Phoenix Burning (14 page)

“What’s it about?” His somber expression told her he was ready for whatever she needed to divulge. Her heart swelled at the thought of this man absorbing—no—accepting every damaged part of her past without a single word of rebuke.

“It tells the story of a mother who has two babies.” She picked up the vase and walked the short distance to the glass-front fridge she used for special orders. “In the song she kills her babies, buries them, and then meets their ghosts later.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, choosing to look at the towel she used to wipe her hands. “At the end of the song, she’s cursed to hell for what she did.”

“Why did your mother sing that to you?” The only hint of his tension was in the corded forearms he rested on her prep table.

“I spent a long time trying to figure that out.” She sat down at the table, laying the towel aside but still unable to meet his gaze. “Now, though, I think she felt guilty for how badly our father treated us.”

“She should have stopped it.” Alex took her hand. She watched her own smaller one disappear in his much larger one.

“Unless you’ve lived a life like that, you can’t possibly understand how difficult it was for her.” Tears prickled her eyes as Emory thought of her mother. “She’s still there with him. Chris and I left her there.”

He stood and came to her, wrapping her in his strong embrace. “Don’t, love. The only choices you can make are yours.”

“Do you have family?” Emory inhaled deeply, drawing his scent into her lungs until she was dizzy with the barrage of complex desires he evoked.

“Just Connor and Gabriel.” He threaded his fingers through her loose hair. “My parents were already in their late forties when I was born. I was an only child, and they died not long after I joined the military. My father lived long enough to see me become an officer. It was his dream I suppose.”

“But not yours?”

“Let’s just say I don’t follow senseless orders very well.”

She tried to picture him marching in uniform and couldn’t. It just didn’t mesh with his personality. He was quirky and outgoing, but he was very much an individual. “How did you wind up a bartender?”

“I started bartending part-time when I was stationed at Molesworth in the United Kingdom. That’s where Gabriel and I met. I broke up a bar fight between him and a US airman. Gabriel was in the Royal Marines; I was Army. We were both captains, neither of us was fond of the life, but we liked to drink and pick up women.”

She couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes. “Male bonding at its finest.”

“Connor was back here in the states. When I resigned my commission after six years, I came home, and he was just opening the bar.”

Emory remembered something MacIntyre had mentioned. “Was this after he got out of prison?”

He gave a tight nod. “Yes. He’d only been out a year.”

“And Gabriel? Isn’t he still a British citizen?” He obviously didn’t want to talk about Connor’s past. She could respect that.

“I suppose he is. We’ve never discussed it. He called me from New York a year ago and said he was here and needed a job. Connor hired him, and he’s been living in the apartment above the bar ever since.”

He took her hands in his and brushed his lips across her knuckles. The silver Celtic design on his twin black carbide rings glinted. Very gently, she traced the design on the left one with the pad of her index finger.

“Gabriel gave those to me.” A smile lit his features, as if he were remembering something amusing. “He has a matching set.”

“What do they mean?” She wondered what sort of bond the rings symbolized between the two ex-military men.

“Actually, they’re meant to be a reminder.”

She was touched by the idea, especially since Gabriel had sought out Alex when he’d come to the States. “What?”

“It’s childish.” Oddly enough, Alex looked chagrined. “You know, remember to give the finger whenever anyone wants to tie you down.”

Tie him down. As in, whenever he considered getting involved with someone who had an involved issue going on in her life. Her stomach twisted painfully.

“It’s silly.”

“But you’ve never taken them off,” she pointed out.

It was time to change the subject. They were both feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Where do you live?” She realized she’d never heard him talk about home. So much of herself was wrapped up in her shop and her apartment. What was his home like?

“I still own my parents’ old place.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head. “It’s a few blocks over. Pretty unimpressive if you ask me. My mother could walk inside tomorrow and not notice any changes. I was gone when they passed, and I’m not one to redecorate.”

There was something in his tone that struck her as hollow. The man was utterly shiftless. He didn’t even have a real home to tie him down. Why not? “Do you have any plants?”

He moved her hair aside and kissed her neck. “What kind of question is that? I’m not home enough to have plants. There might be some growing in the garden out back. I don’t know.”

“You have a garden?” She was intrigued.

“I’m kissing your neck and you want to talk about my yard?”

He was right, really, she had no right to pry into his life. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get to know you.”

For the first time since they’d met, he seemed irritated. He pulled back and stepped away. Holding his arms out to his sides, he gave her a frown. “This is me, Emory. This is what you get. It’s all I have.”

She thought of what her brother had said, about balance in relationships. All this time she’d been thinking about what Alex could do for her. Now she was starting to think there was something she could do for him as well.

Standing, she swallowed back her shyness and moved boldly toward him. “It isn’t all you have, Alex.” She laid her hand flat against his chest. “You have something special in here that you’ve never even tapped into before. I know you do.”

On anyone else, she would have called the expression fear. On Alex it was a magnificent taste of the sensitivity that called to her from deep inside his soul. She knew it. She could feel it. The beauty of the man who hid inside the player he’d been masquerading as for so long.

“Come by the bar later today when you get a chance.” He buttoned and zipped his jeans, heading for the shop door without even bothering to find his shoes. “We still need to discuss what you know about MacIntyre’s petition.”

Emory let him go. She’d pushed him and discovered something in return. Alex was the one person she needed to free her from the past. But he needed her too, whether he knew it or not.

* * *

“Do you have any bloody idea what time it is?” Gabriel gave a huge yawn and slumped onto a barstool. He glanced over Alex’s bare chest and feet. “You realize you’re missing some clothes, mate? You get thrown out of some dame’s bedroom by her husband?”

Emory’s words were nagging at Alex’s brain. “Do you have any plants?”

“Actually, I do.” Gabriel rubbed a hand down his face. “Jessa left one when she and Connor moved out. I think it’s some kind of palm plant.”

“Seriously? You have a plant?” Alex didn’t know why he was getting worked up over something so stupid. “Did you hang paintings and buy throw pillows, too? Are you the British Martha Stewart or something?”

Gabriel looked suddenly cautious. “I have some pictures and things that I brought with me. I think that’s pretty normal. I kept personal items in my barracks room, too. Didn’t you?”

“No!” Alex leaped up and began pacing. “What the hell kind of personal items would I have?”

“Alex, mate, calm down.” Gabriel waved at the barstool. “Sit down. You’re giving me a bloody headache. What the hell happened? You’re acting like a loon.”

Alex looked up at his friend, realizing how superficial their discussions always were. “Why are you here?”

“I live here.”

“I don’t mean the bar, Gabriel. I mean here as in the States. Why did you leave Britain? Didn’t you want to go to Huntington? I thought you were all set to marry some woman you’d met there.”

Gabriel froze, and Alex realized he had just torn into a topic his friend had no desire to discuss.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said quietly. “I had no right to badger you just because my head is spinning.”

“She left me at the altar.” Gabriel’s voice was gravelly. “I couldn’t stand being there, watching her be with someone else. It was pretty simple. She looked at us both and she picked him. So I came here because I wanted to be as far away as possible, and I thought putting an entire ocean between us might be enough.”

Alex flopped onto the barstool. “Women are fucked up. You know that?”

“Nah.” Gabriel shook his dark head. “I see the way Jessa looks at Connor, and I know there have to be a few good apples in the bunch.”

Alex thought of a pixie’s sweet smile. She’d overcome more in her life than he could ever imagine. “Like Emory.”

“Things worth having don’t come easy,” Gabriel mused.

Alex grimaced. His friend didn’t know how right he was.

Chapter Thirteen

Emory loaded the casket piece and several other arrangements into the funeral parlor’s van. Being in the flower business meant you dealt with birth, death, and guilt on a pretty regular basis. It didn’t make it less creepy to think the bloodred roses she’d so carefully arranged would soon adorn a coffin.

“Thanks, Ms. Banks. We’ll see you next time.” The driver gave her a polite nod and climbed into his van to leave.

She sighed. She felt like a funeral today. Going back to sleep had been impossible after Alex left. Dawn had already bathed the sky in pale pink and indigo. So she’d sat at her prep table for what seemed like hours until she’d forced herself to go back upstairs and get ready for her day.

His shirt was still lying on her bedroom floor. Emory couldn’t bring herself to pick it up. She was afraid she’d wind up pressing it to her face and inhaling his scent for the rest of the day.

Time was crawling. Emory went back inside her shop and sat at the counter, chin propped on her hand. The Chrises wouldn’t be back from their romantic getaway until at least lunchtime. And she couldn’t call Fox to brood about her current situation anyway. She didn’t want to worry her brother.

The front bell rang, and Emory forced her brain out of its funk. It wouldn’t do for customers to see her like this. Pasting a warm smile on her face, she jumped down off her stool and headed toward the front of the shop.

“Welcome! How can I help you?” Her friendly greeting petered away to nothing when she came face-to-face with Donovan MacIntyre.

His intense gaze was focused on her. Emory had a sudden desire to put on a coat. Her standard-issue cargos and camisole didn’t provide enough of a barrier between her skin and his eyes.

“You know, Emory”—his gaze raked her from head to toe—“I would love to take you someplace nice just to see how stunning you would look in a dress.”

“I don’t wear dresses.”

“Don’t be silly. Every beautiful woman loves a dress.” He took a step closer, invading her personal space. “I’m sure you’re just being modest.”

She had never been comfortable with him. Though at one time she hadn’t been more or less uncomfortable with him than she was with any man. Since the day he had bullied her in her own shop, things had changed. Emory’s heart pounded, and she was on the verge of panic. Alex wasn’t going to pop in and rescue her this time. She was on her own.

“I was so glad to discover I was wrong about your whereabouts yesterday afternoon, Emory.” MacIntyre sidestepped. Wanting to keep him in full view, so did she. “Then I get a phone call this morning from Dacey Tolliver.” He leaned in close enough for her to see the gel coagulating on each strand of his hair. “Do you know why Dacey called me, Emory?”

Why did he keep saying her name? She hated the way it sounded on his lips. It reminded her of her father’s smooth voice. The way he would say her name right before he violated her. Waving off her protests even as she tried to reason with him.

“I would like to think that this romantic entanglement with Alex Dalesio is just a phase, like sowing your wild oats, or having a silly schoolgirl crush on the local bad boy. But I must admit that I’m beginning to think you’ve been soiled by him.”

Paralyzing fear slid down her spine and darkness swirled larger than life inside her mind.
Soiled, defiled, sinful
—hadn’t she prayed each and every day of her childhood for God to forgive her those things?

Heavenly Lord above, forgive my impure thoughts and actions. Make me pure again. Make me pure as the snow. Make me good enough for thy plans…

MacIntyre’s hands closed on her bare shoulders, his fingers caressing her skin. Her stomach heaved as though she might vomit. A maelstrom built inside her head. A swirling, frothing haze of blackness threatened to suck her back into the void.

“You have such potential, Emory,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t throw yourself away on the useless pursuit of womanizing trash. You’re better than he is. A man who has put his dick in every woman from coast to coast has no place inside you. You belong to me. Your body will welcome me, bear my fruit, and bring me pleasure. This is what you were meant for.”

She gritted her teeth and remembered what it felt like to be accepted for who she was. Alex’s touch, the way he made her feel, and the way their bodies fit together. That was real. That was right. That was all she wanted, all she needed, all that mattered.

Fire bloomed in the darkness. The haze of insecurity and fear burned away until nothing but her anger remained. Sucking in a deep breath, she yanked away from MacIntyre’s hands.

“You’re wrong,” she spat. “You’re wrong about me, you’re wrong about him, and you’re wrong about the Phoenix.”

“Don’t be—”

“You shut up! You’re a lying snake. I know what you’re about. I’ve known men like you. The ones who make others feel small to boost their own egos. I’ve seen the way you treat your waitresses. You’re nothing but a bully. Dacey called you because she knows the truth. And I’m going to make sure everyone else knows it too.”