Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(135)

“Andrew,” he supplied gently. “I’m sorry, Emma, we both have to live with what happened. And we both have babies to raise by ourselves.” He flashed a small smile. “I have the feeling you’ll be much better at the parenting part of it than I will.”

“You’ll be a good father,” she reassured. “Don’t worry so much.” How in the world was she going to take care of a baby?

Jake picked up Emma’s hand, his thumb moving along the back of her hand. His touch was achingly familiar. “Have they said when you can get out of here?”

Emma shook her head. “Where would I go?” The thought of her apartment, her home with Andrew, was too much for her to contemplate. She couldn’t face going back to the apartment and trying to pack up Andy’s things.

“We’ll deal with it later, when you’re feeling stronger,” he assured. “I called my lawyer and asked him to look into insurance for you and a settlement of some sort. At least to get the ball rolling. I know you don’t want to think about money, but it will be important when you have the baby.”

Emma lifted her lashes, allowing her gaze to drift over his face. There was something about him that haunted her, commanded her, drew her like a magnet when she wanted to be left alone, to simply disappear. No one else compelled her as he did. She knew him. The memory of him nagged at her, yet she couldn’t place him.

She could remember the events leading up to the accident, sitting in the car, so excited, her news of her pregnancy on the tip of her tongue, but she held back, determined to wait until they were at the restaurant and she could see Andy’s expression, watch his eyes and his mouth when she revealed they were going to have a child. He’d died without ever knowing. She hated that. Her gaze flicked again to Jake’s face. She knew he was Jake because he told her, not because the memory of him had returned.

She didn’t remember the crash. She remembered after, when there was pain and fire and Jake staring at her, stopping her from following Andy. His eyes fascinated her, pulled at her, like a predator searching for prey. His focused stare made her uncomfortable, yet in some strange way comforted her. Maybe if her head ever stopped throbbing and the doctors backed off on the pain medication she could think more clearly, but right now, his personality was too strong and she couldn’t think for herself.

“How do I know you? I looked into your eyes and I know you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m the man who pulled you out of the car.” He looked down, taking his hand away from hers and rubbing at his temples as if he had the same headache she did. “I couldn’t get to your husband. The fire was everywhere.”

She saw burns on his hands and her heart jumped. She reached out and drew his hand to her. “Is this from pulling me out of the car?”

He drew back, something inside him shaken from the touch of fingers on his skin. It wasn’t sexual. He responded to women sexually as a rule and this was something altogether different and he didn’t trust the feeling at all. “Yes.” His voice came out more gruffly than he intended.

Emma let out a small sigh. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”

“Emma,” Jake said softly, “what matters is that you and the baby are safe.” He regretted pulling away from her when she’d voluntarily reached out to him.

Chelsey opened the door and popped her head in. “You need anything, Emma?” she asked, but her gaze devoured Jake.

Emma’s face closed down, her eyes going vague. When she didn’t respond, Chelsey frowned and looked at Jake. He rose and patted Emma’s limp hand.

“I’ll get you a few things from your apartment, Emma,” he said deliberately. “I’ll be back this evening.” He nodded toward the hallway and Chelsey followed him out. “I’ll need her key and the address,” he told the nurse.

“I don’t want to get into trouble,” Chelsey said.

Jake stepped closer, leaning down as if to keep their conversation totally private. His voice was low and compelling, but he knew the heat of his body and the scent of his cologne enveloped her. Chelsey inhaled and a small shiver of awareness went through her. “I wouldn’t let you get into trouble. Emma has to snap out of this and if she has a few things familiar to her, it may help. You’re just helping her friend and you saw that she didn’t object.”

Chelsey nodded and hurried away, to return with the key and small piece of paper with the address on it.

“You’re a good friend to Emma,” Jake said as he pocketed the key and walked quickly away before she could change her mind.

He found the building with little problem. He stood in the doorway and surveyed the small apartment. Small? Hell, it was tiny! The furniture was old and worn with use, the china was chipped and cracked. The couple had nothing. He stalked through the four rooms. This entire apartment would fit into his master bedroom. Frustration grew with each step and he paced back and forth, prowling like the caged cat he was. There was something here he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something he needed to understand, had to understand. It was a burning drive in his gut and Jake Bannaconni was a tenacious man.

Everything was very neat and clean, so much so that he found himself throwing out the dead roses in the little vase; they seemed an obscenity in the atmosphere of the apartment. He paced restlessly again, quick, fluid steps of sheer power. There was a key but he was missing it! He halted abruptly. The pictures. Pictures were everywhere—on the walls, the desk, the small bureau, and there was an album sitting on a coffee table.