One Kiss More (11 page)

“I didn’t ask you to do that. Go. Away.”

McCabe had no idea the sort of people Emma was dealing with. Cesar would kill them both and not even bat a lash. The only thing keeping her alive at this point was the information she’d gathered over the past six years and the money she’d stolen a few weeks ago. Once Cesar and his boss got their hands on it, she was as good as dead. Didn’t it count for something that she was trying to keep McCabe out of this mess? But if he refused to butt out, there wasn’t much she could do to protect him.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

There was no escaping McCabe’s tenacity. She had no doubt that he’d park his ass on her couch until the sun rose and his buddies showed up to take her away. And likewise, Emma was no shrinking violet. No way was he going to coerce information out of her. So if she couldn’t get rid of him without coming clean, maybe she could misdirect him. Just long enough for her to put his information to good use and get the hell out of there before the marshals screwed everything up.

But what could she tell him that he’d believe? This was why she was way over her head. Emma wasn’t a good liar, and aside from the few pranks she’d played on the marshals when she was younger, she didn’t exactly do underhanded like a boss. “If I tell you what you want to hear, will you get the hell out of here and leave me alone?” Truth be told, his presence was a safety net she didn’t want to let go of, but Emma refused to put anyone else in danger. Even bossypants McCabe.

“If you tell me what I want to hear, I’m going to assume it’s a lie,” he remarked. The way his blue eyes bored into her, she swore he could see right into her soul. “So whatever you tell me, you’d better make it good.”

“Then what in the hell do you expect from me, McCabe?” The man was exasperating. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to sock him in the face or kiss him. “Because at this point, I really don’t know.”

“What I want is for you to quit playing games. What I want is for you to grow up and take this situation seriously.” With every second, he grew more agitated, every word forced from between clenched teeth. “What I
want
is for you to stop looking at me like that because if you don’t, I’m going to flush my career down the toilet and kiss you again. And I won’t stop there, Emma. You can believe that.”

Talk about a yo-yo. Emma couldn’t keep up with the constant ups and downs of McCabe’s moods. Just this morning, he’d thrown their intimate moment in her face, all but mocking her for it. Now . . . well, he’d pretty much said point-blank that he was thinking long and hard about getting them both good and naked.

“How am I looking at you?” She knew she was pressing her luck, but she didn’t care. She might be dead by tomorrow afternoon, or worse. Why not live a little?

McCabe took a step closer. So close that Emma had to tilt her head up to look at him. “Like you’re dying for me to kiss you. Touch you. Maybe even fuck you.” Fire burned in his gaze and his brows drew sharply over his eyes. He reached up and his fingers dove into the hair at her temple. Emma’s eyes drifted shut.

Pop! Pop!

The loud burst of sound confused her, and Emma opened her eyes in time for McCabe to tackle her to the floor. She landed with a
whoof !
as all of the air left her lungs in a mad rush. McCabe threw himself on top of her, his arms shielding her head as he tucked his body into hers. The picture window shattered into a million pieces, raining down pebbles of glass that bounced over the surface of the hardwood floor.

“Stay low, and head for the door,” McCabe barked. “I’m right behind you, Emma. Don’t look back.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he shouted. “Just move!”

Chapter Nine

What. The. Fuck.

Emma didn’t exactly live on the ground floor, which meant someone with a high-powered sniper rifle had them in its crosshairs. It was a miracle they both were still alive, but if they didn’t get the hell out of her building in the next five minutes, that status might change.

Landon did a quick assessment of their situation as Emma scrambled to her feet. She wasn’t exactly in good shape, running out the door in her bare feet, but at this point, they couldn’t afford to stop for her to grab a pair of shoes.

“Where is it coming from?” Emma’s voice shook with panic, but she didn’t turn around as she raced down the hallway toward the elevators.

A moment of indecision caused Landon’s step to falter. The elevator wasn’t the safest escape route, but at this point neither was the stairs. As far as he knew, the sniper fire was a tactic to flush them out of the building to make them easier prey. The stairs left them more exposed. But a well-trained assassin could easily ambush them in the elevator.
Fuck it
.

He followed her into the elevator and chambered a round in his Glock. “Hit the fourth floor,” he said. “We’ll take the stairs from there.”

The parking garage could be staked out. And likewise, whoever was after Emma might assume they’d come out through the lobby. Odds were good that Morgan or one of his guys was parked out on the street and even better that, with the wiretap in her apartment, they’d be on their way up to investigate. He should call Morgan and form a plan to get Emma safely out of the building. Damn it, he should. But all the guy would do was take Emma into custody, and that really wasn’t going to work for Landon.

“What am I going to do? Oh my God, what am I going to do?” Emma spoke the words under her breath like a mantra, obviously not intending for Landon to offer up a suggestion. “I mean, I’m barefoot. Barefoot! Can you say Britney Spears?”

“Hey.” Landon felt an epic meltdown coming on and he needed Emma to keep a level head. “Listen to me. You’re going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She laughed. A loud, manic, disbelieving chuckle that solidified to a cold lump in Landon’s gut. Yup, definitely on the verge of freaking out. “You can’t protect me, McCabe. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.” A strangled sob worked its way up her throat. “And if they’re trying to kill me, it means my dad is probably already dead, too.”

If he’d known a few stray bullets would loosen up her lips, he would have shot at her a couple of days ago. This was progress. He didn’t like the direction they were headed, but he couldn’t do anything about that. He’d take what he could get. The elevator came to a stop at the fourth floor, and Landon threw an arm out, guiding Emma away from the door and out of sight. He held up a finger to his lips and brought his gun up, ready to fire at the first son of a bitch who crossed his path as he checked the hallway.

“Okay, we’re clear,” he said. “Don’t run, don’t act as though anything out of the ordinary is going on. Just head for the stairs.”

“Sure, it’s easy for you to act ordinary,” Emma remarked. “You’re wearing shoes.”

Well, at least she wasn’t freaking out and muttering about Britney Spears anymore. But the comment did raise a question Landon hadn’t thought to address. It was one thing to slip out of the building by himself, but Emma had a posse of camera-wielding fanatics camped outside of her building waiting to memorialize her every move. Really, the Marshals Service should take a cue from the paparazzi. They knew how to track someone down. Landon grabbed Emma’s hand and kept her close by his side as they made their way to the door marked EXIT, which led to the stairwell. “Okay, Emma, it’s time to level with me. I need to know what we’re dealing with before we hit the street. I can’t protect you if you’re not honest with me.”

Silence answered him. Great, they were back to this.... “Emma, someone tried to kill you. You can’t keep secrets any longer.” He pulled open the door to the stairwell and paused. “Are you hearing me?”

Behind her veiled expression, storm clouds of doubt gathered in the dark depths of her eyes. She still didn’t trust him. Considered him the enemy. For a minute, he thought about grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her, but he knew it wouldn’t do much good. He’d never met anyone as stubborn as Emma Ruiz in his entire life.

“Can you get me out of here, McCabe?” Her tone hinted at defeat, but Landon wasn’t about to get his hopes up. “And then, we’ll talk.”

Either Emma wasn’t sure what they were up against, or she didn’t want Landon to know. Both options left him screwed and he was seriously beginning to doubt his own sanity at trying to get her out of the building without any backup. “Okay, first things first. We’ve got to ditch our phones.” Emma’s was being monitored; his relayed his GPS coordinates to anyone with the Marshals Service who wanted a look. They might as well be running around with a big red light flashing above their heads.

“I—I can’t,” Emma stammered. “There’s a number that I need. . . .”

“Your phone is being monitored. If we know where you are, there’s a chance the people shooting at you know, too. Lose the phone. It’s not up for debate.”

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and a sigh escaped her lips as she handed it over to Landon. He stashed it, along with his own, at the top of the stairs. “Okay, now what?”

Shit, he wished he knew. Landon was usually the guy chasing the suspects, not the one helping them to escape. In any other sticky situation, he’d call Galen to get him out of a jam, but since he was three hours and about a hundred and seventy-five miles away, the chances that he’d get here in time to be of any help were pretty slim.

“Is there anyone in the city that you trust? And I don’t mean like one of your party pals. Someone who’ll do anything for you, no questions asked?”

Emma stared at him for a long moment. “I don’t want to bring anyone else into this,” she said. “It’s bad enough that you’re involved.”

“Does that mean you’re concerned for my safety?” Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the time to feel smug satisfaction, but Landon couldn’t help himself.

“It means that if you would have stayed out of my business, you wouldn’t be dodging bullets and worrying about job security right now. God, McCabe, why couldn’t you be a slacker like everyone else in law enforcement?”

She was trying to pick a fight with him, but he refused to acknowledge her slight against his profession. “You can put as many walls up as you want, Emma, but it doesn’t change the fact that we’re in this together now. You’d be better off accepting it.”

“I don’t have to accept anything.”

Landon opened his mouth to lay into her when the sound of a door slamming open echoed down the stairwell. In an instant, he had Emma’s back to the wall, his body pressed up against her and weapon held at the ready. Her body molded to his and each rise and fall of her chest was a distraction Landon couldn’t afford as her breasts brushed against his back. Warm breath tickled the back of his neck and his gut clenched tight. Damn it, of all the moments to be living one of many fantasies he’d concocted as a teen . . . Badass cop. Sexy witness. Danger at every turn. The adrenaline rush was fucking amazing.

Morgan and his partner wouldn’t have had time to get into the building yet, so either someone else was a fan of taking the stairs, or they needed to get their asses in gear, like, now. Landon turned to face her and was taken aback by the fear in her dark eyes. He’d always thought of Emma as courageous and stubborn, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. But the vulnerability that marred her soft features was a vise that squeezed every last particle of air from his lungs.

With slow deliberation, he took Emma’s hand in his and a wave of tremors passed down her fingers and into his arm as though he was a conduit for her fear. A haze of anger slammed him, damned near blinding Landon as he guided her down the stairs, careful to make as little sound as possible. Her bare feet were nothing more than a whisper on the industrial rubber matting and he tried to keep his own steps as light and soundless as hers. Running would only draw attention to them, and likewise, he wanted to be able to hear any approaching danger. So far, the telltale sounds of anyone charging after them or toward them were eerily absent from the stairwell. Either this was a false alarm, or whoever tracked them was a stealthy motherfucker.

When they hit the lobby floor, Landon peeked out of the doorway first, in case someone was waiting to ambush them. Clear. He grabbed Emma’s hand so he could guide her out in front of him and protect her back once in the lobby. He tucked his sidearm into the holster so as not to cause a panic if someone should notice. Law enforcement had a tendency to put even innocent people on edge, especially with a drawn weapon. He wasn’t interested in creating a scene—what they needed right now was a quiet, low-key exit. Unless . . . Shit, how could he have overlooked the possibility that a flashy escape was
exactly
what they needed to get out of this alive?

He turned to her and smiled. “Okay, Emma. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

There wasn’t enough oxygen in the world to properly fill Emma’s lungs. Landon paused, hand on the levered doorknob of the stairwell exit, listening. The sound of sirens grew louder, and from the tiny square window in the door, Emma watched as the lobby staff jumped into action, answering the phones that had begun to ring in succession. She supposed it wouldn’t take long for the building to go on high alert, what with the marshals tracking her every move and the windows of her condo being shot out of existence. Her brain had gone numb around the time McCabe had dragged her out of her condo, and she had a feeling that when the numbness finally wore off, she’d have a hard time keeping it together.

She couldn’t think about her father, or what might or might not have happened to him, or what her own attempted murder meant in the grand scheme of things. Right now, her focus was on staying alive, and the only way that was going to happen was to rely on the one man she’d sworn she’d never trust.

“Where are we going?” Emma asked, low, as McCabe guided her toward the door that would take them right into the middle of chaos. He couldn’t possibly think it would be better for them to simply walk out onto the street.

“We’re going to mingle,” McCabe said. Okay, so he’d officially lost his mind. Maybe something jogged loose when he’d taken her down to the floor up in the condo.