Page 18 of Mine to Hold
“Of course you will.” She stormed into the house and raced up the stairs. She could pack everything she owned in a matter of minutes. She didn’t collect things. All she had was two suitcases that housed her clothes and a backpack for her electronics.
And because this little rental wasn’t a place she planned on calling home for any length of time, she had literally been living out of her suitcases, not bothering to unpack.
She quickly snagged the few things she had in the bathroom, tossing them into her bag.
“Hey, do you need a hand?” Emmerson called.
“If you want to pack the few food items I have in the kitchen, feel free.”
“I think I can handle that.”
As quickly as she could, she finished in the bedroom. She hoisted her backpack over her shoulder and lifted the suitcase with her money and carried it down the steps. “I’ve got one more bag upstairs.”
“Let’s put all this stuff in your car, and then I’ll go get it.” Emmerson stood in the family room holding two bags. “Is there anything else in here that’s yours?”
“Nope. But I’m supposed to clean this place, strip the bed, and take out the trash before I leave, or I’ll get dinged with a cleaning fee.”
“No, you won’t,” he said. “And I’ll make sure you get your rent back. What did you pay for this place?”
“Two fifty for the week.” She followed Emmerson out the door.
He mumbled something under his breath.
“This is me.” She pulled out her key fob and unlocked her vehicle.
“All right. Stay right here. I’ll go get your other bag, and then you can follow me back to my place. We’ll hammer out the lease agreement tomorrow after work.”
“Um, are you good with a three-month rental?”
“Yeah, sure, that’s fine.” He nodded. “Hang tight.”
He raced off down the sidewalk.
She cocked her head. Damn, he had a sexy swagger, even when he was being a total controlling asshole.
But he was right. That house was a shithole. Nothing worked right. The toaster nearly electrocuted her the first time she tried to use it. There was no hot water and when she complained, the asshole who owned the place told her she probably wasn’t turning the knob the right way.
Worse, the water that came out of the faucet was this weird light-brown color. She wasn’t about to drink that shit, so she had to buy bottled.
The air conditioning barely worked, so she’d sweat like crazy at night. Half the time she slept on the sofa downstairs. Emmerson offering to let her go to his place should be seen as a godsend.
But it wasn’t.
Not anymore.
Now she was a potential witness in a murder investigation.
The same exact fucking thing she’d been running from for fifteen years.
Emmerson checked his rearview mirror. Rumor was right on his tail. He tapped his cell, calling his mother. He put the phone on speaker and set it on the cradle on the dash.
This conversation wasn’t going to go well.
“Hey, Emmerson. Is the CSI unit there?” his mother asked. “I’ll be heading out there in twenty.”
“They weren’t there when I left,” he said. “I was told they would be there shortly. Chris is managing things.”
“Why did you leave?”
