One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(83)
Welk flipped through the leather-bound pages of an old-fashioned address book. “Her instruction was to transfer the money to you under whatever alias you now identified with, not as an inheritance, which we both felt you might have trouble accessing under your new identity without attracting the attention of the government, but rather through an offshore account. All I have to do is make you a signer on the account and the money is yours, I’ve been investing the inheritance to great results. I think you’ll be pleased.”
Pleased wasn’t the right word. How could she be pleased about receiving a gift from the people who’d made her life hell? After all this time, she was finally on the verge of being free of them. The money felt like yet another shackle.
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to clear my afternoon schedule so that we may pay a visit to my lawyer today,” Welk said, tapping an entry in the address book. “He’ll handle adding your name to the account with the necessary discretion. I assure you that you can trust him, as you can me.”
Maybe she would donate it all to a shelter for battered women and children. Maybe she would pass it to Haylie so she could escape. All Emily knew was that she wanted to keep her options open so she could decide what to do with the money in her own time instead of being forced to make a decision while her emotions were running so high. No more flights of chaotic passion. “That sounds good. Thank you.”
Welk removed his glasses again and sat back in his chair, studying her. “May I ask what your name is now?”
She drew a tremulous breath. Speaking it aloud in the presence of her parents’ closest friend felt like leaping over a great divide. It was time to trust herself not to fall. It was time to trust that no matter what happened next, she was going to be all right. “Emily Ford.”
With a smile, he stood and walked around the desk. He extended his hand to her, his eyes welling with unshed tears. “Well, Emily, it’s wonderful to meet you. It is my profound pleasure to fulfill your mother’s final wish. Thank you.”
*
Emily returned to Texas on a cold, rainy night two weeks after she’d left. Like a beacon, the ever-shining lights of Murph’s called to her as she stepped out of her car and stretched. Chicago had looked closer to Dulcet on paper. The drive had been a real slog, but she’d needed the time and the open road to think.
She pulled her suitcase from the back seat, then stood for a moment staring down at the two manila envelopes Charles had given her. One for her future, containing the offshore account information and recent bank statements, the other containing the final remnants of her past. Rebecca Youngston’s driver’s license, her birth certificate, her social security card, an expired passport, and photographs her parents had used in their search for her.
There was something volatile about that envelope and the information therein. A secret she no longer needed to protect, an identity she never wanted to use again. She didn’t even want the envelope crossing the threshold of her apartment. She shoved it under the driver’s seat as far as it would go, where it would have to stay until she decided on the best way to dispose of it. Then she tucked the envelope with the bank information into the front pocket of her suitcase. As soon as she was locked behind her apartment door, she’d have the solitude to process that particular grenade, and she didn’t plan on making any hasty choices. That was what old Emily might have done. New, self-composed, thinking-with-her-brain-and-not-her-heart Emily was going to take her time and consider her options.
Murph was in his usual spot behind the front desk, playing a game on his phone. A handful of regulars were sweating through their grueling workouts to the sound of a classic rock tune playing over the gym’s speakers. She pulled her suitcase behind her, smiling. It was good to be home.
Action in the boxing ring caught her eye and she gasped at the familiar face—the last person she could handle seeing tonight. Knox, who’d evidently taken up mixed martial arts. His shirt was off and his skin and hair were slick with sweat. His hands were protected by wraps, and his lips puffed out around a mouth guard. And he was circling his opponent, none other than Big Tommy. Emily’s eyebrows shot up at that. Big Tommy was often described as the toughest guy at the gym. He kicked ass and took names from anyone foolish enough to take him on.
Slack-jawed, she ground to a halt just outside the door and watched them spar.
Knox was good. Fast on his feet. Tough. His eyes gleamed, sharp and dangerous. Every ripple or flex of muscle drew her attention to his lean, hard body. She’d made love to this man. She knew how he moved, how he kissed. She knew what all those bulky muscles felt like against her skin. A slow burn of desire settled low in her belly.
Yeah, Knox was definitely the worst person she could’ve encountered tonight.
“Hey, Em. You’re back,” Murph called. “You need help with your suitcase?”
She shook herself out of her daze and sidled up to the counter, where she stole a peppermint from the tin Murph hid behind the pen holder. “I’m back. And, nah, I’ve got it. It’s just the one.”
Murph nodded to the ring. “Your stalker’s here.”
Her gaze found Knox again. “I can see that.”
“He’s not so bad.”
Emily’s heart squeezed, painfully. “That’s the problem.”
“You probably need to know he’s been here twice a day, every day, waiting for you, going on more than a week now. Letting anyone who will get in the ring with him kick his ass. I will say one thing about him—he can take a beating. ‘Course, that’s not happening as much anymore. He’s getting better.”