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  It was going to be sticky enough getting Emma and her dad out of this situation in one piece. Now he had this possible ex-boyfriend to worry about too? Fucking awesome. Landon shook his head as he climbed into the van beside Jeremy, irked that the other man had decided to park his ass right next to Emma. Where he wanted—needed—to be.

  The goons loaded in behind them and the door slid closed with an echoing finality that made Landon’s gut clench tight. Beside him, Jeremy bent over Emma, whispering low in her ear as he took her hands in his. Way to keep a low profile, dumb ass. Landon’s assurances that they barely knew each other wouldn’t mean shit now that Sousa’s guys were getting a front-seat show.

  This operation was going south fast. And Landon needed to be a hell of a lot quicker on his feet.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Jesus, Em, I can’t believe you’re really alive.”

  Jeremy was still looking at her like he’d seen a ghost, and guilt welled up hot in Emma’s throat. “I’m so sorry, Jeremy. Everything happened so suddenly, I didn’t have a chance to give you a heads-up. I can’t believe you recognized me.” So much for her brilliant disguise. She felt curious eyes on her. Sousa’s guys . . . and one very cranky deputy U.S. marshal. The air was thick with Landon’s annoyance, and Emma worried that he wasn’t about to cool down any time soon. Nothing was going according to plan so far, and Jeremy’s presence added another very complicated layer. “Listen, I can’t tell you much, but these guys are big-time dangerous. Try to stay invisible. And don’t—no matter what—attempt to be a hero. Okay?”

  “First of all, I’d recognize you even if you had a bag over your head, Em. Secondly, I’m not going to just sit around and—”

  “Jeremy.” Emma squeezed his hands. “Promise me.”

  “All right.” He searched her face, brow furrowed. “I got your back, though.”

  Emma smiled, but on the inside she wanted to throw her arms up in frustration. Men. Why did they all have to be so damned stubborn and gallant? Well, the good ones, anyway. Too many promises had been made already. Emma’s unspoken promise to exonerate her father, Landon’s promise to keep her safe . . . and now Jeremy. How many promises could be kept? And which ones would put someone she cared about in danger?

  Tension settled heavy in the air; Emma could almost reach out and run her finger through it like frosting on a cake. Too much testosterone in an enclosed space was never a good thing, and there was plenty to spare in Sousa’s van. When all of this was over, and everyone she cared about was safe, Emma swore she was going on a long vacation. To a secluded beach. Where anyone with a penis wasn’t allowed.

  The familiar trek to the warehouse wasn’t doing anything for Emma’s anxiety. Instead, it gripped her with unrelenting claws, pulling at her skin until she was tight enough to snap. Damien didn’t utter a word. Didn’t even glance at her through the rearview mirror. Instead, he looked straight ahead, his fists gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles began to turn white. It didn’t take a genius to know she’d screwed up. He was tense enough to snap. If she didn’t have Sousa’s money, Emma was certain that Crawford would have thrown her in jail days ago. And after screwing up his plans yet again, she had no doubt that Damien would have helped him put her there. At this point, she felt like nothing more than a burden to them all.

  Damien pulled into the warehouse lot several minutes later. Armed guards waited to open the chain-link fence to allow them entrance. Emma had never seen so many automatic weapons in her life, and it made her wonder, how did these guys not stick out like a sore thumb? Seriously, didn’t anyone patrol out here? Or was the bulk of the Seattle PD on Sousa’s payroll, too?

  More of the same armed-to-the-teeth thugs waited at the warehouse doors. Rather than dump them off outside, Damien waited for a couple of guys to pull open the large garage doors. He drove straight into the building and Emma chanced a look back. Holy crap. A convoy of vans strung out behind them, waiting to pull in. At least six of them. Exactly what sort of cargo were they hauling? Because she doubted he had vehicles full of code writers and software engineers in case she couldn’t get the job done.

  Damien drove deeper into the warehouse and parked. “You guys help get those vans unloaded. I’ll deal with this.”

  A few murmured grumbles came from the backseat, but other than that, Sousa’s guys didn’t complain. The back doors of the van swung open and the henchmen jumped out, leaving Emma, Landon, and Jeremy alone with Damien.

  “What the fuck, McCabe?” He didn’t waste any time laying into Landon, swinging around in his seat and pinning him with an angry glare. Emma’s heart jumped up into her throat. He might have been one of the good guys, but Damien still scared the crap out of her. “Sousa is on edge as it is. Now we’ve got one more complication. Do you know how Teyo Sousa deals with complications? He gets rid of them.”

  Jeremy glanced at Emma, and another wave of sickening guilt washed over her. “It’s my fault. If Sousa is going to punish anyone, it should be me.”

  Landon and Jeremy spoke at once, both of them erupting into a string of protests that made Emma’s stomach tie into knots.

  “Both of you, shut your traps,” Damien snapped. “It won’t matter whose fault it is. What’s done is done. We have no choice but to focus on damage control now.”

  “What do you have in the vans?” Landon asked.

  “The vans don’t have anything to do with you,” Damien said. “Sousa decided to make the most of his time and he’s taking care of some side business while he’s here. With any luck”—he snorted at the idea—“they’ll be out of here before anything else goes down. All we need is for Emma to transfer Sousa’s money to him. That’s. All. Keep your heads down and play your parts and we might walk out of this alive.”

  “What about my dad?” Emma knew she sounded like a broken record, but too damned bad.

  “Just do what you’re told, Emma,” Damien warned. “Make Sousa happy and he might return the favor.”

  Might being the operative word. Was it too hopeful to think that they’d all get free of Sousa unscathed? Probably. Emma said a prayer under her breath, asking for the safety of Landon, Jeremy, and her dad above all others.

  “Let’s get moving,” Damien said. “I’ll take you back to the office.”

  They filed out of the van single file, and Emma paused halfway out to glance back at the other vehicles. Sousa’s men were unloading large wooden crates and stacking them against a far wall. “Eyes to the front, Emma,” Damien growled. “Keep moving.”

  Jeremy waited beside the van for her, and from the corner of her eye, she caught Landon scowling at them from several feet away, arms crossed over his wide chest. Emma could fit both of her hands in one of Jeremy’s, and he towered over her more diminutive form, a sapling in the shade of an oak tree. But he didn’t make her feel safe. He wasn’t the one she wanted to go to. Hold in her arms and never let go. She needed Landon’s strength right now if she was going to get through this ordeal. And his apparent anger only made her more anxious.

  He waited for Emma and Jeremy to follow Damien and took up the rear. Though she liked having him at her back, Emma would have preferred to have Landon at her side. The distance between them had grown wider from the moment Jeremy had inserted himself into the situation. Damn it, Landon. Stop being such a butthole. I need you. Had he forgotten that he was supposed to be her boyfriend in this little scenario? The implication of a lovers’ tiff wasn’t going to gain them any ground with Sousa at this point.

  Emma rubbed at her arms as they walked, the chill in the warehouse soaking right into her bones. She tried not to let fear get the best of her as she chanced a quick look around only to find no sign of her father. What had they done with him? Emma placed one foot in front of the other, operating on autopilot until she made it to the door that led to the interior office. A small sense of relief fluttered through Emma’s body. So close. She was so close to putting all of this behind her.

  Damien ush
ered them into the office and Emma froze in midstep. Landon pressed his chest into her back and Emma reached back for his hand. He wound his fingers with hers and gave a squeeze that was almost too tight, too full of tension. Her breathing increased with her heart rate, and a jolt of adrenaline dumped into her system leaving her shaky. How could Landon possibly crave that sort of sensation? The man was clearly insane.

  “Hello, Emma. Deputy. And . . .” Teyo Sousa paused, eyeing Jeremy with a sneer. “. . . guest.”

  Sousa hadn’t been there last time, supposedly keeping his distance from his own dirty dealings in an effort to keep his nose clean. Now, here he was, relaxed in a chair with Cesar standing to his right like the good little minion he was. Emma had hoped—prayed—Sousa wouldn’t be here today, but she guessed when you stole millions of dollars from someone they wanted to make damned sure you gave it back.

  “This one was a surprise.” Damien jerked his head toward Jeremy. “I didn’t know what to do with him so we brought him along.”

  “I dislike complications.” Sousa couldn’t have sounded more deadly if he were the grim reaper himself. “Especially when I’m working with a timetable.”

  “He’s a friend of mine,” Emma blurted, desperate to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand. “He recognized me on the street. He’s not going to cause any trouble. I promise.” She really needed to stop making promises. She found herself doubting her ability to keep them.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t make assurances for your friends, Emma.” Sousa’s dark gaze narrowed as he inspected Jeremy once again, lips pursed. “You look familiar.” He let the statement drop, waiting for Jeremy to fill in the blank.

  Jeremy looked around as though wondering if he should speak up. “Yeah, um, I play for the Seahawks.”

  Sousa snapped his fingers with recognition though his expression didn’t show the least bit of amusement. “Jeremy Blakely,” he purred in his smooth accent. “I had seats on the fifty-yard line for one of your games last year. You played like shit.”

  Oh boy. Nothing pissed an athlete off more than insulting his game. But Jeremy simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “Everyone has an off day once in a while.”

  Sousa snorted, a corner of his mouth hinting at amusement. “True.”

  Well, at least now Landon knew why Jeremy had seemed familiar the first time he’d seen him. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still crazy fucking jealous of the bastard, though.

  “He’s definitely a complication.” Landon stepped up to the plate, ready to take control of the situation out of Emma’s hands. “But nothing that can’t be dealt with. Later. Right now, we have business to conduct, don’t we?”

  Sousa chuckled. The wry amusement made Landon want to put his fist through the other man’s face. “Maybe you’d like to deal with him, Deputy McCabe?”

  Landon shrugged an indifferent shoulder. “If I need to.”

  Emma’s jaw hung as if the hinges were broken. If she didn’t get it together, Sousa would be even more suspicious of them than he already was. He sauntered up behind her and wrapped his arms protectively around her waist, high enough to brush her breasts as he shouldered Jeremy out of the way. Emma bristled, which he hoped was more out of nerves than the fact that she didn’t want him to touch her. Especially after what had happened last night. But he needed to assert himself in front of Sousa. And showing his ownership of Emma would help in that department.

  Like he’d hoped, Sousa watched him with interest. A knowing smirk curved his full mouth. “I have no doubt you’d take care of the problem if one arises.”

  Though he didn’t outwardly show it, relief melted right down into the soles of his feet. The rush of adrenaline made him a little twitchy and his brain buzzed as he assessed their situation, which seemed to fall more into the clusterfuck category by the second. He shared a brief moment of eye contact with Damien. Yup. Fucked.

  “I’m a busy man and I don’t have time for this telenovela tonterías. Emma?” Sousa stood and held out an arm, indicating the table littered with computer equipment. “My money, if you please.”

  “Sure.” Emma exuded confidence as she pulled away from Landon’s embrace and headed for the computer. She pulled out the chair as though ready to plop down and paused. “First, though, my father. If you please.”

  Sousa’s dark eyes narrowed and he gave Emma a tight smile. “Of course. After all, what sort of business relationship can we have without trust?”

  Emma smiled back, pleasant. “Exactly.”

  “Cesar, go get Javier so his daughter’s mind can be put at ease.”

  With a superior smirk, Cesar left the room to go fetch Emma’s dad. A few tense moments followed, during which everyone stood around and eyed each other with interest, worry, and not a little suspicion. Somewhere in the back of Landon’s mind, the theme to Final Jeopardy played. Do, do, do, do, do, do, do . . .

  Cesar returned with Javier Ruiz, who, considering his situation, didn’t look any worse for wear. “Mija.” He went to Emma’s side and took her into his arms. They embraced for a beat too long, which only served to further annoy Sousa.

  “My money, Emma.” His tone conveyed his impatience. The man had a bomb to buy, after all. “Now.”

  A teary-eyed Emma pulled away from her father, and Landon hoped to God she could keep it together for a little bit longer. He needed her to be strong and quick on her feet. Emotions would only get in the way.

  “You all might as well have a seat,” Emma remarked as she took hers. “This is going to take me a few minutes.”

  Landon gripped Javier’s elbow, gently urging him away from his daughter. “Sir?” He indicated a chair at the rear of the office, next to one that Jeremy had already slumped into. Javier gave Landon a questioning look when he noticed the other man. Landon simply shrugged and spoke close to Javier’s ear. “Your daughter’s a popular girl, it would seem.”

  The older man chuckled. “That she is.”

  Landon remained standing and alert while everyone else took a seat. Cesar looked bored, while Damien excused himself—presumably to check on the guys and vans in the main warehouse. Looking very much the part of slimy criminal, Teyo Sousa watched Emma with interest from his perch in the corner of the room. His Godfather impersonation did little to inspire awe in Landon, however. If push came to shove, he was going to shove the fucker. Hard.

  Hyperalert, Landon scanned their surroundings. One exit that led into a larger space full of hardened criminals. The office had no windows, leaving them zero chance of bypassing the main warehouse to get outside. Not great. But they were in a small, enclosed space, which would give him the upper hand in a tussle. That is, until Sousa called for reinforcements. In which case, they were as good as dead. Meanwhile, Emma went to work, her fingers flying on the keyboard as window after window popped up on the screen. Emma paused. Leaned on her elbow, her face screwed up as she read whatever was on the display. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth before sitting back.

  “Problem, Emma?” Sousa’s tone had escalated to a notch above threatening.

  “No, no problem,” Emma said. “It’s just . . .”

  “Yes?”

  Emma gave a nervous laugh. “I designed a few more obstacles than I remembered. I’ve almost got it, though. Give me a couple more minutes and your money is all yours.”

  Sousa made a steeple with his fingers and rested his chin atop them. He didn’t look pleased, but Landon bet that short of hand-delivering his dirty bomb, little would put a smile on the arms dealer’s face. Cesar shifted nervously in his seat. So did Jeremy. Only Javier and Landon showed no outward emotion, and he was willing to bet that they were both more high-strung than anyone else in the room.

  Everyone except Emma.

  “Shit.” The word slipped from her lips as she clicked away at the keys.

  She glanced at Landon and he read the panic in her expression. Like the crafty little hacker she was, Emma had managed to out-hack herself. So not good. Sousa caugh
t it as well, and jerked his chin at Cesar, who got up out of his chair and sauntered right up to Emma’s back. He poked the barrel of a .45 into the back of her head. Emma froze. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard and her breathing grew quick and shallow with fear.

  At which point, Landon’s tightly reined control snapped.

  Years of training and a lifetime of not giving a single fuck about consequences spurred him to act as Damien walked through the door. It only took a beat for him to kick Damien’s legs out from under him, but not before Landon jerked the man’s sidearm from the holster and aimed it at Sousa’s forehead. “It’s not easy to concentrate when there’s a gun pointed at your head. Know what I mean?”

  Sousa didn’t look even a little ruffled. He merely lounged in his chair with that annoying-as-fuck smirk on his face. His eyes slid to the side, and Cesar pulled back the hammer with an audible click that made Emma jump in her seat. Landon shook his head. Why did assholes like this always press their luck? He kept his gaze locked on Sousa, the gun unwavering in his grip. Behind him, Damien swore. No doubt the undercover SOG deputy was pissed at Landon for going cowboy on him. Well, too damned bad. He wasn’t putting Emma at risk for anyone or anything.

  “Let her work. She’ll come through for you, but not with the barrel of a gun digging into her skull.”

  “Cesar.” The one word was enough to call him off and he took several cautious steps back, his attention now focused on Landon.

  Fine. Whatever. At least he wasn’t pointing a gun at Emma’s head anymore. Sousa’s eyes gleamed like obsidian, and Landon was well aware of the fact that he’d made an enemy as he sidestepped Cesar, gun still drawn, and went to Emma’s side.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she responded on a shuddering breath. “Just a little shaken up.”

  “Okay. Take a couple of deep breaths. You can do this, Emma. Don’t think about your dad, or me, or anything else that’s going on behind you. Focus. It’s just another day at the office. Right?”