Broken Bonds (Club Imperial Series) (7 page)

“I’m not.” He wove their fingers together. “I’m sorry it made you freak and I nearly lost you.”

Emmy grimaced. “I’m sorry I shut you out. I couldn’t explain at that moment.”

“I get it.” He squeezed her hand.

“Do you?” she asked.

“I do.” Nathaniel pressed a kiss to her head. She felt his sincerity in the simple kiss.

They sat quietly on the couch, enjoying a pleasant silence only broken by the snap of the small fire. She really felt comfortable with him, familiar. It was such a new feeling after always having her lovers be tense with their attention to her every move and command. He didn’t do that. They weren’t playing, there was no reason for him to be tense or submissive. Emmy felt his warmth pressed against her and found the lack of that instant response was probably a great part of why she enjoyed being around him, and being with him. It was relaxed and she had been way too tense lately.

He put a hand on her chin, and turned her to face to him. He pressed his lips against hers and instantly deepened the kiss. He was an amazing kisser, and Emmy turned herself to enjoy the dance of their mouths and tongues against each other. There was nothing more than that at the moment; she teased and flicked against his tongue while his lips softly caressed hers. He tasted delicious.

She didn’t know how long they lay there like that, kissing and gently touching each other. She didn’t want it to stop. She felt him smiling against her lips, and she pulled back a little bit. “What?”

“I haven’t made out in years.” He chuckled.

She laughed. “I’ve never made out.”

“You’re awfully good at it.”

“Oh, I think you might be partly responsible for that.”

“Is it bothering you?”

“Hmm?” she asked. “Oh. Well. I’ve been hot and bothered for weeks, so I’m just trying to ignore it now and enjoy this.”

“I can accommodate that.” He pulled her back to him. She enjoyed his soft and slowly dancing tongue; their kisses were long and languid, and she enjoyed the nearly head to toe contact they had somehow wormed into on the couch. He was warm and comfortable, gentle with her. She hadn’t felt this relaxed ever.

His hand moved down her back slowly and he wormed his way under the waistband of her pants.  It was her turn to smile against his lips. “What are you doing?” she mumbled.

“Mmm, nothing,” he said, innocently.

“Your hand is on my ass.”

“Oh, hmm. How did it get there?”

She looked up into his eyes. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” he answered with a sparkle in his eyes. His hand rubbed slowly over her buttocks and around to her hips. She realized there were two hands in there now.

“No, really, what are you doing?” She leaned up on him a bit.

“Making trouble,” he confessed.

“Nathaniel,” she started.

“Emmy.” He interrupted her. “Relax. Just relax. You’re in my room now, and let’s try a little play my way. Deal?”

“My arm.”

“I thought you trusted me?”

“I do.”

His fingers ran slowly over her hips, sending a shiver through her. The pull caused a tingle through the wound on her stomach, but it wasn’t painful or unpleasant. “All right?” he asked, quietly. Emmy nodded. He leaned up and whispered. “If it hurts, I’ll stop. Just tell me to.”

Emmy looked into his warm chocolate eyes. They were laced with lust and promise, and if she was trying to be honest, she wanted this just as much as his eyes said he did. Pushing forward a little, covering his body, she caught his mouth with hers. She melted into him and he was startled by her for just an instant before letting her in. She kissed slowly and enjoyed his taste.

His hands worked slowly over her hips, his fingertips tracing designs on her skin. She closed down her mind—all the thoughts that were swirling and threatening to take over. She poured herself into the kiss, and each gentle touch sent a thrill shivering through her.

Nathaniel’s hand slipped between their bodies and slowly found its way between her legs, to her warm sex. He ever so gently touched the soft flesh of her pussy and it was like a shock running through her. She exhaled, pulling her mouth away from his. “Oh, God,” she whispered, tensing.

“Relax, relax,” he muttered, slowly moving his fingers over her. He wrapped a careful arm around her waist and held her still. His fingers felt like silk on her, touching and tracing and teasing her vulva. He dipped a finger into her, brushing lightly against her sensitive nub for just an instant. She exhaled again between her teeth, and moved her legs just a little further apart for him.

He traced the satin of her vulva, sending shivers through her. She put her head against his chest, and closed her eyes. He pressed a soft finger against her clit and she gasped lightly. Satisfied with her reaction, he stayed there, straying back and forth ever so slowly. Another finger swept slowly back to her tender opening, and sought entrance into the wet silken tunnel.

Emmy’s eyes fluttered behind her closed lids. It had been only seven weeks, but it felt like a lifetime. He was right; she was a sexual creature. She craved it, she reveled it in. She had power in it, and he knew and understood her need.

He slid his finger in and out of her vagina, stroking her and teasing her at the very entrance. His other finger was busy at her clit, using her wetness to strum the nerves in a tortuously slow pace. Nathaniel pulled her up even further on him, and the hand at her waist worked its way back down to the soft flesh of her ass, to the junction of her legs.

Emmy snapped her eyes open and wanted to jump and run. Before she could even start to move, Nathaniel caught her mouth in another deep, calming kiss. “No, relax, I know better. Just relax. No anal play.”

She forced out a breath, and closed her eyes again. His fingers deftly avoided the forbidden and slid down further to her pussy. He replaced his one finger with two which had made the journey. She’d missed this so much, the full sensation of his possession. Pressing deep, his fingers moved in and out while still dancing on her clit with the lightest touch.

She put her head on his shoulder, and he kept up his delightful torture. She could feel him growing hard against her stomach and she realized he wasn’t doing this because she needed it, but because he wanted to. He
wanted
to make her come with just his fingers. Her body clenched and the feeling of heated desire rolled through her sex, bringing her closer to her climax.

“You’re so wet.” Nathaniel’s words were sensual and rode on his breath. “You’re so soft. I love the feeling of you around my fingers.” Opening her eyes, she looked at him. He was studying her as he circled her clit. She gasped, little staccato breaths, and he smiled. She kissed him hard, her tongue probing. She pulled back as he stroked inside her. “Oh, God, make me come, Nathaniel. Please, I want to come.”

“I know you do.” He kissed her cheek. Moving just a little faster, he found a new rhythm over her sensitive nub. She drew in a breath and nodded slowly, wordlessly. His words caressed her skin. “I want to see you come.”

Emmy closed out everything but his fingers as they danced on her and swirled inside her. The feeling rolled through her slowly, building and building. There was no lightning, no sudden burst, instead it was gentle, and complete. She came slowly, the fall from the cliff was gentle, but consumed her every fiber. The warmth of the climax flowed through her, and instead of what she was used to—the tensing of each muscle and a hot flash of total ecstasy—every muscle released and she felt like she was melting into him. She lost all thought, all reason and just breathed.

Nathaniel’s hands caressed her until she stilled against his chest. She blinked slowly and raised her eyes to his. “You are amazing.”

“Glad I could help.” Nathaniel’s smile was sweet and dirty at the same time. 

She started to snake backward on him, lightly rubbing against his erection. He shook his head and pulled her back up. “Nope.”

“But—”

“I didn’t do that to get something in return,” he assured her. “I did it because I wanted to, and you needed it.” He wrapped his arms around her carefully. “I liked watching you come. I like the look on your face and the way your body feels.” He smiled. “I like learning about you, sitting with you in the tower room, and watching you eat. There’s not much I don’t like about you Emmy. I even like the bits of you that are fubared. That’s why I get upset when you won’t tell me everything.”

“I know,” she answered, reaching up with her good arm and running a hand over his cheek softly. “I will try to straighten my brain out and tell you what’s going on some day.”

“Sleep with me?”

“Um...” Emmy was genuinely confused.

“I mean, sleep with me. In my bed. In pajamas. Tonight.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I love having you next to me. And then we can go to the doctor tomorrow and see if the cast can come off.”

“Yes, and yes please,” Emmy said. “I love waking up next to you and I can’t wait to get rid of this thing.”

“Good,” he said, kissing her temple.

Chapter Seven

Nathaniel really hated having a security detail. They were in his business constantly, and he felt like the only time they left him alone was when he was in his office. Having them roam the house was disconcerting at best, even if he did know it was the right thing to do. He felt like he was a prisoner in his room after ten at night, and somehow having Emmy there made it feel as though he was doing something wrong.

Emmy took it lightly. She giggled madly whenever she made it through the hall without Dixon or Haworth seeing her. “I feel a bit like James Bond when I get through,” she’d confessed.

He was glad for them when he went back to check to Emmy’s apartment the next week.

He’d started to check on it twice a week to make sure everything was still there, and the cleaning people he hired were doing their job every other week. The place was generally clean and dust free. This time, when he walked in, it was just before the cleaning crew was supposed to show.

He knew old buildings like Heinz Lofts put out a lot of dust. It was why he had the cleaning service come in and specifically told them to dust. He was glad for the dust. It showed all the finger prints of someone who’d come into the apartment and searched it.

Franklin was there in no time, with the police. They searched the whole apartment, but what worried all of them the most was the lack of forced entry.

“Whomever it is,” Franklin said, “they have a key, or they have someone who can get a key.”

“It’s smart she’s not staying here,” Garabaldi said.

“But if they didn’t force the door, and there’s no violence inside, they knew she wouldn’t be here. Don’t you think?” Franklin asked.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re correct.” He nodded. “None of these prints are worth anything either. I think whoever this is used cotton gloves.”

“Cotton gloves?” Nathaniel asked. “Why cotton?”

“Fibers, in a few places, by the stirred up dust.” Garabaldi indicated the spots. “I know you have security here, Walsh, but make sure they never ever lose sight of that woman. Not sure who this is, but they are resourceful and devious. And hell-bent.”

Nathaniel nodded, and pulled out his phone.

Nathaniel W:
Bad news. Someone was in your place.

E Westerly:
What! Who? When?

Nathaniel W:
Don’t know. Garabaldi is here. Can’t get prints.

E Westerly:
Anything taken? Broken?

Nathaniel W:
Nope. Just someone snooping.

E Westerly:
Guess who.

Nathaniel W:
Cortez
,
probably.

E Westerly:
How’d he get the key?

“Good question,” Nathaniel said aloud and repeated it.

Franklin and Garabaldi looked at him. “What?”

“The most obvious person to get in would be Greg Cortez,” Nathaniel informed them. “But the bigger question would be, how did he get a key? He didn’t push his way in.”

“Picked the lock?” Dixon offered.

Garabaldi grabbed the door and pulled it open, examining the deadbolt and handle. “There are no scratches you would expect from a lock-pick kit. I’ll have them take the knob out and check inside for signs of a pick-job, but I’ll put money on that not being the case.”

“Me too,” Franklin agreed. “Cortez probably got a key. But from where?”

“Could he have convinced management?” Garabaldi asked while making notes.

Nathaniel made a face. “Could he have done favors for someone in the office?” The thought turned his stomach. Greg did, after all, swing both ways, and more and more he seemed completely unscrupulous and uncaring as to whom he hurt in the end. He used sex as a bargaining chip, a way to get people to do what they wanted. So completely opposite of Emmy.

The thought surprised him. Greg and Emmy lived the same lifestyle, but had completely different ways of using it. Emmy used it to give people pleasure, where Greg used it as a means to his own ends. No wonder Emmy hated him so much. People probably thought Greg’s way of living was the way everyone in the lifestyle acted. And that was so untrue.
Now I get why she’s so defensive.

“I guess the only way to find out is to question them. I do not look forward to this.” Garabaldi pointed to the door. “You’re going to need a new lock on it.”

“Dixon, run to the store and get one,” Nathaniel instructed. “Make sure no one gets the key but me.” He handed him a credit card. Dixon nodded and headed down the hall to the elevator.

“Do you know who handles maintenance in this place?” Garabaldi asked.

Nathaniel shrugged, but indicated he would text Emmy. Her answer came back a minute later, and Nathaniel choked on a laugh. “She said, and I quote, ‘A creepy little imp named John Hill.’ She sure does have a way with words.”

Garabaldi nodded at one of the officers, indicating they should take down the name and start a search on the guy. He then stuffed his hands in his pockets. “How is Westerly?”

“Cast came off on Monday,” Nathaniel reported with a smile. “She wanted it off Friday, but the doctor wanted to keep it on just a few more days. Hair’s growing in nicely and you can barely see the scar. It’s just a little bit on her forehead.” He smirked. “Kinda Harry Potterish.”

Garabaldi snorted. “Any sign of her remembering who it was?”

Nathaniel sighed. “No. At least not awake. She’s had nightmares every night, screaming at whoever attacked her, but I haven’t heard a name yet. And when she wakes up, she just remembers being scared.”

“Would she consent to hypnosis?”

Nathaniel shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no. No way. Not a chance in hell.”

“Just asking.” He held up his hands defensively. “You understand.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, you should go back to work, Mr. Walsh. We’ll call you if we find anything. Dixon can stay and lock up when he’s done reinstalling the door,” Garabaldi said. “We’ll also see about getting a camera in the hallway, see if we can’t figure this out.”

“Thanks, Detective.”

Nathaniel was out the door, and halfway to the car when his phone went off again. He smiled, hoping it was a text from Emmy.

Vic Walsh:
N- get ur ass to the yard NOW.

Nathaniel W:
What’s up?

Vic Walsh:
bomb

“Holy shit,” he said, staring at the face of the screen.

~*~*~

He skidded the Titan to a halt behind the police stop-line, and barely pulled out the key before jumping out of the truck. He ran for the line and got yanked back by a police officer. “No one goes in there. No exceptions.”

“Who’s in charge of the situation?”

“Chief Miller,” he pointed, “but I think he’s busy right now.”

“I’m Nathaniel Walsh,” he barked. “This is my yard.”

The officer let him go, and motioned him over to where the chief was standing. Emmy, Gwen and Tank were standing there with him. He ran over and slid to a halt next to Emmy, giving her a one armed hug. “What’s going on?”

“Cecelia and Victor found it,” Tank said. “About an hour ago. One of the yards guys tripped it.”

“Tripped it,” Nathaniel growled between clenched teeth. “It’s active.”

“Yes.” The chief nodded.

“So what are we doing? Why is my brother still in there? Why is anyone still in there?”

“They tripped it when they walked in, and walking out will set it off.”

“When the hell was this planted?”

“Last night, apparently,” Gwen supplied, clearly worried.

“I did a sweep of the yard yesterday at closing.” Tank looked Nathaniel in the eye. “We’ve been doing them every night. Vic, Henry, Cecelia and I have been rotating it. It was not there last night.”

“So what are we doing to get them out?” he asked.

“We’re trying to disarm the bomb,” Miller stated the obvious.

“Why can’t we get them out and then worry about that?” Nathaniel asked, angrily.

“Everything is wired to it,” Miller pointed to the building. “Windows and doors.”

“Cut a hole in the wall,” Nathaniel demanded.

“That’s what we said.” Gwen ran a shaking hand through her hair. “But they don’t want to take a chance.”

Nathaniel pulled out his phone.

Nathaniel W:
Dude, you’re gonna blow up.

Vic Walsh:
Thanks for the newsflash.

Nathaniel W:
How much luck are they have disarming?

Vic Walsh:
Oh- about zero to none.

Nathaniel W:
Cut a hole in the wall?

Vic Walsh:
I’ll take it. The windows and doors are wired.

Vic Walsh:
About 90% sure the walls aren’t.

Nathaniel W:
when you’re out then they can blow the place to shit, right?

Vic Walsh:
prefer no, but prefer to continue breathing. Thanks. Pass it on.

“Cut a hole in the wall,” Nathaniel ordered. “Cut them out.”

“Mr. Walsh,” Miller started.

“Vic said to give a try, then you can have all the time in the world to disarm, or just blow it,” Nathaniel repeated himself with force. “Cut the wall.” He held out the phone for the chief to see the text message on the phone. “Get them out of there.”

Miller looked at the phone and nodded. He pulled out the radio. “We’re sure this isn’t pressure sensitive? Vibrations won’t set it off?”

The radio answered, “Yes, sir. This is a primitive set up. Nothing so fancy as a vibration trigger.”

“Cut a hole in the wall and get them out. We can’t get a bomb blanket in anyway.” Miller looked at Nathaniel. “You need to cut the power and gas to that building so we don’t have an accident.”

Nathaniel nodded, but Gwen and Tank were already headed into the building. “I’ll get the power,” Gwen called.

“Do you have video surveillance?”

“Still shots every thirty seconds,” Nathaniel answered.

“We’ll need those.” Miller motioned to the bomb squad to suit up two more officers.

Nathaniel nodded, and this time Emmy trotted off to the office. “Stay,” she ordered. “Keep up on the latest about your brother.”

He nodded and watched her walk off as quickly as she could. Once the cast had come off, she had attacked the exercise equipment with a fierce determination. She couldn’t stand being weak, and she’d confessed that was how she was starting to feel.

Nathaniel looked out to the yard. His brother and Yard Master—mistress? That seemed really wrong—were stuck in the building directly adjacent to the lumber storage. If that building went up, it would take about $5 million in lumber up with it. And after the railway disaster just barely three months before, it would go a long way toward putting a serious dent in their revenue and destabilizing the entire company.
Those fuckers. I hope he’s on tape.

He heard the main power phase down in the yard. Two more bomb-resistant suits walked into the yard while Gwen and Tank walked back out. He just stared at the gate, and waited for anything to happen or walk out.

What happens if this goes bad? I can’t lose Victor. And what about the baby? Do I have to give her back to social services? I don’t want to give her back. She needs my brother.

I need my brother.

Emmy reappeared with a CD in her hand which she gave to Miller. “Here. Everything from the last seventy-two hours. I didn’t attempt to sort it at all, just copied the whole thing.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the disc.

Emmy stepped up to Nathaniel and looked at him. He glanced at her and pulled her into a hug, then turned his attention back to the yard gate. She leaned into his ear. “He’s going to be okay, Nathaniel. Victor won’t let these assholes get the best of him.”

Nathaniel just nodded. He was too terrified to think.

“We’re in position.” The squawk came over the walkie-talkie. “We’re going to cut a twenty-four high, thirty wide hole, starting from the right on the southeast wall. Can we get them to make sure they aren’t too close to the chainsaw?”

Miller looked at Nathaniel, but Emmy already had her phone out.

E Westerly:
Move everyone back from the southeast wall. They are cutting at ground level.

Vic Walsh:
Roger. We’re moved back. Go ahead.

She nodded at Miller, who relayed it to the guys on scene. They could hear the chainsaw start a moment later. Nathaniel had a thousand questions run through his head at that moment, but he shoved them back down and trusted the bomb squad knew what they were doing. It seemed like an hour the saw was working, though in some ways the sound was comforting because he knew the building wasn’t exploding. He just held Emmy close, and waited. Finally the chainsaw shut down, and there was dead silence. Less than a minute later, Cecelia came running out of the yard, followed by three other women. Then Henry came running out and nearly five minutes after the chainsaw had quieted, Victor tumbled out of the gateway.

“Fuck,” Nathaniel exhaled, and ran over to him, grabbing and hugging him. “You asshole.”

“Good to see you too,” Victor answered, hugging him back.

Emmy and Gwen both hugged him at the same time, once Nathaniel let him go. Nathaniel’s hands were shaking as he gave Cecelia a hug and Henry a clap on the back. Cecelia’s husband came running up and she launched herself into his arms. Nathaniel wanted to plant his ass on the ground and just sit there, absorbing what had just happened.

“Mr. Walsh,” Miller called, walking over. “They can move the bomb out of the building now that they can get to it, but not far enough to transport to a safe detonation location. It’s primitive and unstable. Is there anywhere we can safely detonate on site?”

“The back of the yard, by the quarry scraps,” Cecelia instructed. “That’s about as far away from everything as you can get. It won’t threaten any buildings or inventory there.”

Miller relayed the information to the teams inside. Emmy tried to pull him away, take him back to the car, but he held fast and noticed Victor did the same. He stared out into the yard, waiting. He just stared through the fence until he saw three of the bomb squad members walking toward them, leaving a fourth one not far from the building Victor and the others had been cut from.