Lace & Lead

She swallowed when she saw the scars, but they didn’t upset her like they had the first time. They were reminders of what he’d been through, that was all. She had a few scars of her own, so who was she to cast the first stone?

“I’ve got to go meet your dad,” he said casually as he pulled clothes out of his drawers.

Panic squeezed at her chest. “Why?”

“To let him know he broke contract.”

“I thought he didn’t want to meet you for a few days.”

“True. But I’ve decided I don’t give a shit what he wants.” He looked back at her, taking her in slowly. “I want you to be able to have a life again.”

She managed a weak smile. “No more being trapped in an ivory tower?”

“Not unless you want to be there.”

She had to stall him somehow. “Would you take my jewellery with you? See what you can get for it?”

He nodded his assent. “Kai’s better at it than I am. I’ll hand it off and bring back what he gets for it.”

“Okay.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and waited patiently while she tugged at the hem of her skirt. But after a few minutes, he wasn’t so patient. Heaving a sigh, he finally passed her his knife, which made the process far easier. She handed over all the jewels and his knife, which he placed on the dresser.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

But she couldn’t stop the dread that was seeping into her bones. She blurted out, “Do you have to meet him face to face?”

Peirce gave her an inscrutable look. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

She saw his jaw tighten. He grabbed his clothes and went back to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. She waited anxiously as he got dressed, wishing she could explain what was running through her mind.

Rationally, she knew Peirce could handle himself, but the irrational Emmaline was afraid that something would happen to him.

Peirce stepped back into the bedroom. His canvas pants were worn but clean, his t-shirt tight across his chest. He ignored her as he put on his belt, cuff, comm and gloves. The knife was slipped into a boot sheath. The jewellery tucked into one of the many pant pockets. He took a slim armoured vest from one of the hooks in the closet and strapped it on, wincing just a little as he pulled on his shoulder. His jacket covered the vest but allowed access to the gun he strapped at the small of his back.

It wasn’t until he was at the doorway to the main room that he paused and said, “I’m not afraid to face him.”

“I know you aren’t,” Emmaline promised as she scrambled from the bed and followed him.

He was pulling on his lighter boots by the front door.

“But he’s such a hateful man…how do you know he hasn’t set a trap for you?”

Peirce’s expression was one of amusement. “Douglass has been monitoring all his communications since we got back to Monterrey. Your father’s taken special care to avoid anyone who could let Stone know what’s actually going on.”

“So they aren’t working together?”

“At this point I’d have to say no. Your father lost his only bargaining chip. He’s desperate.” His eyes darkened and she realised he was giving a slow perusal of her legs, bare since she was wearing one of his shirts. “It’s easier to tell what men want when they’re desperate.”

He turned away from her, started to open the door.

It must have been split-second insanity, because she was across the room and had her face pressed against his chest a moment later, stretched up as high as she could on her tiptoes so she could lock her arms aroun

d his neck. “Please be careful,” she whispered, strangely emotional from watching him gear up and leave.