Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Cap felt like a complete ass the way he dropped Emma’s hand. The hurt look in her eyes hit him square in the chest, sharp enough to steal his breath. He wounded her with one careless reaction.
Everything about this was wrong. Wrong for both him and her.
He had no business getting involved with someone he was supposed to protect.
Sure, he’d lied to himself, telling himself that since he didn’t work for the police department, it didn’t matter, but it did.
He needed to keep a clear head to ensure her safety.
And there was that other thing. The one circled about his mind relentlessly, but he wouldn’t allow his mouth to say.
His failed engagement. The one that set him off on a five-year hiatus from serious romantic relationships with women. Until Emma.
They continued trekking through the woods in silence, except for the distant sound of chirping birds and the crack of twigs underfoot.
Emma’s quick intake of breath caused him to glance back. When he caught her gaze, she frowned.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Yeah, I just rolled my ankle. It’s fine.”
His gaze dropped to her foot.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said defensively.
Of course, she was irritated. One moment, he acted affectionately, and in the next, he completely withdrew.
“I’m sorry. I’ll slow down. We’re almost back.”
“I can keep up,” her sharp tone pierced his eardrum.
She was a proud person. He’d be lying if he tried to convince himself he didn’t like that quality.
Still, no doubt from her tone and the irritated look on her face, he’d made her angry. He hadn’t wanted to, but he did.
Rather than dig the hole any deeper, he nodded and continued on.
Once the cabin was in sight, he paused inside the tree line and looked around, making sure nobody other than the deputy in the squad was nearby.
“All clear,” he said.
When he stepped out of the woods, the deputy’s head snapped in their direction. Exactly what should have happened. It meant the guy was on full-alert.
Cap offered the deputy a nod, then he cautiously slinked his way around the cabin with Emma in tow. His watchful gaze took in no apparent threats.
He opened the front door and gestured for Emma to enter. It was then he noticed the severity of her injury. She’d hurt herself more than she’d let on.
He shut the door.
“Have a seat and let me look at your ankle,” he said as he pointed at the couch.
“I told you. It’s fine.”
The pitch of her voice informed him he should back off, but the sense of duty to help her was too strong.
“Then why are you limping?”
The look-to-kill emanating from her dark irises let him know his tone had been too sharp.
Being angry with each other was not how he wanted this day to go, and it certainly wasn’t good for their well-being, especially given their proximity to each other.
“Emma, please sit and let me look at your ankle.”
She kept her angry gaze on him, and he silently held it. Within a few beats, it softened, and she limped her way to the couch and sat.
He kneeled in front of her, then reached down and gently took her foot in his hands. He undid the tie on her tennis shoe, and carefully slipped it off her foot. Even with his cautious efforts, she winced.
“Sorry.”
When he slid off her sock, swelling and bruising were visible.
“Let me get you some ice,” he offered as he set her foot down on the floor.
There was no ice in the freezer and he hadn’t thought to make any. In fact, there wasn’t anything in the freezer flexible enough to wrap around the curve of her ankle.
He pulled open drawers, hoping to find a first aid kit with an instant ice pack.
No luck. He shot off to the bathroom to look and found one in the cabinet.
He squeezed the bag and then shook it to activate the cooling agent.
Then he pulled a small towel from the cabinet and wrapped the ice pack in it.
When he returned to the living room, he found Emma sitting sideways on the couch with her foot propped up on a pillow.
He placed the icepack over her ankle and tucked it around her ankle as best he could.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m going to make a sandwich for lunch. Would you like one?” he asked.
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Sure, thanks.”
Bless his sister’s heart, she bought his favorites. Salami and ham, and provolone and cheddar.
“Salami or ham or both?”
“Ham.”
“Provolone or cheddar, and mayo or mustard?”
“Cheddar and mayo.”
Her voice had softened some. Was she on her way to forgiving him?
When he finished making the sandwiches, he put them on plates along with a dill pickle spear and some baby carrots. He carried the plates into the living room and handed Emma hers, and set his on the end table next to the recliner.
“Thank you.”
“You bet. What would you like to drink?”
“Just water.”
He filled two glasses with water, handed her one, and then sat in the recliner.
The air was thick, and the silence was excruciating.
He wanted to apologize to her for being an ass, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to.
If he let things end with her right here, he’d be off the hook and could go on with his life as normal.
The way he’d intended since the moment Blythe stomped on his heart, shattering it into a million pieces.
Water sloshed in his glass when he picked it up.
He hoped Emma wouldn’t notice his nerves were shot.
An unfocused protector was the last thing she needed.
His gaze found its way back to her. She’d just taken a bite of her sandwich.
A little mayonnaise clung to her lip, and he watched as her tongue darted out of her mouth and wiped away the mayo.
In that instant, he recalled how her warm tongue had felt against his.
His heartbeat quickened. He should say something now to smooth things over, or all would be lost. Wait!
That’s what he wanted, right? If he just let this ride without saying anything now, he was in the perfect position to just walk away from her when this was all over.
The damage had been done. She already thought he wanted to end this romantic relationship by the way he treated her at the lake.
Coward. His inner voice yelled at him.
Emma’s questioning gaze bore into him.
He should tell her everything. Explain why he was a dick to her when all she did was ask a simple question as to why he wasn’t in a committed relationship at his age. If he were to be honest with himself, he wanted to tell her. Surely she could understand and be able to relate.
She blinked and tilted her head slightly to the side as if recognizing he suffered from some type of internal conflict. Her plump reddish-pink lips pulled into an inquisitive pout. His brain begged him to jump up, run to her, and kiss that pout away.
For chrissake, he was thirty-seven years old. Why was he feeling so insecure and giddy about his feelings for Emma?
He took a large bite of his sandwich to prevent himself from saying or doing anything stupid or regretful. Then, mistakenly, he met her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” they both said in unison.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he quickly countered.
“I obviously said or did something you didn’t like. Whatever it was, I didn’t mean to hurt or upset you,” she replied.
He moved to her, dropping to one knee.
“It was all me, sweetheart. All me and I’m sorry. I just, it’s a long story, and I’m sorry.”
He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, and then, for a distraction, reached over and lifted the icepack from her ankle. The bruising and swelling didn’t appear to get any worse.
“How’s it feeling?” he asked.
“It’s fine.”
Cap’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and found a text from Chief Mertz.
His heart sank even though he knew the answer to the question he’d asked in an earlier text to the chief. Now, how to tell Emma. Shoot it straight.
“The text is from Chief Mertz. I’m sorry, but it’s a no-go to see Jonathan at the hospital. It’s too dangerous.”
A look of disappointment washed over her cheeks.
“It really is too dangerous right now.”
A defeated sigh escaped her.
“I know. I just feel so conflicted. I want to see him, yet I don’t.”
She set her plate aside, leaned her head back, and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger.
“And now I’m getting a splitting headache.”
The headache was probably stress-related. He completely understood that.
Cap’s phone dinged again. He looked at the screen and then returned his gaze to Emma, who’d slipped into a lying position on the couch. Her long, dark hair spilled over a small square pillow, and she’d curled into a ball.
“Chief said that Jonathan is out of the ICU.”
“That’s good. Even with how angry I am with him, I want him to be okay.”
He liked that about her. That she could look past all the evil and still wish the man well.
“I think our walk tuckered me out.”
The words were hardly out of her mouth when her droopy eyelids closed. Being on the run could be exhausting. He knew that firsthand.
As quietly as he could, he cleared their plates and glasses from the living room and set them on the kitchen counter, then he set off to retrieve a blanket from the hallway closet.
The closet was also the gateway to the natural-stone crawl space that housed the furnace, electrical panel, and water heater, accessible via a simple trapdoor in the floor with a small ladder.
The only windows in the space were those small, rectangular basement windows.
One on each side of the cabin. The egress was a set of cellar doors to the back of the cabin, the only other way out of the crawl space.
One of the first things he did when he arrived at the cabin was put two cinder blocks on the door to hinder anyone from coming up through the crawl space.
The blocks were still in place. He snatched a fleece blanket from the shelf and returned to the living room.
Gently, he spread the blanket over Eamma, and he couldn’t resist thinking how beautiful she was and leaned over to kiss her forehead.
She stirred slightly, but her eyelids stayed shut.
Her fresh, outdoorsy scent lingered in the air.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in as much as he could.
He liked the way she smelled. It was calming to him.
He walked over to the living room window and moved the curtain just a hair to peek outside.
The sun shone, and the air was still. A great day for fishing.
Soon, Hunter and Cici would leave the dock for the afternoon charter.
Unease coiled in his stomach. He silently prayed they’d stay safe from the Colombians.
The last thing he wanted was to put them in danger, and with Markie running around in Jonathan’s truck and being sighted all over the county, that should keep the Colombians off of Hunter and Cici’s trail.
Of course, this theory assumed the Colombians monitored social media. If he were them, he would.
Behind him, Emma breathed evenly. He was glad she was able to relax enough to rest. If only he could. But there was too much riding on him as well as too many moving parts and too much pressure. Everyone’s safety depended on him.