Madalyn Reese - No Place To Hide

Emma felt as if she’d been struck by lightning. She was numb everywhere but her waist, where Anthony’s hands transferred their heat through thin yellow silk.

What was he doing here? This was insane.

Arriving at the top, Emma batted his hands away and turned into her office, barely giving him time to step inside before she slammed the door.

“What do you want?”

He ignored her to hurry behind the desk. Too stunned to react right away, she stared. What a waste of gorgeous male. Wide shoulders in an expensively shiny white T-shirt, and tight, narrow hips in button flys. Sinful. He was even more gorgeous than he’d been two years ago, when he’d lived in hand-made Italian suits.

But she hadn’t fallen hopelessly in lust with the man for his looks. It was the way he crackled with energy that had initially caught her attention. In second place was his self-confidence. She’d learned too late it was actually cold, hard arrogance, but he’d been enchanting up till then.

Emma’s temper gauge shot straight to the red when Anthony shoved her chair out of the way and started fiddling with her computer.

“What the— All right. That’s it,” Emma spat, lunging for the telephone.

In one deft move Anthony caught her wrist, then quickly captured the other as she went for the security button.

A brief, futile tugging match ensued, ending when Anthony landed on the desk chair with her in his lap. Glaring at him, she warned, “Get your hands off me.”

“Mmm,” Anthony murmured, far too close to her mouth, “just like old times.”

His eyes were hooded as he watched her. Waiting. Daring her to do her worst.

Much as she’d love to accommodate him, her hormones had other ideas. Damn the man. He had some colossal nerve, showing up here like he owned the place. He’d disappeared two years ago after trying to seize control of her store, and she’d prayed daily that he’d stay gone.

No such luck, but she had to be careful. If she mashed him into a pulp he’d probably sue. Leaning away, she said, “There’d better be a point to this.”

“There is. Look,” he ordered simply, swiveling the chair so Emma faced the computer monitor.

On the screen was the Creep’s latest e-mail, a picture of Emma in the yellow dress outside the local coffee shop. And as usual, there was a big black X superimposed over her face.

Forgetting herself for a moment, she slumped in his arms. “I was only outside for three minutes.”

“That’s all it takes.”

Emma turned to lock narrowed eyes with Anthony. Seeing a certain smugness there she tried to wriggle free, demanding, “How did you know about the e-mails?”

“Your Internet provider called the FBI for help. How long has this been going on?”

“Let me go. And how did you know my Internet—”

“Would you stop digging your bony butt into my thigh? That hurts.”

Her temper blew and Emma pushed at him, grinding the heels of her hands into his chest.

“Ow! You—” Anthony said, cut off by Emma’s yelp as he let go.

Silk slid on denim, and she would have landed on the floor if he hadn’t grabbed her arms. But as soon as she had a foot on solid ground she stumbled away, choking on angry words.

Anthony followed, asking, “Why didn’t you report these? If you don’t start explaining I’ll tie you to the couch.”

“Try it, Anthony. You think I fought dirty last time? Try me again and see what happens.”

“A deliberately provocative statement. I might take you up on that offer someday.”

“Lucky me.”

Anthony huffed out a laugh. “Okay. We’ve established that I still hate you and you still hate me. Very productive. Can we move on now? I have a lot to say and not much time to say it.”

“Start with how you knew my Internet service called the FBI.”

“I’ve been getting e-mails like this for three weeks,” he said. “Pictures, mostly.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And I don’t have time to explain everything right now, so close your mouth and listen. We’re in trouble, Emma. The FBI’s right behind me and you need to promise you’ll cooperate.”

“Oh, I’ll cooperate, all right. Just as soon as you get out of my store.”

“I can’t. They’ll be here in a second. I’m under FBI protection until this guy’s behind bars,” he told her.

He looked sincere, but Emma knew that meant less than nothing. He’d looked sincere last time, too.

“Do you think I’m stupid? I have no reason to believe a word you’ve said.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I’m impossible? After what you tried to pull last time you were here, I think I’m entitled to a little skepticism. So why don’t you tell me what you’re really doing here? And cut to the chase so I don’t have to waste my time foiling your evil plans again.”

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

Emma’s eyes widened as Anthony began pulling his shirt from his jeans. “What are you—are you insane? If you think I’m going to—”

“You asked for this,” Anthony said, dragging the T-shirt over his head, leaving his hair a shiny mess. “Just remember I tried to be reasonable.”

He locked eyes with her again, twisting around to expose the back of his left shoulder. Raw challenge shone from those eyes, and Emma felt her anger seep away in a moment of breathless regret. Why could she never rein it in until it was too late?

Disobeying every order issued in her head, Emma’s eyes fell to Anthony’s back.

This couldn’t be happening.

But the gruesome evidence on Anthony’s left shoulder was all too real.

A scar. A very big, very fresh, X-shaped scar.

“Oh my God.”

When those words wheezed from Emma, Anthony knew he’d gone too far. He’d come prepared for the temper, but he’d forgotten an actual human being lurked beneath its fire.

A brilliant diamond quivered on her right ring finger, shooting rainbows as she lifted her hand to touch his back.

“Don’t. It itches like sin.”

Emma’s normally glowing complexion blanched, almost matching her icy green eyes as she jerked her hand away. “What happened?”

“Self-explanatory. Are you ready to listen now?”

“Yes. No. I…”

At the sudden unfocused look in her eyes, Anthony dropped the shirt to grab Emma. “Oh Lord. Don’t faint.”

He registered the feel of ropy muscles beneath cool skin and felt a surge of powerful disappointment. This wasn’t how he remembered her at all. The Emma Toliver he recalled had been lusciously ripe and tough as nails. She was still beautiful, but she looked wrung out. Tired.

Tired was bad. When she reached her limits, Emma always came out swinging and God help her target. The fight wouldn’t end until she was the only one left standing.

He should know. He was still recovering from the last time he’d backed her into a corner.

As she blinked away the haze, Anthony regrouped. “Emma, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but I need your attention.”

“Mission accomplished,” she said, shaking off his hands to swoop down for his shirt, then slam it against his chest.

Anthony grunted at the impact and while he hurried back into the garment, she said, “I understand this is serious, and I can only imagine how you ended up with an X on your back. Finally messed with the wrong person, did you?”

“Is that your version of ‘I told you so’?”

“That’s beneath my level, Bracco. I’ll cooperate with the FBI, but if you set foot in my store again, I swear to God I’ll—”

“Hold it,” Anthony interrupted. “If you’d stop ranting for three seconds I’ll explain why I came here alone.”

Emma’s haughty, expectant expression made him want to howl. Letting the sarcasm flow, he said, “In case you weren’t aware, you have a tendency to fly off the handle, and the people trying to catch this guy don’t deserve the wrath of Emma. They’re stretched so thin they can barely cover me, let alone produce a second team for you. So that means you’re stuck with me, and there’s something I want to say before this gets any worse.”

Hands on hips now, Emma inquired, “What?”

Against his wishes, his body recognized that parts of her were still as lushly feminine as he remembered. The pose stretched silk across her breasts, highlighting a wispy lace bra barely containing the objects of many an unwanted erotic dream over the last two years.

Oh God. Total disaster. Why had he let himself panic like this? The FBI would protect her. He didn’t have to, and she wouldn’t let him anyhow.

But making sure she was safe wasn’t the only reason he’d come. The agents didn’t need her attitude, so he had some work to do before they got here. After a deep breath, he said, “I apologize.”

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Why?” he asked, praying his reaction to her wasn’t visible.

“I figured you must be gravely ill if you’re apologizing. Or is that scar finally showing you the error of your ways?”

He couldn’t help it. “And I suppose you consider your own actions completely justified.”

“Let’s compare, shall we? You tried to seduce me out of my store. I simply allowed you to tie your own noose. I’d say I was completely justified.”

“You would say that. All I wanted was the businesses, Emma. Nothing personal.”

He watched as a red taint bled up her neck into her face. “You made it personal.”

“All right, let’s stop this,” Anthony said. “If it makes you feel better, I admit what I did was unforgivable. I was an ass, and believe it or not, I am truly sorry. Are we understood?”

“Yes. I get what you’re saying. Now that you need something, you’re trying to kiss up.”

“Fine. If that’s the way you want it to be, so be it. But I refuse to spend this entire investigation sniping with you, so either we agree to act like adults or we don’t speak at all.”

“Can I have that in writing?”

Anthony squeezed his eyes shut and visualized throttling that long, skinny neck. Ten minutes. That’s all it took Emma to drive him nuts.

How was he supposed to survive this? First some psycho calling himself the Doppelgänger had sworn vengeance for the companies Anthony had chopped up. And now he was face-to-face with the biggest wrong he’d ever committed.

All he wanted to do was find the nearest corner and die quietly of guilt. But no. Dop meant to punish him, and making him deal with Emma again definitely took the cruel and unusual prize.

And he’d just made it harder on himself by lying straight to her face.

Coward. She’d find out how he knew about those e-mails and tear him apart with her bare hands. And considering this newest nightmare she’d been sucked into, he wouldn’t blame her one bit.

Watching Emma stare at him with one eyebrow raised, Anthony marveled at his own stupidity. God help him. Lies told in the heat of the moment were the least of his worries. There were other lies she could uncover. Like what had really happened two years ago.

He had to tell her. He owed her that much. But how did you tell someone they’d been nothing more than a convenient pawn, a casualty in the cold war between you and your father?

Still not the worst of it. If she found out what he’d done more recently, he was a dead man. Why couldn’t he have left well enough alone?

Footsteps sounded in the hall, preempting self-recrimination hour. He knew who was outside the door: a group of seriously unhappy FBI agents who were about to encounter one of the bigger challenges of their careers.