One Kiss More (12 page)

“Out there?” Emma’s voice climbed an octave as she dug her heels into the tile. “Are you insane?”

“I need to hide you, Emma.” He pulled her along and she nearly tripped on her own feet. “And right now, hiding in plain sight is what’s going to get us out of here in one piece. Just follow my lead and everything will be okay. Trust me.”

Trust him? She wanted to slap some sense into him. “I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back, I look like I just rolled out of bed, and don’t even get me started on the fact that I’m
not wearing shoes
.” She took a deep breath to keep from freaking out. “And you want me to walk out there and face the marshals casing my place, the rabid media, and maybe the person who’s trying to kill me?”

“Yup.”

Dios mio
. His calm self-confidence was going to give her a heart attack. “I can’t do it.”

“You can.” McCabe looked at her from the corner of his eye and a half smile curved his lips. “If you don’t, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and haul you out the door against your will if I have to.”

Why was he doing this? By all rights, she should be handcuffed and in custody right now. She’d never met a straighter shooter than McCabe—seriously, the guy had admitted that he’d arrest his own father if the situation called for it. “I think you should arrest me.” The words left her mouth before she could think better of it. Too late to take it back now.

Landon pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and let out a long-suffering sigh that Emma suspected he saved for moments like this. He was such a drama queen. He leveled his gaze on her, the intensity almost hypnotic, and his mouth formed a hard line. “If you don’t get your ass out that door in the next sixty seconds, I’m going to—”

“What, Deputy McCabe?” A man in a pristine black suit strode through the stairwell doorway, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Is this how a decorated U.S. Marshal conducts business? By sneaking around with suspects?”

Landon reached for his sidearm, and the man in the suit gave him a calm but stern appraisal. “Think very carefully before you pull that piece, McCabe.”

Emma’s heart jumped up into her throat, and she turned to run the opposite direction, only to find her way blocked by similar serious-looking men in suits. Who were they? Because they sure didn’t look like anyone Cesar would hang out with.

“Bill Crawford, SOG supervisory director,” the man said from behind her. She didn’t know what SOG stood for, but she had a feeling this guy’s involvement was going to further complicate an already messed-up situation.

Emma turned to face Bill Crawford, supervisory whatever. Why bother to run, or put up a fight? The moment her living room window had shattered into a million pieces, she’d known that she was screwed. Landon’s expression was an impassive mask, his eyes glued to Bill Crawford’s face as though he doubted every word out of his mouth.

“How do we know you’re who you say you are?” She might as well put what she suspected were Landon’s thoughts into words. He could be one of Cesar’s lackeys come to collect for all she knew.

Bill smiled, and Emma noted that there wasn’t a bit of malice in the expression. He fished a badge out of his pocket and held it up for inspection. “You’re going to have to trust me, Miss Ruiz.”

Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. “And SOG is . . .?”

“Special Operations Group,” McCabe replied, his voice clipped. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Bill, and Emma couldn’t help but notice how he’d positioned his body so that she stood behind his left shoulder. Was he trying to protect her? And if so, why did that make a riot of butterflies swirl in her stomach? Because, really, she should find that totally annoying.

While Bill from SOG and McCabe sized one another up—why did men do that?—yet another guy in a suit opened the door to the stairwell and stepped up beside Bill to murmur something in his ear. Through the little window at the top of the door, Emma noticed a swarm of Seattle police personnel enter the building. To their credit, they kept a low profile and did their jobs without sending the innocent residents milling around the lobby into a full-out panic. Emma didn’t know what she expected. Maybe for them to run in screaming, “Shots fired! Shots fired! Everyone on the ground, now!” Sort of anticlimactic, really. Or it was merely a sign that she needed to lay off the cop dramas. Either way, the business-as-usual attitude on display did wonders for her heart rate, and even though she realized she’d probably be spending the night in a jail cell, at least no one would be shooting at her.

“Hell. No.” McCabe’s outraged voice sliced through the calm of Emma’s thoughts as the door slammed, once again shutting them out from the rest of the world.

She shook herself from her thoughts and looked up to find McCabe standing nose-to-nose with the SOG guy. Apparently she’d missed their entire conversation. And while McCabe looked strung tight enough to snap at the slightest pluck, Mr. SOG was still as calm as a newborn. Maybe when your group operated under the label of “special,” a Zen attitude got the job done.

“I didn’t ask your permission, Deputy.”

“It wouldn’t matter if you had,” McCabe snapped. “You’re not taking her into custody. The Ruiz case is mine, and as far as I’ve been told, the SOG has
zero
reason to be involved.”

“Crawford?” One of his fellow suit-wearing associates approached as though McCabe were a bear trap about to snap down on Crawford’s leg. She’d never thought of him as particularly threatening until now. Dude was pissed enough to blow a gasket at any second. “The lobby has been secured and our guys have Seattle PD under control. How do you want to move forward?”

Bill all but ignored McCabe, who was still all up in his grill, and replied, “Call forensics in to process the condo. And tell them to be thorough.” He cast a sidelong glance at Emma. “Treat it as a murder scene.”

“Murder scene?” McCabe spat, his composure evaporating before Emma’s eyes.

“Unfortunately,” Bill said, turning his gaze back to McCabe, “Miss Ruiz died en route to the hospital.”

Chapter Ten

As though on cue, the sound of a siren howled in the distance. Her stomach coiled tight and a lump formed in her throat. Her brain couldn’t process what was happening and threatened to shut down at any second. Murder scene? Died on the way to the hospital? “
What
?”

Crawford cracked the door leading into the lobby, and Emma watched as a trio of emergency service personnel wheeled a gurney past the front desk and toward the stairwell. “For now, that’s the story. It’s the best we can do on such short notice. You have no choice but to play along.”

Emma’s breath stalled in her chest. Her vision darkened at the periphery and the floor tilted at a strange angle.
Oh shit
. She was going to pass out. No way could she let McCabe see her crumple like a discarded piece of paper. Time out. Time out on the field! Emma was tough, damn it. She could hold her own, and despite everything that had happened, life hadn’t managed to beat her down yet.

“Emma?” McCabe’s voice went from growly to concerned in a beat. Go figure. “Are you okay?”

She supposed the gurney wasn’t a bad idea considering her legs were about to give out on her. The adrenaline high that kept her going thus far began to wane, and wouldn’t you know it, at the worst possible time. McCabe took a step toward her, and Emma’s spine went ramrod straight. “I’m fine, McCabe. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Vulnerability wasn’t something Emma could afford right now. And likewise, she refused to give anything up to these SOG guys that would confirm the fact that McCabe had been trying to sneak her out of the building under everyone’s nose. He’d saved her life tonight, it was the least she could do for him.

“What are you guys doing here and what makes you think I’ll play along with your little murder scenario? I don’t exactly look like I’m about to keel over.”

Bill smiled, and what she’d first thought of as calm and friendly came off as a little devious and creepy. He took two quick steps toward her and smashed his palm into her chest right above her left breast. With a quick tug to open the stairwell door, he shouted, “She’s bleeding! I need an EMT over here!”

Emma looked down at her pink T-shirt as a sticky pool of red spread out on the cotton fabric. Eyes wide, she watched as Bill removed a handkerchief from his pocket and casually wiped the crimson liquid from his palm. “I suggest you play along and hit the deck, Miss Ruiz. Otherwise, I don’t know if I’ll be able to save your father.”

She shifted her gaze to McCabe, jaw slack. His expression echoed her own, and once again she felt her legs turn to spaghetti beneath her. Emma kept her eyes glued to Landon, watching as it took a split second for him to regain his bearings and rush to her, arms out moments before she felt her legs give out.

Well, shit. So much for being a tough girl . . .

Emma lay on the gurney, eyes closed and body still, as a media storm swirled around her. She didn’t look so hot, and that made Landon’s chest tighten. He wouldn’t have thought it possible for her to look so pale, a sheen of sweat glistening on her brow. Even her breathing appeared shallow. He shot a glare at Bill Crawford as the paramedics loaded the gurney up into the waiting ambulance. It took all the self-control he had left not to pop him in the face for hitting her with the red dye pack. Who knew the SOG guys were so goddamned devious? He was definitely going to have a talk with Galen about that. They even made sure to keep that telltale stain visible as the paramedics wheeled Emma out of the building. By tomorrow morning, the Internet would be smeared with the dramatic photographic evidence and Landon would be surprised if the local news stations weren’t already running the story: Socialite daughter of escaped federal prisoner shot in her downtown condo. . . .
Wonderful
.

“Better get in, Deputy,” Crawford said, inclining his head toward the ambulance. “She’s technically a suspect in custody.”

Landon would be sorely tempted to put his badge on the line for one shot at Crawford. But since giving up his badge would give him no choice but to crawl home to his family, he gritted his teeth and swallowed down the anger that caused his hands to curl into tight fists at his side. “I’ll see you at the hospital?” he asked.

Crawford answered with a single nod.

Landon poked his head inside before stepping up into the ambulance. The paramedics had been ushered to the front of the vehicle, and a couple of Crawford’s suits were sitting to one side of Emma on a bench. He took the opposite bench—no way was he sitting with any of those MIB-looking dudes—and cradled his head in his hands. He’d reached new heights of fucking up with this investigation. Monroe was going to have his ass in a sling when he got back to Portland.

“Do I look like I’m dying?” Emma’s eyes were still shut and her voice nothing more than a whisper.

Landon leaned in until his mouth hovered near her ear and said, “I’m going to get you out of this mess, Emma.”

If Landon knew what was good for him, he would’ve kept his fool mouth shut. What was it about her that spurred every protective instinct he had? And why, for the love of God, couldn’t he do his damned job without making promises he didn’t know if he could keep?
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’re craving one kiss more from her?
Or how every time she touched him, his heart rate elevated, adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he experienced the most intense rush he’d ever felt? Yeah, that
might
have something to do with his bad decision making over the past couple of days.

“What makes you think I deserve to be gotten out of anything?” Her breath was warm on his cheek.

Landon leaned back to study her, but Emma kept her eyes closed good and tight. Was she admitting to something? The SOG guys were eyeballing him from across the gurney. Can you say awkward? Emma tried to sit up, fiddling with the buckles holding her secure on the gurney, but one of the suits held out his hand.

“I need you to stay down, Miss Ruiz.”

Landon rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like anyone was going to get a peek inside of a moving vehicle with two little tiny windows. “Look, McCabe, I get that you feel bad about how all of this has gone down, but . . .” She turned away from the SOG guys and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to do anything for me because of what happened the other night.”

Obligated. She thought he felt
obligated
? Did she have any clue how that came off?
Obligated
translated to
responsible
as far as he was concerned. As though he’d taken advantage of her somehow. He caught Crawford’s men from the corner of his eye watching their exchange with a little too much interest. Great. Now his life had been reduced to cheap, dramatic entertainment. “I don’t feel obligated.” His eyes narrowed with annoyance, and he sat up, crossing his arms across his chest. “I still have a job to do, Emma. And I’m going to do it.”

“Well, looks like you’ll be on your own from here on out, McCabe, because if you hadn’t noticed . . . I’m dead.”

Landon had no fucking clue what was going on or how the Special Operations Group had gotten involved in the Ruiz case, but he’d be damned if he let Crawford and his colleagues give him the runaround. He was starting to wish he hadn’t ditched his phone in the stairwell because this entire setup reeked of something dirty. He would have liked to at least touch base with Galen—you know, in case these SOG guys buried him in a shallow grave or some shit.

Because if SOG was involved, it wasn’t a stretch to think the FBI or CIA might be as well. And those central intelligence dudes were some scary motherfuckers.

He decided that trying to reason with Emma right now would get him nowhere. If they’d made it out of her building, Landon knew he could have convinced her to open up to him. But now she was locked down tight and no amount of arguing was going to convince her to come clean. Just one more thing for him to lay at Bill Crawford’s feet. Landon leaned back on the bench seat and rested his head on the rack behind him. A slow, measured breath released from his lungs as he closed his eyes and tried to center himself.