then by God, I should be able to.” She nodded to herself and poured a generous amount into a wine goblet. “You can watch for all I care. I want to have a normal life again.”
She balanced the wine glass in her fingers and picked up a lighter for the citronella candles and her book from the table. She shoved the lighter in her back pocket and stuck her book under her free arm. Emma crossed the room and stepped through the sliding doors. The potted pansies fluttered in the slight wind. She dropped the book on the lounger and left the wine glass on the ground beside the chair.
“Seems like a nice time to take in some afternoon sun.” Shielding her eyes with her hand, she glanced around at the neighboring terraces. For a humid late July afternoon, no one seemed to be home and that suited her fine. “Looks like we’re alone, anyway.”
“You try my patience,” Quint growled. He plopped down onto the balcony railing. “Anyone with a good shot could take your ass out right now. Why are you chancing it?”
“I’m not chancing anything with you standing there ready to take the bullet,” Emma snorted. Six months of having someone watching her managed to kill her modesty. Sure, time spent in her bedroom meant time alone. Anywhere else in the apartment gave Quint ample view of what she did. Most of the time his presence didn’t bother her. He was Sam’s best friend. They shared everything—except her. So she enjoyed strolling to the kitchenette every once in a while in the nude? Quint, being the consummate good guy with a foul mouth, never acted on impulse. Sam alluded to wanting a threesome with her and Quint. Based on Quint’s reactions, she doubted the event would happen—the talk needed to evolve into action.
Whatever.
“I’m going to immerse myself in a book.” Emma knelt next to the citronella candles and lit all three. She placed one candle on the Parsons table beside her lounger and moved the wine glass up onto the same table. “Time to get caught up in the latest with Ned, Stacey, and Marlon.”
She stared at the words on the page, but didn’t really see them. Her mind wandered to thoughts of the past. When the first few threats showed up at her door, Sam insisted she go into hiding. He didn’t want the lives of others in danger if she went out about her business. Who wanted to harm the woman shelving books at the library?
Morales and his gang.
Once he got her behind closed doors, Sam admitted he didn’t want her in harm’s way. Morales confessed without a doubt he wouldn’t quit until he silenced the witnesses. He hadn’t lied. Images from the paper came to mind. The elderly woman buying bread. The teen with the hatchback. Neither lived a week past the robbery and original murders. Then again, once the talk in the papers faded, so did Morales’ fame.
Whatever they did, she felt safer. Morales threats stopped coming more than a month prior, but the papers mentioned him on a weekly basis. Still, the lull did little to comfort her. She missed her jobs at the community center and the library. Missed seeing people and talking to her friends. Sure, she had Quinton. He cared and made sure she never got too lonely. But he wasn’t enough. Most of all she missed Sam.
Emma sighed. Thinking about the past and what she couldn’t have depressed her. “I’m tired of being miserable,” she muttered. But what was she going to do? Call Quint? Poof Sam into her room? Damn.
The white wicker lounger creaked as she shifted. Sunshine glittered above the tree line and sent shadows dancing across the concrete pad. A perfect day to lay around on the balcony with something other than a book. She tossed the book onto the table, then strode back into the apartment and retrieved the toy from her bedroom. A little play on the balcony wouldn’t hurt.
Untying her bikini top, she slid the soft material off her shoulders and dumped it next to her and sat down again. Emma blew the annoying ebony locks from her
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