Desperate Hearts

You Will Know I Speak the Truth

Belle's expression grew stern. "What did that woman do?"

Milah's rebukes rattled around Mr. Gold's head, and for a moment, he couldn't answer. A true father would have given his son something better than the village coward. A true lover wouldn't have to bed his woman lying on his side. A true husband would have made his wife an honored widow instead of a laughingstock. A true man would have died.

Mr. Gold shrugged. "She became dissatisfied."

* * * * *

Neal scrambled up to the branch that supported the rocking hammock with Emma close behind. As she settled beside him, he said, "We can watch for Tink better from here." And when she comes, we'll tell her how long to stay away.

Emma leaned into him. "So, which story next: Valentine's Day or Heart in a Box?"

Neal scowled. "Is that second one what it sounds like?" According to Snow, removing hearts was Cora's specialty. Surely, Papa couldn't do that.

"You're right." Emma chuckled. "We've had enough detached body parts for tonight. Valentine's Day it is."

The holiday of chocolates and flowers. With Papa involved, Neal suspected the tale wouldn't be so sweet. He'd thought him changing back to human on the outside meant he'd changed back on the inside as well. Evidently, the imp stayed put.

"This story starts in the morning with Gold and his hired giant—Dave the Dove—calling on Moe French. Trust Gold to pick the florist's biggest day of the year to repossess his van."

Knowing Papa, Neal was sure he was strictly within his rights. Which made it no less of a jerk move.

"As you can imagine, Moe is pissed. He goes to Gold's house and breaks in. Maybe he meant to look for his keys. Instead, he loots him. A neighbor calls both me and Gold. When I get there, the door's open, so I burst in, gun out. What do I see? Gold leaning on his cane, pointing a gun at me."

You're lucky it wasn't a fireball.

"I keep mine trained on him until he lowers his. Then he tells me he knows who robbed him and he'll take it from here. Well, that sounds ominous. When I insist, he finally tells me about Moe."

Neal rubbed his chin. "Can you believe it? We used to be thieves. Now you're catching them." August said you'd do better if I wasn't around.

Emma laughed. "Want to know the headline Regina had printed in the local paper when I ran for sheriff? 'Ex-Jailbird Emma Swan Birthed Babe Behind Bars'."

Neal felt the words like a punch to his gut. He groaned.

Emma draped her arm across his shoulders. "You're not quite off the hook for that one." She gave him a squeeze. "Anyway, at Moe's shop Storybrooke's ex-thief Sheriff finds four cartons of trinkets but no Moe. When I call Gold to the station to collect his stuff, instead of thanking me, he gripes. 'You've recovered nothing. There's something missing.' Out he stomps, looking like he wants to kill someone."

Neal's forehead knit together. But he didn't, did he? Emma would have said.

"The rest of the day, as I cruise around, I keep an eye out for Moe—not just 'cause he's a suspect but 'cause I fear for his life. Patrolling the forest loop that night, I see the Game of Thorns van—parked beside a cabin Gold owns. When I get out, I hear him shouting. 'She was innocent.' 'You hurt her.' 'It's your fault she's gone.' 'Your fault.'"

"Wow." She?

Emma nodded. "When I get inside, I see Moe tied up and Gold whaling on him with his cane. Well, I grab his wrist before he can strike another blow."