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“They turned left, right, then left, and they're going straight,” Madison said in a rush.

“Take a deep breath and slow down,” Emery said, one hand braced on the dash.

“They've got to be almost out of ammo now, don't you think?” Gabriel asked. He followed Madison's sketchy directions back to the main drag.

“Maybe. They probably expected to run into some trouble, but not this much. We grab the old guy, get him to talk, cut a deal, we'll know something then. Kill the hit team.” Whoever the man in the suit was, he knew more than they did. If they could hold on to him long enough to squeeze some answers out of him, they might learn something. They could finally figure out what the hell they were caught up in. The hit team, well, they were a liability to Tori's safety. Besides, Emery didn't think they'd get away.

“There's a marina. They're getting out.” This time Madison spoke slower, the shrill notes in her voice gone.

“They're either trying to escape or going after Evers,” Gabriel said as they skidded through a red light, barely missing a convertible.

“Evers. If they don't get him, they're all dead. Evers will make sure they go down.”

“Do we follow them or get them?”

“We won't get Evers, but if we get the Geezer we might find out who Evers is working for.”

“Or with.”

Emery didn't acknowledge Gabriel's point. Right now, it didn't matter if Evers was the front man, the brains, or the money. He was on a boat getting away from them.

“I see it.” Gabriel rattled off the address of a marina ahead of them. He pulled into a fast-food joint next to the upscale docking site and killed the engine. By the look of the place, not just anyone moored their boat here. It was dock-to-dock yachts and expensive toys for the rich.

“Where are you, Aiden? Julian? Roni?” Usually Emery knew the exact location of his entire team during an operation. It was weird and out of synch to be boots on the ground instead of manning the comm and relaying vital information.

“We're five minutes out.” That was Tori's voice. He'd know her anywhere.

“Shit. We're seven, maybe ten away.” Julian continued to curse.

“Where's Matt?” Emery jumped a white wooden fence and jogged between cars parked nearest the road at the marina.

“Behind us, maybe a minute or two?” Tori replied.

Gabriel shadowed his movements, one car to his left.

The abandoned cruiser sat blocking the way to the docks. A cluster of men in dark clothing stood around the slip of a medium-sized yacht. Not exactly a speedboat.

Were they trying to chase Evers? Or get away?

They crept closer, weaving between cars and SUVs. Emery crouched behind a luxury Hummer, peering around the tailgate to see the old guy's muscle circling the yacht's owner.

“We're almost there,” Tori said over the headset.

“I can swim that distance. Can you get overboard or jam the propeller?” Gabriel handed his Desert Eagle over. The handgun wouldn't do shit underwater.

“I'll see what I can do.” Emery shoved the guns into his waistband.

Gabriel slipped out of his boots, tied the laces together, and looped them over his shoulder. Emery waited until the other man crossed to the water and slipped in, disappearing under the gently lapping waves before making his move. Emery wasn't certain Gabriel could make the swim. He was still beat up pretty badly and the water was choppy after last night's storm.

Emery could boat-skip down the dock, jumping from slip to slip, but that would take too much time and the Geezer and assassins were boarding now. The yacht owner stood on the docks, a bag in hand, staring at the crew taking over his ship. It was remarkable they'd left the guy alive. They probably didn't want to deal with dumping a body.

The crew was likely to pull out of port any second.

This was going to hurt. Hopefully this encounter didn't take a pound of flesh out of his hide.

“What are you guys doing?” Madison asked.

“Gabriel and I are getting on board.” He blew out a breath, visions of Tori doing exactly that filling his mind. Her habits were rubbing off on him. He'd always picked up other people's quirks and discarded them after a while. He might keep hers though.

“No, we're almost there,” Tori said, as if thinking of her conjured her voice.

“Get the cops here.” He rattled off the name and description of the boat. “Tori, stay on the dock, wait for the others.”

It would be just like her to run after him.

He straightened, his knee twinging in remembered discomfort, and strode down the dock. His feet thudded on the wood.

“We're pulling in right now. Damn it, Emery, wait.” Tori's voice was rising.

He could do this so long as she was safe on land, which meant he acted now or risked her putting her neck on the line.

Emery picked up the pace. He kept one hand wrapped around the handle of his gun, tucked behind his leg. Waiting for Tori meant putting her in danger. She'd already been in the crosshairs enough, and the hit team was likely to shoot her on sight to cover their ass. Emery couldn't just let them go. He had to stay close to them. No matter what that meant.

“Remember, the headsets are traceable.” He'd built them himself and the functionality was easy enough that someone should be able to figure it out if the need arose. He pulled the headset off and shoved it in his pocket, still transmitting.

Two of the Russian muscle stood aft, releasing the lines mooring the boat to the dock. The one poised as lookout saw Emery almost immediately.

Emery held up his hands, Beretta hooked on his thumb.

Yeah, this was going to hurt.

“Stop right there,” the smallest man said. He was the one Emery thought might be a Spetsnaz. He aimed a Kel-Tec gun at Emery, probably something he'd taken off a body. The gun was too average for the likes of him. Hell, the guns were made in Florida, so it wasn't like they had to go far to get one.

“Not shooting. I just want to talk this out.” Emery took another slow step forward. He needed on that boat.

The second man got the yacht free of the mooring lines while keeping one eye on Emery. He was bigger, a little soggy around the middle.

“I said stop right there,” Spetsnaz said a second time. He seemed shaken, which was weird. What would spook a special forces guy?

And was that splashing sound normal? Or Gabriel? Emery couldn't be sure, so he took another step toward the boat. The second guy drew his gun.

“I said, stop—right—there,” Spetsnaz said again. He edged his way off the boat, stepping onto the dock.

“All right.” Emery inhaled and the skin across his shoulders tightened.

If he turned around, would he see her?

Probably not. She was a hell of a lot better than that.

Soggy snatched at the gun hanging in Emery's grasp.

“What the hell is taking so long?” Geezer descended from the helm on the second level of the yacht.

“This one followed us.” Spetsnaz edged around Emery, divesting him of Gabriel's gun and stashing it in his waistband.

“Fuck. Bring him on board.” Geezer grimaced.

Emery tensed, not daring to turn his head to keep an eye on Spetsnaz as the guy circled him. Pain exploded from the back of his head forward, his vision hazed to black. A hand shoved him forward. He stumbled and blinked, staggering onto the boat.

“Let's go,” Geezer yelled up to whoever was manning the helm. He reached the deck and strode with purpose toward the front of the vessel, gaze sweeping everything in sight.

The yacht vibrated as the engine came to life.

Spetsnaz shoved him toward the stairs. The boat lurched away from the dock. Emery turned. He couldn't help it.

A figure clung to the support beams under the docks.

Gabriel.

He hadn't made it on board the boat.

Two black cars pulled into the lot. The rest of the crew. But no sign of Tori. Where the hell was she?

“Watch out for that boat,” a man yelled from above.

A scream rent the air and there was no mistaking the sound of splintering wood. The yacht lurched and he had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Dumb bitch.” That was Geezer. The old man leaned over the side, gun in hand.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tori hung from the bottom deck rail of the yacht, staring up at the muzzle of a Kel-Tec. If she was going to take a bullet today it was not going to be from a fucking Kel-Tec.

“Why couldn't you just die?” Geezer yelled at her.

Where was Roni? She didn't dare look around for her sister, not when her grip was slipping on the cool chrome railing. They hadn't expected the yacht to launch so fast. She'd hoped for a second to get on board after she'd shed her heavy gear, and instead the stolen boat was floating in pieces in the yacht's wake.

Tori blew out a breath, pushing thoughts of her sister from her mind, and focused on the screaming muscles in her shoulder and back. The breeze hitting her as the boat picked up speed swept her hair into her face. She had to get another hand on the rail or she was going to slip off and into the water. She was too close to the prow. There was no way she'd fall free with enough distance to not get hit by the boat, and then there was the propeller to worry about, not to mention the Geezer might still shoot her.

Okay, so this was a shitty place to be.

Someone grunted and the rail reverberated with an impact she couldn't see.

Geezer glanced over his shoulder and the gun swung off its mark—her.

This might be the only chance she got.

Tori swung her body, using the boat's momentum, and wrapped her hand around the man's wrist. She yanked down and he lurched forward, bending over the rail. His eyes opened wide and he yelled. She yanked a second time, keeping him off balance.

He grunted and one foot came up off the deck in front of her. She let go of his wrist and swung, using the momentum of the boat to grab the next highest rail.

A body tumbled into Geezer's back, pinning him to the rail. It was one of the hit team. The painfully average-looking guy with the seriously jacked-up nose. She kneed the old man in the face as she got her feet on the deck, still clinging to the rail, and wrestled the gun out of Geezer's clammy hand.

Emery grappled with the Spetsnaz, holding his own for now.

She hauled back, bending her arm, and smashed her elbow into the soft portion of Jack Nose's neck while throwing all her weight onto Geezer. Jack Nose shoved at her. She vaulted the railing, over-rotating and hitting the deck on her side. The impact drove all the air out of her lungs, but she kept moving. She rolled, barely missing a heavy boot to the head, and crouched on her feet.

Two assassins and one old guy. The only unaccounted-for hit man had to be driving the boat. Three on two weren't bad odds.

She dodged left, away from the prow on instinct. Jack Nose dove through the space she'd just occupied. He drew his gun. She'd lost hold of hers when the yacht accelerated, but she'd make do with Geezer's Kel-Tec.

Tori brought the gun up and fired before she'd really aimed, and the shot went wild. A fist hit her in the side, bruising her kidney. She grunted in pain.

The damn Geezer.

She pivoted, putting the cabin to her back, and swung her gun toward Geezer. The hit team had nothing left to lose. Geezer, he was the moneymaker. The one pulling the strings.

“Drop it or I shoot him,” she said.

Jack Nose lifted his arm, gun in hand, the same moment Geezer drew a second weapon.

Shit.

Tori dove, shoving the cabin doors open. Bullets blasted through the expensive wood paneling and shattered glass inside.

Two more blasts,
thump thump
, softer than the others. Suppressors?

“Hands up.”

That low, stony voice stopped her in her tracks. Her heart rose in her throat and it took everything in her power not to rush blindly back onto the prow.

She turned, keeping low, until she spied Emery's profile. He held his gun aimed directly at Geezer.

Geezer dropped his second gun.

“Tell the driver to stop the boat.”

Tori edged toward the prow, taking in the space that was usually used for sunbathing passengers. Jack Nose lay face-down on the deck.

“Where are the others?” she asked.

“Out of commission.” Emery spoke without looking at her. His tone, his expression, it was completely robotic, cold.

“Stop the boat,” Geezer barked to the helm without taking his gaze off them.

“Move.” Emery shoved the Geezer back to the stairs.

Tori followed, taking in the difference a few moments made. What? Five minutes ago she'd been hanging for her life off the prow of the yacht and now two men were dead. It was the kind of results she'd expect from Julian or Aiden, not Emery. Not her quiet Walking Brain with the deep thought lines bracketing his mouth.

It wasn't that he could kill that gnawed at her. It was that he had to. The few times she'd shot to take a life, it had been in self-defense. Emery had killed Matvei, now the two men on the boat, all for her. It was a weight she didn't want him to have to carry.

“Take it back to the dock.” Emery held the muzzle of the gun to Geezer's head while the fifth man stared at the blood they'd tracked up the luxurious stairs into the helm. How many people were on the damn boat?

“Do it. Now,” Geezer snapped at the man. He pivoted to study Emery, tilting his nose up.

“Who do you work for?” Emery asked. It was the only question that mattered. The one they all wanted to know the answer to.

“If you don't know already, you'll never know.” Geezer's gaze slid to her. “If you would have just died it would have all been easier.”

“Why the hit team?” she asked.

Geezer shrugged.

Emery jerked Geezer toward him, pressing the muzzle to the man's temple.

“You look at her again and I will kill you, understand?”

“She's something you want worse.” Geezer grinned.

The ride back to the dock was made in tense silence. Emery emptied out Geezer's pockets, passing his phone and other tidbits to her. The phone was a burner, not even password-protected, with nothing on it except a few calls. It would, no doubt, be useless, but she kept it anyway.

The boat slowly drifted back into the slip they'd left. Footsteps below and on the stairs heralded the others. Tori turned, and Roni almost tackled her, dripping wet, followed by Gabriel and Aiden.

“Matt is right behind us,” Aiden warned. He leveled his glare at Geezer. “You want to deal with the cops or us?”

Geezer glanced at the open water. He'd just been involved in killing several officers. Chances were, he wouldn't get top-notch treatment behind bars. If their guess was right, he'd just tried—and failed—to start a coup with the very organization he worked for.

“Who do you work for?” Emery grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt and shook him.

The cops, led by Detective Smith, thundered up the stairs. They pried Emery off Geezer, shoving Emery back. Tori reached for him, wrapping her hand around his arm, and tugged him to her. This ice that had formed around him, it had to thaw. If the Miami heat wouldn't do it, she would, but this wasn't him.

An officer she didn't recognize said something to her she couldn't hear. Emery thrust his firearm at the uniformed man, his gaze never leaving her. Right. The weapons. They would need them for ballistics and evidence.

She handed over the Kel-Tec, perfectly happy to never see that particular gun again.

Emery closed the distance between them and everything else faded away.

He could have died. The moment she'd seen him striding down the dock, his gun lowered, she knew what he was doing. Because in his position, she'd have done the same thing. They couldn't let their only lead get away, so the only alternatives were to sneak aboard, follow, or be taken prisoner. The fastest and surest way was the prisoner route.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, all the talking and noise fading away. She sucked in a deep breath, clutching him to her. He was alive. They'd survived. She dug her fingers into his shirt, yanking him down to her level, and kissed him. He tasted of saltwater, lip balm, and heaven. He held her, squeezing her so tight it was hard to inhale, but she didn't care. He was there.

“Come on, you two, for fuck's sake, this is a crime scene now.” Matt's grousing went mostly unheeded. The only reason it was a crime scene was because they'd told him about it.

Emery broke the kiss and clutched her face in both hands. The ice was gone, and in its place, his brow creased in worry.

“God, I saw you there and—don't ever do that again.” His frown might have quelled a lesser woman.

“Me? You didn't wait for backup.” She jabbed at his chest with her finger. God, her heart hurt. What if he'd been slower to act? What if the bodyguard had shot first on the docks instead of taking Emery prisoner? It could be Emery's blood they were tracking everywhere.

“Unless you want to be arrested—move.” Matt's frown marred the Golden Boy expression. He was also sopping wet, as if he, too, had taken a swim for some unknown reason.

Almost everyone had cleared the helm save for two officers and Matt. Roni, Aiden, and the rest were already on the docks.

Emery wrapped his hand around hers and led her down the stairs, past the carnage. Her stomach rolled. Death would never be an easy thing to take in, but now she knew just how far Emery was willing to go for her. He had her back, and he'd protect her no matter what. The sentiment went both ways. If it was the other way around and she had an opening, she'd kill for him, too.

“What happened out there?” Aiden asked as soon as their boots hit the dock.

“He was about to shoot Tori,” Emery said.

Aiden nodded as if that answer made any damn sense. It wasn't the first time she'd been nearly shot at, but it was the first time someone had killed, not once but multiple times, to keep her safe.

“Emery.” She pulled him back a step, away from the others and the boat.

He turned, blocking her view with his wide shoulders. She placed her hands on his chest. His features were still hard, but his eyes—that's where the difference was.

“You okay?” It was such a ridiculous thing to ask, but how did she fold all her concerns into one question?

He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath through his mouth. Some of the tension in his face eased.

“I was so scared when I heard you scream,” he said so low she could barely hear him.

“That wasn't me, it was Roni.”

“Didn't matter. It sounded like you.”

“I do not scream.”

He frowned at her for a second before one side of his mouth hitched up.

“Yes, you do,” he said.

She opened and closed her mouth, the sudden heat rushing up her neck making it hard to speak.

“That's different!” she protested.

Emery bent his head until their noses almost touched. Warmth spread through her body and she curled her toes inside her shoes. That was the kind of love this was—the toe-curling kind.

“I will do anything to keep you safe.” His tone was soft, different, and she completely understood what he was really saying.

The same reason he'd acted to protect her was the same thing that drove her to jumping in a boat and trying to rescue him. It's what made him willing to risk his job with the FBI.

Love.

She loved him, and she was pretty damn sure he loved her too, now more than ever. It was too soon for declarations like that, but the feeling was there.

“Sir, ma'am, please put your hands up.” A very polite young officer stood a few feet away, hand on his holstered firearm. He seemed almost apologetic about it.

“What the hell?” Emery let his hands drop to her shoulders, but didn't release her.

Matt strode toward him, the rest of the crew standing in a cluster near a couple of police SUVs, everyone handcuffed.

“Emery Martin, Tori Chazov, I'm placing you under arrest,” Detective Smith said.

“What?” Tori snapped.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Emery growled.

“I'm not. Go along with it.” Matt placed his hands on his hips and stopped at the side of the abashed officer.

“Fucking hell.” Emery thrust his hands forward.