Lace & Lead

His name, her lips. Shit on a stick, he had to leave.

“That’s enough for today,” he said gruffly. “I’ll go grab us some food. You eat Berkwan?”

One of the family servants, a refuge from Berkwai and its violent cartel, had told Emmaline how much she missed the native meals. Her descriptions of the highly spiced food always left Emmaline’s mouth watering but her father had never allowed her to try it; he claimed it was beneath their breeding.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had it before.”

“It’ll be a new experience then.” He pulled away from her and headed for the door.

“Peirce?”

His head throbbed. Both of them.

He looked over his shoulder.

“Thank you for letting me help,” she said.

He grunted. “I’ll be home in half an hour,” he said. “Don’t leave the apartment.”

He could feel her eyes on him long after he’d closed the apartment door behind him. He wouldn’t be able to have Emma around for a week without losing it completely.

It was time to get his mind back in the game.

Chapter 5

An hour later, she had decided Taggart—Peirce, as he’d asked her to call him now—really didn’t understand the concept of home. Not like she had a great deal of experience in that area, but she’d always been careful to keep her room a place of safety and comfort. Peirce’s house was devoid of any comforts. Even his cupboards were bare.

She paced the length of the kitchen again, turning toward the door without conscious thought. Her mind was too busy racing through the possibilities. This wa

sn’t like Peirce; she knew from experience that he was always punctual.

Two days after Peirce had arrived on the Gregson property, she’d finally convinced her father to let her go for a walk on the outer edge of the grounds. He’d insisted Peirce go with her. Peirce had consented only when her father reminded him he was being paid to do what was ordered and a time had been set for the next day.

She’d been two minutes late to get downstairs. She’d nearly fallen down the stairs in her haste to catch him as he strode away.

“Mr. Taggart! Aren’t we still going?”

His eyes had been clear shards, his mouth an arrogant line. “You’re late.”

She’d been surprised. Outside of public appearances, all of which were run by her father’s assistants, she’d never been on a schedule before. “I’m sorry?”

“I have things to do,” he’d commented, turning his back yet again. “My life doesn’t revolve around you.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an issue! Please!”

He’d at least stopped when she’d said that.

“I didn’t mean to act as if I didn’t care about keeping to your schedule,” she explained, hating the way she had to grovel to this man in order to go outside. “It won’t happen again.”

A large hand had brushed over his buzz cut. “Damn right, it won’t happen again.”

They’d finally gone on the walk. It hadn’t been comfortable between them but at least she’d gotten to breathe in the fresh air. He’d followed through, just like she knew he would.

So there was no reason she could think of why Peirce wouldn’t be back already. Unless something had happened to him. She ran a wet rag over her skin distractedly one last time, deeply aware it wasn’t going to remove most of the filth she was covered in. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She needed to know if he was okay.

She returned to the bedroom, digging through the clothes hanging from a plain rod until she found one of his welding jackets. Pulling it on and rolling up the cuffs so her hands were visible, she stepped back out into the living room.

The sound of tired footsteps approaching had her rushing eagerly to the door, pulling it open wide and stepping out into the hall.