the touch of a man. Her body cried out for more contact, but not in a sexual way. She simply wanted to be held by someone bigger and stronger, someone who could fold her into his arms and make her feel safe. She wanted to lay her head against Matt’s chest and surrender her worries and fears. For one brief, aching moment, she wanted a man to take care of her, to fix her problems and give her the gift of rest.
It was a lovely fantasy, but that’s all it would ever be. In reality, there was no knight in shining armor waiting in the wings, ready to swoop in and rescue her from the nightmare her life had become. And while Emma prided herself on her accomplishments as a single mother, she wasn’t too proud to admit that she missed having a partner, someone to share things with and lean on for support when the going got tough. She’d had that once with Chris. Would she ever find it again?
Doesn’t matter, she told herself. Her loneliness wasn’t important, not right now. She couldn’t allow self-pity to distract her from her search. She’d never forgive herself if she missed a clue because of pointless navel-gazing.
“I’m trying to stay positive,” she said, forcing herself to return to the conversation. “But it’s hard. Every minute that passes without her feels like an eternity.”
“I can imagine.” Matt’s eyes were full of sympathy and a hint of understanding, as if he had some idea of what she was going through.
“Do you have children?” He’s probably a great dad, she figured. She imagined him playing catch with a towheaded boy, a smaller version of himself. She felt a pang in her heart as she pictured him hugging his son, burying his nose in the little boy’s hair. Does he take it for granted, the way I used to?
To her surprise, the light left his eyes and a wall shot up between them. “No,” he said shortly. “I’m not a father.” His tone was curt; it was clear she had inadvertently touched a nerve.
“Oh,” she said dumbly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
He ignored her apology, changing the subject. “You said you and your brother camped here a lot as kids. I’m going to grab a map of the park so you can mark where you think he’d go.” He pushed back from the desk and stepped away, leaving Emma alone with her cold cup of coffee.
She gripped the mug, staring into the dark liquid. For the first time in days, she felt like she could catch her breath. And as she watched Matt walk back toward the desk, moving with an easy confidence she envied, a strange sensation took root in her chest. It took her a few seconds, but she finally identified the feeling.
Hope.
* * *
This was shaping up to be a lot harder than he’d thought.
Joseph frowned as he watched his niece play with a small cloth ball, rolling it across the surface of the sleeping bag. She was all smiles now, but he’d learned quickly that her mood could change on a dime. Not even ten minutes ago she wailed loudly after he’d removed a rock from her mouth. Her quicksilver temper was enough to give him whiplash. How did Emma handle this? He was only three days in and ready to throw in the towel.
“Not much longer,” he said quietly, not wanting to disturb the baby’s play. He’d given Emma a deadline for the money—he’d been quite generous with the amount of time he’d granted her to get the funds.
It didn’t have to be this way. Bitterness rose in his chest as he pictured his sister. He’d come to her in good faith, asking for help to pay his gambling debts. She hadn’t been his first choice. He’d much rather take care of his own problems—he had his pride, after all. But the debt was out of control, and there was no way he could scrape together that kind of cash in time to keep the enforcers at bay.
Karnov was not a patient man. Whispers swirled that he was in with the Russian mafia. Joseph had dismissed them as mere rumors, but now he realized what a mistake that had been.
Even now, he broke into a cold sweat at the memory of Karnov’s warning. Joseph had literally been plucked off the street and thrown into the back of a van, a cloth bag jerked down over his head. When they’d stopped, he’d been manhandled into a warehouse. Someone had pulled the bag away to reveal an unsmiling Karnov and a gun, inches away from Joseph’s nose.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Karnov had said.
“Please, I’ll do anything.” Joseph had nearly soiled himself, and only the two men gripping his arms had kept him from falling to his knees. “I just need a little time to get the money together. A month, that’s all.”
“Two weeks.” Karnov uncocked the pistol and let his arm hang by his side. “And I’m charging you interest. Now it’s five hundred thousand.”
The figure had taken Joseph’s breath away, but he couldn’t exactly protest. “Thank you,” he’d said, swallowing hard. Not for the first time, he cursed his bad luck. First, he’d backed the wrong football teams. Then, he’d tried to buy himself out of the hole by betting on ponies. That had only made things worse.
And so, out of options, he’d come to his sister, tail between his legs.
“I’ll pay you back,” he’d promised. And he’d meant it. He had no intention of mooching off his baby sister; it was more like he’d asked her for a loan.
But Emma hadn’t seen it that way. “Joseph,” she’d said, perfectly replicating the note of disappointment their mother had mastered over the years. “How could you do this to yourself again? You’re smarter than that.”
He was smart, that much was true. But neither the football teams nor the ponies respected intelligence. It was all a game of chance, and Lady Luck hadn’t smiled on him in far too long. He certainly hadn’t meant for things to get so out of hand, but life was a cruel bitch sometimes.
The downturn in his fortunes had stung, but not nearly as much as his sister’s denial. Emma’s refusal to help him was a betrayal of their relationship, and it cut him to the quick. She had the money—he knew she’d gotten a fat settlement from the other driver after Chris’s death. But she lied to his face, acting like she had nothing to give.
“I don’t have the money.” She’d said that several times, as if repetition would convince him to believe her lies. “The other driver doesn’t have money, so I’m not getting any.”
Yeah, right. Did she think he was stupid? The guy who was responsible for killing Chris might not be Mr. Moneybags, but Joseph knew he was paying. Maybe not all at once, but a monthly sum had to add up quick, and it had been over a year since the judgment. By his reckoning, Emma was sitting on a nice lump of cash. It might not be enough to pay his debt in full, but it would definitely buy him some breathing room. He’d heard through the grapevine that Karnov’s enforcers were brutal, going so far as to remove body parts from debtors.
But no matter how clearly he explained the situation, she clung stubbornly to her lies.
“I know you want to use the money for Christina’s education,” he’d said. “And I’ll have plenty of time to pay you back. You won’t even miss the funds.”
“No, Joseph. I can’t help you.”
More like won’t, he’d realized as he left her apartment. If he’d had more time, he probably could have come up with a way to persuade her to lend him the money. But a few hours after his conversation with Emma,
