Legal Trouble (Texas Hearts Book 1)

Chapter 9

Noah leapedfrom the bed and glanced around the bedroom. No flames or broken glass here.

“Don’t move,” he ordered over his shoulder as he sprinted from the room, searching out the source of the danger.

He skidded to a halt in the living room, where smoke snaked and coiled from the kitchen. The pungent scent of gasoline hit his nostrils milliseconds later, which meant this was no accident. He managed a single step in that direction when something exploded through the bay window to his right and sent glass flying at him. The heat forced him back, and he all but tripped over Emma.

“Noah!” She slapped at his leg with the long sleeves of an oversized terry-cloth robe, and he realized his pant leg was smoking.

“Forget about that,” he said through a fit of coughing. “I need to get you out of here.” He took her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. The kitchen blaze reached fiery fingers toward them, blocking their path to the front door. “Where’s the backdoor?”

“No, not the backdoor.” Holding one side of her robe over her mouth and nose, she pointed to a door on the far side of the living area. “If we go through the garage, we won’t have to mess with the gate in the dark.”

“Then let’s go.” He took her hand and turned for the exit, but she instantly jerked free.

“Laverne and Shirley,” she exclaimed, before sprinting back through the house.

“Emma!” Damn it, they had to get out of here. The smoke was already burning his lungs.

She disappeared through a door on the opposite side of the house as their planned exit. He took off after her and nearly ran her over when he barreled into the room. She held a large cage, two white rats fretting around inside as if they, too, were aware of the danger.

“I wasn’t leaving my girls,” she said defiantly.

He didn’t argue, just took the cage in one hand and her wrist in the other. “Now, let’s go.”

“Right behind you.”

The smoke making tears run like rain down their cheeks, they sprinted to the garage. As Emma stuffed her feet into a pair of oversized rain boots by the door, another window shattered. She reached for the button that would send the garage door lumbering open.

“Emma, wait!”

But it was too late; the door screeched and clambered its way up.

He placed the cage on the concrete floor, dug his cell from his pocket, and thrust it into Emma’s hand. “Call 9-1-1, and then, hold tight for just a second while I make sure the coast is clear.”

“What do you—”

But her question fell away, and realization widened her eyes. Whoever had thrown those gas bombs had been here as of five seconds ago, when the third window shattered, and even over the roar of the flames as they devoured everything they reached, he doubted the perpetrator had missed the sound of the garage door.

Would the noise send them fleeing or moving toward him and Emma when they realized they’d made it outside?

He pulled her in for a quick, hard kiss before grabbing the shovel that hung on the wall with several other gardening instruments. Holding the tool like a bat ready to swing, he eased around her car. His eyes still burned, but the watering had slowed so that he could make out probably eighty percent of his surroundings. He hoped whoever was out there didn’t want them specifically, that this was some random stupid attack, a couple of dumb kids out doing something equally dumb—although he didn’t believe that for a second. Too much time had passed between each broken window, as if one person had thrown all three.

Light one, toss it, move to a new location.

Light another, toss it, and so on.

To his way of thinking, that didn’t equal a couple of kids throwing and running. That spoke of deliberation. That spoke of someone who wanted to cause great pain to the house’s single occupant. But who in the world would want to hurt Emma? Only one name came to mind: Franklin Bishop.

The growl of an engine roaring to life had Noah moving faster, and he caught sight of a dark sedan, maybe ten or fifteen years old, shoot away from the curb. He couldn’t make out a license plate, though. Had that been Bishop? Had the idiot been stupid enough to park in front of Emma’s house?

Had the idiot been stupid enough to go after Noah’s woman?

Fifteen minutes later, Emma cradled in his arms, they stood outside the yellow crime scene tape as the fire department battled the blaze. Police arrived on scene a few minutes after Emma called 9-1-1. They’d evacuated the surrounding homes, as well as set up a perimeter.

At last count, a dozen people stood outside, sporting a fashion trend he’d dubbed “getting ready for bed.” Not everyone looked as if they’d been on the verge of calling it a night, though. Some wore “on-air” fashions and spoke into cameras.

Damn reporters.

Usually, he didn’t pay them much mind. They were a part of the life and station he’d been born into, but he had Emma to think about now, not just himself. He’d done his best to prepare her for this aspect of life with a Whitlow, but he’d never had this scenario in mind. By morning, their relationship would be all over the news. Everyone in the office would know they were together. All of Houston would know, too. Hell, the entire world would. He just hoped all the attention wouldn’t scare Emma off.

He hoped he didn’t lose her.

Closing his eyes, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and fear sank its teeth back into him. He could have lost her in a different way tonight, like he’d lost Amanda. What if, when he’d left Emma to find out what had happened, the second gas bomb had exploded through her bedroom window, trapping her? What if he hadn’t been able to get back to—

No.

He couldn’t let his imagination go there.

Emma was here.

She was alive.

She was in his arms.

“Emma Morgan?” called an unfamiliar female voice.

Noah opened his eyes. Emma turned toward the voice, too, but she didn’t speak, nor did she leave Noah’s embrace.

A man and woman approached them from his left. She wore a pair of gray slacks and a simple beige top, he a black suit, white shirt, and red tie. He was stockier than his willowy counterpart, but they presented a cohesive unit, setting off a little tic in the back of Noah’s head.

Cops.

Noah despised the police. He had since he’d been a teen, when he’d been mercilessly interrogated for hours. Scared and heartbroken, he’d learned that day just how harsh reality could hit.

“I’m Detective Nakala Hill,” the female said, “and this is my partner, Yasuhiro Tanaka. We know this is a difficult time for you, Ms. Morgan, but we needed to speak with you about what happened here tonight.”

“Can’t this wait until morning?” Noah asked. All he wanted to do was get Emma away from here.

“It’s okay, Noah.” Emma’s voice was soft, but it showed her backbone. She was shaken, but not broken. “The more they learn tonight, the faster they can start their investigation.”

He nodded, but he didn’t like it.

Both detectives took out notepads and pens, but only Hill spoke. “In your own words, tell us what happened.”

Emma gave a quick rundown of events, until the 9-1-1 call, and then, Noah took over.

“As soon as I knew Emma was safe, I knocked on the neighbors’ doors to get them outside. I’d just finished knocking on the homes on either side of Emma’s house when the first fire truck arrived.”

Both detectives nodded and scribbled in their pads.

“Do you have any clue who might want to hurt you?” asked Hill.

Emma shook her head. “Not at all. I’ve lived here for years, and nothing like this has ever happened.”

“I know someone who might want to hurt her,” Noah inserted.

The detectives turned their gazes on Noah, and he tried not to squirm under their scrutiny.

“And who would that be?” asked Hill.

“His name’s Franklin Bishop, and he attacked Emma in court several days ago.” Noah quickly explained the scene in court and its aftermath. “And I saw someone speeding away from the curb just after we made it outside.”

“Did you catch the license plate?” asked Hill.

Noah shook his head. “My vision was too blurry from all the smoke. I just noted that it was an old, dark sedan.”

“Did you see Bishop?”

“No. Like I said, just the vehicle driving away.”

Hill nodded then turned back to Emma. “Do you have a security system, Ms. Morgan? Anything that might have caught whoever did this?”

“A security system, yes,” Emma answered, “but nothing with video. It’s just a standard system that sends alarms when door or window sensors are disturbed. There’s also a motion sensor in the—”

Emma went taut in Noah’s arms.

“What is it?” Noah questioned.

Emma pressed a palm to her forehead. “I don’t know if it could have caught anything, but I have one of those doorbells with a built-in camera. It’s motion-activated, so if whoever got close enough, it could have picked them up and started recording.”

“Can you access the videos remotely?” asked Hill.

Emma nodded as she pulled his phone from her robe pocket. “I have everything set to back up to a cloud server.” She swiped up on the screen to unlock it, before mumbling under her breath and turning to Noah. “If you’ll unlock this, I can log in on a browser.”

“Or better yet,” Noah said, taking his phone back, “you could use my laptop.”

A few minutes later, computer resting on the hood of his SUV, Emma brought up a list of files. “Here are today’s,” she was saying as she scrolled. “This is likely Noah’s arrival.” She clicked on it, and yup, it showed him ringing the doorbell.

“What about this one?” Noah pointed to one with a timestamp a few minutes before he arrived.

Emma double-clicked the file. A dark-clad figure stepped onto the porch and looked around as if searching for something. The video quality wasn’t great, but it was good enough.

Franklin Bishop had been at Emma’s house.

As the wrought-irongates of Sagrado opened, a tear slid down Emma’s cheek. She was homeless. She’d be trying to find somewhere to stay right now if not for the man next to her. When the detectives had given her their cards and asked if she had some place to stay, Noah hadn’t hesitated to open his home to her. He’d been amazing and steadfast through everything tonight. Oh, she would have muddled through the night without him, but having him at her side had grounded her. Aside from Andi, Emma had had no one to truly lean on since Preston’s shooting.

As a tear broke free, she brushed it away. She always missed her brother, but during times of emotional upheaval like this, she craved his steadfast presence. She’d give anything to get caught up in one of his bear hugs.

She reached across the console and gripped Noah’s hand, drawing strength from him. The dam holding back her tears had suffered a catastrophic fault, and collapse was imminent. A purging of emotions would be good, but not just yet. When she was alone. She hated crying in front of people. Crying left her too vulnerable, and she hated showing weakness.

“Bomboncita, you’re shaking.” Noah brought their joined hands to his lips. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Yes, he very much did.

Noah’s Uncle Julio met them outside, opened Emma’s door, and offered her his hand. The sweet gesture knocked one more brick loose in the dam holding back her tears.

“If there’s anything you need, se?orita, just let me know.”

She squeezed his hand. Family coming together in times of tragedy, and it wasn’t even her family. “Gracias por todo, Julio,” she said, thanking him for everything.

“El gusto es mio.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before joining Noah at the back of the SUV. “I have arranged everything as you requested,” Julio said as Noah removed Laverne and Shirley’s travel cage.

“And Mamá?”

Julio shook his head as if in exasperation, but affection warmed the movement. “She agreed to give you until daybreak, but I expect not one minute longer.”

“Agreed to give us what until daybreak?” Emma asked.

“Privacy,” answered Noah. “Mamá saw the news reports on the fire, and she wanted to come over and do whatever she could to help. But I asked Julio to delay her visit until morning. I also tasked her with getting you some clothes. That way, she’d have somewhere to focus her energy. She’s a fixer, so I knew she’d need to do something.”

Emma looked down at herself. Not only was she homeless, but she also had no clothes. The only thing she’d taken had been this old robe, her equally old rain boots, and her fur babies.

“Bomboncita,” he crooned as if reading her mind. “We’ll get through this. We escaped with what was important. Each other.”

When he opened his arms for her, she stepped into him and held on for a long moment.

After leaving Laverne and Shirley in Julio’s capable hands, she and Noah headed upstairs. She’d only been inside Noah’s home a few times, but never upstairs. The interior, like the grounds, was a blending of cultures, a subdued explosion of color that was opulent yet minimalistic, and she loved everything about it.

She hesitated at the threshold of his bedroom. If the downstairs qualified as minimalistic perfection, then his bedroom qualified as downright sparse. The only furniture was an ocean-sized bed, a side table, and a gray settee positioned in front of a bank of windows spanning the entirety of the two walls opposite the bed.

The windows beckoned her closer. Even at night, the sprawling grounds of Sagrado threatened to steal her breath. The pool below was a cerulean blue, the interior lights shimmering and dancing in the water like sprites. She caught only a glimpse of the garden and barn, but knowing they were out there made her yearn for the serenity of the blooms and of dancing with Noah in the creek surrounded by wildflowers and birdcall.

Noah stepped beside her, hands in his pockets. “If you’re not comfortable staying in my room tonight, there are other rooms you can always—”

“I want to stay with you.” She turned into him, wrapping him close as the final strand of rope holding her composure together snapped.