Make Mine a Marine (77 page)

She settled back in her chair, as if surprised by her own revelation. Drew rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, maintaining the shorter distance between them. "Strong?" he questioned.

"He makes demands. He expects them to be followed, without any discussion. If there's a problem with Kerry, he tells me to take care of it. He didn't like the office I gave him at LadyTech, so he conned the staff into taking everything out and moving it into a bigger room. He said he wanted to be closer to me, but I didn't buy it. He treats me like I'm some kind of prize he's entitled to."

While Emma's temper built into a small inferno, Drew forced himself to remain cool and detached. He considered it one of his finest acting jobs, since all he really wanted to do was grab his gun and his truck keys and track down Ramsey. No one, not even her husband, had the right to play with Emma's self-confidence and destroy her trust like this. "Could it be his military background? He's probably used to giving orders."

"He never gave one to me before now."

Drew tried to come up with another rational explanation for Jonathan's behavior. He couldn't.

Emma dropped her focus to her hands in her lap. "My father was like that. He'd make demands. He'd want his dinner cooked a certain way, want me home right after school. He'd tell Mom to wear a certain dress, but if it was in the laundry, he'd…" Drew waited with forced silence while she caught her breath and worked through the memory that assailed her. "You could never please him. Sometimes he'd just stalk off, get in his car and leave. Go drink with his friends. Sometimes…"

Drew didn't want to imagine what Emma's father had done on the times when he didn't leave the house. "Em…" Unable to keep his distance any longer, he stood and circled the table. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped her up in his arms, blanket and all.

She turned her face into the juncture of his neck and jaw and simply let herself be held. But she didn't cry. She was summoning her scattered strength, absorbing a bit of his, and building up her own spirit. Drew inhaled with deep pride. A delicious scent teased his nose, a scent of herbal freshness that was uniquely Emma. She would not be beaten. Not by history, not by time, not by a shattered love.

Several moments passed before she spoke again. "Jonathan knows about my father. He knows my fears about ending up like my mother. He was always patient, even when it wasn't convenient for him. He taught me that I could have a different opinion, I could argue my side and it would be okay."

She pushed back against his arms, and he altered his hold so she could look into his face. She dug her fingers into the worn cotton of his black sweatshirt, pleading with him, and with herself, perhaps, for understanding. "I can't explain it, Drew. A man's character doesn't change, no matter what he's been through. That man may have Jonathan's face, but"—she looked up into his eyes—"he's not my husband."

* * *

Emma drove her van down the long boulevards of Kansas City and through the grand old homes of her own neighborhood with a growing feeling of emptiness. Last night had drained her, emotionally and physically. She'd emptied herself of emotion, her love and trust shattered by the man who had once taught her those two very things.

She knew an inescapable sense of doom, the resignation of going to do a tough job simply because it needed to be done. She had never shied away from difficult tasks. But she dreaded the coming days all the same.

Still, hope sprang anew. She wasn't foolish enough to delude herself into thinking that going through with the divorce proceedings would be easy. But spring was just around the corner with its promise of rebirth and new life. She wanted to leave the winter season of her life behind her, those bleak years she'd pined for Jonathan's return, those last few months when she'd denied the need in her restless heart to move on with her life, these last horrifying weeks when she’d been given the chance to be reunited with her love, and the last two days when she'd finally admitted that the love she'd known no longer existed.

With a bit of rest behind her, and the fresh perception of a new day, she realized how cheated she felt. She'd given her heart and soul to Jonathan Ramsey. She'd rebelled tooth and nail at first, but finally she'd come to believe that two people in love could risk their hearts and, because they loved, know their hearts would be safe.

Now she knew better.

She'd risk her love on Kerry and nothing more. No one else.

And despite the tempting haven of Drew's arms, she wouldn't even trust the dark knight who followed behind her in his pickup truck. Drew had feelings for her, he'd admitted as much. And she cared about him. They shared an intense physical attraction. He held her with care, listened with patience, prodded her to action, and reminded her of the kind of man she had once loved.

But she would never love again.

The smart woman in her knew that risking her heart on a man like Drew, a man of mystery, a man who lied with ease, a man who could be anyone he chose to be, would be a mistake.

She rarely made mistakes.

She never made the same one twice.

Emma pulled into her driveway. She sat in the van and waited for Drew to park his truck and escort her inside the house. She studied her reflection in the rearview mirror. She wasn't proud of taking advantage of his caring nature, but when he'd insisted on seeing her home, insisted on checking the house to make sure Jonathan had no intention of retaliating, she had said yes.

She wanted to be strong enough to say no to him. But the pale strain on her fresh-scrubbed face revealed the truth, that she was just an outer shell of strength. She couldn't bluff her way through a confrontation with Jonathan right now. And though she hated to admit it, she was more than relieved that Drew had been persistent enough to override her protests.

A sharp tap on her window startled her from her introspection. She took a steadying breath, grabbed her purse, and climbed out.

"His car's in the garage." Drew had moved quickly, always on guard, always protective.

"All right, then. Let's get this over with."

His hand on her arm stopped her. "You don't have to do this, Em. I can go in and help him find his way out the door."

She smiled at the dead-serious scowl on his face. She imagined he'd intimidated quite a number of people with that expression. She patted his hand and dismissed his offer. "No, thanks. I'd like to leave some of the house in one piece."

His lips curved into an answering smile, but that wary alertness never left his eyes. He released her. "Then lead on, Macduff."

The normalcy of that teasing remark, a Shakespearean reference to their first evening together all those nights ago, gave Emma a much needed boost of confidence. But that flashback to a happier time faded as they neared the front door.

Drew followed her up the steps to the front porch. He removed the glasses he'd worn for driving and stuffed them into his pocket. Then he reached inside his jacket. She'd watched him strap on his gun before they left his apartment. Then, she had assumed it was his standard everyday gear. Now, she wondered.

She stopped at the door before inserting her key. "Are you expecting trouble?" she asked.

"I always expect trouble." It wasn't a glib comeback this time.  The obvious wariness in his expression told her he meant it.

Her questionable self-assurance took a nosedive. Emma gritted her teeth and unlocked the door. Her confidence didn't matter. She had a job to do, and somehow she'd just have to get it done.

They hadn't even gotten the door closed when Jonathan marched out of the study and confronted them in the hallway. "Emma. Finally. I've been worried sick about you."

The words of concern hit her like an accusation. She planted her heels and held her ground, although she reeled inside. "Were you?" she managed to ask without a quiver in her voice.

He looked like hell. He needed a shave. His clothes were untucked and wrinkled, as if he'd slept in them. Emma knew a moment of concern. Maybe he had been worried about her. She nearly stepped forward, reaching out to straighten his inverted collar. But he fisted his hands on his hips and smiled. That chilling baring of his teeth voided any remorse on her part.

His eyes dismissed her for the moment, and he turned the full brunt of his displeasure on the man standing behind her. "I see you brought your bodyguard with you. So you left me and went straight to another man's bed, right? That won't look very good in court, sweetheart."

She felt Drew surge forward, saw the answering shift in balance in Jonathan's legs. Instinctively, Emma turned to the man she knew would listen to her.

"Drew." He halted a breath away from her. The front of his jacket grazed her outstretched fingers. She could feel the heat of him, banked at her request. But judging by the rage that simmered in his eyes, she knew that his patience was tied at the starting gate with a very flimsy rope.

"How can you insult your own wife?" Drew challenged.

"Do you know who you've been sleeping with, my dear?" Jonathan seemed to delight in Drew's flash of temper.

Emma spun around again. She lifted a supplicating hand to Jonathan, desperate to strike a bargain before a bad situation deteriorated into something she couldn't handle.

"I asked you to leave. Drew works for me. He's just here to see that you pack your things and move out as soon as possible."

"Sooner," warned Drew.

Jonathan blinked and shifted his gaze from Drew to Emma. Idly she wondered how she had ever thought those blue eyes charming or handsome. "I already got a call from your lawyer this morning. You didn't waste any time, did you?"

Emma stepped back at the sharp derision in his words. Guilt struck her like a punch in the gut. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you first."

"Well, if you were a little less busy consorting with the enemy, maybe you could have."

Emma pressed her hands to her temples and shook her head, trying to clear her mind of his words that made no sense. "What do you mean, consorting with the enemy? Drew's a friend. A good one."

She added the latter in Drew's defense, and found herself tamping down the desire to defend him in more unequivocal terms.

Jonathan laughed. The smug sound of superiority jangled her nerves and sparked shards of doubt in her mind.

"You sure you want me to leave you alone with Gallagher?" He taunted them both. "That's not his real name, you know."

"I know." She squared her shoulders, bracing herself for whatever bombshell Jonathan was toying with.

"Drop it, Ramsey." Drew's low-pitched warning hovered in the air. "You're clouding the issue. The lady wants you to pack up and haul your ass out of here."

"I'd call the police if I were you, Emma." Jonathan walked to the hall closet and pulled out his coat. He slid it onto his shoulders and buttoned it with painstakingly slow attention to detail.

"I'll call them to remove you from the premises." This time, she issued the warning.

The monster who was her husband pulled out a suitcase and unhooked a filled garment bag that hung from the rod. He slung the bag over his shoulder and grinned at her. "The private eye you're putting all your trust in is a fraud, sweetheart."

"Are you sure you're not just catching your own reflection in the mirror?" She wanted this to be over. She wanted to wake up and find out this whole nightmare had ended.

"Let's see who the villain is here, shall we?" His taunts nicked a hole in her dwindling resolve. "I'm the husband who's been missing for five years, wounded in the line of duty, held against my will. And you're the wife who's what? Sleeping with the hired help?"

"That's it, Ramsey." Drew's clipped response overrode her shock. "Get out."

Drew whipped around Emma, snatched the suitcase, and shoved it at Jonathan's chest, knocking him off balance. In the same swift movement, he pushed Jonathan into the wall and trapped him there. The suitcase wedged between them seemed to be the only thing keeping Drew from wrapping his hands around her husband's throat.

"Drew." She stepped toward them, unsure of which man she wanted to protect.

He shoved the suitcase up under Jonathan's chin. "Tell her anything you want about me, Ramsey. But you hurt her once more and I'll—"

"Bad timing, hmm?" BJ asked the question from behind Emma.

With the door standing open, there'd been no need to knock. Before Emma had a chance to explain, Brodie had picked up Drew and slung him against the opposite wall, pinning him there, straight-armed, with a hand at his throat.

"What the hell's going on?" Brodie asked.

Emma ran to Drew. "Let him go." She tugged on Brodie's arm, but he wouldn't budge. Inwardly cursing the overabundance of heroes all ready to protect her from perceived threats, she slipped between Drew and Brodie and forced his attention. "I said let him go."

"Big guy, please." Brodie blinked at BJ's hushed warning.  "Honey. Not with Kerry here."

"Sweetie," Emma breathed. The blood in her head rushed to her feet. She'd been so caught up in averting the fight that she hadn't even noticed Kerry standing with BJ. Now she couldn't miss the wide-eyed shock in her daughter's eyes. "Everything's okay," she said.