7. Emory

7

EMORY

" W hat's wrong?"

Cole's eyes narrow to slits. I can see the vein sticking out on his temple. He's ready for action. Ready to hurt someone.

Only this time, there's no one to hurt. Unless maybe it's the grim reaper.

"Did Lovejoy and his goons do something?" Cole demands.

"No, my dad's just sick, Cole. He's been sick for a long time, and he has to go to the hospital. That's pretty much all I know at this point."

Understanding dawns in his eyes.

"All right. Do you know which hospital?"

"No…wait, yes. Smidt. Our insurance is set up that he'd go to Smidt, most likely. I'll text my Mom to confirm."

"Do it on the road. Come on."

He checks to make sure the coast is clear before letting me come outside. As soon as the truck door slams shut, he's already burning rubber to get out on the road. I nearly drop the phone as we screech around a corner and head for the freeway.

"Mom says he's in Smidt," I announce.

Cole nods his head. His eyes dart all over the place, as if he wants to peer inside every car, and scrutinize every pedestrian we pass on the way. I know I should be just as worried as Cole is. Yet, concern for my own well being has been completely co-opted by worrying for my father.

I get a sick feeling in my stomach on the way to the hospital. It feels like someone clutching my guts and twisting them up in knots. It's all I can do to not vomit. I rock gently in my seat, trying to keep my mounting frustration under control.

"Is everyone going to pass us just to go ten miles an hour?" I sputter. "What is this guy's problem?"

"I'll get us there as fast as I can," Cole says. He guns the engine to pass the car ahead of us.

I shake my head. "What if this is it? What if we get there, and my Dad is dying? Or what if he's already dead? Oh my god, he tried to call me the other day and I didn't answer because I was in the middle of working with the band. I never got back to him! I never got back to him, Cole, and now it's too late."

"Emory!"

Cole's voice is loud, but not harsh. It draws me out of my panic attack.

"You're starting to spiral, Emory. Hold it together. Your father could be all right."

"Or he might not be! Some of us don't have purple hearts. Not everyone can deal with horror as easily as you can."

He winces. I realize that I've said too much. I actually don't know how much tragedy is hiding behind Cole's stoic gaze.

"All I can tell you is what they taught me during my demo disposal training," he says, his tone carefully even. "Sometimes, you'll run into a situation where you just don't know which wire is going to set off the bomb, and which one is going to disarm it. If you let your fear and anxiety get the best of you, you'll be shaking so bad you'll wind up cutting both of them anyway. It's best not to focus on all the ways something can go wrong. You'll never be done."

I open my mouth to say something snarky back, but then close it. He's right. I can always find ways things could go wrong.

"Try and picture a pond," he says.

"What?"

"Please, just close your eyes and try it."

I sigh and close my eyes.

"Fine, I'm picturing a pond."

"How does it look?"

"To be honest, the water's all churned up. More like the sea at storm than a pond."

"That's understandable. I want you to imagine that turbulence dying down, the water growing calmer, and calmer, and calmer…"

He slows his voice and drops his pitch as he speaks. In spite of myself, it works. I picture my inner pond growing increasingly placid. When the waters are calm, I'm still scared for my Dad, but I can deal with the fear. It's not overwhelming me any more.

"Pretty neat trick," I say in a tight voice. "You learn that from your instructor, too?"

"No." He shakes his head, eyes growing distant. "I learned it from an old friend of mine."

We make it to the hospital at last. Instead of going to the parking garage, Cole pulls up by the emergency room entrance.

"Go," he says. "I'll find you."

"You aren't worried about me?"

"Of course I am, but the police are watching this hospital closely. There's an organized crime figure getting heart surgery here."

He indicates the heavy police presence both outside and inside the hospital. I hadn't even noticed them. I guess I really was wrapped up with worry for my father.

"Thanks."

I turn away from him and run into the hospital. I try to ask for help at the ER desk, but they stubbornly refuse to even glance at their screen. They send me to the main reception desk instead, which is in a different part of the hospital.

The main reception desk checks for my dad's name, then looks up at me.

"Your father has recently come out of surgery."

"Is he going to be okay?"

She purses her lips into a frown.

"He's out of surgery, that's all the information they have shared with me. Your mother is in the waiting room on the seventh floor."

That's all I need to hear. I rush to the elevator and jam the number seven button. Much to my chagrin, the elevator car stops on nearly every single floor to let more people on.

At last, I reach the seventh floor. I rush around the hall like an idiot until a kindly nurse spots me and points me in the right direction.

I find my mother pacing back and forth in front of a window. She looks so much older than she did the last time I saw her, just the other week.

"Mom!"

I run to her and we hug each other tight. We stand there for quite a while, sharing the tears and the fears in equal measure.

"Is Dad going to be alright?" I ask.

"I hope so." Mom sighs, and wipes the corners of her eyes. "I mean, the doctor said the surgery went very well."

"What happened?"

"His heart started beating irregularly. They had to install a pacemaker."

I grimaced. They had been talking about putting one of those on Dad for a while, but I never thought I'd actually see the day. Dad always said he would be fine with diet and exercise.

"Are you sure it was just his heart?" I ask. "Have you seen any suspicious people around?"

Mom shakes her head.

"No, I haven't seen anyone…wait, is this because that nasty Julian Jovejoy escaped from prison?"

I nod, and she grimaces.

"I never liked him much."

"I know, I should have listened to you."

She shakes her head. "Oh, honey. How could you know someone who's so well revered, who supposedly helps so many people, could turn out to be such a monster?"

It feels good to hear her say that. We sit down together in the waiting lounge, holding hands and hoping for the best.

Eventually, I become aware of another presence in the room. Cole. Once more, he didn't make a sound coming in, but I kind of felt it all the same. He looks like he's afraid to intrude on us.

"Cole," I say, motioning him over. "It's okay, you can come and meet my mother. She doesn't bite."

Mom looks up in confusion as Cole approaches us.

"Who is this?"

"Mom, this is my bodyguard, Cole. Cole, this is my mother."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Thorne," Cole says, offering his hand for a shake.

"Oh my, you're a polite one, aren't you? And a big one."

"All the better to block bullets, Ma'am," Cole says.

Mom turns to me and cocks an eyebrow.

"Is he for real?"

"He's for real, Mom. Decorated former Navy SEAL, war hero, the whole bit."

"Just doing my job," Cole says, looking a little embarrassed.

"Mom, I'm going to talk with Cole for a second, okay? Do you want anything from the commissary?"

"Maybe a cup of tea."

"One cup of tea, coming up," I reply.

Once we're out of earshot, I look over at Cole.

"How could I tell if my father has been poisoned?"

"I'm not sure. I would think that the doctors could figure that out, though."

"Yeah, maybe. I'm just worried that this isn't a coincidence. What if Lovejoy had his chemist buddy poison my father?"

Cole's jaw set hard.

"I'll admit it's a possibility, but unless the doctors find something, it's not a likely one. I don't know of any poisons that are remedied by a pacemaker."

We hit the commissary in the basement and buy some sodas and snacks, as well as tea for my mom. It all feels so strange. Like I'm too young to be at a hospital, wondering if my Dad is going to make it another night.

Cole and I pass the snacks on to my mother.

"I'm low on power," I say, indicating my phone. "I'm going to see if there's a charger I can borrow from the nurses' station."

"All right," Cole says. "Don't leave this floor, and stay in sight of the nurse's station the whole time."

I snap off a crisp salute, because I'm feeling a little cheeky. The longer my father is in recovery without something going wrong, the more I feel he might be alright after all.

"Emory," Cole calls out, leaning his head out into the hallway. "Remember, if you-know-who calls, try to keep him talking for at least three minutes so Harlowe has a chance to trace it."

"Sir, yes, Sir."

Cole's gaze darkens at the bitter snark in my tone.

"What's wrong?"

"My father is gravely ill, Cole, and you're barking orders like I'm one of your privates."

"In the Navy we call them Seamen."

"Whatever, and irrelevant. It's called compassion, Cole. How would you feel if someone you cared about was dying or even dead?"

Cole's lip twitches, and for a moment I think I've pushed him too far. But then his gaze softens, and he nods.

"You're right. I was being a dick. I'm sorry your dad is sick and I hope he gets better soon."

Pleasant shock cascades through my body. Cole has layers. He's not just GI Joe, even if that's what he wants people to think.

It turns out the nurses don't have a spare charger. They recommend the gift shop one floor down, where they have exorbitantly overpriced chargers for sale.

"Here," Cole says, holding his hand out for the charger. "I'll use my expense account for it."

"Trying to buy your way out of the doghouse?" I ask.

"If you like." He flashes me a grin. Cole has a good smile. Too bad he seems afraid to show it.

He also purchases a plastic tub of chocolate covered espresso beans. When I snicker, he tries to defend himself.

"What? The caffeine helps with concentration and alertness, and the carbs from the chocolate are sustainable energy."

"Only you, Cole, would eat something as decadent as that for practical reasons. I bet you ride motorcycles because they're fuel efficient."

"Not to mention easy to park," Cole says without missing a beat.

I can't help but laugh. Even in the face of my father's health scare and Julian's escape, Cole found a way to make me laugh.

After a quick elevator ride, we cozy up in the patient lounge and charge my phone. The espresso beans are too intense for me, but he eats about six. I'm surprised he's not bouncing off the walls.

The long day takes its toll, and I start to doze off. Just when I'm halfway to slumberland, my phone rings.

My heart catches in my throat and I slowly reach for my phone.

I stare at the flashing screen in my hand. Unknown number. Could be spam. Could be a call from a producer who needs my skills for a gig.

And yet, I have this awful feeling there's just one person who's going to be on the other line.

Cole is on his phone, talking to the Platinum Security office's resident tech expert, Harlowe. If I can keep Julian talking for at least three minutes, then they might be able to find his location.

And if they find his location, the police can put hands on him and I'll be safe. If, of course, Cole lets the police get there first.

"Emory?"

Everything's waiting on me. But I can't bring myself to touch the answer icon. The phone stops ringing and I cringe.

"Sorry."

Cole purses his lips. I can tell he's annoyed, but he's trying to keep it from showing. For my sake, or because he's being professional?

"It's all right. Just be ready–"

The phone rings again. Startled, I push the icon and take the call before I can really think about what I'm doing.

My voice falters when I answer.

"H-hello?"

"How's the old man?"

Lovejoy's voice hits me like a shock of electricity. The slightly mocking tone makes me think my darkest suspicions might be right.

"What did you do to my father?"

Sniggering laughter is his response.

"What did you do?" I say again, louder.

"I never said I did anything. He's alive, though. For now."

"Julian, please, your problem is with me! Why do you have to go after my parents?"

Julian's voice takes on a guttural edge.

"Your parents. Your friends. Your co-workers. That perky little brunette who gives you the latte on set. Anyone and everyone you know will suffer."

My heart beats so hard I'm afraid it's going to burst. A sickness grips my stomach with an iron claw. It's my worst nightmare come true. Julian is on the loose, actively threatening me and everyone I love.

The tears pour down my cheeks. I shake so hard I can barely hold the phone.

"Crying doesn't work with me, Emory. You know I can't take negative emotional displays."

"You're threatening my parents! Of course I'm crying! You never understood anyone's feelings but your own. You can't treat people like this and expect them to love you."

His tone changes immediately.

"But I do love you, Emory! Can't you see that? Can't you see all of the things I've done for you? I'd do anything for you, Emory. Anything."

"Then why don't you leave me the fuck alone?"

My back got up. A rare moment of defiance for me. Maybe Cole's toughness is rubbing off. But immediately after the anger flares, fear rushes in to replace it.

"Leave you alone? I just said I love you! I can't breathe without you. You owe me! You owe me your love and devotion. You were nothing before I found you, nothing."

It was true that Julian's connections got me my first really big break. I'd long since stopped being grateful.

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't torture me like this. I don't even want to open my eyes when I wake up in the morning, because I'm so afraid of you."

"Good," he said with such a snide attitude it made me want to scream.

"Good? You really think this is love, when you feel good about terrifying me?"

"It's…that's not what I…you're always twisting what I say around to make me the bad guy. What about you? What about the things you have done?"

I make eye contact with Cole. His stony expression softens to one of profound sympathy. He checks the time and holds up a single finger. One minute. If I can keep Julian talking for one more minute, we can nab him.

"What kinds of things?" I ask, my voice eerily placid.

"You know what you've done. What about that time you humiliated me in front of those Netflix producers?"

"I didn't humiliate you, Julian. You told them you had a completed script when you didn't. What was I supposed to do when they asked me directly about it? Lie?"

"You knew good and well that I could have hammered the rest out in a long weekend! You could have said that you had confidence in me."

"So, lie. You wanted me to lie."

His voice went silent. I mentally tried to tick down the seconds, but I was too worked up to think straight. I was exerting tremendous willpower not to fling the phone away from me like it was on fire. Or pass out.

"You are so ungrateful! But you'll see. You'll learn. You're going to ditch the bodyguard and meet me at an airport to be disclosed at a later date."

"I'm going to what? You don't even make any sense."

"Listen carefully, Emory." His tone has the most sinister edge to it. The edge he always got right before becoming abusive. "You're flying to Colombia, where we'll finally get to talk all of this out in person. When I'm done saying my piece, I guarantee you'll understand."

"Why Colombia?"

"It's a lovely country. You're going to be so happy there. It's a great place to start a family."

The thought of having Julian's children literally makes me gag. I choke, and struggle not to drop the phone as I swallow the hot bile back down.

"I hear you're getting all choked up with sentiment."

"Julian," I say in a clear, hard voice. "I'm never going to sleep with you ever again. I hope I never even have to see your face. I'm not moving to Colombia to start a family with you."

"If you want my friends Phil and Glen to pay a visit to everyone you love, then by all means, don't do what I tell you."

The call ends. I look up at Cole hopefully.

He sighs and shakes his head.

"Not quite long enough to make the trace. I'm so sorry you had to hear his voice again."

"And it was all for nothing. We didn't get the location."

Cole puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"It wasn't for nothing. We know what his plans are."

"We do?"

"He wants to flee to Colombia, for one. And we learned some important things about his mental state. He's clearly still living in a fantasy world. We might be able to use that to our advantage."

I sigh, then try to smile and cup my hand over his.

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up, but there's a dichotomy about Julian you should know about." My smile fades as the bad memories seep in. "True, he's not connected with reality, and may never have been. But he still manages to get things done. Big things, as you've seen."

"Like orchestrating an escape from jail."

"Exactly. He's always been like that. Managing a million dollar book deal one minute, then breaking down and punching a hole in the bathroom wall the next."

Cole's eyes get a down right disturbed light in them. I think maybe he's starting to understand why I've been so afraid.

"I have an idea. We're going to go talk to a friend of mine. He's spent some time in Colombia, he might be able to give us some insight."

I nod. Then, suddenly, I blurt: "I'm starting to think he did something to my Dad."

Cole shakes his head.

"There's no way for us to tell. Maybe the doctors will have some answers."

"But he knew that my Dad was in the hospital. He asked me how he was right away."

"There are a lot of ways he could have found out. Especially considering his resources. For now, your father is in good hands."

"But what if they try to hurt him while he's in the hospital?"

Cole's brows scrunch up with thought.

"Just a minute. Let me fire off some texts to Jax. I think he still has connections in the LAPD. We might be able to arrange a police protection detail."

"Okay, thanks Cole. I'm going for a coffee. Do you want anything?"

His mouth flies open, no doubt to tell me it won't be safe for me by myself.

"The vending machine is literally across the hall from this waiting room. You can see it through the window, right?"

He follows my pointing finger and nods.

"All right, but don't go far. I don't have any reason to believe Lovejoy or his accomplices are in the hospital, but…"

I nod. "I understand."

I walk to the machine, pleased to see that it takes cards. The selection is limited, but I get myself a mocha cappuccino and Cole a plain black coffee.

I return to him and find that he's finishing up his text session with Jax.

"Okay, there's a uniformed officer on the way. We've got them for a week. After that, if this isn't over, Jax is going to have one of the boys come up here."

I almost want to cry. "Thank you. Here."

I hand him his coffee. He sips it and cocks an eyebrow.

"Is this a plain black coffee?"

"Yeah," I reply, feeling bad that he doesn't like it. "Do you want something else?"

"No, I'm fine with black coffee. I was just wondering how you knew I took it this way?"

I shrug. "Lucky guess?"

He shrugs. "Works for me."

Weird. Julian took me to all of those exotic places and drenched me in opulence, but I feel like I enjoy even banal, mundane conversations with Cole so much more. If he wasn't my bodyguard, I'd be crushing so hard right now.

Oh, who am I kidding? I am totally crushing. I can sense Cole's got his demons, but I don't sense the kind of danger I got from Julian.

In a lot of ways, he's the exact opposite of Julian. My ex did nothing but theory, while Cole is all about practice. Julian charms everyone he meets, while Cole comes off as gruff.

Yet, who has the better character? It's not even a contest.

When the uniformed officer arrives, we take our leave. I hug my Mom tight and make her promise to call me when Dad's awake.

When we get into Cole's truck, I start sniffling. The tears just keep coming, even if I don't give in to the ugly cries.

"Sorry," I manage to stammer out between sobs.

"Hey, it's all right. Chin up, Twinkletoes."

He reaches out and rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder. It helps bolster me, a little.

I try to hold it together, but soon I'm blinking away hot tears.

"Twinkle Toes?" I manage to get out between sniffles.

"It just kind of popped into my head. Are you alright?"

"This is my fault, Cole. I brought that evil man into my family's lives."

"No, it's not your fault. You are not responsible for the actions of a clearly deranged individual."

I can hear the sincerity in his tone. Cole really doesn't think it's my fault. I'm not entirely convinced, but his vote of confidence helps, a little.

We drive out to a super trendy place on Rodeo, where we're supposed to meet up with Cole's friend Ryker. Not just trendy, the ultimate, like it's so trendy that there's usually a month-long waitlist for a table. How we got a table on such short notice, I don't know. Then again, there are connections to Hollywood elite in the Platinum Security office. Easton Ross probably has half the movers and shakers in her contacts list.

Cole drives around to the rear, which confuses me at first until I figure it out.

"A VIP entrance. Just who is this friend of yours? A big time producer or exec?"

"Ryker?" Cole bursts into laughter. Again, I decide that he has a good laugh.

"Hell no. Ryker and I served in the Navy together. One of the few people I count as a friend."

"Is he a SEAL, too?"

"Yeah. He was one of the best. Plus, he's an old drinking buddy and even though we work at the same office I hardly ever get to hang with him anymore."

"Why not? Did something happen between the two of you?"

He parks the truck and hands the keys to the valet through the window before answering.

"Nah, nothing happened between us, but something did happen that takes up most of his time."

"What?"

He grins at me. "Her name is Avery."

"Oh," I say, chuckling. "I get it."

"Yeah, believe it or not, they used to hate each other. Or to be more accurate, Ryker hated Avery. Long story, but they worked it out."

"Obviously."

We don't get far into the restaurant when the host confronts Cole about the way he's dressed. I step in and politely request that we borrow a sports jacket for him to throw on. Soon Cole wears a burgundy corduroy blazer a bit too small for his broad shoulders.

"I look ridiculous," he says as the host leads us to Ryker and Avery's table.

"No, you look…great." It's hard to talk while stifling giggles.

"Laugh it up, why don't you?"

"I thought that's what I was doing."

We're led into a small, intimate dining area with only one table occupied. I remember seeing Ryker at the office, but he sure looks different from his wife. Ryker is tall, dark, and muscled. Avery has the appearance of an angel, with pale blonde hair and soft blue eyes. It's hard to believe they're a couple, except for the obvious chemistry between them.

They're leaning close and whispering to each other, knowing smiles on their lips, when we arrive. We're almost at the table before they notice us.

"Oh hey."

Ryker and Avery get up. Cole goes for a handshake, but they both hug him instead. Cole's comical anxiety about the PDA makes me hide a smile behind my hand.

"Ryker, Avery," Cole says, gesturing to me. "This is my…client, Emory."

There is just the slightest hesitation before he says client. What was he about to say? I'm dying to know. I should be worried about staying alive, and catching Julian. But for some reason I really want to know how Cole feels about me.

"Nice to meet you," Ryker says, shaking my hand. Avery gives me a warm smile and shakes my hand as well.

"I love your hair," she says. "Donatello?"

"Close, same salon. Enrique."

She chuckles and I realize I want to be friends.

We sit down and make small talk about the menu and traffic.

"How's the baby?" Cole asks.

"A real handful, but we wouldn't trade being a parent for all the world," Ryker says with a laugh. "You just have to remember the lumpy rule."

"The lumpy rule?" I ask.

"Yeah," Ryker says. "If the baby is crying, you feel the diaper and if it's lumpy you say ‘honey, I'm going to the garage, I think the baby is crying.' Works like a charm."

Avery rolls her eyes.

"He talks tough, but Ryker would do anything for our kid."

After we put in our orders, Cole cuts to the chase.

"If you were an American fugitive fleeing to Colombia, where would you go?"

Both Ryker and Avery flinch, then exchange glances. From what I've heard, things got pretty rough down in Colombia.

"Bogota," Ryker says.

"He's right," Avery says with a nod. "Medellin is too high profile, and there aren't as many English speakers in Salento. Bogota would be perfect, as long as your fugitive has money."

"Oh, he's got money," I say.

"Colombia doesn't have an extradition policy with the USA," Ryker adds. "He could walk the streets with impunity."

The conversation diverts to other, lighter things. I'm grateful on one level, but on another, I feel like I can't really enjoy the dinner or the company, as delightful as Avery and Ryker are.

All I can think of is that I need to do what Julian tells me and keep my family safe.

"Cole," I say as we exit the restaurant, bellies full. The sun has set and cooled the city somewhat. A fresh breeze comes in off the Pacific. It feels good.

"What is it, Emory?"

His voice is soft, like the breeze. I look into his eyes and I just want to be with him. To enjoy his company. But my evil Ex's shadow falls over all of that.

"I think I should go ahead and meet with Julian."

"What? No." He shakes his head with vehemence. "That's a terrible idea."

"I didn't say I was actually going to fly to Colombia. I just want to draw him out into the open. We can use me as bait."

"That's not a good use of our time, and it may not work, anyway. I think we should try and find Lovejoy and his accomplices."

"How are we going to do that? He never calls for long enough for us to get a trace."

Cole's brows lift high on his face.

"We may not know where they are, but we know where they're going. We'll work backwards."

I admire his confidence. If anyone else were here, I might not believe them.

But I get the feeling Cole isn't going to rest until Lovejoy is dealt with, and I'm safe. I guess I could do worse for a bodyguard.

A lot worse.