Stay With Me...

Chapter 12- Mistakes Were Made

The trip back to the apartment was silent. John had driven, hands tight around the wheel and she fiddled with her phone. When they got back, Emmaline had to hurry behind him. She knew what she did; lied, told him that Jeremy was dead. Clearly, up until half an hour ago, he was not.

"What the fuck just happened?" John yelled, dropping the bags on the sofa. "You told me he was dead. That was just another lie. Has anything you've ever said been true?"

"John, you're overreacting." Emmaline had perfectly good reasons for telling him that Jeremy was dead. One of them being that she thought she would never see him again. "I can explain. And you know what, that's a pretty hefty accusation there, I know I wasn't honest about a lot, but I thought you had learned to trust me by now!"

"Yeah? You can explain?" He folded his arms across his broad chest, "Then do it."

Emmaline sighed, dropping onto an armchair, shrugging off her coat and tossing it to the coffee table. "When I said he was dead I meant he was dead to me." She cringed a little, hating how much of a half-assed excuse it was.

"That's still not an explanation. You two were engaged and then all of a sudden he's dead to you?" John wanted to believe her, to trust her, hell, he did trust her, but she kept giving him reasons not to.

"It's a long story. I didn't tell you because it's easier to say he died and pretend what he did didn't hurt." They looked at each other, eyes meeting, his pleading with her to tell the truth and hers begging him to understand. "It was two and a half, maybe three years ago. Arthur had just taken control and had been sending me out on my own jobs but most of the time I just tagged along with Jeremy on his." Swiping at her eyes hastily, Emmaline shook her head, remembering the night she realized that it was better than Jeremy had died than she had married him.

***

It was cold. Then again, England was almost always cold . Not to mention that it was nearing winter and they were currently stationed at a private harbor, at one in the morning. "This is taking to long." Emmaline commented, annoyed. "I want to go home, where there's heat."

Chuckling, Jeremy put an arm around her, drawing her closer, "Patience baby." She loved they way it sounded when he called her that, his accent adding an extra flare. "Most of the guests are already leaving. And soon the guards will change shifts. We'll  get in pretty easy and end that fucker."

"And then go home?" She finished, glancing up at his handsome features, drinking in his beauty. Emmaline leaned into Jeremy's side. They were wedged between two  large crates covered with tarps. They were waiting for the shift change so they could get into the docked yacht of a German gang leader, Anton Emil. His organization was small, but growing quickly. Worst yet, He was a direct rival of  Arthur, threating to make claims on some of the Maxwell's long established 'business deals'. Most recently, Emil's people had managed to steal an import of  arms and illegal car parts. Arthur wanted him dead, not just because of the theft, or his own personal vendetta, but also as a message to Emil's crew.

Instead of confirming Emmaline's words, Jeremy leaned down, burying his head in the crook of her neck, sucking on her pulse. Trying to suppress her giggles, Emmaline playfully tried to shove him away, "Stop, we're supposed to be watching. The guards could change any minute."

"Relax Emmsy," He checked his watch, "The change won't be made until 2:15."  The words slipped out of his mouth so carelessly that she almost didn't notice.

Almost. But she did. Frowning, she asked curiously, "How did you know that? Arthur didn't even know. He just said that it was between one and three."