28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
D eclan
After Emma leaves me alone with the big man, Rick, the atmosphere becomes more strained. I notice that he pointedly and awkwardly refuses to look at me. He starts by scanning the damage in the room, touching a few torn fixtures on the wall, and muttering under his breath.
I simply remain leaning against the wall, with my arms crossed, waiting for Emma.
He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes, and once our eyes meet, he looks away. Then he fidgets, folding his arms over his chest, and then he sighs.
I know he probably wants to apologize, even though I would much rather he didn’t. Whatever happened already happened and I truly don't hold any hard feelings toward him. I would much prefer it if he simply moved on and neither of us spoke about it again.
But heck, if he's going to be this weird about it, he might as well just spit it out already.
I'm about to tell him as much when he finally says, "Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Yeah?" I cock my head. Like I couldn't already tell. "What about?"
He rubs his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time, glancing toward his truck for a second before meeting my eyes.
"I’m sorry," he said. "For what I did...sending you out into the woods like that. I knew the rain was coming but I figured you would get stuck somewhere at the entrance of the forest and have to sludge back home in the rain. That was supposed to be your punishment. I never thought you would keep going even after the storm began."
"Hmm." I believe him. It makes sense that he didn’t actually want me stuck in the forest in the rain, that would be insane. He just didn’t figure I would be that determined enough to continue in the storm.
"Plus, I knew you didn’t believe in the Rainbow Pearls anyway, so I definitely thought you would give up far before you did."
"It was for my daughter," I say. "And I would do anything within my power for her. I wasn't leaving there until I knew without a doubt that there were no Rainbow Pearls there."
"Ah." He nods. "I respect that."
"Good. I don't care that you sent me there without warning. I’m more concerned that you didn’t try to stop Emma when she came after me."
"I didn’t think she would get in any trouble," he says smugly. "Emma knows most of those woods like the back of her hand. You were in more danger than she was, city boy."
"Yeah, until she twisted her ankle and couldn't make it back out.’"
He looks chagrined. "Yeah, I didn't expect that either. Damn. But like I said, I didn’t think either of you would make it that far. It was my bad. And at most, I thought she would call me if she got in trouble..."
"No service because of the storm." I wasn't willing to let him off easily. What he did could have cost Emma a lot more than it did.
He winces again. "Yeah. I realized my mistake when she didn’t answer the phone. I tried to go looking for her that night, but the storm was too heavy. I couldn't even get into the woods. So I stayed at Buck's place right on the edge. And in the morning we started searching, even before Emma called. That’s how we were able to reach you so quickly."
"I see."
He nods. "I still screwed up. Sometimes this old man has some childish tendencies, and my dear late mother always told me that my temper gets in the way of my good judgment sometimes. I really am sorry."
I scan him and even though I can tell he wants to look away at a point, he doesn’t and holds my gaze. I respect that. While I'm still pissed that he let Emma get into that mess in the first place, he at least looks torn up about it.
"Forget about it," I say, begrudgingly. "It's water under the bridge.’
He nods and then adds, "Glad we clear that up. Now the second thing…" He steps even closer to me and the look in his eyes turns from apologetic to threatening in the space of a few seconds. "That girl upstairs means the world to me. Emma is like a daughter I never had. I watched her grow up and changed her diapers. Watched her cry over stupid boys. I don’t know what the heck is going on between the two of you and frankly, I’m not sure I like it. You’re too old for her and you certainly don't deserve her. But she’s naive and probably thinks she’s in love."
He says the last word with plenty of disgust in his tone.
"That being said, if you hurt her, I will do a lot worse than send you out in the forest on a storm. I'll string you up on a spike myself. And I'll bet you every damn person in this town will be by my side, helping me."
I smirk. I have no doubt that what he’s saying is correct. The town loves Emma and I'm not exactly their favorite person. I can also see the clear affection behind the intensity in his eyes. It makes me respect him and his apology more to know he cares about Emma so much. "Noted."
His expression doesn’t change. "And don't think I haven't noticed that ever since you came into the picture, shit has been going wrong for her. First, her grandpa had a heart attack and now her house got broken into."
"You think I had something to do with it?"
"No. But shit like that can't be a coincidence. I may not believe in a lot of the mumbo jumbo that the rest of the people in this town believe in, but my mama always taught me about energy and energy exchange. You have a dark energy about you, and it seems to affect Emma. It seems she lightens yours and you darken hers." He steps back a little and tucks one hand in his pocket. "Maybe you're bad luck for her. Ever thought about that?"
I think about it now. I know Rick is possibly saying all this to drive me away from Emma, but there is some truth to it.
Ever since Emma came around, my life has been considerably better. Especially with my relationship with my daughter. And just generally, I feel happier, lighter, more optimistic. Even more relaxed, although that might just be because I’m not around the constant hustle of New York City.
But at least some of it, I can attribute to her.
Yet, she's had one misfortune after another since meeting me. Is that because of my "dark energy," as Rick put it?
Fuck, I'm starting to become superstitious just like the rest of the people in this town.
A phone ringing interrupts our conversation, preventing me from answering. I slide the phone out of my pocket and hold it up to my ear.
"Hey, boss." It's the older contractor from Atlas leading the construction. "There's a problem. I don’t know how to say this…"
"Spit it out," he says.
"Well, it looks like someone broke into your office," he says. "I came over early today to pick up the new plans from your desk like you said. But then when I got here the place was trashed. And our wheel loader also seems to have gotten a problem overnight. It's not coming on."
"How the fuck did that happen?"
"We don't know, boss. It was like this when we got here."
I let out a curse as I hang up. What the fuck is happening right now?
Who would do this?
Perhaps weeks ago, it would make sense. Just about anyone in town could have had it out for me. But why would they do it now when I'm renovating rather than demolishing the hotel? Or do they not want renovations either?
Or could this be Micah’s work?
I called him a few days ago and told him that I wouldn't be taking his deal. He wasn't happy about it, although he sounded just as sarcastic and amused as ever. Maybe this is his payback. Or maybe he decided to go through with his plans without me?
I’ll kill the bastard if it's true.
"I gotta go," I say and head upstairs to get Emma.
Something strange is going on, and we need to get to the bottom of it.
"What if it was ghosts?" my daughter asks later that evening as we have dinner together.
"Ghost?"
"Yeah." She twirls her pasta on her fork and then holds it up as she speaks. "The Pink Hotel is haunted, everyone knows that. That's why so many bad things have happened there. What if the ghosts figured out that you're trying to get it up and running again and they're making everything go awry?"
"Awry? That's a big word, sweetheart."
She rolls her eyes. "I use a lot of big words, Dad. English is my best subject."
"Of course. It's why you like these stories so much. But there's no such thing as ghosts, sweetie." I reach over and ruffle her hair as she pushes her fork into her mouth.
"You don't know that," she continues after she chews and swallows the mouthful of pasta. "There are a lot of mystical things that happen all over the world, things we don't understand. I watch it all the time on Discovery Channel."
She points to the diary resting beside her plate on the dinner table and implores Emma who's seated on the other side of her.
"Think about it. After her lover’s death, Madam T disappeared into thin air. No one found her or her body. What if she turned into a ghost and now haunts the place because of the tragedy? And then maybe the people who died from the fire also became ghosts. So it's basically like a court of ghosts ruled by Madam T and she's making them do her evil bidding."
Emma taps her chin. "It’s plausible. But for such a well-organized ghost army, they're not doing a very good job. I mean all they did was ransack your dad's office and maybe break down the wheel loader. But construction can continue even without those things, so it doesn't feel very productive to me." She shrugs. "They were better off, just appearing and scaring the bejesus out of people instead."
Emma thinks about it and nods.
"It's not ghosts," I say because they seem to be giving this matter serious thought. "Just a normal criminal. And when I get my hands on them..." I trail off because my daughter is watching me, and none of what I have to say next is kid friendly.
Instead, I take a bite out of my own spaghetti.
After doing an inventory of everything that was missing from my office, and taking it to the police station, I came home.
The PI is already on his way from New York and I sent the rest of the men home for the day so as not to tamper with potential evidence.
Amelia continues her ghost theory throughout the rest of dinner, and then I retire to my bedroom to work while she and Emma watch TV. A few hours pass before I get a knock on the door. I already know who it is before I say, "Come in."
"Hey." Emma walks in tentatively, closing the door behind her.
"Hey," I respond and beckon her closer. She attempts to take a seat across from me, but I shake my head and reach over to grab her hand.
I direct her around the table, till she's in front of me, and then pull her to sit in my lap.
"That's better," I say and she blushes.
"Amelia is asleep. I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened to your wheel loader."
"It's not like it's your fault."
"Yeah." Her teeth worry her bottom lip. "Still, do you think it's a weird coincidence that our places got broken into at like almost the same time?"
"Maybe. How many break-ins does Lakewood usually have in a night?"
"Virtually none. And the few we have are because of Nate Huntley, who likes to nick stuff sometimes. But he never makes a mess like this."
"Hmm," I murmur but I'm distracted by the look of her pulse racing under her skin. She's nervous to be around me, sitting on me, which makes sense because the feel of her lap is getting me excited too.
"Do you think I'm bad luck?"
"What?"
"Just something I've been thinking about." I shift her so she's closer to me, resting against my chest. "Ever since I showed up a lot of bad things have happened to you."
She shakes her head. "No. A lot of good things have happened too." She blushes. "Plus, I like having you here."
I see it then in her eyes, that dangerous emotion. An emotion I don't deserve, but one that is quickly growing in her anyway.
It should scare me. Instead, I crave more of it, selfishly.
Leave her alone, I tell myself. End this.
This can't continue if I don't want to hurt her. Despite what she says about being okay with this, Emma is all heart. She's not the type of person who can separate her emotions from sex, and I need to leave her before she falls even deeper for me.
And I will, I decide, determined. Soon.
But perhaps for the last time, I draw her closer and kiss her. I savor the quiet sigh on her lips as her body relaxes into my hold, as I cradle her closer like she's something precious.
I need to have that hard conversation with her again and tell her I'm letting her go, but my insides get tight and painful at the thought of it.
So I bury myself in the sensation instead, the feel of her, kissing down her neck, over her collarbone to her racing heartbeat.
I shift her off my lap, till she's on the seat and I'm kneeling in front of her. I tug her shirt over her head and she holds up her hands to allow me. She also shifts when I start taking off her pants, allowing me to do it, and is now sitting here in her underwear.
It's basic and cotton, but it's just about the sexiest thing I've ever seen, highlighting just how sweet and unassuming she is.
I need to let her go. Soon.
But for now, I need to take everything I can.