Right. Guilt crept into her belly like curdled milk. Knowing it was the right thing to do didn’t make it feel any better.
It didn’t take long to get home, where Beckett and Shane did a sweep of the house before they’d let her go in. Finding the house empty, they carted all the bags in for her. Her kitchen felt inordinately crowded with all these big men filling it.
“So, what’s the plan?” Emilie said when they’d brought everything inside. “How do you all do what you need to do?”
Leaning against the kitchen counter, Derek looked . . . pretty freaking hot in her space. “We’ll set up a defensive perimeter on the land side,” he said. “What kind of vehicle does your brother drive? In case he shows up.”
“A black Hummer.”
Derek nodded. “You won’t see us or hear us, but we’ll be out there watching and listening. Don’t worry about a thing,” he said. “If anyone shows up or anything happens, we’ll be here.”
If only not worrying was that easy. “If Manny comes, I don’t think he’d try to hurt anyone. He loves our family too much, and he’s always been very protective of me and my mother.”
“Maybe so,” Derek said with a nod. “But you never know how a cornered man will react.”
An awkward silence hung in the middle of the room, and all Emilie wanted to do was cross the kitchen, snuggle into Derek’s chest, and tell him to be careful.
“Okay, let’s do it, then,” Derek said, pushing off the counter.
“Um, wait. What about dinner for you guys? Should I”—she shrugged, kinda at a loss but not really wanting them to leave—“make something for you all?”
“No,” Derek said. “But thank you. You shouldn’t do anything to indicate that we’re out there at all. It’s just a regular night at home for you.” He started to turn, like he might come toward her, and then dragged a hand through his hair and stopped. He nodded, as if to himself. “Uh, in case it needs to be said, I won’t attend the party tomorrow. Not just because I’ll be with the guys keeping watch, but because I know things aren’t settled between us, and I know you’re not sure about me. But I really appreciated the invitation, Emilie. Just wanted you to know that.”
Without looking back, Derek followed the rest of the guys through her house and out her front door.
Emilie pressed her hand to her chest, trying to soothe the ache suddenly lodged there. It took every bit of strength she had to keep her feet planted right where they were and not chase after him. Between his expressive eyes and his handsome face, his sincerity and his humor, and the million other things she liked about him, she couldn’t be around him and think straight.
So then why did letting him leave feel so wrong?
THE PARTY WAS just getting under way. And Marz was sitting out in the woods watching it from the outside. Which was pretty much a metaphor for his life where anything related to family was concerned.
A few cars had arrived and parked along the side of Emilie’s long driveway, but otherwise everything was normal as pie.
Marz sighed and shifted positions. He was going to need a whole bottle of ibuprofen and an appointment with a massage therapist by the time this day was done. He and his three teammates were split up—two in the woods on each side of the driveway, so the solitude combined with the lack of activity had made it one long night. Which had given Marz way too much time to sit and think of how he’d bungled this thing with Emilie. First, in developing an interest to begin with. Second, by lying to her and having to come clean in the aftermath of being freaking kidnapped. Of course, the lying couldn’t be helped. The lives of his teammates and their collective chance at redemption had depended on it.
But no matter how he tossed and turned it, Marz couldn’t find any real reason why that should matter to Emilie. After all, they’d just met. Hadn’t even known one another for a full week yet. What could possibly convince her to overlook all his many faults and give him a chance?
And, given the fubar of their situation, should he really want her to give him that chance? Because he and his team had no shortage of danger, enemies, and problems to deal with in the immediate future.
A better man would leave her to her once-peaceful life and walk away.
So, then, why did the thought of that create a hollow ache right in the center of him?
Because he was a greedy bastard. And he wanted a place to belong, someone to claim him—for once—and someone to claim in return.
Sonofabitch.
Marz had never realized exactly how lonely he was until that very moment.
Shaking the bullshit out of his head, he did a one-eighty scan of the yard. Emilie had set up folding tables and chairs on the water side of her house. She’d decorated by stringing colorful paper lanterns between the corners of her house and the trees, making him long to go help her every time she got up on the ladder. She’d brought out a row of coolers and filled them with ice and drinks, and soft music Marz couldn’t quite make out floated on the perpetual breeze that came in off the water. Between the sun and bright blue sky, and the waves lapping gently at the beach, it was a perfect fucking day.
Norman Rockwell would’ve been inspired.
More cars arrived and the party really got under way then. Fifteen people. Twenty. Twenty-five. Marz couldn’t imagine being related to that many people and having them all come to visit. It was like observing strange customs in a foreign country.
Children ran around the yard playing. A couple of men set up a game of horseshoes down by the beach. The smells of grilled food and the sounds of laughter carried on the air toward him.
And in the middle of it was Emilie, who looked fucking sexy in a turquoise outfit with a loose V-neck top over a snug miniskirt that hugged her thighs. She wore her wavy hair in a thick braid over one shoulder, which accentuated the long lines of her neck. And if all that wasn’t enough to drive him insane, she had on a pair of high red sandals that made her legs look like they went on forever.
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.
&
nbsp; “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.
Chapter 19
Emilie 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.
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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.