An Enchanted Spring: Mists of Fate - Book Two (11 page)

The thought made something in the vicinity of his chest burn.

“We’ll leave straight after breakfast, if you’re amenable?” Aidan remarked a few minutes later as he grabbed a roll.

She choked on her orange juice, and gratefully accepted the napkin from his outstretched hand. “Okay. I can head into the apartment and salvage what I can while you finish up at the auction house.”

“No,” he replied easily.

She didn’t fight him, and he considered it a small victory.

The silence stretched.

Finally, Emma asked, “If I wanted to stay here, would you try to force me to go with you? To Boston?”

Aidan considered for a moment. He could tell her the truth, but he didn’t want to alarm her. “No.”

She visibly relaxed. “Thank you.” Silence again. Then, “I have a condition.”

He poured himself a cup of coffee.
As if that would change anything, lass.
“Oh?”

“Yes. Separate hotel rooms, and I pay my own way.”

“If you prefer,” he replied casually.
Absolutely not happening.
He needed to keep her close; locks were easily broken. His sword, however, was not. He felt a moment’s regret for lying to her. But her safety came first.

“I admit to feeling a little lost here,” she said with a small laugh. “I haven’t had a morning off in eight years.”

“Pretend it’s a weekend,” he suggested, buttering a thick piece of toast.

“I work weekends.”

“Okay. Pretend it’s Christmas.”

“Believe it or not, I worked Christmas, too.”

He stared at her a moment, and he suddenly understood why Price’s comments to her the night before had been so upsetting. “You must have truly loved your job.”

She smiled sadly. “Not the clients, no. But I loved feeling needed, and people who do bad things always need people like me to fix their screw-ups.” She took a bite of her pancakes and swallowed, a thoughtful look crossing her features. “I never stopped to think about how my work prevented them from ever taking responsibility for their actions.”

“That can’t be all true.”

She shrugged. “Maybe not. I worked with a lot of individuals, but I liked working the corporate clients more. I am very good at spinning words, and I have very good judgment.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “Most of the time, anyway.”

“Car’s ready when you are, my laird,” Cian interrupted, joining them at the table.

“Thank you, Cian. We’ll be down shortly.”

They finished eating in silence.

• • •

While Aidan made arrangements for shipping his items at the auction house, Emma waited in line for coffee across the street. After returning to her apartment earlier, she needed a pick-me-up. Everything was destroyed, but nothing was stolen. It was as though the act was done simply to frighten her. Instead, all it did was make her angry. Thankfully, her safe was untouched, still in its hiding place. Aidan hefted it down the stairs, and Cian loaded it in the car.

Cian sat at a table, looking for all the world as though he were reading his phone, but she knew better. Emma glanced around the line of people in front of her. Seven deep, and the man at the counter had a long and involved order. She wasn’t in a rush; Aidan had said he would be about a half hour, as he had forms to complete.

“Excuse me…Miss Perkins?”

A tall man stood next to her, his long dark hair pulled into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck. It didn’t fit with the suit he wore; he reminded her of a Wall Street finance professional gone rogue. He had a small beard, just enough to be called one, and his blue eyes were very dark, the irises rimmed with black. He said in a quiet voice, “We were told that you had money for us. I’m here to collect it.”

Emma stared at him in shock for a full minute before realizing the line was moving. She moved up, hoping Cian could see her around the display of coffee that blocked her and the man from view.

“I’m sorry, Mr.…?”

“We know you bought a whole lot of stuff last night at a pricey auction,” he replied, ignoring her. His tone was clipped. “He told us he gave you two days to get the money, but we don’t think you need that much time.”

“I, uh—” Her mind went blank, fear threatening to swallow her whole.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten the state of your home, Miss Perkins. I would hate to see something worse happen to you.”

She blanched.

“The money, Miss Perkins. Bring it back to your apartment within the hour. Leave it on the floor, and you and your new boyfriend won’t be hurt this time. We’ll give you three minutes to get out of the apartment before we take it.”

“Leave me out of this,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not my call to make. On the floor, Miss Perkins,” he repeated in a low voice. “I suggest you revisit your apartment—
again—
and take a hard look. That will provide a good indicator of your life until I get the money your fiancé owes me.”

Ex-fiancé
, she corrected mentally. She sucked in her breath, and he turned on his heel and swiftly exited the coffee shop.

Beverage forgotten, Emma started shaking. Her heart pounding, she tried to see if the man—or Ben—was standing outside the building, but there were so many people on the sidewalk, either could’ve concealed himself easily.

“Excuse me?”

She shrieked, causing people to turn and stare.

An older woman stepped back, affronted. “I just wanted to know if you were in line!” she explained indignantly. With a “hmph,” the woman walked away.

Panicked, Emma fled the shop and ran across the street, almost colliding with an oncoming car. She pushed open the doors to the auction house and sprinted to the reception desk.

“Ma’am?” the security guard asked as he half rose from his chair.

“I have to go to your shipment room,” she gasped out, her heart slamming into her chest as she heard the doors behind her open. She didn’t look back for fear of seeing the man from the coffee shop. “Please, right away, it’s an emergency.”

“I’m sorry, but that room is occupied at the moment. What’s the nature of the emergency?” he asked.

Before she could answer, a hand landed on her arm and she spun around, a scream catching in her throat.

“Ms. Perkins, who was that?” Cian steadied her. “In the shop, the man. Who was it?”

“I have to talk to Aidan right away!”

Cian’s bushy white eyebrows drew together in concern. “About what, lass?”

“The man from the coffee shop.” Aware that she looked like a madwoman, she tried to slow her breathing. “Did you see him?”

“Aye. Tall fellow with the hat. I saw him leave, but I didn’t see him speak with you.” He frowned. “He waited until you were out of my sight. He probably knew I was there with you.” Cian nodded once to the security guard. “Come with me, lass. Aidan will be out in a moment. Until then, you can stay with me, in the car.”

She allowed Cian to escort her back outside. She attempted to see if the man was still watching her from somewhere, but there were just too many people. Cian helped her into the car before getting in the driver’s seat. He locked the doors. “Tell me what happened.”

She related the events to him as he drove them around the block. His kind eyes flicked to hers in the rearview mirror more than once, his concern evident.

“Do ye think he was the man who sacked your apartment?”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “He suggested that I look at my apartment again, and told me it was a ‘good indicator’ of what my life will be like until I give them the money.” She quickly related the other details of the short conversation, her voice shaking as badly as her hands.

Aidan walked out of the building with some packages; Cian pressed a button to open the trunk. A moment later, the trunk slammed shut and the back door opened. “Did you drink your coffee already?” Aidan asked, nodding at her empty hands.

“Emma was approached,” Cian said before Emma could respond. Quickly, Cian filled Aidan in on the events of the last half hour.

Aidan’s jaw hardened. “Are you all right?” he asked her, his voice clipped.

“Yes. I think it’s worse than I thought, though.”

Aidan’s eyes narrowed. “The story you gave to the police officer—you said you didn’t know why he threatened you.”

“No, I said that he’d shown violent tendencies in the past,” she replied wearily, dropping her head into her hands. “He’s tied up in some serious stuff, I think. And now, he’s got people after me!”

Aidan gave a nod to Cian, who pulled out into traffic.

“Best let the whole sordid tale out, lass. I need to know what we’re up against here.”

In all her years of living in the city, Emma never once felt the fear coursing through her veins as she did now. Could she really trust this man? Her history with men wasn’t exactly a testament to her good judgment.

“We’ve got a long ride ahead,” Aidan reminded her.

“Boston isn’t all that far. What if he’s following us?” she exclaimed suddenly, twisting her head to peer out the back window.

“He’s not. Cian made sure of it.”

“How can you be sure?” she asked, her voice high.

“Emmaline. The incident in the coffee shop will never be repeated.”

“You can’t know that.” She glanced out the window, wondering if Ben or one of his minions was close.

“I can, and I do. Trust me, things will settle once we’re in Boston. No one knows you there.”

“Like the Witness Protection Program?” she wondered.

“Better,” he said. “It’s the Aidan MacWilliam Protection Program.”

• • •

“Emma, be reasonable.”

Emma remained silent. She was being perfectly reasonable—Cian had dropped them in front of a building that, while beautiful, was clearly
not
a hotel.

“You’ll like Colin. He’s nice, and has plenty of room,” Aidan coaxed.

“I don’t like relying on the charity of others, Aidan. I said I’d pay for my own hotel room. And I don’t know anything about this man,” she added.

He smiled humorlessly at the jab. “You know enough about me.” They stood outside the building; Aidan’s hands were jammed into the pockets of his leather jacket and Emma’s arms were crossed. He gently grasped her elbow and led her toward the door. “His name is Colin O’Rourke. He’s my cousin. We’re close. And we’re going in, Emma. It’s cold.”

“I’m not cold, thanks to this ridiculously expensive jacket,” she replied, narrowing her eyes.

“It’s a safe place,” Aidan replied firmly.

She reluctantly gave in (she had no choice, as she was in the middle of an unfamiliar city with a madman after her), and walked up the stairs without further comment.

Colin opened the door, a smile on his face. “Aidan! Long time no see, bro!”

Emma stared. Colin O’Rourke looked as though he just stepped from the pages of a J. Crew catalog. His dark blond hair was casually swept to the side, and his tee shirt clung to enormous, muscled shoulders that tapered into impressively built biceps. Low-slung, well-fitted jeans hugged his long, lean legs, and his eyes were a chocolate brown that actually sparkled. The dimples in his cheeks were so deep Emma almost fanned herself.

“Emma Perkins,” she finally managed, holding her hand out. Colin shook it, grinning.

“A pleasure, Emma. I’m Colin O’Rourke, and welcome to you, as well. I’m happy you agreed to come with Aidan; I’ve been very interested in meeting you.” He had a very slight Boston accent.

“Colin…” Aidan started, a warning in his voice.

Emma couldn’t tear her gaze away from Colin. “Have you?” she asked faintly.

“Of course,” Colin said, nearly shutting the door in Aidan’s face. “He’s never brought a woman to meet the family before.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Emma hastened to inform him. “I work for Aidan.” She glanced around; they stood in a foyer with stairs to her right. A doorway to her left revealed a living room, with a comfortable-looking couch and set of armchairs. In front of her was a hallway that led to the kitchen.

“We all work for Aidan,” Colin replied dryly, bringing her attention back to him.

“No, really,” she protested. She turned to Aidan. “Didn’t you explain to him?” She noticed his stormy expression and frowned.

“Not yet,” Aidan replied, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto the couch. “I’ve been waiting to see him in person.” He embraced Colin. “Remember your place, O’Rourke. It hasn’t been all that long since I trounced you in a wrestling match.”

“No need for a pissing contest,” Colin replied agreeably, slapping him on the back. “So she works for you?”

“Indeed she does. She’s exceptionally good at her job.”

Colin slid a glance to Emma, then replied lightly, “That’s good news.”

“I’m sorry for barging in on you like this. I insisted we stay at a hotel, but Aidan refused.”

Colin flashed his thousand-megawatt smile at her (she wasn’t immune—her stomach turned to jelly) and shook his head. “I would be insulted. I have plenty of room here. It’s a four-bedroom brownstone, and I only use one of them. Well, actually, I have another houseguest, but there’s still plenty of room even with him here.”

“Not O’Malley,” Aidan groaned.

Colin frowned. “Do not ruin any of my furniture. If Bri ever found out you destroyed something valuable, you’d be toast.”

Aidan’s face changed to suspicion. “First, if that means what I think it means, we will indeed be staying somewhere else. And second, I doubt I’ll see Bri, as you won’t take me to her.”

Bri? Who’s Bri?

“You know it’s not that easy,” Colin protested mildly. “And if you need my help, as you mentioned last night, I think staying here is the safest bet, right?”

Aidan glanced at Emma, who was desperately trying to pretend she wasn’t interested in what they were saying, then asked Colin, “Where is he, then?”

“He’ll be down momentarily. Emma, let me take your coat. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” she replied. “Um, where’s Cian going to stay?”

“With Aidan,” Colin replied, as though it were obvious. “I’ll put you in the adjoining room.”

“There’s no need to go to all this trouble,” she insisted. “Cian didn’t think we were followed. I don’t mind a hotel and Aidan can stay here—”