Public Secrets

back into place.
“What are you doing with this?”
“I have a license.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She crouched down to pick up her wallet and compact and brush. “I live in New York, remember?” She said it lightly, while her stomach churned as it always did when she lied. “A lot of women carry guns in Manhattan. For protection.”
He studied the top of her head. “So you’ve had it awhile.”
“Years.”
“That’s interesting, seeing as this model came out about six months ago. From the looks of it, this gun hasn’t been knocking around in your purse more than a couple of days.”
When she stood her whole body was shaking. “If you’re going to interrogate me, shouldn’t you read me my rights?”
“Cut the crap, Emma. You didn’t buy this to scare off a mugger.”
She could feel the skitter of panic, up her back. It made her throat dry and her stomach roil. He was angry, really angry. She could see it in the way his eyes darkened, in the way he moved when he stepped toward her. “It’s my business. If you’re going to take me to the hotel—”
“First I want to know why you’re carrying this around, why you lied to me, and why you looked so damn scared at the airport this afternoon.”
She didn’t say a word, but watched him, just watched him with dull, resigned eyes. He’d had a dog look at him like that once, Michael remembered. It had crawled onto the grass at the edge of their lawn one afternoon when he’d been about eight. His mother had been afraid it was rabid, but when they’d taken it to the vet, it had turned out the dog had been beaten. Badly enough, often enough, that the vet had had to put it to sleep.
A sick rage worked inside of him as he stepped toward her. She stumbled back.
“What did he do to you?” He wanted to scream it, but his voice hissed out through his teeth.

She only shook her head. Conroy stopped scratching at the door and sat quivering.
“Emma. What the hell did he do to you?”
“I—I have to go.”
“Goddammit, Emma.” When he reached for her arm, she rammed back into the wall. Her eyes weren’t dull now, but glassy with terror.
“Don’t. Please.”
“I won’t touch you. All right?” It was training that kept his voice calm and quiet. He never took his eyes from hers. His expression was controlled now, carefully blank. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Still watching her, he slipped the gun back in her purse and set it aside. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not.” But she couldn’t stop trembling.
“You’re afraid of him, of Latimer?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I can help you, Emma.”
She shook her head again. “No, you can’t.”
“I can. Did he threaten you?” When she didn’t answer, he eased a step closer. “Did he hit you?”
“I’m divorcing him. What difference does it make?”
“It makes a hell of a difference. We can get a warrant.”
“No, I don’t want to do that. I want it over. Michael, I can’t talk to you about this.”
He said nothing for a moment. He could all but feel the terror draining out of her and didn’t want to frighten her again. “All right. I know places where you can go and talk to someone else, to other people who know what it’s like.”
Did he really believe there was anyone who knew what it was like? “I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’m not going to have strangers reading about—about all of this over their morning coffee. This isn’t your concern.”
“Do you think that?” he said quietly. “Do you really think that?”
She felt wretchedly ashamed now. In his eyes was something she needed, needed badly if she only had the courage to ask for it. He was only asking for her trust. But she had trusted once before.”
“I know it’s not. This is my problem, and I’m handling it.”

He could see that one nudge too many would cause her to shatter. So he backed off. “All right. I’d just like you to think about it. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“He took all of my self-respect,” she said quietly. “If I don’t do this alone, I’ll never get it back. Please just take me to the hotel. I’m very tired.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

S O THE BITCH figured she could just walk away, Drew thought. She thought she could walk out the door and keep going. He was going to fix her good when he found her. And find her he would. He bitterly regretted that he hadn’t beat her more vigorously before she’d gone to Florida.
He shouldn’t