Page 91 of Always Be an Us

"You were doing eighty in a fifty-five, buddy," is the first thing the officer says to me when he enters the room, pinning me with a disapproving look.

"And you were doing a twenty," I say.

He thinks about it, then shrugs. "Fair point."

"Hey, Officer Jensen," Emma says wanly.

"Fine evening, Emma." He winces. "Well maybe not for you, but…"

"Got anything to collect prints with?" I ask.

Officer Jensen nods and gestures to a small toolkit he's carrying. "Yup. Now I have a few questions for you and then y'all need to clear out while I do my investigating."

I share a look with Emma. I have absolutely no confidence that this man has the tools to perform a thorough investigation, but he seems to be all they have in this town.

Emma gives me a weak smile and a shrug, that tells me she agrees. But also seems to say, "But what can we do?"

I make a mental note to have my PA contact the best PI in New York and fly him out ASAP. The bastard who did this is getting caught, if it's the last thing I do.

In fact, I would like him to get caught personally, so I could deal with him myself, outside of the law.

A few minutes later, Emma finishes answering the officer's question about what she knows, which is very little, and then I drive her back to the hotel. Amelia and Sandy aren't there, and after I shoot the former a quick text, she lets me know that they went down to the hotel restaurant for dinner.

Good. It gives me time to talk to Emma alone.

"I gotta wash my hands," Emma mumbles as she heads down to the bathroom next to my former bedroom.

The door closes and I give her a few minutes, pacing the living room in the meantime, but even after five minutes she hasn't come out yet.

I head over and knock on the door. "Emma?"

No answer.

I try to door handle, and it's unlocked.

"I'm coming in," I warn her before I open the door, catching her staring into her reflection, her hands in the sink with no running water.

"Emma?"

She suddenly jolts and then peeks at me, blushing. "Sorry, I just...this is a lot. A lot has just been happening lately."

"I understand," I tell her. I shut the door behind me and move to her. Her expression looks so overwhelmed that I want to promise her everything will be okay. "You've been under a lot of stress lately."

She nods and her throat bobs as she swallows.

I run my hand over her cheek, and she leans into my touch. So sweet.

"Emma, why didn't you call me to come pick you up after you realized there was an intruder?" It was the thing that kept bugging me. Because what if the guy had decided to stick around? What if he'd hurt her?

Emma blinks at me in surprise. "Why would I call you?"

Ouch! That was just about the worst thing she could say to me.

It feels like an attack, like a shot right through the chest, that's how much it hurts. But I can tell from her expression that she didn't mean it that way.

She was simply expressing how she felt.

"How can you say that?" I ask, not shocked to find my voice raspy. "Why wouldn't you call me?"

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