Heal Me

Sometimes, to fix the broken, you have to break the rules.

. . .

Prologue

It's rude to stare. Emily had been taught that from a young age. When she was around nine or ten her mother would take her along to many an event, dinner and fundraiser. She could remember being enthralled by all larger, important people that her mother associated herself with. The women were tall; beautiful and business like. The men sharp; clad in dark suits and dry expressions. Emily would stare transfixed at these people, wondering how they were not dying from boredom like she was.

She used to make up stories about them. In her mind the tall, shapely European woman was not a politician but an undercover agent working to bring down the evil man who had killed her secret lover. By the time Emily was eleven she had a journal filled with every single story she'd dreamed up about the people she stared at. Her mother discovered it when she was cleaning Emily's room. Or rather the cleaning lady did and it was thrown in the bin.

That was the first time Emily knew: she hated her mother.

But now as she stared at his door she felt that same sensation she felt when she watched her mother throw her precious stories into the bin. Sick, a horrible churning in her stomach that made her heart clench with pain and regret.

This could end badly and she knew it. He had just attended her funeral for God's sake! To him – she was dead. A floating ghost in a sea of memories and faces, doomed to be forgotten. Even before her 'death' she was nowhere on his radar. He favoured the attractive women, women who jumped into bed at the first offer.

Emily was the opposite of his type. Where they were loud, she was silent. She preferred to be curled up on the couch with Sergio rather than hit the clubs. Also women who were opinionated didn't go down well with him. He liked her well enough – Emily knew that – but she also knew he didn't fall for women who were all about equality.

She took a few steps back from the door and threw her hair back out of her face. Rage was bubbling in her stomach. Damn Doyle! He had ruined everything! Because of him Emily could have possibly lost the only chance with the man that made her heart flutter in her chest every time she saw him. Now she was 'dead' and there was no hope in hell that this would be fixed until Doyle had been found.

Emily's gaze fell back on the door and she folded her arms against her chest. She felt cold, shaky and she ached for the warmth that she craved. The warmth of another human being. Or his warmth more likely. It was now, or never. She owed him an explanation. That much she knew. Or maybe she knew that she wouldn't be able to leave DC until she had seen him and explained. Her own weakness.

Slowly, ever hesitant, Emily raised a hand and knocked three times on the solid door. She took four quick steps back, and pulled her hood over her hair, letting the dark locks fall forward to shield her face. In her mind she had rehearsed this over a million times. Each time his reaction was different. Rage, hurt, pure happiness and even – much to Emily's embarrassment - lust filled.

The door opened with a snap and Emily caught a glance of his feet, clad in dark woollen socks. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for what was due to come.

"May I help you?" he said, a deep reverberating timbre that sent warm shivers coursing over her skin.

"I'm hoping so" Emily said, adding an Italian lilt to her voice.

"Well get on with it because I've had one hell of a day and I am not in the mood" he snapped.

"I'm looking for someone I think you might know"

"Spit it out already. Stop wasting my time"

"Her name is Emily. Was she a waste of your time?" Emily asked and lifted her head, pushing back her hood as she went.

His eyes widened in deep shock, eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. The book he held in his left hand fell to the floor with a soft thump. Emily stared into his darkened eyes, and felt the familiar warm shiver pass through her. His lips were rounded in a soft oh of surprise and for a moment Emily almost forgot that she was supposed to be dead.

"No" he breathed.

"Yes"