Hard to Come By (21 page)

And Marz could’ve been at her side. He sighed. Coulda, woulda, shoulda.

But the one thing that didn’t happen was her brother showing up. Which was par for the damn course.

Sunlight shifted across the yard as afternoon turned into early evening. Some of the partygoers settled in for another round of grub, the paper lanterns shedding a soft, colored glow over the tables now cast in the shadow. As darkness threatened, Emilie’s family departed in dribs and drabs until there were only a few cars left. On the far side of the house, two guys folded up the tables and chairs and removed them at Emilie’s direction. Marz was glad she had the help, but he sure would’ve liked to have been the one doing the helping.

“Looks like we’re gonna have a no-show,” came Beckett’s voice through the earpiece Marz wore.

“Roger that,” Marz said, frustration filling him with impatience and restlessness. Where the hell was Garza? For all they knew, he could’ve already fallen into enemy hands. And then where would they be? He withdrew his cell and texted Nick.
Check in with Miguel to see if BPD has picked up Garza yet. No show, here
.

Marz sighed. Without Garza, they’d still have the chip. And, with less than forty hours until the key
search should be complete, they’d just have to hope it gave them enough answers and leads that they could keep moving this mission forward.

But forty hours seemed like a lifetime right now. Knowing they were being hunted filled Marz with an anxious dread.

A little while later, her male relatives emerged from the front door with Emilie and an older lady right behind them. The women stayed on the porch and called good-bye to the guys, which left only one car remaining. Emilie’s gaze scanned over the yard, and Marz got the distinct impression she was looking for them. And then, abruptly, as if she’d caught herself, she turned and went back inside.

Had she been thinking about him? Or was that wishful thinking?

Through the trees, Marz slowly became aware of a loud engine, the sound of it deep and growling the closer it came.

“You all hearing that?” Marz asked into his comms. Three affirmatives came through his earpiece.

The sound reached the driveway. And turned in.

“Sit tight,” came Beckett’s voice.

A black Suburban rolled into view and promptly performed a three-point turn so that it parked close to the porch but facing back down the driveway. Marz’s shoulders fell. Not Garza’s Hummer after all. The engine quieted. And then boots dropped to the ground and ran toward the house.

“Someone have a visual?” Marz asked, the beast of a truck in his line of sight.

“Not his vehicle, but that’s Garza,” Shane said.

But the guy was on the porch and through the front door before Marz had a chance to react.
Fuck
.

E
milie kicked off her sandals and glanced at the mountain of dishes covering her counters. The party had been a huge success. Everyone ate a lot and had a great time. And, bonus, no family drama.

Her mother stepped up to the sink and turned on the water, and some of the dish stacks were quite possibly taller than she. With shoulder-length salt-and-pepper waves, she’d always been something of a force of nature. Taking charge of their family when Emilie’s father left. Working two jobs to make ends meet. Mediating family disputes to everyone’s satisfaction.

“You don’t have to do that, Mama,” Emilie said as her mother loaded silverware into the dishwasher. “I can take care of it. This was your special day and you have a long drive.” Plus, now that they had a quiet house and it was just the two of them, Emilie needed
to tell her what was going on with Manny. All day, her mother had looked over her shoulder every time someone new arrived, her shoulders falling when it wasn’t Manny. Emilie had never dreaded a conversation more in her life because she knew it was going to break her mother’s heart.

“I don’t mind, and I don’t want to leave you with all this mess,” she said.

Emilie joined her at the sink. “I don’t mind, either. Really. You know I enjoy entertaining. I’ll put some music on and all this will be gone before I know it.”

Her mother gave her an appraising look and nodded. “All right. I do like to be home before it’s all the way dark.” She turned off the water and dried her hands on a towel with a sigh. “And I guess Manny isn’t coming . . .”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Bolstering her resolve, Emilie took a deep breath. “Speaking of which, I need to share some things I learned about him,” she said in a rush.

Crossing her arms, her mother dropped her gaze to the ground. “If you must.”

Frowning, Emilie studied her mother, trying to figure out the meaning of her demeanor. “A lot has happened,” Emilie said, starting out slowly. Problem was, no part of this story worked for easing her mother into the train wreck that had become Manny’s life. Better to just rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with. “And it all boils down to the fact that he’s in a lot of trouble, Mama. He showed up here night before last wearing bloody clothes, which I only saw because he woke me up in the middle of the night making a fire out back to burn them. He all but admitted to me that he’d hurt someone.
So I filed the psychiatric evaluation petition with the police, only to learn that Manny is wanted for questioning in a string of murders in Baltimore this week.”

There, she said it. She’d told her mother everything except what’d happened to her the day before. Which was a whole other can of worms. One crisis at a time.

Shoulders trembling, her mother nodded and finally raised her head. Watery brown eyes stared up at Emilie as she twisted at the towel in her hands. “I know,
mija
.”

She . . . knew? “Know how?” Emilie asked, confusion swamping her.

Her mother switched into a fast Spanish as she often did when she was upset, her voice colored by the strain of tears. “The police called this morning to question me. To see if I knew Manny’s whereabouts. They told me why. I just can’t believe it.”

“So . . . you knew everything before you even got here today?” Emilie asked, weariness seeping into her bones. She’d worried all day about this conversation and it turned out her mother already knew. Which hopefully meant she’d had time to accept it.

“Yes,” her mother said, her brown eyes filled with pain.

She took her mother’s hands. “It’s all true. You have to believe it. For Manny’s sake—”

The front door whipped open and banged against the wall behind it. Manny stalked through Emilie’s living room, eyes wide and bloodshot, hair a ragged mess, like he’d been digging his hands through it.

Emilie’s heart was immediately a runaway train, taking off fast and picking up speed. A rush of conflicting emotions followed. Happiness and relief that he was still alive. Fear at what he was doing here. Worry
that he’d behave erratically in front of their mother, upsetting her further. Knowing Derek and his guys were probably already closing in helped her stay calm.

“You made it,” she said, forcing normalcy into her tone.

Manny walked straight up to Emilie, grabbed her by the throat, and bent her backward over the counter. “You disloyal little bitch. You turned me into the pigs. You told them I’m crazy. You have
half
the city searching for me now!” he shouted.

Struggling for breath and for a way to brace her back from the sharp pressure of the awkward position, Emilie said, “I’m sorry, Manny. I love you, but you need help.” Her stomach knotted with fear as tightly as his hand held her throat.

“Emanuel! Stop it this instant!” their mother yelled, pulling at his arm but making absolutely no dent against his greater strength. Emilie coughed and sputtered.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he said, eyes boring into Emilie’s, “but some betrayals cannot be forgiven or ignored.” Meaning what? The possibilities made her scalp prickle and her stomach plummet.

“Which is the bigger betrayal?” Mama asked, beating at his arm. “Emilie trying to get you help or you killing people? Let her go,
mijo
!”

With a curse and a shove, Manny released Emilie’s neck and paced away. Suddenly, he punched a stack of dishes that went whirling across the kitchen, exploding into a million pieces as they hit the counter, cabinets, and floor, and stalked to the basement door.

Oh, shit
. The fake stuff. He’s going to find the fake stuff.

As soon as Manny disappeared from sight, Emilie grabbed her mother by the shoulders, snagged the older
woman’s purse and bag of gifts, and hustled her toward the front door. “We have to go. Now. He’s not stable. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Emilie’s voice was scratchy from how tightly Manny had held her.

“I’m not the one he hurt,” Mama said, brow furrowed over wide, panicked eyes.

“I’m okay. Come on, Mama. There’s no time to talk.” She guided her out onto the front porch and rushed her down the steps. Was this Manny’s Suburban?

Movement in her peripheral vision had Emilie turning to see Beckett in a low run from the far side of her yard.
Oh, thank God
. She scanned her gaze over the other side of the yard and found Easy running toward her, waving her away. Emilie opened the car door and tossing her mother’s bags inside.

“Come with me,
mija
,” her mother said.

Emilie was tempted. She really was. But she didn’t want to bring this mess to her mother’s doorstep, which made her remember Jeffers’s threat to find Mama. “Listen to me. I don’t want you to go home. Go to Rosa’s for the night. Okay? Just to be on the safe side. I’ll call you later. Promise me.”

“Okay, okay.” Her mother got into the car and shut the door.

“Emilie!”
came Manny’s roar from inside the house.

Oh, shit!

“Go. Drive safe.” Emilie rushed backward out of the way.

Just as Mama pulled a fast U-ey over the grass and sped down the driveway, Manny exploded so hard out of the front door that the Plexiglas in the storm door shattered into a spiderweb design. And three big, male bodies came rushing across the yard toward them.

Emilie was right in the middle of it all.

Her gaze zeroed in on Manny stalking toward her with a baseball bat and a wad of newspaper scraps he threw into the air. The paper fluttered on the breeze. “What did you do with it?” he growled, marching toward her. Emilie rushed backward.

“
Freeze!
” came Derek’s shout. “Hands on your head and freeze.”

Manny pulled a gun and waved it in a wide circle, firing off two rounds that sent the guys ducking for cover. A return shot caught Manny in the shoulder but he didn’t react to it at all. It was like he didn’t even feel it.

Emilie’s foot caught in a divot in the grass and she tumbled backward onto her butt. Hard. “Manny, no!” Emilie said. “Put your gun away. Nobody shoot! Please, nobody shoot!”

Was he really going to beat her with a bat? Was he really this far gone?

Sadness ripped through her because the answer was staring her in the face. He lifted the bat.

Another shot hit his arm, blood spraying on the grass, but it didn’t deter Manny nor stop the bat from its downward arc.

A body landed atop hers, knocking the air from her lungs.

And then a loud, metallic
clang
rang out.

Derek had raised his leg to take the hit with his prosthetic limb.

In a quick series of moves, Manny spun to a position behind Emilie’s back, and pointed his gun down at the two of them. “Drop the weapons or he gets a bullet to the brain. You might get me, but I’ll get him, too.”

Oh, God, no!
“Manny, just go,” Emilie cried.

“Not going anywhere ’til I have my money, my
guns, and my drugs. So it looks like we’re at a fucking stalemate,” he said, voice twisted with anger and hate. He placed the gun’s muzzle against the back of Derek’s head. The sight made her nauseous. “Where is it, Emilie?”

“I don’t have it, Manny. I didn’t even know you had anything down there,” she said, thinking on her feet . . . or back. “I was kidnapped by a city cop yesterday. He took me to a storage facility in Baltimore. Knew all about both of us. I barely got away with my life,” she said. “Maybe he’d already been here before that all happened,” she said, desperate for him to believe the lie.

“Fuck!
Fuck!
” Manny yelled, punctuating his outbursts with jerks of the gun against Derek’s skull. Between her anticipation of the shot and her inability to draw deep breaths due to Derek’s weight atop her, Emilie was starting to see spots floating around the edges of her vision. He swung the gun in an arc toward the other men. “Wait a minute,” he said, eyes toward where she thought Beckett stood. “I fucking know you,” he said, waving the weapon.

“Shit,” Derek bit out.

“You know me, too, motherfucker,” came a voice from behind them.

Manny whirled, fired three times in the direction of the voice, and raced for the Suburban, firing wild shots behind him as he fled. Emilie braced for the searing impact each time, or for Derek to cry out in pain, but neither happened.

The Suburban rumbled to life and pealed out of her driveway, engine racing. Derek rolled off her onto his stomach, weapon drawn and firing after the vehicle. Gunfire rang out all around. Emilie curled into a ball
on the grass and covered her ears with her hands. Eyes closed, she could almost convince herself she was listening to a fireworks display, there were so many
pop, pop, pops
.

And then it stopped, and only the sound of the roaring engine in the distance cut the evening air.

Head ringing, Emilie rolled to her hands and knees and scrabbled toward Derek. “Are you okay? Oh, my God, are you okay?” she asked as she reached him.

Kneeling on the ground, he caught her in his arms and cradled her to his chest.

And Emilie clutched on to him like he was the air she breathed.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, her body running on pure adrenaline. Her thoughts totally boiled down to their most important essence. And that was Derek. And the fact that she wanted him. All night, she’d regretted not having understood and forgiven right away. By morning, she knew she couldn’t live the rest of her life punishing every other man who crossed her path for Jack’s mistakes. And as she’d stood on her front porch looking out into the woods, wondering where Derek was, all she wanted was him by her side. “I’m sorry. I understand what you did. And I’m sorry.”

“Ssh,” he whispered in her ear, gently pulling her the rest of the way into his lap and rocking her. “Don’t worry about that now.” He pulled away, but Emilie held on tighter.

“Don’t leave,” she said, an uncontrollable shaking settling into her bones. Yet he was steady, unwavering, rock solid. She pressed her face against his throat and breathed him in. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Hey,” he said, stroking her
hair. “Look at me.” His deep brown eyes were warm, reassuring.

Her breathing ragged, Emilie eased away enough to meet his eyes. “Is your leg okay?” she asked, the
clang
of the bat still ringing in her ears.

“Sore, but okay. I’m made of fucking titanium. In a fight with a bat, I win.” He smiled.
He smiled
. They’d just survived hell and Derek unleashed that warm, adorable, sexy smile she so associated with him.

And her heart welled up inside her chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked, gently stroking the side of her face.

A fast nod. “Yeah, yeah. Well, mostly.” It was a little hard to count herself as okay when she couldn’t hold herself still.

The smile slipped off Derek’s face as his gaze moved downward. “What’s this?” he asked, fingers tracing her throat.

“Nothing that matters,” she said, wondering just how bad it looked.

“Like hell it doesn’t.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her neck. And another. “Fuck, I’m sorry we let him get away. We were trying to take him alive. God, I think we hit him at least three times.”

“Four,” Beckett nearly growled from where he stood over them.

Derek nodded. “It was like the bullets were bouncing off of him for how much he seemed to feel it. And I just couldn’t take him out standing five feet in front of you.”

“I know,” she said. “I saw that. God, maybe he’s on drugs. Can’t heroin turn off your pain receptors?” All she knew was that she no longer recognized her brother. Manny was completely and totally gone.

“Jesus, maybe so,” Derek said, stroking her hair behind her ear.

“Here,” came a quiet voice from over her shoulder. “Let me help you up.” A dark brown hand extended toward her.

She grasped it and needed every bit of Easy’s assistance to rise to her feet. Her knees were like jelly. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” he said.

Still clutching onto Easy’s arm, she turned and watched as Beckett and Derek clutched one another’s forearms, and Beckett hoisted his friend to his feet.

When Derek was upright, he listed to the side like his leg wasn’t quite strong enough to support him, but Beckett caught him. “Just give it a minute,” the big guy said, voice like sandpaper. “You got clocked in the leg pretty good.”