Chapter 10

Not thinking twice about it, Emery soared back into the truck a trembling mess and looked behind her at the reporters snapping pictures, running down the sidewalk. "Jesus…" She whispered, not believing her new hair-do and dye hadn't thwarted them any. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that." She reached over and covered Jon's hand with hers, squeezing it gently. He was her hero for getting her out of a very bad situation with the paparazzi and reporters. "Maybe leaving Tampa permanently isn't a bad idea after all…"

"I don't envy you."

Jon slammed his foot on the gas to put some distance between her and the reporters, wondering how her friend was faring living with that chaos. The last thing he needed was pictures of them circulating. Someone would eventually connect the dots, figure out his relationship with Colby and then... he groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. He was Colby's best friend, one of the inheritors of Colby's jacked up estate and she was Colby's ex, recently determined innocent potential murderer.

"Well fuck."

Going back to the apartment wasn't an option and, thanks to the men giving her phone back, Emery knew Annalise had a date scheduled with Joe that night. She didn't want to drag Jon and Joe into this mess, but they already dove headfirst the moment they kidnapped her. Jon was her only option right now to stay safe and away from the media until Emery could figure out a way to clear her name once and for all.

"Is there some place you can take me for the night, just so I can relax a little and figure out what to do? I promise, it won't be more than a day. Joe is busy with Annalise and…I'm going to ask him to bring her wherever you're taking me. I know you don't trust me and probably hate me, but…I really need your help. Please?"

Jon was torn between laughing outright and groaning because this was one hell of a situation. She, his kidnapping victim, was asking him for help. "You got Stockholm Syndrome, Emery?" He asked, tapping at his head with long fingers. "Yeah, I got a place." He had his own little hovel from hell; something he had leased when it became obvious this trial would drag.

"No of course not! Trust me, I don't want to spend any more time with you than I have to." That was a flat lie. "But right now you're my only option and its survival. You don't have to talk to me and I won't talk to you."

Emery looked away from him to stare out the window, wondering if her life would ever be the same again after this trial. Would Colby Lopez haunt her for the rest of her life? And what were these budding feelings forming for his best friend suddenly, who kidnapped and tortured her for 2 weeks? Emery had to squash them; there was no chance of sparking anything between her and Jon, not when he loathed her. Truthfully, things were a bit too fresh, too raw, and Jon had to add his new issues of being an abusive prick, plus a kidnapper, on top of everything. He had to reconcile the fact he had crossed some extremely shady lines and what he had done to a woman who was... innocent. Jon wanted to throw up. Survival...he would have found that ridiculous if not for the fact that he had just witnessed what vultures those... people were.

"You hungry?" He asked randomly, needing something safe to say to her. Maybe to make things easier between them.

"Sure, yeah. Just stop wherever you want and get me anything chicken." Emery replied quietly, clasping the phone in her hand a little tighter and felt tears burning in her eyes.

Jon ended up stopping at a McDonald's, something quick and safe with Emery keeping her head lowered, trying not to draw attention. They received the food without a problem and 15 minutes later, Jon pulled into an apartment complex on the outskirts of the city. It suddenly occurred to Emery this would be the first time she was alone with Jon, no Joe around to stop him from hurting her if he wanted to. Something told her he wasn't the abusive type and Emery understood why the men kidnapped her. It was one of the many reasons she wasn't turning them in, besides the fact she didn't want to deal with the police ever again. Personally, Jon didn't perceive Emery and didn't bother trying, not right now. What he WOULD do was eat and sleep with one eyeball open because while, she professed she wasn't a killer, -On some level he did believe her- Jon still didn't trust her.

"My little slice of hell." He announced with a sardonic smile, letting her into his austere apartment.

This was not his place of residence, not really, so Jon hadn't bothered with personalizing it. The apartment itself wasn't bad, but it had…nothing. A couch, television set that looked 20 years old with a VCR and DVD player, nothing on the walls. Emery didn't bother venturing further in and sat down on the couch to make herself as comfortable as she could.

"Like I said, I just need to stay here long enough to figure things out." Good thing Jon's windows were tinted in his truck or the paparazzi would've gotten a shot of him as well. They hadn't, hopefully. "I'll sleep on the couch."

He probably had a bed or a mattress in the bedroom, a place Emery would not walk into unless absolutely necessary. Pulling out the food, she handed it over to Jon and felt a jolt of electricity rush up her arm as their fingers brushed together, eyes connecting at the same time. What the hell? Emery tore her gaze away from him and pulled her own food out, setting the paper bag on the floor. That was... interesting. Odd and untimely, but interesting nevertheless.

"Looks like you'll be sharing with me then, Emery." He rumbled, dropping down onto the floor and unwrapped his cheeseburger, stretching his long legs out. Jon eyed her thoughtfully and couldn't keep the half grin off his face when she looked at him confused. "I don't have a bed. The couch is a foldout though."

Could the luck get any worse, Emery thought, feeling extremely awkward for assuming he had anything else in the apartment to sleep on. "No that's…okay. Floor is fine with me."

Where the hell would Joe and Annalise stay if they came back here? Did Joe have his own place in Tampa as well? Would Annalise be alright with the Samoan brute? Honestly, Jon had been the one to torture and put his hands on her, not Joe. If anything, she owed Joe for helping her with the infection in her wrist when she was sick from it. He took care of her and she never thanked him for being kind. Emery ate her food silently, forcing it down her throat because she would not be put in a position again where she was weak and frail from lack of sustenance, especially around Jon.

Jon looked at her and then his thinly carpeted floor skeptically. "That's not going to work, Emery. This floor is cement. You'd wake up feeling like you got run over by a truck." Jon knew from experience because he had slept on it before getting the couch. It had nearly killed him. "I promise, I don't... well... I won't bite." He amended, taking a large bite of his cheeseburger, still staring at her with thoughtful pale blues. "Might wake you up with morning wood though."

She didn't know if he was joking or not, but nonetheless Emery cracked up laughing at him and couldn't stop. It'd been so long since she laughed this hard, her chicken sandwich dropping to the wrapper in her lap. "I – I won't take offense to it then." She managed to say after laughing for 10 straight minutes, enjoying the ache in her sides because it was from something joyous instead of torture or hunger pains. "That hit the spot." Emery finished her last bite and took the trash to the kitchen along with Jon's, who had finished way before her. "Do you at least have something to drink here or should we run out and get a few things?"

"There's uh, water... and beer."

Pushing himself to his feet, Jon shed the over shirt he wore, tossing it without a care over his shoulder and walked into the kitchen, wearing his jeans and white beater. There was no central air or air conditioner in the apartment, which was criminal since it was Tampa. All he had were old-school box fans.

"If you want, there's a corner street just a minute away. We can walk there."

There was no point driving the truck when it was a literal few minute walk. Emery had to learn how to breathe again at the sight of Jon peeling off the first layer of clothing, his muscular tanned arms and white beater covered chest doing nothing to quell the raging fire within her. She hadn't been with a man, or interested in anyone, since Colby.

"Water's fine. I don't need anything special." Sweltering suddenly being this close to him, Emery took her own jacket off and set it in the corner neatly on top of her duffel bag, wearing blue jean shorts and a black tank top, black tennis shoes on her feet. "Do the windows open? We can put one of the fans in to try circulating the air in here, if you want…" This was really awkward.

Jon took a good look around the room. This was pretty much it. The living room and attached kitchen. There was a tiny bedroom and an even tinier bathroom with only a shower, no tub. He paid low rent and received low rent conditions; it suited his needs, but now – now he was thinking that maybe he should have sprung for something nicer. Wait, she was only staying for a night and it wasn't like they were friends, so why the hell did he need to impress her?

"Yeah sure, probably should air the place out too." He agreed, walking over to begin prying open the windows. While he did that, she set up the fans and, when he was done, his beater was covered in dust. "Well... that's gross." He peeled that from his body next.

Emery chewed her bottom lip and did her best not to devour him visually. It wasn't an easy task and she somehow managed it. Jon had an incredible body, muscles for days, but he didn't have too much to where he looked bulky. It was all perfectly proportioned.

"That feels much better." She sighed softly, sitting on the couch again in front of the second box fan and leaned back against it, a fine sheen of sweat already coating her body that was slowly drying on her skin from the breeze. "Hopefully it'll cool down tonight." Tampa wasn't bad during the night because the temperature did drop a little, but it was the humidity that Emery hated.

Jon surveyed her, taking in the denim shorts and tank top, knowing that hair cut definitely had to help with things. "Bet you're glad you cut your hair, huh? Being shorter must make things a lot cooler." He was sure she had to realize he had stalked her since she had gotten out of prison.

If not, now she knew.

"It wasn't an easy decision to make, but I figured since I was leaving town might as well try changing my appearance a little. Fat lot of good it did me, huh?"

Emery turned her head when Jon settled on the couch next to her and didn't bother moving away. She wanted to be close to him. For some odd reason, he made her feel safe, even though he physically hurt her. It made no sense. Hell, look what Colby put her through! What Jon did was mild compared to him and she could tell how awful he felt about it, unlike Colby, when he abused her.

"I'm getting used to the new dye job."

"It doesn't look so bad." Jon shifted on the couch to face her, draping his arm along the back of the couch, studying her thoughtfully. "The blonde was hot, don't get me wrong, but the brown and it being so short... gives you an edgier look."

He could not believe he was sitting here talking about her hairstyles like they were girlfriends or something. Jon had just hit a whole new level of low, doubly because for some jacked up reason, it didn't bother him. Emery didn't miss Jon complimenting her honey blonde hair and smiled, cheeks reddening a little.

"Edgier?" That was different and refreshing to hear. "Hmm maybe it does." She fingered the back of it a little, enjoying the hair no longer being on her neck to where she had to put it up on top of her head. Often, her hair gave Emery a headache from putting it up so much because of how long it'd been. "Has anyone ever told you your hair is adorable?" Did she really just said that? Yes, yes she had and it wasn't a lie. "You have a mop of curls on your head and, at first I thought they were dishwater blonde, but you have red in them. So what are you – an auburn blonde then?"

"Something like that, I guess." Emery had just called his hair adorable. Jon usually kept it wet or gelled, anything to tame the unruly locks, but... Florida heat didn't agree with his hair. There was nothing to be done with it. "Okay, as... fun as this girly talk is..." He shook his hair out, hoping it looked messed up and less adorable. "It's early, you wanna watch some TV or something? Maybe grab a shower." Against better judgment, Jon reached out to trace a finger across her shoulder. "You're sweating."

"It's about 1,000 degrees in here right now. And so are you." Emery remarked, aqua eyes following his finger on her shoulder.

Pale blue mixed with aqua; Emery felt breathless at his simple touch and noticed a drip of sweat sliding down the side of his face. She moved closer to him, brushing it away with her finger and popped it in her mouth, not sure what possessed her to do it. The salty taste of his sweat only intoxicated her further, made her drunk for the man sitting beside her. Hunger and desire clouded her eyes, a passion haze slowly taking over her brain and any rational thought she had. It was just the two of them in front of a single boxed fan; all Emery wanted to do was tear her clothes off and attack Jon, her tongue snaking out to wet her dry lips.