep it together, and I turn around and head for the door instead. “Don’t leave.”

“What do you want me to do then?” I turn around to face her. “I made the choice to let you live, and we both have to suffer the fucking consequences of that.”

Hurt flashes across her face. “You didn’t have to kill your partner.”

My chest burns. “You know what would’ve happened had I not? He’d have killed you behind my back. He’d have found a way to get to you. I did what I had to do, and I’ll continue to do what I have to—and you better fucking believe your ex-husband is on that list.” I shouldn’t have let that slip, as it’s a subject we’ve not touched since that day in the cave with Jude.

“You won’t.” Her voice comes out stern and cold. “You won’t touch him.”

Anger sears through my veins as I close the distance between us. “Since when do you get to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

She puffs up to me, her own anger etched in her face. “Since you get to tell me what to do.”

“You just really fucking think letting the bastard live is enough punishment, huh? Or is it something more, Emma? Is there something you need to tell me?”

She glares at me, but that emotion I hate comes back to her eyes. “Fuck you, Luca.” She makes a shove at my chest, and I swallow the surprise. It’s the most fired up I’ve seen her—and it’s in defense of him.

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