One Kiss More (32 page)

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 caught 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?”

“R-right.”

Several tense minutes passed. He’d essentially fucked them over with his rash behavior, but it was too late to worry about it now. He wasn’t returning the gun to Damien, either. They could pry it out of his cold, dead hands.

“Done!” Emma pushed herself away from the desk, her chest heaving with rushed breath. “It’s done. Look for yourself. Every last penny is back in your account.”

Sousa raised a questioning brow to Landon in lieu of asking for permission to approach. Landon backed away and gave a single nod of his head. The only sound in the room was the
tap, tap, tap
of Sousa’s overpriced loafers on the concrete floor. He stopped at Emma’s left shoulder and peered at the computer screen. “Cesar, call our people in Jalisco. Tell them we’re ready to move forward.”

Cesar went for the door and Landon said, “I think it might be a better idea for you to conduct whatever business you have right here.” Cesar looked at his boss as if to say,
Can you believe the balls on this guy?

Believe it, buddy. They’re big. And brass
.

“I allowed your macho display for the benefit of keeping Emma on task,” Sousa said, “but we’re done here. Cesar,
tener cuidado de ellos
.”

Landon didn’t know what he’d said, but the shit-eating grin on Cesar’s face didn’t fill him with hope that they’d be allowed to walk out of there. He leveled the gun on Sousa only to hear the distinctive
click
of a hammer behind him. Damn it. He’d lost sight of Damien and the bastard wasn’t ready to blow his cover yet.

“I’ll take my piece back, if you don’t mind.” The menace in his tone sent a chill down Landon’s spine. Undercover guys like Damien went above and beyond codes and morals to protect their covers and operations. Sousa was a big fish and Damien would do anything in his power to keep him on the hook.

Even if that meant putting a bullet in Landon’s head.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Emma’s blood turned to ice in her veins.

Landon stood ramrod straight, a gun leveled at Sousa’s head. Behind him, Damien shoved the long barrel of a nasty-looking revolver into the top of Landon’s neck, his eyes devoid of emotion and his lips thinned into a hard line. He was supposed to be on their side, damn it! Not helping the bad guys. What was going on? Why? Didn’t Damien realize that they were all going to die?

Take care of them
, Sousa had said to Cesar. Whether or not the undercover marshal could speak Spanish, he should have heard the threat inherent in Sousa’s ominous tone. Because Emma was pretty damned sure Cesar wasn’t about to escort them to a hospitality suite.

Emma didn’t want to die. Not before she told Landon how she felt about him.

“What about our deal?” she asked in an effort to buy time. She knew that Sousa would kill her the first opportunity he got. No honor among thieves—or arms dealers—and all that. But if she could get the people she cared about out of the building alive, at least her death wouldn’t be for nothing. “You’re still going to need someone to help cover your tracks. Erase your financial and digital footprints. I can do that for you. You know I can get it done.”

“Teyo.” Emma’s dad rose slowly from his chair, and it tore at her heart to see how much effort the simple act took. “Does the past mean nothing to you?
Usted no es un hombre malo
. Emma did what you asked of her and the boy is only trying to protect her. Let us go. Your secrets will be safe.”

Not an evil man? Emma swallowed down a burst of hysterical laughter. She wanted to tell her dad he was wasting his breath trying to appeal to Sousa’s softer sensibilities. The man had none.

“
Te equivocas
. I
am
this man. I can’t afford the high price of your morals, Javier. Good-bye.”

Javier’s expression fell with disappointment at Sousa’s words.
You’re wrong
. With the words spoken solely for her dad’s benefit, he’d made it quite apparent that there would be no redemption, and no quarter given. They were all going to die. He headed for the door and Emma lunged for him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his overpriced suit jacket. “Please, don’t do this. Let my father and Jeremy leave here. They haven’t done anything.” He stared down at her, his eyes so cold and emotionless that she shivered from the chill. “Let Landon go. I’m the one who stole from you. I’m the one who disrespected you. Make an example of me and me alone.
Te lo suplico
.” Please.

Emma released her grip on his arm as fingers of dread speared her chest and tightened her lungs. Teyo Sousa had not one ounce of mercy to spare for her or anyone. Without a word, he walked through the door, shutting it soundlessly behind him. In trying to help her father, she’d condemned him. By simply being his friend, she’d signed Jeremy’s death warrant. And in cleaving to Landon—falling hopelessly in love with him—she’d destroyed him.
Oh, God
.

“Get them in the van.” Damien instructed Cesar with the same cruel indifference as the rest of Sousa’s band of murderers. “And grab a couple of guys to help you.” He jerked his chin toward Emma. “I don’t want them anywhere near this facility.” He tossed Cesar the gun he’d taken from Landon. “When you’re done, meet me at the buy location.”

Emma’s attention split, divided among the three other hostages in the room. As Cesar holstered one gun in exchange for the other, Damien leaned in toward Landon’s ear. Who knew what shitty sentiments that traitor was whispering? She hoped that Crawford found him and nailed his ass to the wall. Her father looked at her with resignation, sadness pulling at his already gaunt features. And Jeremy . . .
shit
. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his arms loose as though getting ready to go in for a touchdown. He’d
promised
her, damn it! No hero crap.

Jeremy lunged for Cesar, his over six and a half feet of height towering over the shorter man, and one of Jeremy’s hands almost big enough to palm Cesar’s head and twist it right off. Emma’s heart leapt into her throat, and her pulse raced at the same time her lungs seized up. Jeremy had the advantage size-wise, but would it be enough to wrestle the gun from Cesar’s hand? The report of the shot rang out, too loud in the enclosed space. Emma’s ears rang and her head swam. Focus seemed impossible with the amount of blood pumping into her head and her vision blurred. Jeremy listed backward as though in slow motion and a scream lodged itself in Emma’s chest.

“Jesus Christ, Cesar!” Damien growled from between clenched teeth. “We’re trying to lay low, not bring every cop in the Industrial District down here. You fucking idiot.”

Jeremy crashed down onto the floor like a felled tree. Blood welled from his right shoulder, a bright crimson bloom that made Emma’s stomach turn. In a heartbeat, she was beside him, cradling his head against her shoulder as she tore open the buttons of his shirt to assess the damage. Good God, as if she even knew what she was looking for.

“Maybe I should have just given the
hijo de puta
my piece,” Cesar spat. “You know, to keep things quiet?” He gave a derisive snort, waving the gun around as he barked out orders. “You. Help him up,” he said to Landon. “And you, old man, give him a hand.” He hauled Emma up by her arm, his fingers biting uncomfortably into her skin. “You’re sticking close to me.” His sour breath caressed her cheek as Cesar sneered close to her face. “Ain’t no one gonna jump me if they think you might get shot in the process, eh,
chica
?”

Damien gave Landon a rough shove toward Jeremy, who was now sprawled out on the floor, his loud moan of pain slicing through Emma’s chest. “I-is he going to be okay, Landon?” Emma spoke around the tears, willing herself to be strong.

Landon examined the bullet wound, his jaw set with anger and the muscle there flexing. Fire sparked in his eyes, blue gas flames that wouldn’t be quenched. Landon was the comeback king, the guy who had a response for everything, most of the time accented by his trademark snark. But the quiet that had settled over him since he’d pulled Damien’s gun on Sousa rattled Emma. Yet another side of Landon she hadn’t known existed. She could almost see the gears turning in his mind. The plans forming. Landon McCabe could be a dangerous man too, it seemed. And thank God for it.

“All right, get him up and get moving.”

Emma shot a glare Damien’s way, cursing him to a thousand tortures, none of which would leave him with a single limb still attached. Cesar held Emma close to his body, taking several steps back to let Landon and her father help Jeremy to walk through the doorway. Damien followed, his gun trained on the back of Landon’s head, and Cesar dragged Emma out last with a sick whisper in her ear. “I’m going to gut your
pendejo
boyfriend while you watch.”

Emma mustered every ounce of bravado she had and laughed. She looked Cesar straight in the eye and said, “
No si te destripa primero
.”
Not if he guts you first
.

The vans that had followed them into the warehouse were gone now, and an eerie silence settled as the only sound was their shuffling feet and Jeremy’s labored breath. That nasty bastard Luis and another guy with an automatic weapon waited for them by the van, the sliding door open and ready to accept their prisoners. And not a scrap of morality between them.

Landon helped Jeremy into the long middle bench seat so he could sprawl out, and Emma’s dad climbed in beside him. Cesar and one of his pals hopped in the front seat, leaving Emma and Landon to squeeze into the shorter third-row seat with the remaining guard.
Nice and cozy
. Damien walked up to the driver’s-side window and exchanged a few low words with Cesar that she couldn’t quite make out. Damien gave Landon one last pointed look and then turned his back on them, heading for where, Emma had no idea.

As the van pulled out from the warehouse and to wherever it was Cesar was taking them, Emma realized that this might be her one chance to say good-bye to Landon. The only opportunity she might ever get to tell him how she felt. She leaned in close—it wasn’t tough considering how tightly they were jammed into the seat—but the words wouldn’t move past the knot that formed in her throat.

I love you. So much it hurts. So much that the thought of losing you now makes me want to scream and fight and hurt anyone who might try to keep us apart. I love you more than I thought I could love anyone or anything. And I know that our time together has been short, but I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. And even that bitter, angry, spiteful eighteen-year-old girl knew that you were a good man. You are the love of my life, Landon McCabe
.