Page 74 of Emma's Element

“I know. We are almost to the cabin. Then you can sleep for as long as you want.”

Bythetimethey’dreached the cabin, Emma was out. He would have been worried about that if her breathing hadn’t been normal. He carried her into the cabin, assuring the other three Nighthawks that she was fine, and found a bedroom. He laid her on the bed and stripped her of her wet clothes, her skin was ice cold. He got her into a set of clean, dry clothes, and she’d barely stirred. Stripping out of his wet clothes, he found a dry pair of sweats then joined her in the bed, covering them both with the blankets. He couldn’t help but think that Emma had done the same for him the previous night.

Emma. He’d come so close to losing her, he thought as he held her tight. When he saw his father choking the life out of her, he went a little insane. Marcus flexed his bruised knuckles. He’d been relentless putting him down, and he wasn’t sorry. Harrison had spent years terrorizing his mother. For that alone, he should suffer.

The man had nearly killed Emma. She’d almost been stolen from him. Marcus still hadn’t been able to tell her he loved her. He felt a little thrill remembering how she’d whispered those words before she’d been dragged away from him. She loved him. She was alive . . . safe and in his arms. And she loved him.

After a few hours’ sleep, she finally stirred. She opened her beautiful brown eyes and smiled. “Hi,” she whispered. Marcus could tell that it was painful still for her to talk. About an hour ago, Graham had come in to check her over. She was fine except for her throat and face. He sat with her and held an ice pack to her swollen face. But she was going to look bruised and battered for a while. He wished he could instantly heal her.

“Hi,” he answered. “Don’t try to talk much. You need to give your throat time to heal.”

“You okay?” she asked, pointing to the bandage on his arm where the bullet grazed him.

“I’m fine now that you are safe,” he answered.

“I was scared,” she admitted.

“Me too.” He hugged her and kissed her temple on the uninjured side. “God, Emma. I nearly lost you. If I had been even a few minutes later . . .”

“But you weren’t.”

“I know, but?”

She placed a hand on his lips. “You saved me.” She kissed him but winced. “Ow,” she muttered, touching the corner of her lip.

He cupped her bruised face. “Emma . . . I . . .” A knock on the door interrupted his thought.

“The police are here and need to talk to the two of you,” Graham said through the closed door.

“Be right out,” Marcus called back. He looked down at Emma in his arms. “You feel up to talking with the authorities?”

Emma nodded. “Charlie’s still out there,” she whispered.

“I know. They’ll find him.” Tears started to cloud her eyes. “Hey now,” he crooned, hugging her to him. “It will be okay. You’re safe now. The guys and I aren’t going to let anything happen to you.”

She sniffed. “How could they do this to you? Your own family?”

“I don’t know, Sweetheart. I guess greed changes people.” His thoughts briefly turned to Jim and how much he’d underestimated the greed that had been inside his so-called friend. Greed. Such an ugly word. Such a tiny word. How can such an insignificant word change people so drastically? Make saints into sinners. Or, in this case, made reprobates into truly evil human beings.

Marcus had grown up with very little. His mother worked hard, but they still struggled to keep food on the table after Harrison left. But even growing up that way, he had never felt the desire to take what wasn’t his. He’d never been envious of what his friends had. He’d never let the lack of money change the morals his mother had instilled in him.

Even now that he had money, he never felt the need to have more. To take and take. He gave most of it away. Helping others instead of taking from them the way men like Jim and Harrison do. All these years after her death, his mother’s lessons were still deeply ingrained in his core.

Emma took a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay,” she said as she climbed out of bed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Aftertwohoursspenttalking to the authorities about her ordeal, Emma was done. Her throat hurt, her words merely a whisper. Her face throbbed. The ibuprofen doing very little to dull the ache. She had refused to let the EMT’s take her to the hospital. She knew her injuries only needed time and rest to heal. And she would heal . . . on the outside.

It was the ache in her heart she wasn’t sure was going to heal quickly, if at all. Marcus was taking this latest blow to his faith in the people closest to him well, but she could see the pain he hid from the others. And she worried the events of the last twenty-four hours would have him shutting down again.

These last few months, he’d not only grown closer to Emma but to the rest of the Nighthawks as well. Each of them considered him to be family. Would Marcus be able to trust in their loyalty and friendship after everything that happened? Would he be able to trust in her and her love for him?

She still couldn’t believe his father and brother had been behind everything. She hoped the authorities caught Charlie soon so that Marcus could have closure. Emma felt a perverse sense of glee at the thought that whatever cushy life Charlie had hoped to have been living had collapsed all around him. He was on the run and penniless.

Now, all that Emma wanted was to go home. Home to the beautiful lakefront home she’d shared with Marcus when he wasn’t touring to promote his movie. The same home he’d brought her to over a year ago when Emma had convinced herself Marcus was unattainable.

Chapter twenty-seven

Emmasatontheswinging bench in the copse of trees at Marcus’s house, a book in her lap. She rested her head against the back of the bench, soaking up the warmth of the afternoon sun in her favorite spot as she waited for Marcus to return from town. He’d left a few hours ago to run some mysterious errand.

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