Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1)(60)

“It’s daylight,” Emily murmurs groggily, rolling into my spot as I stand. “How did it get to be daylight?”

“Good question,” I say, grabbing my phone off the end table, checking my screen to find my caller is indeed Seth, and I’ve missed him again.

“Waking up to your naked ass is quite possibly the best thing ever,” Emily declares, sounding much more awake now.

Smiling, I step into my pants, turning to face her. “You can prove it in a few minutes. I need to make a call.” I don’t wait for a reply, hitting the redial button and heading for the stairs, only to have the line go direct to voice mail. “Call me back,” I say at the beep, stuffing my cell back into my pocket and walking into the bathroom.

Once I’m there, I shut the door, take care of the necessities, including brushing my teeth, and then dial Seth again, and just like before, his voice mail picks up. Intending to return to Emily, I turn and open the door to find her standing just outside in my T-shirt.

“You have to leave, because I have to pee like a Russian racehorse and I already committed to this bathroom.”

Laughing, I step past her to enter the bedroom. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a woman say anything remotely close to that.”

“My father used to say it,” she calls over her shoulder, before turning to face me. “I forgot it’s not really ladylike, but…” Shadows cloud her blue eyes. “It was my father’s thing.” She shuts the door.

Unmoving, I stare at the place she was moments before, remembering her nightmare. With her father on her mind, it seems a good guess that he might have been at its core. And while that might or might not be true, I do believe her claim that she understands what I feel with my father more than anyone, besides perhaps Derek. She gets me in a way I’ve never allowed anyone to get me, and I don’t remember when I ever decided to let her. Holy hell, what am I doing with this woman, and why can’t I stop? My cell phone starts ringing and I shake off the thought, digging it from my pocket and heading back down the stairs.

“Talk to me,” I order.

“The equipment’s installed and I’ve targeted several employees I think can be bought. I should have answers later today.”

I enter the kitchen and make a beeline to the coffeepot and flip the switch I had set to go off in an hour. “I need answers today.”

“I know it’s urgent.”

“Today, Seth,” I say, pressing my hands to the counter. “The cancer has moved to his lungs. He could fall apart at any moment and right now Derek would claim control. I can’t let that happen. And without Mike Rogers on our side, I need to deal with the rest of the stockholders.”

“We have a plan for them.”

“If it’s as good as the one for Riker, we don’t have shit.”

“Riker and the trucking company are both targets for Martina’s operation. That means he was on Derek’s radar way before us. The others won’t be.”

“You don’t know that. I told you. Don’t underestimate my brother or my father. I can’t wait for you to handle this. You need to handpick select people from your security team and get them to the other key stockholders.”

“I don’t trust anyone to handle this but me. Give me until tonight before you make me do that.”

My jaw clenches. “Fine. Tonight.” I end the call and set the phone down, rotating to find Emily standing in the entryway. “How much of that did you hear?”

She walks toward me, joining me on this side of the island to lean on it next to me. “Too much, I think.”

At least she’s honest. “How much of an ass do you think I am now?”

“I don’t think you’re an *, Shane.”

I rub the stubble on my jaw. “Then you must not have heard it all.”

“I’m pretty sure I did and this is no different than a courtroom brawl. You’re at war and war is not pleasant.” She glances at the pot. “Please tell me that isn’t as thick and strong as car oil.”

“It’s a Starbucks blend.” She moves toward the pot and I drag her to me. “Why are you not asking questions?”

“I don’t need to ask questions.”

“Because you don’t want me to ask you questions?”

“I might be guilty of that at times, but not this time. I’ve met Derek. I’ve looked into his eyes and into yours, and you’re the better man. You need to win and more so, I understand what you’re going through. I know how family can gut you.”

“Gut” is a powerful word and I’m not sure if we’re talking about her father, or something more, but I stick with one piece of the puzzle at a time. “How old were you when your father died?”

“When he killed himself?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “Fourteen and he was…”

“He was what?”

She cuts her gaze away and her fingers flex into my chest, as if she’s pushing me away, but she doesn’t. “Nothing,” she murmurs, not looking at me. “I need that coffee.”

I hold on to her, and damn it to hell, I want to push, but I check myself and release her. She is quick to step away from me, moving to the coffeepot. I join her and reach to the cabinet above her head, pulling out two generic mugs and setting them on the counter. There is something about having her here with me in my kitchen that is right in a way I’ve never let myself—or even wanted—to experience. She reaches for the pot, but I step between her and it, shackling her hips and aligning our bodies. “Remember when I said I don’t do relationships?”