“You’re lying.” Emerson scanned the hallway and edged toward Lance. “Move back.”
Lance kept pushing. “No one blames you for covering for your son. That’s what parents do, right? But the DNA test will come back, and it’ll show that Jacob was the father of her child.”
“He was not!” Emerson jerked his head toward the corridor that led to the elevator. “Now move out of the way or I’ll kill her.”
If Emerson thought he was doomed, he might kill her anyway. Hatred gleamed darkly in his eyes.
Morgan’s free hand was on her thigh. She was shaking her fist, as if trying to get Lance’s attention.
He watched as she extended three fingers, then two, then one.
What is she going to do?
Her hand shot upward between her neck and the blade while her body dropped to the floor. Blood streaked the back of her arm as the knife sliced it open.
As soon as she hit the floor, Lance had a clear shot at Emerson. He squeezed the trigger twice.
The bullets struck Emerson in the shoulder and chest. He jerked backward. The knife sailed from his grip and clattered to the floor.
Morgan rolled away, and Lance rushed forward. He had a boot on Emerson’s arm, pinning him down. Emerson’s fingers clawed for the knife.
“You’re going to pay for what you did.” Lance loomed over him, anger coursing hot through his veins. “You and your son.”
“My son had nothing to do with it,” Emerson wheezed. “I killed Tessa Palmer.”
Lance leaned closer. “Did she threaten to tell everyone how Jacob raped her?”
“No.” Emerson shook his head. “I didn’t even know about those pictures until the police called me.” He wet his lips with his tongue. “I loved her.”
Lance couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “What?”
“I loved her from the first time I met her.” Beads of sweat broke out across his brow. Blood welled from the wounds and stained the green scrubs and stolen lab coat red. “She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. She was going to betray me. She made me do it. It was all her fault.”
A doctor rushed forward and began treating Emerson, but he grabbed Lance by the shirt.
“You have to hear this. In case I die. Jacob didn’t do it.” Emerson licked his lips again and kept talking. “Jacob came home from the party. He told me about the fight with Nick over Tessa. He was in his room when she called. She told me to meet her at the gazebo. If I didn’t show up, she’d tell everyone. I knew she was going to break it off with me so she could be with Nick. Jacob had said they’d gone off together, but I had to have her one more time.” He took two wheezing breaths. “Afterward, she was crying. She said it would never happen again. She was going to tell her grandparents. I lost it. How could she turn on me? I loved her. I barely remember attacking her, chasing her, killing her. It’s all a blur. I couldn’t stop myself. When it was over, I realized what I’d done . . . I knew she’d been with Nick that night, so I drove to his house and buried the knife in his yard.”
His hand dropped from Lance’s shirt, too weak to maintain his grip. “It was me. Not Jacob.” His eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out.
Lance holstered his weapon and went to Morgan. A nurse was holding a pressure bandage on her arm. Emerson’s blade had sliced the outside of her arm open from wrist to elbow. But the wound wasn’t critical, and relief poured through Lance like cold water.
He could have lost her.
“Did you hear any of that?” He took her uninjured hand.
“Yes.” Her face was grim, either from the pain or from the truth they’d finally discovered. “Tessa moved here when she was twelve. I wonder how long it was going on?”
“Long enough to be sick.” Lance watched two orderlies hoist Emerson onto a gurney and wheel him away. He almost wished his aim had been a little truer. Lance had no pity for Emerson, not after what he’d done.
“And long enough to be a felony,” Morgan said.
Long enough for exposure of his crime to be a motive for murder.
“I’ll bet she was going to tell him she was pregnant, but he never gave her the chance.” Lance turned from the sight of Emerson disappearing down the hallway. “I can’t believe that either Emerson or his son could be the father. Two monsters, one family.”
Morgan’s face was pale, her features pinched with pain. Enough of the Emersons. He wasn’t going anywhere. There would be plenty of time to worry about him later. He rubbed her hand, and she smiled at him through the pain.
A doctor approached Morgan. “Let’s have a look.” He lifted the bandage and checked the wound. “That’s a nasty cut. You’re going to need some serious stitches.”
She nodded. “But better my arm than my neck.”
The thought almost made Lance sick.
“I was impressed at how you slipped out of his grip,” Lance said.
Although he should have expected her to act heroically, considering how she’d broken Dean Voss’s wrist earlier. But even after seeing her in action, he had trouble reconciling her feminine appearance with her abilities.
She was a girly girl who could kick serious butt. He’d have to get used to that fact.
“I’ve told you before that my dad and granddad trained me in self-defense, but remind me that I need to practice now and then. I’m lucky I remembered.” Morgan gritted her teeth as Lance and the young doctor helped her to her feet. “I knew if I could get out of the way, you’d take care of the rest.”
Lance squeezed her fingers.
“Let’s get you down to the ER.” The nurse guided Morgan toward a wheelchair.
Lance held onto Morgan’s hand. He didn’t care where they were going.
He wasn’t letting go.
Chapter Forty-Two
Morgan held her bandaged arm against her body as she slid into Lance’s Jeep. “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight.” Lance closed the car door, rounded the vehicle, and got into the driver’s seat. “Are you in pain?”
“Nope. Not yet.” The painkillers the hospital had given her made everything fuzzy. Her mouth tasted like she’d eaten cotton balls.
“I’ll have you home in fifteen minutes.”
Morgan didn’t remember the drive. She must have dozed off. The next thing she knew she was home and Lance was helping her into the house.
Her grandfather held the door open. Gianna was waiting in the hall.
“She’s fine,” Lance said. “Just a little spacey.”
“If you can get her to her room, I can take over from there.” Gianna followed them down the hall.
“I only hurt my arm. My legs are fine. I can walk.” But Morgan wobbled more than walked.
Lance half carried her to her bed. “Looks like she doesn’t tolerate painkillers any better than alcohol.”
She stretched out. “I can hear you.” But she couldn’t sit up. Her head felt like a water balloon.
“Thanks for saving my girl,” her grandfather said from the doorway.
Lance’s answer surprised her. “Wasn’t me. She saved herself.”
“Not exactly,” she mumbled. She knew she wouldn’t be here without him.
He straightened and shifted away from the bed.
She grabbed for his hand. Her eyes welled with tears. Gratitude and something more filled her with contentment. “Thank you.”