Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
AMELIA
Hidden from the courtyard below and terrace farther down, the balcony overlooked the valley and an expiring sun that set the distant mountain ridge ablaze. Amelia and Emory laid out a light spread on the bistro table and shared their first meal together.
As they split the last clementine at dusk, its juice sticky and sweet in the summer heat, Emory looked contented for the first time Amelia could recall and laughed with a lightness that sounded silver to her ears.
Twilight rose and the conversation flowed over shimmering candlelight. Amelia slipped out of her shoes and eased back in her seat.
“So, this is all yours now,” she said more than asked and tipped her wineglass to the terrace far below where the others had gathered.
“Whether I like it or not.”
“You don’t like it. The more I get to know you, the more I see that.”
“And what is it you see?” Emory asked with a smile that only partially hid some hesitancy. Not everyone liked being examined that way.
“It’s like you’ve been cut from another world and pasted here, forced to live in two dimensions while the rest of you is somewhere else. An outsider to your own empire.”
Amelia wanted to go where the other parts of him existed, that place where she’d find him whole. For the time being, the closest she’d find was the balcony where Emory seemed at ease, relieved perhaps that he could drop the pretense and just be himself.
He savored a sip of bourbon, both the drink and her observation demanding a thoughtful pause.
“You’re not wrong. I’m grateful, though.
As a kid, I never knew what Liam did for a living.
He’d show up at my house in a blacked-out sedan.
He was like a superhero, a guy people respected and feared.
The night my dad died, I knew Miri and I had no home anymore, so I packed our things and got us out.
With Ivan still around, I had no choice. ”
Emory shrugged as if it were nothing, just a story from his past, but his shoulders tensed as he ran his fingers through his hair and continued.
“I called Liam, thought he was the only one who could protect us from Ivan, and he did.
He brought me and Mirabelle here, but I knew the second I stepped outside of this world, my brother would be waiting.
I was tired of feeling helpless and wanted to take my power back, so I asked Liam to let me shadow walk.
He agreed but only when I turned eighteen.
“He never showed me preferential treatment. Like everyone else, I paid my dues as a street soldier. Eventually, Liam offered me a seat at the captain’s table, a small post without a ton of responsibility.
I did well in that, so he put me in the post everyone wants, the one with the connections and prestige. ”
“Las Vegas,” Amelia said.
Warm shadows danced across Emory’s face where a smile unfurled. He gestured to the chorus of laughter on the terrace below.
“See, you already know more than some of them.” He leaned forward, head tilted and looking an awful lot like he might want to kiss her. She wished he would. “You get it, Amelia. You just do.”
She brimmed with glittering glee she couldn’t explain, smiling until her cheeks ached and soaring with the stars. Emory grabbed the bottle of wine and freshened her glass.
“After I had enough years in, Liam wanted to phase me into his position. He’s always treated me like a son, and I owe him my life, so it was the least I could do. When I agreed to take over, I wasn’t thinking about my future or living a simpler life.”
“And now?” Amelia asked between sips of wine.
“And now, I wouldn’t know a simple life if it fucked me seven ways to Sunday. Now, my brother is still alive, and I’m right back where I started, feeling just as powerless as the day I left home.”
He shook his head, not quite defeated but humbled perhaps.
Amelia dragged her chair over to sit by his side.
To think she’d once inherited her father’s beliefs of Emory, a man who navigated the underworld but preserved the best parts of himself, the ones Amelia saw so clearly were good and honest and worthy.
She finally found the words to say if that phone ever rang again.
Hi Dad. You never knew him. You never will.
“What happens next?” Amelia asked haltingly. Mirabelle had warned her not to pry, but the charade of normalcy couldn’t last forever.
“I find Ivan and kill him unless he kills me first,” Emory replied with dark laughter, but Amelia witnessed the fear of failure grow in him.
“I won’t let him hurt you,” she said and placed her hand on his forearm.
Emory stared at her, utterly mystified, it seemed. She didn’t blame him. What the hell could she do against Ivan? It didn’t matter. The thought must’ve counted for something because Emory patted his chest with a smile as if taming his heart.
“Thunderbolt?” she asked and pulled her knees onto the chair. It brought her closer to him.
Emory nodded. “Thunderbolt.”
“Okay, pretend a simple life did fuck you seven ways to Sunday,” she said, her chin propped against the heel of her hand. “What does it look like?”
Emory settled in his seat and contemplated the question.
“Well, I’d make an honest living. I’d settle down somewhere I can see the stars at night. Maybe up north with lots of trees, at the end of a road so it’s quiet and secluded, somewhere I can sleep well. Find someone to love forever, just me and her.”
His eyes met hers before dropping to his empty glass. Amelia fetched the bourbon bottle and poured him some more.
“She’ll be very lucky to have you.”
“She’ll be worshipped. It’s how I love.”
Emory studied her in the candlelight as he sipped his drink. A drunken ruckus erupted below and beckoned like a siren to collect those adrift on thoughts of freedom.
“The thing is,” he said, “I don’t worry about working some nine-to-five I hate or bills I have to pay.
I worry if the people I love are going to be alive tomorrow or if the day will come I lose my freedom.
It’s hard to put someone else through that, and it’s never ended well whenever I’ve tried.
This world has a way of tearing people apart. ”
Troubled again, Emory shook his head as if dismissing bad memories.
“You said some men wage war inside themselves. That includes you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. What I want is solace, but I’ve learned to accept that’s just a dream.”
“It doesn’t have to be a dream.”
Amelia scooted closer, as if dividing the distance could impart some belief. Emory tipped his head to the music pulsing below but held Amelia’s stare.
“They think I’m already living the dream. They don’t see things the way you do, least of all me.”
Amelia took his hand. “I do see you. All of you.”
“I see you too.” Emory interlaced his fingers with hers and, with a gentleness that surprised her, softly kissed each of her knuckles. A flutter grew in Amelia’s belly, and heat bathed her cheeks. “And what is it you want for your simple life?” he asked and squeezed her hand.
“Books and tea and rain. Believe it or not, a small house with lots of trees where it’s dark enough to see the stars. To love someone who loves me back. Same as you.”
“Same as me,” Emory repeated with quiet understanding passing between them, kindred in the way they held a mirror to each other.
He shifted in his seat and leaned in close. His mouth lingered just a breath from contact, as if relishing the intimacy of the moment.
“Are you going to kiss me now?” Amelia asked, a ridiculous question born from another bout of unraveling nerves. Her arms snaked around his shoulders, and she held onto him as a source of strength lest she fall to pieces against his touch.
Emory’s laughter warmed her lips and nose brushed hers as he nodded. “That was the plan. Is that alright with you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Emory pressed his lips to hers, the kiss deep for having been delicate. They both drew a long breath in unison, and their hearts might’ve beaten just the same. His tongue parted her lips, then slipped into her mouth. He tasted just as she imagined, both masculine and sweet.
A quiet groan rumbled from the back of Emory’s throat as his fingers sunk in her hair. His other hand roamed her body—down her back and the dip of her waist, up the rise of her hip, cupping her ass.
“Let me take you inside,” Emory said in a shallow pant against her open mouth.
Amelia nodded. “Where did you have in mind?”
“My bedroom,” he said between kisses, each more eager than the last.
Competing desires ravaged Amelia—accept the invitation to his bed or let it unfold in its own time. She wanted him desperately, but he intimidated her. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, the pulse thrumming deliciously between her legs.
“If I go there, I’m liable to take off my clothes,” Amelia said, her head swimming as Emory trailed kisses down her neck and his fingertips skimmed the tops of her breasts.
“That was the idea.” Emory hooked one finger beneath her bra and brushed her nipple in a delicate tease. “I want to go slow, take my time with you. We have all night.”
Body humming beneath his caress, Amelia nodded. “Then let’s make the most of it.”