One Kiss More (6 page)

Emma took in the city sounds as she strolled across the roof to the edge of the building. The white noise helped to quiet her tumultuous thoughts, along with the breeze that whooshed over her ears. Her upper arm still ached where Cesar had grabbed her, and she rubbed at her skin, wishing that the gentle wind could banish the memory of his hands on her. He was corrupt, heartless, and soulless, and it made her feel dirty having shared the same air as that son of a bitch. Without thinking, Emma stepped up onto the ledge of the building to look down at the street below. Only a couple of stories up, it still felt like miles from the ground and she swayed on her feet as the heel of her stiletto caught in a crack on the ledge.

“Jesus Christ, Emma!”

Before she could make sense of what was happening, strong arms wrapped around her waist and the ledge fell out from beneath her feet as she was ripped from her perch. The world spun in a blur, hauled against a wall of muscle before being deposited back on her feet.

“What in the hell were you doing?” McCabe’s incredulous voice was warm in her ear. He held her tight against him, and Emma’s head swam with his scent, clean and masculine with a hint of expensive cologne. She trembled in his arms, but whether from fear or excitement, she had no idea. Wait a sec. . . . What in the hell was
she
doing . . . ?

“What in the hell are
you
doing, McCabe?” Emma pushed at Landon’s chest, stumbling backward. “Why are you here? Are you following me?” Panic flooded her at the realization. What if Cesar had noticed?
Oh, God. Dad . . .

“I’m saving your ass, that’s what I’m doing!” McCabe said as though Emma had lost her mind.
As if
. She wasn’t the one grabbing people and tossing them around. “Do you want to explain what in God’s name you were doing on that ledge?”

Had he actually thought she was about to jump? His eyes were alight with blue fire and his forehead creased right above the bridge of his nose where his brows were drawn tight. Despite the fact that she’d pushed him away, he closed the space between them, giving Emma nowhere to go but backward. Her back pressed against the cold brick of a tall air vent, and she shivered from the cold. Damn it. It was pretty tough to be enraged with McCabe when his anger made him look so freaking
good
.

“It’s none of your damned business what I do, McCabe.” Emma infused her voice with as much indignation as she could muster. No way would she give him any clue how his proximity affected her. Already, she found it hard to take a deep breath. “I haven’t done anything wrong. You have no right to follow me. Stay out of my life!” The last words left her mouth in a strangled shout. If he didn’t back off, he’d ruin everything she was working to fix.

“Who is he, Emma?” Landon demanded, wrapping his hands around her upper arms.

She bucked her chin in the air. “Who?”

His grip tightened, but not with the same painful bite of Cesar’s grip. Rather, he was careful to keep his strength in check, restraining her while not hurting her. His touch set Emma’s skin on fire, every nerve ending awakened to the sensation. Little pants of breath sped in her chest and she averted her eyes from the intensity of his stare. “Don’t play games with me,” he said, low. “Tell me who he is.”

With the building at her back and Landon’s chest a wall of unyielding muscle in front of her, Emma was effectively trapped. She couldn’t deny that she found her helpless state—being at McCabe’s mercy—a little exciting, but this wasn’t a game she could afford to play with him. Too much was at stake. “Go to hell, McCabe.”

One strong arm came up to rest on the wall behind her. Emma was caged in, pinned by his accusing stare and the sheer size of him. A muscle twitched at his jaw and his nostrils flared. “Are you in trouble, Emma? I can help you, but you’ve got to stop being so goddamned stubborn and
trust me
.”

Trust him? He was the enemy. The man who’d put her father in prison without even blinking an eye. How could she possibly trust him? Still, her resolve crumbled under the sincerity of his tone. The words cut through her like a blade, and the guilt of her actions was a bitter gall Emma forced herself to swallow down. If she let him continue to press her, she’d confess everything, including the time she’d shoplifted a tube of lipstick when she was fifteen. Damn him.

Without thinking, Emma pressed her body tight against his chest and put her lips to his. It seemed the best way to silence his persistent questions, and she knew of no better way to throw a man off track.

Dios mio!
Her brain went fuzzy as his mouth moved over hers, his lips firm and demanding. She hadn’t expected him to answer to her kiss, but holy crap, he wasn’t holding anything back. He shifted his weight against her, pushing her flush against the wall. His free hand wound around the back of her neck, his mouth parted, and his tongue flicked out at her bottom lip. Talk about the mother of all backfires.

Emma was officially thrown.

Chapter Five

“McCabe? We’ve lost audio. McCabe? Do you copy?”

Morgan’s voice in his ear was doing nothing for Landon’s state of mind. He pushed his free arm from the wall and reached for the battery pack secured to his belt, double-checking to make sure the receiver for his mic was still off.

What in hell are you doing?
As he’d emerged from the stairwell to find Emma standing on that ledge, he’d flipped off the mic for no good reason. When she’d slipped, it had stolen the air from his lungs, and all Landon had known was that he had to act. Career suicide hadn’t been on his agenda today, but here he was, delivering the deathblow with his own two . . . uh . . . lips. But holy hell, how could he even think about pulling away when she felt so damned good in his arms? Her lips were silky soft against his, her mouth sweet with just a hint of red wine. Emma arched into him, and through the thin fabric of her dress, the tight points of her nipples rubbed against his chest. Landon couldn’t help the groan that worked its way up his throat, and when she reached up and guided his hand to the swell of her breast, his composure took a nosedive.

Kissing Emma was a free fall from six hundred feet. An unparalleled rush. Adrenaline coursed through his body, the high so intense all he could think was,
More
. He wanted as much of her as he could get. His mouth slanted across hers as he deepened the kiss and she responded, her tongue sliding against his as she threaded her fingers through his hair and dragged her nails across his scalp.

The way she held him tight against her was maddening; the thin fabric of her dress with no bra underneath allowed him to feel her as though she had nothing on at all. His hand wandered to cup her breast through the silk and she moaned into his mouth. When his thumb flicked over one pearled peak, she shuddered against him. “Oh, God, McCabe, do that again,” she gasped as she broke their kiss, her head rolling back on her shoulders.

Something inside Landon’s chest tightened when she called him McCabe and not by his first name. As if the moment was totally impersonal to her and he was nothing more than a body filling up the empty space in her arms. His teeth gnashed together as he tested the tight peak again and a low, sensual moan escaped her lips. The thrill of a challenge spurred him as he tasted the flesh beneath her ear and downward to where her shoulder met her neck. The same deliciously delicate column of skin she’d taunted him with earlier today. By the time he was through with her she’d never call him “McCabe” again.

He reached down and cradled her ass in his palms, lifting her until one leg straddled his waist. Emma’s skirt hiked up around her hips and his fingers found the bare skin of her ass. Worst. Angle. Ever. He regretted their current position because he was now obsessed with her soft skin and desperate to see the sexy underwear that bared her to him in the most torturous way possible. Landon firmly believed there should be a shrine somewhere dedicated to thongs. Emma gripped his shoulders and pressed her back into the wall, which, coincidentally, jutted her high, pert breasts closer to his face. Landon took the opportunity that presented itself and kissed the swell revealed by her deep plunging neckline.

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong
.

But seriously, Landon couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about right or wrong when she thrust her hips against him, rubbing her nearly naked core against the erection straining against his fly in a way that made him ache to move the thin strip of fabric aside and bury himself inside of her and—

“McCabe, we’re moving in.”

The voice in his earpiece was as effective at cooling his lust as a dunk in a pool of ice cubes. It probably wouldn’t do much to advance his career if Morgan found him up here with Emma wrapped around him like a boa constrictor. How in the hell would he explain himself?
I was just grilling her for information and she tripped and fell on my cock
. Right. That’d work.

“Emma.” His voice was thick and lazy. He cleared his throat as he guided her leg from his hip. “Listen to me, I need you to go back down to the club. Don’t stop to talk to anyone. Blend in with the crowd, head for the exit, and go home. Do you understand?”

Emma’s brow knitted. She straightened her clothes as though ashamed, and Landon’s stomach bottomed out. He’d fucked up and she was suffering the emotional fallout because of it.
Goddamn it
. “What’s going on?” Her voice quavered and she refused to make eye contact.

How much should he tell her? She was a suspect in a crime, for shit’s sake, and it wasn’t as if she’d spilled the beans about the identity of the guy who’d grabbed her arm earlier in the night. Despite his rough treatment of her, Emma had protected his identity. Which not only stoked a raging fire of indignation in his gut, but further convinced Landon that she wasn’t an innocent party in her father’s escape. The last thing he needed right now was for Morgan to catch them together, though. He could deal with whatever she was hiding tomorrow. “Just do what I say, and don’t ask any questions. Go. Now.”

She finally met his gaze and her dark eyes glistened with emotion. It tore at Landon’s composure to know that he’d hurt her, which made him even angrier. He prided himself on his tough demeanor. Suspects
did not
get under his skin.
Ever
. And what had just happened between them went way beyond simple emotional manipulation. Without a word, she turned and ran for the door, her heels clicking with every step. She threw the door open and it bounced off the wall, rebounding with a slam to signal her exit. Landon exhaled a long, slow breath and slumped against the wall he’d moments ago pressed Emma up against, her body soft and warm against his.

Holy shit.

His limbs still shook from the adrenaline rush and Landon’s heart pumped in his chest as though he’d just rappelled from the top of Everest. Morgan’s chatter in his earpiece reminded him that he didn’t have time to sit and relive what had happened—or think about the consequences of his actions—and he reached back to flip the switch on his mic. This was still Morgan’s show, and Landon needed to keep his shit together before his invite was revoked. “Morgan, you copy?”

“What’s your twenty?” Morgan responded, sounding not a little annoyed. “What happened? I lost communications for a few minutes.”

“Malfunction, I think. I lost eyes on the target. I’m on the roof.”

When Morgan opened his mic, Landon heard the thump of the base and roar of the crowd inside the club. “We’re sweeping the interior now, no sign of her. Stay put.”

Gladly.

Landon braced his arms on his knees and dropped his head between his shoulders as he took several cleansing breaths to slow his racing heart. When his eyes drifted shut, his mind was assaulted with visions of Emma, her head thrown back on her shoulders, dark eyes heavily lidded and her mouth parted on a silent moan. His shoulders tingled, every contact point of her fingers seeming to sear his flesh with a permanent mark. Landon straightened his spine and knocked his head against the concrete wall behind him as though a concussion might banish the memory of her soft skin from his mind. Just thinking of the moment they’d shared caused his cock to grow hard and throb in his jeans. The evidence of his renewed arousal wasn’t exactly something he wanted his colleagues to see.
Cool your jets, dude. Jesus, you’re not sixteen anymore.

Behind him, the door to the roof swung open and Morgan and his partner stepped out onto the roof. Great. Fucking
awesome
. “What in the hell’s going on, McCabe? Are you hurt?”

Landon imagined he might look a little dazed, what with banging his head against the wall and all. And he was sort of doubled over now, dragging in a few deep breaths of the cool night air in an effort to tame the raging erection that threatened not only to embarrass him, but to rat him out to Morgan. This was so much worse than your mom catching you jerking off to
Playboy
. And a hell of a lot harder to explain, too. Thank God he’d kept his damned pants on.

“Just winded,” Landon offered by way of an explanation. Wow, as if that weren’t the lamest excuse ever. “I thought I spotted Emma heading for the stairs and I followed.”

“But she isn’t up here?” Morgan responded, raising a dubious brow.

Yeah, it wasn’t even a passable excuse to Landon. “No. She might have used a back office exit or something.”

“Was she alone?” Morgan’s partner, Kevin, piped in. Up until now, Landon had wondered if the dude was mute.

“She was when I trailed her; I thought maybe she was meeting the male suspect up here.” At least that wasn’t a lie. If anything, Landon was determined to uncover the identity of the asshole with the grabby hands.

“Wait a sec,” Morgan said, pinning Landon with an accusing stare. “Male suspect? Why is now the first I’m hearing of this?”

Uh-oh. Landon had a lot of ’splaining to do. It was going to be a long goddamned night.

Emma slid into the passenger seat of Jeremy’s Mercedes amidst the flash of cameras and curious shouts that were incoherent to her racing mind. She knew that the pics would be all over the Internet the next morning. It wouldn’t be long after that before the local news picked up on her little outing, which would more than likely set Cesar’s temper off like a powder keg.
So
not good. She’d really screwed up tonight, and it was a testament to her poor decision-making skills that the problems with Cesar were becoming the least of her worries.