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ONE

Emma was gone.

One minute, she was in the safe house. The next minute, no Emma.

Ryan looked up and down the street as his friend’s pickup truck whipped around the corner and screeched to a halt beside him. Jake hopped out and eyed the Dodge Charger parked at the curb.

“She didn’t take the rental car?” Jake asked him.

“No,” Ryan said, with a knot in his gut. “This witness said she got into a black Land Rover with some guy.”

Jake shifted his attention to the elderly woman standing on the sidewalk with a bouncy Chihuahua at her feet.

“He was very tall,” the woman provided. “Caucasian. He was dressed nice, too, like a businessman.”

“Did he get in front or back?” Jake asked.

“Back. Somebody else was driving, I guess. And she got right in with him.” Her brow furrowed. “There wasn’t a struggle or anything. I would have noticed that.”

“Which way did they go at the stop sign?” Ryan asked.

The woman gazed down the street for an eternity as Ryan clenched his hands at his sides. “Left.” She looked up at him. “Yes, they turned left on Bella Vista, which curves around to the front of the neighborhood.”

Ryan was already jumping into the pickup, but Jake stopped to get the woman’s contact info.

“You didn’t pass a Land Rover on the way in?” Ryan asked as Jake peeled away from the curb.

“No.”

Which meant too much time had elapsed—as much as five minutes. Ryan had been in the shower three minutes, tops. So Emma must have taken off the instant he’d turned his back on her.

Ryan scanned the street ahead as they blew through the stop sign and skidded around the corner. Emma was gone. Gone. Ryan never should have left her alone, not even for a minute. He should have dragged her into the damn shower with him. He’d wanted to, but he’d somehow managed to control himself, and now Emma was paying the price.

“God damn it.” He pounded his fist on the door.

“Could she have gone willingly?” Jake glanced at him.

“No.”

“She could have called an old boyfriend to pick her up, or maybe an Uber. You said she had a meeting, right? So maybe she called a ride.”

“She didn’t.”

“You sure? Maybe you did something to piss her off.”

Ryan shot him a look.

“Shit, you did, didn’t you? I bet she ditched you.”

Ryan gritted his teeth. He’d never been ditched by a woman in his life. And yeah, he’d never been with a woman as headstrong as Emma Wright, but still.

Her storming out of the house and leaving for her meeting without him, that was her being pissed off at him. Her getting into the back of a car with some guy? No way. That was something else.

Ryan tried her cell number again, and again no answer. A cold fist squeezed around his heart. She’d been taken. He could feel it.

“So what the hell happened?” Jake asked. “You two have a fight?”

“Not exactly.”

But she was pissed off at him, and she had been since this morning, when he’d dropped the bomb that he’d called her father to help deal with the escalating threat to her safety. Emma’s dad—a freaking congressman, no less—was probably already on a plane from Washington to help arrange a security detail his daughter didn’t want.

And she was probably ticked about some other things, too. Such as his refusing to sleep with her until she all but begged him.

No, she had begged him. He could still hear her breathy little pleas as he’d touched her.

“She’s pissed at me,” Ryan admitted. “But she wouldn’t just take off like this.”

Jake lifted an eyebrow skeptically. “Still, we should check in with her meeting, see if she showed.”

“She’s got a ten thirty with Special Agent Alexa Mays in the Los Angeles FBI office,” Ryan said, and he knew that meeting was at the root of everything happening. Emma had been poking around for weeks, dropping her father’s name and calling in every favor she could to get someone to talk to her about the plane crash she’d been in last month.

The plane crash that had killed an American ambassador’s wife.

The plane crash that only Emma had survived.

Ryan’s SEAL team had fast-roped into the Philippine rain forest on a search-and-rescue mission. They’d found no survivors with the wreckage, but they had found a few surprises, including evidence that the plane had been shot down. Five painstaking hours later, Ryan had discovered Emma injured and hiding in the jungle. He’d gotten her the hell out of there, only to run into her again in San Diego, where she’d been snooping around, asking questions about the investigation into the incident.

Ryan scanned driveways and side streets as they raced by but saw no black Land Rover. He muttered a curse.

“Women do funny things,” Jake said.

“What about the rental-car key?” Ryan held it up. “She dropped it on the sidewalk by the car, like . . .” Fear gripped his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Like what?”

“Like a fucking distress signal.”

Jake halted at the stoplight at the front of the neighborhood, and Ryan spotted a food truck parked at a construction site. He shoved open his door and jogged up to the group of workers waiting for tacos, immediately zeroing in on one who looked like a veteran. The guy stood off to the side, arms crossed, looking Ryan up and down.

“Anyone see a black Land Rover come through here a few minutes ago?”

The buzz-cut guy stepped forward, frowning. “Black rims, tinted windows,” he said. “Big guy driving.”

“That’s it.” Ryan’s stomach clenched. “Which way did he go?”

“East.”

Ryan cursed and rushed back to the truck. Just a few minutes east was the interstate. They could be anywhere by now.

“Hey, chief.”

Ryan turned around as the vet stepped closer.

“They tore through here pretty quick. Looked to be in a hurry.”

———

Special Agent Alexa Mays strode into the lobby, and Jake’s heart gave a kick. He’d expected someone butch-looking, but Mays was feminine and slender, with a cascade of dark hair all the way down her back. Her gaze locked on his as she crossed the room.

“Lieutenant Jake Heath?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His attention dropped to the gun at her hip, and his pulse quickened.

“You must know some very important people to get in here without an appointment. What can I do for you?”

Jake studied her. She wasn’t intimidated by his size. She was fairly tall herself, probably five-eleven. And still, she had the nerve to wear heels with her dark suit. She had a calm, intelligent look about her and didn’t seem at all dazzled to have a SEAL in her midst. If anything, she seemed annoyed.

She glanced at her watch. “Listen, Lieutenant, I don’t have much time—”

“I’m looking for Emma Wright.”

“Emma Wright,” she stated. “The embassy employee? Renee Conner’s assistant?”

Jake nodded. “You seen her this morning?”

“No, why? Is she even stateside?”

“Emma said she had an appointment with you at ten thirty,” he said.

“I don’t have an appointment with Emma Wright or anyone else at ten thirty.” Another glance at her watch. “What I do have is a phone conference with the assistant director in fifteen minutes to discuss the operation you and your team conducted five weeks ago.”

Jake stared at her. “You are Special Agent Alexa Mays, right?”

The corner of her mouth curled up in a smile. “Last time I checked.”

“And you didn’t set up a meeting with Emma Wright to talk about the plane crash?”

“No.”

“Well, someone claiming to be you did. Emma was on her way to the appointment when she disappeared.”

She looked up at him for a long moment. “You’re serious.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ve never spoken to Emma Wright in my life.” A little worry line formed between her brows. “And you’re telling me she’s missing?”

———

Ryan popped open the sliding glass door of Emma’s room and slipped inside. The place smelled like her—a soft, womanly scent that put a sharp yearning in his gut. He ignored the feeling as he tucked his knife into the pocket of his jeans and got to work.

Emma had been gone four excruciating hours, and the local police were still wasting time. They hadn’t even managed to cut through the red tape needed to pull up the traffic cameras in the area where Emma had gone missing. So Ryan and Jake had taken matters into their own hands.

Ryan scanned Emma’s hotel room now, searching for some sort of clue. He noted the makeup scattered across the dresser, the rolling suitcase parked beside the closet, the laptop open on the desk beside a half-finished bottle of water. He ducked into the bathroom, where he found more cosmetics by the sink, along with a prescription bottle. Ryan read the label. The pills were for insomnia, and the prescription had been filled by a Seattle pharmacy two weeks ago.

Guilt lanced through him. She’d been having trouble sleeping since the plane crash. She hadn’t shared that with him, but he should have guessed.

He went back into the bedroom and turned his attention to her computer. The keyboard came to life when he tapped the screen, no password protection. Shaking his head, Ryan clicked into her e-mail and scrolled through recent messages from the offices of various government agencies. Emma had been rattling cages in an effort to get someone to talk to her about the plane crash. Ryan skimmed through the e-mails but learned nothing useful except that Emma didn’t like taking no for an answer—which he knew all too well.

His phone buzzed, and he dug it from his pocket.

“Anything there?” Jake asked.

“Still looking. What about Mays?”

“She didn’t set up the meeting.”

Ryan paused. “Come again?”

“Mays never talked to Emma.”

“Emma told me the agent called her last night.”

“She didn’t,” Jake said. “She’s running Emma’s cell phone now to see who might have placed the call. Evidently, impersonating an FBI agent is a big fucking deal, particularly if the impersonator is involved in a kidnapping.”

The word kidnapping made Ryan’s gut clench.

“Good news is, we definitely have the feds’ attention now,” Jake said. “Mays is all over this. And I convinced her to leapfrog the local cops and pull up those traffic cams.” Jake’s sweet-talking abilities were legendary in the teams, even more so than Ryan’s. He’d made the right call sending Jake to talk to the agent instead of doing it himself.

“What’d she get?” Ryan asked.

“Turns out a black Land Rover LR4 blew through that intersection at the front of the neighborhood at 8:38 this morning.”

Ryan checked his watch. He closed his eyes and fought the tight grip of panic.

He was no stranger to panic. He’d been through it during drown-proofing drills in BUD/S training and then later when he’d come inches away from losing his life to a bullet. In his profession, panic was unavoidable, but it wasn’t helpful. Ryan had learned to lock it deep inside him, where it couldn’t distract him from his mission.

And his mission right now was to find Emma and make her safe. It had been his mission once before, but this time was different. This time, she wasn’t some anonymous person he’d been sent to rescue. She was Emma. And the thought of her in the hands of some fuckhead who wanted to hurt her made it impossible to breathe.

“Bro, you there?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s more,” Jake said. “Mays was able to see the tag. It’s a California plate, and the vehicle is registered to an Orion Shipping.”

“She told you all that?”

“Ah, I might have taken a peek at her laptop when she stepped out of the conference room to take a phone call.”

“I want to talk to Mays,” Ryan said. “Put her on.”

“No can do, man. She booted me out of there when the shit started to hit the fan. I’m calling you from my truck. But listen, I looked up Orion Shipping, and turns out it’s a Filipino company.”

“Filipino,” Ryan repeated.

“Yeah, I know. What are the odds that’s a coincidence?”

Ryan didn’t believe in coincidences.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling torn. New information was progress, so he was glad to have it. But now any hope that Emma had randomly caught a ride with a taxi service or an ex-boyfriend was gone. She’d definitely been abducted.

“Ryan, you there?”

“I’m here.”

“Get your head in the game. We need to figure out who would want to hurt Emma and why.”

Ryan was pretty sure he knew the why part, but the who was still a mystery. “Emma’s been poking around, trying to dig up anything she can about the investigation into the plane crash,” Ryan said. “The preliminary report is out, and she heard a rumor they’re planning to attribute it to pilot error. Emma knows as well as we do that that’s bullshit.”

“Okay. I figured it was something like that,” Jake said. “But are you saying there’s a cover-up? What does someone want with her?”

“They want to shut her up.”

A grim silence ensued.

Ryan looked around Emma’s hotel room, desperately searching for anything he’d missed, anything that might offer a clue. This was hell. Ryan could feel her, he could smell her, but she was nowhere. His gaze landed on a white lace bra dangling from the closet doorknob. It was just like the one he’d taken off her last night, and a knife twisted inside him.

God damn it, why had he left her alone? He never should have let her out of his sight.

“Okay, so let’s assume there’s some kind of cover-up happening, and Emma’s threatening to blow it,” Jake said. “Whoever has her probably wants to know exactly what she knows, what she witnessed before and after the plane crash, and who she might have told already. That means he can’t just eliminate her. He needs time to talk to her first. Somewhere private.”

“I want the address of Orion Shipping,” Ryan said.

“I’m working on it. So far, all I have is a PO box in Los Angeles.”

“Mays has it. Get her to give it to you.”

“Yeah, she’s not answering my calls,” Jake said. “Think she’s a little tied up right now. Fact, I’d bet money the feds are getting a team together to go raid the place, wherever the hell it is. I overheard someone say something about a staging area as I was leaving the office.”

Ryan’s blood ran cold as he envisioned a bunch of FBI SWAT jocks kicking in a door and starting a firefight with Emma caught in the middle. Ryan much preferred to do things the SEAL way, using stealth as the secret weapon.

He bent over Emma’s computer and ran a search for Orion Shipping. He scrolled through the results. The first page yielded nothing.

“Come on, come on . . . Wait. Okay, I found something,” he told Jake. “Orion Shipping Enterprises?”

“That’s it.”

“Looks like they’re over near the Port of Los Angeles.” Ryan’s brain was racing with tactical considerations as he jotted down the address on a scrap of paper. “You think she’s over there?”

“If she’s alive—”

“She’s alive.” He refused to believe anything else.

“Then I sure as hell hope she’s over there, because we’ve got shit in the way of other leads. I’d like to find her before the feds go charging in like storm troopers. You better get your ass up here.”

Ryan slipped from the hotel room the same way he’d come in—like smoke. “I’m on my way.”

TWO

Emma awoke in a haze. Everything was dim, fuzzy. And she had to concentrate to open her eyes.

She blinked into the darkness. It was the same as before. Her head throbbed. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy. And the floor beneath her was cold and hard.

She lifted her head and winced. She tried to shift positions, but her hands wouldn’t move, and she remembered they were bound together. With duct tape, she recalled, rubbing her wrists across her face. She had a strip of tape over her mouth, too.

The memories flooded back, along with a cold splash of fear. She’d been standing beside the rental car when someone jabbed a gun into her side and forced her into an SUV. She should have run. She should have kicked and screamed and howled, but she’d been paralyzed with terror, and now it was too late. The man who’d grabbed her had been huge and strong, and the flat look in his eyes had put a chill in Emma’s heart.

Those dark, utterly flat eyes were the last thing she remembered before the prick of the needle.

She shifted on the floor now, flinching as her sore arm pressed against the concrete. Her head was sore, too. And her neck. And the steady drip-drip of water nearby was making her brain hurt. She’d been listening to it for what seemed like hours.

What time was it? The drugs had made her lose track. It could have been hours or days.

A fresh wave of fear washed over her, and she tried to sit up. Wherever she was, she’d been here too long. What did they want with her?

Emma’s chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe. She sucked in air through her nose, but it wasn’t enough, and the darkness around her started to spin. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, thunking it against the wall.

Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.

Ryan’s voice in her head made her dizzy with relief. But it was in her head. He wasn’t here.

Tears burned her eyes. Ryan had betrayed her trust. He’d gone behind her back and secretly contacted her father after she’d specifically asked him not to, after he’d promised.

His actions still stung. He’d been arrogant and meddlesome and infuriating, but she couldn’t focus on any of that now. She needed to calm down and make a plan. She forced a breath into her lungs and tried to organize her thoughts.

What did she know?

She was in a dark, damp room that smelled of mold and sweat and urine. She wasn’t the first person to be held here. The realization came with its own set of worries, but Emma shoved them aside.

Earlier, she’d heard footsteps. And then a door had creaked open and someone had shone a flashlight in her eyes. She’d pretended to be unconscious, and the footsteps had retreated.

But she couldn’t pretend forever.

She had to come up with a plan. She had to get out of here. If Ryan were here, he’d find a way out in no time. He was trained to deal with anything, to overcome impossible odds. She’d seen him do it.

Come on, Emma.

His voice was in her head again, and again she forced the tears away. Tears wouldn’t help her. She had to think.

She brought her bound hands to her face again and pressed them against her cheek. Definitely duct tape. Two of her fingers peeked out of the bindings. She touched her fingertips to the strip of tape covering her mouth and managed to find the corner. She pinched it and tugged. Her skin burned, and she tugged again. She got a firm hold on the tape and gave a fast pull, swallowing a scream as her lips seemed to catch fire. She closed her eyes until the pain subsided.

Her mouth was uncovered now. She could scream her head off, but who would hear her?

She shook the strip of tape off her fingertips and went to work on the bindings, gnawing them with her teeth. The tape tasted gluey and sour, and she spat little fibers on the floor. The first layer came loose, and she felt a surge of hope. Could she really do it? Could she really tear herself loose?

But then what?

The squelch of a radio outside the door made her go still. Icy darts of fear went through her. The guard on the other side of the door mumbled something into a walkie-talkie. She held her breath, waiting for him to come in again, but nothing happened.

Emma’s heart pounded as she started gnawing again, determined to get through the endless layers of tape. Finally, she felt her wrists loosening and managed to yank her arms apart.

Freedom!

She groped around in the darkness, elated to have use of her hands again. But the euphoria soon faded as she realized she was in a closet-sized room without any openings besides a door that was manned by a guard.

He was there. Still. She could hear him muttering into his phone or his radio. He had to be armed, and if he was anything like the men who’d kidnapped her, then he was big, too, much too big for her to take on alone.

She paused to think for a moment. She was wearing low-heeled shoes. She slipped them off and kicked them into the corner.

A loud squelch. Emma went still. Through the door, voices. She strained to listen.

“She’s still asleep,” the guard said with a grunt.

Static over the radio. Then “—wants to talk to her—” More static. “—are ready now.”

Panic shot through her. Emma grabbed the strip of tape off the floor and pressed it back over her mouth. She clamped her wrists together and lay back down in the position she’d been in earlier, pretending to be asleep.

The door creaked open. Heavy footsteps. She held her breath, heart thundering, as the man stared down at her in the darkness. Then a light shone in her eyes. She let her lids flutter open and squinted into the glare.

“Up,” he ordered.

She feigned confusion, but what she really felt was terror. What if the tape fell off when she lifted her head?

“Now.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her roughly to her feet.

Emma made a muffled yelp as he spun her toward the door and gave her a shove. Mustering her courage, she made a sound of protest and nodded toward the back of the room.

The guard towered over her, scowling in the dim light of the hallway. It was the man from before, the one who’d kidnapped her, and he was in the same dark suit, only this time his gun was holstered at his side, not digging into her ribs.

She made another muffled noise and nodded at her shoes on the floor.

He turned and muttered a curse, then bent to retrieve them.

The instant his back was turned, she gave him a mighty shove and slammed the door, then bolted down the corridor. It was dark and narrow, and her bare feet flew over the concrete as she sprinted for an exit, ripping the tape from her mouth as she went. She didn’t see a way out.

Behind her, a door smacked open. She darted around a corner as she heard the guard lumbering after her. She looked around, trying to find a way out. Another corner. She ducked around it and spotted a door at the end of the hall. She raced for it, heart pounding wildly at the thought of what she might find on the other side. But she had no other choice. She could hear the guard’s footsteps behind her and his labored breathing as he yelled into his walkie-talkie.

She yanked open the door. Stairwell.

She tried a door on the other side. Locked. The only option was up, and she took the steps two at a time, grabbing the metal banister to help her. It looked like the stairwell of a parking garage, with big red numbers painted on each landing. The door on level two was locked, too, so she kept going. She reached for the next door just as voices sounded on the other side.

Emma dashed up another flight of stairs. And another. And another. How far could she go?

A door slammed open below. Yelling and pounding as more men charged up the stairs.

She hit another landing and yanked open the door.

She found herself in a large open space crowded with office furniture but not a person in sight. Emma raced across the room, dodging around desks and chairs and cardboard boxes filled with files and office equipment. She spied a phone on a desk and snatched it up.

No dial tone.

She darted a look over her shoulder as footsteps thundered up the stairwell. She looked around frantically. She could hide under a desk or in a closet, but it would only be a matter of time before they found her. She saw a glowing EXIT sign on the far side of the room. She sprinted for it.

A loud boom as the stairwell door burst open. Emma ducked through the EXIT door and found herself in another stairwell, this one even darker than the first. She flew down the stairs, leaping around the landings, hoping against hope that they hadn’t spotted her. The stairwell was lit only by the EXIT signs, which cast an eerie red hue over everything. She tripped down the steps, gasping for breath, then reached the bottom and lunged for the door.

Light.

She rushed outside and glanced around, shocked to find herself in a narrow alley. At one end, a chain-link fence with razor wire on top. At the other end, a pair of men in jeans and leather jackets.

One of the men turned slightly. The machine gun in his hands sent her heart skittering.

She looked back at the chain-link fence. No way out, just guns or razor wire. She scanned the building across the alley. Beside a Dumpster, she spotted a door, but it was probably locked.

“Hey!”

She looked over her shoulder as the men with guns rushed toward her.

Emma sprinted for the door.

———

Ryan swung into the alley and parked beside Jake’s pickup. Jake was bent over the hood, examining a paper map and comparing it with something on his phone. He glanced up as Ryan jumped out.

“What’d you get?”

“I reconned the whole area,” Ryan said. “Of the three buildings owned by Orion Shipping, only one appears to be a legit business.”

Ryan looked at the satellite map on Jake’s phone and zoomed in on their location. “See this one? Two blocks north of here—that building’s operational. It’s a corrugated-box factory. These other two buildings? Both unoccupied, but they’ve got men stationed at the doors. Looks like they’re guarding something.”

Jake shot him a look. Men guarding something was good news. If that something was Emma, then she was alive.

“What do you hear from Mays?” Ryan asked.

“Finally got her on the phone. She has no idea we’re here. She’s still being tight-lipped about everything, but she told me someone spotted the black Land Rover used in the abduction. They’re following up on that now.”

“Which means they’re staging a raid,” Ryan said.

“That’d be my guess. Maybe they plan to go in after dusk?”

Ryan checked his watch. “That’s in about ninety minutes. We need to get moving.” He looked at Jake’s phone again. “Okay, see here? This building’s our best bet. The doors are guarded, but it’s total amateur hour—only one guy per door, and they’re zoned out with their phones.”

“Perfect,” Jake said.

“We’ll start with this entrance.” Ryan traced the route. “You distract the guard, I’ll slip inside, and—” A distant noise caught his attention.

Jake looked at him. “Shit, is that—”

“Gunfire. Let’s move.”

———

Emma sprinted up the stairwell, heart thundering. Gunfire. They were shooting at her now!

A door below her slapped open. Terror spurted through her, and she took another flight of stairs two at a time. She reached a landing and shoved through the door.

This building was empty, too. God, where were all the people? She raced across a room filled with empty cubicles. There were plenty of places to hide, but they’d eventually find her. She needed to get out.

She spied an EXIT sign and sprinted for the door just as it burst open.

Emma halted in her tracks. Ryan rushed toward her, dodging around the empty cubicles.

She stared at him, paralyzed with shock. What on earth was he doing here? Could he be with them?

“How did you—”

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward a side door.

Another door slammed open behind her.

Pop.

Emma crashed to her knees as Sheetrock exploded beside her head.

Ryan hauled her to her feet and shoved her in front of him. “Go, go, go!”

———

Ryan pushed her into the stairwell. She started down the steps, and a door below them smacked open.

“Up!” he yelled, pulling her back to the landing, then pushing her ahead of him. Emma tripped up the stairs. He followed so close he was almost on top of her.

Ryan’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he jerked it out.

“They’re converging on the east side of the building,” Jake told him. “Where’s Emma?”

“I’ve got her. We’re in the east stairwell. How many?”

“Four, maybe five guys, armed with AKs.”

“Where are the feds?”

“No idea. Need me to pick you up? I’m about half a click from my truck.”

Emma reached the top and darted a desperate look over her shoulder. “It’s locked!”

“Stay available,” he told Jake. “I gotta go.”

Ryan tried the door just to confirm as Emma shot him a frantic look. He dug out the same pocketknife he’d used to slip into her hotel room just a few hours ago. He slid the blade into the doorframe and maneuvered it around the latch.

Boots thundered below them. Had to be at least three guys running up the stairs.

“Hurry!” she squeaked.

The lock popped. He wrenched open the door, then pushed her through in front of him.

They were on a rooftop. Ryan glanced around and hauled Emma behind the cover of an air-conditioning unit as he tried to get his bearings. He jogged to the edge and peered over.

“We’re three stories up!” Emma said.

“Four,” he corrected, looking around. The closest neighboring building was across the alley, a good thirty feet away. He met her gaze. “You ready?”

Her eyes widened. “You mean . . . ?”

He nodded at the alley below. She took a tentative step toward the ledge to peer over. She swayed backward, and he caught her around the waist.

“Emma.”

She looked up, her face white with terror. She didn’t think they could make it.

“You hesitate, you die,” he told her. “It’s that simple.”

Those big brown eyes stared up at him, and he felt a pinch in his chest.

“Do you trust me?”

Her pretty mouth fell open, but she didn’t answer him.

“Do you?”

He saw the battle going on, and for the hundredth time, he realized he’d played this all wrong. He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “Hell, no, I don’t trust you. Are you crazy?”

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Emma, honey . . .”

“Don’t honey me, you—”

He grabbed her hand and jumped. “Feet first!” he yelled, but she probably couldn’t hear him over her bloodcurdling shriek.

They landed in an open Dumpster on a heap of black garbage bags. One of the bags burst on impact, and the smell nearly knocked him out.

“Whoa, that’s rank. You okay?” He turned to Emma, who was leaning back against the pile.

She blinked up at the sky, then blinked at him.

“Emma, you all right?”

She sat forward, eyes widening again as she took in her surroundings. With a trembling hand, she peeled a slimy ketchup packet from her arm. “I’m . . . I’m . . .” She looked up at him. “Did we just jump off a building?”

Grabbing the side of the Dumpster, he hauled himself up. He threw a leg over to straddle the box and held a hand out for her. “Come on.”

She stared at him.

“Now, Emma. They’re right behind us.”

His words seemed to slap her out of her shock, and she rolled to her knees and picked her way across the lumpy bags. She reached up for his hand.

“Straddle the side of it, like me. I’m going to jump down first so I can help you, all right?”

He dropped to the asphalt and waited for her to position herself, which wasn’t easy in her snug-fitting skirt. She swung her legs over and stared down. It was a short drop, but she was shaking all over and probably not thinking clearly because the stench made it tough to breathe.

She jumped, landing in a heap at his feet. He pulled her up as shouts drifted down from the rooftop.

Ryan dragged her behind the cover of another Dumpster. They pressed their backs against the brick wall of the building.

“Did they see us?” she whispered.

He didn’t know. But the voices sounded confused, so he took that as a good sign. When the shouts faded, he grabbed Emma’s hand.

“Let’s move.”

THREE

She didn’t know what time it was. Or what day. She didn’t even know what city they were in as they jogged on the sidewalk along a congested street. Ryan had her hand clamped in his, and Emma struggled to keep up, but she kept glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was after them.

They reached a strip mall, and he tugged her through a parking lot.

“Ouch!” She stopped and looked down at her foot.

“Shit, where are your shoes?”

She looked at him. Really looked at him for the first time.

He wore jeans and heavy work boots that somehow didn’t slow him down at all. His black T-shirt was plastered to his chest with sweat, but that was his only sign of stress. He wasn’t even breathing heavily.

He took his phone from his pocket and checked the screen, then tucked it away.

“Come on.” He caught her hand and pulled her toward a convenience store. She followed his lead, too shocked and shaken to protest whatever plan this was.

The store was cold inside and smelled like hot dogs, and Emma became acutely aware of her own unique fragrance, a combination of sweat and fear and rotting garbage.

Ryan stopped in the candy aisle and nodded at the restrooms. “Go clean up. I’ll meet you in front, okay?”

She limped down the aisle, looking anxiously around the store as she made her way to the bathrooms. She stood in front of the sink for a ridiculously long time, scrubbing her hands and arms and feet with soap until her skin felt raw. Then she spent a few minutes finger-combing her hair.

Her reflection scared her. Her hair was a wild mane again, like it had been the day Ryan found her in the rain forest. Her white silk blouse was soiled and torn, and she had a smear of red down the side of her Donna Karan skirt. Not blood. Or ketchup. Maybe barbecue sauce? She tried to rub it away but only managed to make the stain worse.

She looked at herself and sighed. At least she was clean. Relatively speaking. Now she needed to go back out there and make Ryan tell her what the hell was going on.

As she walked back through the store, she noticed the stack of newspapers beside the cash register. So they were in Los Angeles. And it was still Monday. Just those two small tidbits of information had a calming effect.

Ryan was waiting on the sidewalk out front beside the ice machine. He looked her over, then held out a plastic bag.

Emma glanced inside. Flip-flops, thank God. The instant she slipped them onto her feet, Ryan pulled her around the side of the building and backed her against the wall.

“What—”

His mouth crushed down on hers, cutting off all words, all thought. There was only him, and his lips and his taste and the perfect feel of his body pinning her. He braced her there, keeping her on her feet even when her legs felt like limp noodles and her head felt so dizzy she didn’t know her own name.

He pulled back, and the intensity in his green eyes sent a shiver through her.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know that?” He cupped his hand around the side of her face. “From now on, we do this my way. I will keep you safe if I have to take a bullet doing it, but no more arguing.”

He kissed her again, and her mind reeled from his words and the emotion flooding through her system. She couldn’t get enough of him. She wanted to let go, to step away, but instead, she kept kissing him and kissing him until all she could feel was his rock-hard body. He tasted so good. He was solid and strong and insistent, and his body formed a protective wall around her, keeping the outside world away as he pulled her into the private depths of his kiss.

A buzzing noise permeated her thoughts. His phone.

“We need to move.” He stepped back and took her hand from where it was curled around his neck.

“Wait.”

“We don’t have much time.”

“Just . . . wait.” She tugged her hand free and gaped at him, still out of breath from his kiss. So many questions tumbled through her head, and she didn’t know where to start. She brushed her hair from her eyes. “Who keeps calling you?”

“Jake. He’s here in LA, and he’s been in touch with the feds.”

“The federal government?”

“The FBI,” he said. “Mays never set up that meeting with you this morning.”

She stared at him, trying to process his words. They didn’t make sense. “Alexa Mays,” she stated.

“That’s right.”

“But . . . she called me. Just last night. She identified herself, and the caller ID said US GOV. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Ryan shook his head. “She denies ever talking to you at all.”

“Then who the hell called me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was a hoax, maybe someone trying to lure you someplace so they could grab you or trying to pinpoint your location using your cell and then distract you by calling you.”

“But—”

“Or another possibility? Someone might have been waiting to ambush you at the hotel. Maybe in your room. When you didn’t go inside, they resorted to plan B.”

“How would someone get into my locked hotel room?”

“It’s not that hard. Anyway, a lot of government agencies pop up as US GOV on caller ID, so it wasn’t necessarily the FBI.”

Emma stared at him. Her heart was still pounding from all the exertion, but now her blood turned icy.

Someone from a government agency had called her. Just moments before another someone had tried to run her down in a pickup truck. Or maybe they hadn’t been trying to run her down. Maybe they’d been trying to grab her off the street.

She’d thought she’d spoken to Special Agent Alexa Mays, but that had been an illusion, like everything else.

Ryan stepped toward her. “Emma—”

“Don’t.”

“You’re skittish, I know.”

“Skittish? You don’t know the half of it.”

He looked down at her, his brow furrowed with concern. “Jake can pick us up.”

“Jake’s working with the feds.”

He nodded.

“I don’t trust them. I can’t, Ryan. Until I know what’s going on, I don’t trust anyone.” Her nerves were too raw, and her mind was still reeling. “I need some time to think this through,” she said.

“You want to go off the grid.”

She nodded. He watched her intently, as though he was debating something with himself. Then he took her hand and looked around.

“This way.”

“Where are we going?”

But he didn’t answer as he led her across the parking lot to another strip mall. Daylight was fading, and several of the storefronts glowed with neon signs. She spotted a liquor store, a Korean restaurant, a dry cleaner. A thrift shop was closed up for the day, but all of the other businesses looked open.

Ryan squeezed through a row of cars, tugging on door handles as he went. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he pulled open the door to a battered pickup. The hubcaps were missing, and spots of rust decorated the truck bed.

“Ryan?”

He ignored her as he crouched down and fiddled with the steering column. Emma’s heart raced faster as she watched him. Then he slid behind the wheel as the engine sputtered.

“You’re going to hot-wire a truck?”

“I just did. Get in.”

She stared at him. “We can’t steal a car.”

“Actually, we can.”

“That’s called grand larceny!”

“It’s called basic E and E. Escape and evasion.” He gave her a hard look. “Get in, Emma.”

She glanced up and down the rows of cars and SUVs, then scurried around the back of the pickup. She pulled open the passenger door, and it made a loud squeak that sent a flurry of nerves through her. What the hell was she doing? She’d never stolen so much as a pack of gum. Her heart was pounding even harder than when she’d been kidnapped, even harder than when she’d jumped off that rooftop. “This is bad. We can’t do this. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Ryan threw the truck into gear and shot backward out of the space. “You feel guilty?”

“Yes! This is someone’s truck!”

“Yeah? Well, when this is over, you can buy him a new one. Fact, he’ll probably thank you. This thing’s older than I am.”

He swung onto a road and floored the pedal, and Emma got her first good look around the area. Los Angeles. They were in Los Angeles. She scanned the sidewalks but saw no sign of her kidnappers. She looked up and down streets, expecting to see a black SUV speeding after them.

Ryan pulled up to a stoplight and hung a right. She looked at him behind the wheel, all clear-eyed and confident, as though leaping off buildings and hot-wiring trucks were routine activities.

“Where are we going?”

He cut a glance at her. “As far away from here as possible.”

FOUR

Emma’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked around, surprised to see that it was dark. She’d rested her head against the window for just a moment, but the steady hum of the engine had put her to sleep.

“You awake?”

She looked at Ryan beside her, his arm resting casually on the steering wheel as though he’d been driving this pickup for years.

She sat up straighter. “Where are we?”

“East of San Bernardino.”

He seemed to have a direction in mind. He always seemed to have a direction in mind, no matter how chaotic the circumstances. It was one of the things about him that had impressed her in the rain forest.

Cool air whipped through the truck cab, making up for the lack of air-conditioning. She looked out the window at the rugged canyon dotted with fir trees.

Ryan slowed and pulled onto the shoulder, and she watched with apprehension as he rolled to a stop and put the truck into park. When he turned toward her, the dashboard lights cast his face in a greenish hue.

“I need to ask you something.” He held her gaze. “And I need you to be honest with me.”

Her nerves fluttered as he picked up her hand.

“Did they hurt you?” He searched her face.

“You mean . . . did they rape me?”

He nodded. “There’s a hospital not far from here. I can take you in, get you anything you need.”

Emma’s chest squeezed. “They didn’t hurt me. Not like that.”

“You were drugged.”

She’d given him an overview of everything she remembered about the kidnapping, but after the needle prick, it was mostly a blur. She looked away and focused inward, searching her body, her subconscious, for anything wrong. She’d been through these thoughts earlier, and she’d come up with nothing. “I think I’d know. I don’t feel anything like that. And my clothes were all intact, so . . .”

“You can tell me. If you need anything at all, I want you to tell me.”

“I will.”

He watched her for a long moment, and she saw the tension in his jaw.

“Really, I will.”

He squeezed her hand and released it, then put the truck into gear and pulled back onto the highway. Emma checked the mirror. Still no one behind them.

“This road seems pretty remote,” she said.

“Yeah, I’d just as soon avoid the highway patrol.”

“How long have we been driving?”

“About two hours.”

Wow, she’d really conked out. Talk about an adrenaline crash.

“I’m sorry this happened,” he said quietly.

“Me, too.”

He cut a glance at her, and she read the look on his face: guilt.

“You sound like you feel responsible,” she said. “Don’t.”

He grunted.

“I mean it.”

“You were under my protection.”

She gaped at him. Was he serious with this? “You took me to a safe house. I walked out. What happened after that is on me.”

The muscles in his jaw tightened again.

“I mean it, Ryan.”

He slid a look at her. “Why did you, anyway? Walk out on me?”

She sighed. “You pissed me off.”

“Which thing, exactly?”

She rolled her eyes. “What happened this morning.” Damn, was it really only this morning? Time felt amorphous. “You broke a promise. You called my father behind my back and told him to fly out here.”

She was angry for other reasons, too. Like him basically telling her he regretted sleeping with her, that he shouldn’t have let it happen, as though it was all up to him.

Silence settled over the truck. She looked at him. No apology forthcoming, but then, she hadn’t expected one.

“So have you had a chance to think about why this is happening?” he asked.

“I wish I knew.”

“You do know.”

She shot him a look.

“Come on, Emma. You’re a smart girl. You have to have some idea why all this shit’s going down.”

She looked out the window again. “Don’t call me a girl. I’m twenty-six years old.”

“I know.”

“It’s belittling,” she continued. “I can’t believe your girlfriend lets you get away with that crap.”

“You know damn well I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“I don’t know anything ‘damn well,’ because you haven’t seen fit to tell me. You know all about me from reading my State Department file, and yet I know almost nothing about you.”

“Not true,” he said.

“True.”

“I told you about Callie.”

“Callie?”

“My little sister.”

She felt a stab of guilt. His sister had died of leukemia when he was a kid. He’d told her that during the night they’d spent in the jungle when they’d been talking to pass the time.

At least, that’s what she’d thought he’d been doing, simply passing time. Was it possible he’d been trying to get to know her? She refused to believe that, because it gave her hope, hope that there was more between them than a temporary bout of lust brought on by life-threatening circumstances. He didn’t necessarily feel anything for her. She was the one who’d been reckless enough to let her emotions get involved here.

A pair of headlights came up behind them, and he slowed to let the car pass. He was keeping right to the speed limit, no doubt because they were in a stolen vehicle.

He glanced at her. “You really think I’d take your clothes off last night if I had a girlfriend?”

Her cheeks burned at the memory, and she looked away. He’d given her two exquisite orgasms without even shedding his clothes. And then he’d slammed on the brakes. She’d practically had to beg him to sleep with her.

He was watching her now, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“I’m not like that.”

“Which is precisely my point. I don’t know what you’re like, because you’ve told me next to nothing about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

She didn’t reply.

“Seriously. Ask me anything.”

“Okay. What’s Crew?”

Silence.

“See?”

“It’s my team.”

“I got that,” she said. “But it’s not just a regular SEAL team, is it?”

“No.”

She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. She’d known he wouldn’t. He was just proving her point.

“We don’t exist. We take missions that don’t exist.” He gave her a dark look. “Like yours.”

The mission to rescue her from the wreckage of that crashed airplane, he meant. Her government had sent in a team of special-ops warriors to find survivors and whisk them to safety amid a hail of bullets.

“Which brings us right back to the subject you’re trying so hard to avoid,” he said. “Come on, Emma. You’re a smart woman. Don’t tell me you don’t have any idea what’s going on here.”

———

Ryan waited, his gaze trained on the highway. He’d wait all night if he had to, but he planned to get answers.

“I don’t know anything for sure,” she said. “It’s all just a hunch, really.”

“A hunch based on two years working in a U.S. embassy. Based on two years of knowing Ambassador Conner. Based on being aboard the plane the ambassador was supposed to have been on when it was shot out of the sky. It’s not just a hunch, Emma. It’s a highly educated guess, and I want to hear it.”

He glanced over, and she was watching him warily. Her hair was all wild again. And her shirt was dirty and rumpled, and damned if he didn’t want to pull her into his lap and kiss her.

But they had some things to get out of the way first. Such as why someone kept trying to kill her.

“You admit the plane was shot down,” she said.

“We both know it was shot down.”

“Ambassador Conner should have been on that plane, but he got tied up at an economic forum in Singapore.”

As the personal assistant to the ambassador’s wife, Emma would have been familiar with both the Conners’ schedules.

“People have speculated that the plane crash wasn’t really an accident,” she said, “but a botched assassination attempt on an American ambassador.”

Ryan nodded.

“I think they’re wrong.”

“You do?” He didn’t bother concealing his surprise.

“In fact, I know it.” She looked at him. “I don’t think the attack was botched at all. I think the goal of the attack was to kill Renee Conner. And they succeeded.”

———

Ryan looked at her, and she could tell he didn’t believe her. “The ambassador’s wife was the target,” he stated.

“Yes.”

“Your direct boss.”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think that?”

She looked away.

“Come on, Emma.”

She sighed. “A lot of things. For one, it had happened before.”

“Someone tried to kill her?”

“Someone put an IED in her Mercedes a few months ago. Her driver spotted it. We brought the embassy bomb techs in to disarm it, so nothing happened.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Nobody did. It was kept secret.”

“How come you know?”

“I was at the embassy when the call came. I saw everyone scrambling. And I’m friends with one of the Marines on her security detail.”

He frowned.

“And it turns out that incident wasn’t the only time, either. My friend told me they recovered another IED from Renee Conner’s vehicle a few weeks later. Not her husband’s vehicle, hers. And from some of the paperwork that crossed my desk, I know Renee was in the process of hiring some additional security from the States, beyond what the embassy provided.”

“You mean outside contractors?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I just know that she was looking into it.”

He got quiet.

“What?” she asked.

“Does the FBI know all this?”

“I have no idea.”

“Did you tell the task force investigating the crash?”

“I thought I had a meeting with Alexa Mays, but that turned out to be a hoax, so . . .”

“So you finally get a meeting with someone inside the investigation so that you can share this theory of yours,” he said, “and next thing you know, you’re having near-death experiences.”

“That about covers it.”

“And now you’re feeling a little paranoid.”

“Just a little.”

Silence settled over them. Emma stared out the window with a knot in her stomach. It had been there for weeks now. The only time it had gone away, in fact, was during those hours she’d spent at the safe house with Ryan. Something about his presence gave her a sense of security, a sense that no matter how screwed up everything got, it would ultimately be okay. Maybe it was because he was a SEAL. He was a battle-hardened fighter who could survive pretty much anything.

Or maybe it was something much more complicated, something she shouldn’t allow herself to dwell on if she wanted to get through this crazy experience with her heart intact.

A highway sign came into view, and Emma didn’t recognize any of the towns listed. They really were off the beaten path, which suited her fine.

She looked across the truck at the man who’d helped her out of so many dangerous situations she was losing count now. He seemed deep in thought over everything she’d told him.

Deep in thought was good. Much easier to ignore than the way he’d been earlier, sliding those heated glances over her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Or—even harder to ignore—the tender way he’d looked at her when he’d pulled over and asked if she’d been raped. A lot of men wouldn’t have had the guts to ask, but Ryan didn’t shy away from anything, no matter how uncomfortable. He faced problems head-on. It was yet another thing she admired about him. She had quite a list going.

Emma settled her head against the side of their stolen truck, the truck she fully intended to replace if she ever got through this.

Ryan glanced at her. “Thanks,” he said.

“For what?”

“Telling me your theory.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for saving my life. Again.”

FIVE

Emma was out cold.

Ryan kept his eyes on the road, but he was completely aware of her every shift, every sigh. She was curled in her seat, resting her hand against the window and using it as a pillow. Her bare feet were tucked under her, flip-flops discarded on the floor.

A gas station came into view. Ryan swung into the parking lot and surveyed the cars and trucks as he pulled up to a pump. They were miles from the nearest interstate.

Emma sat up groggily and looked around. “What are we doing?”

“Taking inventory.”

She gazed up at him with her bottomless brown eyes. Those eyes of hers did something to him, messed with his head. They made him want things he knew he could never have.

“Inventory?”

“We need provisions.” Ryan pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. “I’ve got forty-eight dollars. Any chance you got any cash on you?”

She shook her head.

“Didn’t think so. Credit cards are out if we want to stay off the grid.” He looked at the neon sign above the door, and she followed his gaze.

“So . . . you want me to hold up this convenience store for you? Maybe mug a few old ladies on their way out of the restroom?”

“Funny.” He handed her a twenty. “Tell them we need fifteen dollars on pump two. Use the rest for food.”

She looked at him a long moment, then took the bill, clearly uneasy about accepting his money. But she didn’t have much choice. “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I’ll pay you back.”

He snorted.

“I will.”

“Look for protein,” he advised as she climbed out of the truck. “Maybe some barbecue sandwiches.”

He kept his eyes on her as she stepped through the doors and paid the cashier. He watched her movements, thinking about everything that had happened in a few short days.

She was still upset with him about this morning and embarrassed about last night. Sex hadn’t been in the plan, but everything had gotten out of control. He’d thought he could protect her. He’d thought he could comfort her and make her feel safe. He’d even thought he could spend the night with her without giving into temptation, but he’d been dead wrong.

Problem was, now he couldn’t get enough of her. One taste, and he was hooked, he craved her. But she was in a seriously bad situation, and all this lust simmering inside him wasn’t helping anyone.

He focused on his plan as he gassed up the truck. His chief objective was to keep her safely hidden until she was ready to come forward and talk to investigators. Which investigators, Ryan didn’t know. But he wouldn’t allow her to reach out to anyone until he’d done some investigating of his own.

As the numbers scrolled on the pump, Ryan scanned the parking lot for potential threats. He was one-hundred-percent sure they hadn’t been tailed from the city, and he’d picked this gas station because it was out of the way. He powered up his dormant cell phone and called Jake.

“Whoa, man. Where the hell you been?”

“On the move,” Ryan said. “Emma needed some space.”

“Yeah? Well, I can relate. The FBI is very anxious to meet with you two.”

“I know.”

“Any chance you want to swing by their office, maybe get some of these suits off my back?”

“Maybe later.”

Silence on the line. Ryan debated what to tell Jake and decided on nothing. Not right now.

“Seriously, Ryan, they need to talk to her. They want to know where she is and what she knows.”

“She’s with me. And she’s not feeling very talkative at the moment, so they’ll just have to wait.”

More silence. Ryan could feel Jake’s disapproval through the phone.

“I need a favor,” Ryan said. “I need you to contact Emma’s dad, let him know she’s secure. I can text you his private number. Can you do that for me?”

“Shit, I’ll do anything. You know that. But you need to think about this, Ryan. This girl’s father is a congressman. She’s rich and connected. I know she’s in a jam, but someone else can help her out of this thing.”

“Are you telling me to walk away?” Anger swelled in Ryan’s chest, even though he knew Jake was only looking out for him.

“I’m telling you to think about your career, man. You worked your whole life to get where you are, to get on this crew. You need to think about what’s on the line if you help this girl.”

“What about what’s on the line if I don’t?”

Jake didn’t respond. Ryan unhooked the nozzle and replaced it, keeping a sharp eye on the store.

“One other thing,” Ryan said, as Emma emerged wearing a plaid flannel shirt and carrying a plastic bag. “There’s something screwy going on with the feds. This Agent Mays, can we trust her?”

A few beats of silence passed. “Possibly,” Jake said. “I’ll find out.”

“The faster the better. I’m ditching this phone now, but I’ll be in touch.”

“Take care, brother.”

“Roger that.”

Ryan texted the congressman’s number. Then he popped out the battery and dropped the phone into a trash can as Emma neared the truck.

“Want me to take a turn driving?” she asked.

“No. Where’d you get the shirt?”

“I bartered for it.”

She swung open the door with a squeak and hopped inside the truck. Just having her close to him made him feel worlds better, and he knew he was in trouble.

He pulled out of the lot.

“Bartered with what?”

“A woman in the ladies’ room complimented my earrings, so I offered her a trade.”

“You traded gold for flannel?”

She shrugged. “Something I didn’t need for something I did.” She flipped up the sleeves, which were far too long for her. The woman in the ladies’ room had to be related to Paul Bunyan. “Anyway, my torn blouse was attracting attention.”

Ryan trained his attention on the road. It wasn’t her torn clothes that attracted attention, it was her body. Emma was stacked, and there wasn’t a man at that gas station who hadn’t noticed. But if she wanted to hide herself under oversized flannel, that was fine with him.

“You sure you don’t want me to take a turn?” she asked. “You must be tired of driving.”

“I’m fine. We’re almost there.”

“Where?” She looked around at the highway lined with pine trees. “There’s no way we have money for a motel.”

“I spoke to Jake,” he said, changing the subject.

“What, just now?”

“Yeah. The FBI wants to talk to you.”

“What did you say?”

“That you’ll talk when you’re ready.” He glanced at her. “And I asked him to let your father know you’re safe.”

She looked away, and he could feel the tension ratchet up.

Emma had issues with her dad, deep-rooted issues that Ryan was pretty sure had to do with her mom dying when she was young. Ryan couldn’t be certain, though. She’d accused him of being secretive, but she had plenty of secrets of her own.

“Where is he, exactly?” she asked.

“Washington, last time I talked to him. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on his way out here by now. I know the FBI told him that you’d been kidnapped. They thought there might be a ransom call.”

She sat there quietly, absorbing his words. And also absorbing the words he hadn’t said, which were that she’d been right about her father. Mitchell Wright hadn’t done what he’d said he planned to do when Ryan called him to discuss the threat to Emma’s safety. He hadn’t flown to California to set up a security detail for her. Instead, he’d sent a staffer, just as Emma had predicted. So was the congressman on his way here now? Ryan didn’t know or even care. He didn’t have much opinion of a man who would blow off a threat to his own family.

They rode in silence, Emma gazing out the window with that look on her face. Ryan wanted to know what she was thinking. Was she thinking about her dad or the trauma she’d just been through? Was she worried about the future? She looked scared, and he hated that. He wanted her to feel safe with him. He wanted her to trust him. He wanted her to know there was nothing he wouldn’t do to get her through this.

“Jake say anything else?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“I guess the FBI must be all over him, since he’s the only one who really knows where we are.” She looked at him, and he detected a question underneath the words.

“You can trust Jake,” Ryan told her. “That’s ironclad.”

“I know.”

He looked at her again, but her face seemed neutral. Maybe she knew, and maybe she didn’t. She was reluctant to trust people, but right now she didn’t have much choice.

She tucked her legs up beside her, and Ryan managed to keep his attention on the road. A few more miles, and he spotted the sign he’d been looking for. He slowed and made the turnoff, and Emma glanced around.

“We’re spending the night here?” she asked, obviously alarmed.

“Sure, why not?”

Actually, Ryan could think of about a thousand reasons why not, starting with the fact that he wasn’t sure he could keep his hands off her.

———

Jake watched Alexa walk in. He liked the flicker of heat in her eyes when her gaze landed on him.

She crossed the bar and slid onto the heavy leather stool beside him.

“Pretty upscale watering hole.” She glanced across the quiet hotel bar to the wall of windows with a sweeping view of the Pacific Ocean.

“Thought you’d be more comfortable,” Jake said.

“Me?”

“The kind of places I normally go, you’d stand out in a suit.” Jake flagged the bartender. “Looks like you could use a drink. Long night?”

“It’s not over yet.”

A tuxedo-clad bartender came over. She ordered a club soda. Jake ordered a bourbon and turned to face her, giving her a slow once-over that she pretended not to notice.

“I take it your raid on Orion Shipping didn’t go as planned?”

She shot him a look. “You guys blew the op.”

Jake smiled. “We didn’t blow the op. Emma Wright did when she gave her captors the slip.”

Their drinks arrived. Alexa squeezed her lime with a bit too much force.

“Even if she hadn’t, you would have blown it anyway.”

She glared at him. “How’s that?”

“Your team staged three blocks from the target. They saw you coming.”

She took a sip and plunked the glass down, then checked her watch. “Look, I really didn’t come here to talk SWAT 101. You said you had an update on Emma Wright. And it had better include her whereabouts.”

“She’s safe.”

“Where?”

“Under the protection of a highly trained operator.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Hmm . . . you mean Ryan Owen? The man we have on video boosting a car six hours ago?” She leaned closer, and Jake caught a faint whiff of her perfume. “That’s a felony, Lieutenant. Throw in obstruction of justice, and your friend’s SEAL career could be over.”

“Relax.” He picked up his drink. “Emma plans to talk to you.”

“When?”

“Soon. We just have some questions first about Ricky Avedo, the head of Orion Shipping.”

She sat back, clearly surprised. “His father’s the head.”

“In the Philippines, yeah. But over here, I understand Ricky’s top dog.”

She watched him thoughtfully. “What are your questions?”

“What’s Ricky Avedo’s connection to Ambassador Conner?”

She held his gaze. “I’m not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation.”

Her nonanswer told him a hell of a lot. And she obviously knew it. She watched him over the rim of her club soda and then carefully placed the glass on the bar.

“You seem like you’re enjoying this, Lieutenant.”

“What’s that?”

“This game you’re playing while you’re on leave.”

She leaned close again, and he saw the flare of heat in her eyes. She wasn’t happy with how things had gone down this afternoon, and she didn’t like not being in control.

“I’m on the task force investigating your mission,” she said. “And I’ll give you credit. You and your teammates rescued an injured civilian and got her home safely. Why you’re still involved at this point, I can only guess. But I have to warn you, it’s time to back out now. You’re in over your heads with this thing.”

Jake smiled. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes.”

Jake sipped his drink, watching her. She was right—Ryan was in over his head. But not the way she meant. Jake had never seen him so worked up over a woman, and he worried that Ryan wasn’t thinking clearly. He was allowing sex to cloud his judgment.

Mays looked at him impatiently. “I’m giving you a heads-up here. Ricky Avedo’s connected to people you don’t want to know. His criminal enterprise stretches wider and farther than you can imagine. Drugs. Human trafficking. Racketeering.”

“Then why don’t you arrest him?”

“I’d love to.” She slid her empty glass away. “Our office is building a case against him right now, and I have this funny feeling Emma Wright might be able to help us out.” She watched him expectantly. “If only we could talk to her.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good. But do it soon.” She stood up. “Emma might think she’s safe because she’s got a SEAL with her, but I’m sorry to tell you that’s an illusion.”

“You think?”

“I know. If she’s on Avedo’s blacklist, she’s not safe anywhere.”

SIX

Emma’s entire day had been surreal, and the night was shaping up to be more so.

They were in possession of a stolen vehicle. They’d eaten a hearty dinner of beef jerky and sports gel, and now Ryan was at work on a tent he’d salvaged from the lost-and-found bin at Pine Creek Campground.

Moonlight filtered through the spruce trees as he crouched beside the tent, pounding a stake into the ground with a tire iron. Their campsite was little more than a patch of dirt at the end of a wooded trail. The campground itself lacked showers and electrical hookups, but it was well off the beaten path. Plus, the attendant had taken cash payment without requiring ID, which was what mattered most to Emma. They were off the grid, and she should be able to relax here, if only for a few hours.

But she wasn’t relaxed at all. From the picnic table, she watched Ryan work, trying to settle her nerves with a cold swig of Coke. Just seeing his easy athleticism put an anxious flutter in her stomach.

This was such a bad idea. With every passing hour, she felt herself getting more and more attached. And he wasn’t the sort of man she could afford to get attached to. Ryan didn’t do relationships. Harrowing rescue missions? No sweat. Escape-and-evasion maneuvers? Sure thing.

But she somehow knew that stable, committed relationships weren’t in his wheelhouse.

What in the hell was she doing here?

He gave a last hard thwack and stood up to examine his handiwork. “Think I know why someone left it behind.” He looked at her.

“It seems a little . . . tilted.”

“It is.” He tossed the tire iron away and joined her at the scarred wooden table, straddling the bench as he sat down. “It’ll work, though. There’s no rain in the forecast, at least.” He took a swill of Coke and nodded at the tent. “So what do you think?”

“Looks perfect for you.” She stood up and gathered the trash from their dinner, then deposited everything in a raccoon-proof receptacle nearby. She stepped toward the pickup, and he caught her arm, hauling her into his lap.

“For me?” His voice was low and ominous.

“I plan to sleep in the truck.”

“Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

She tried to stand up, but he only managed to get a better hold on her. Trying to wrestle out of his grasp was futile, so she went still.

“I just built you a tent,” he said.

“You built you a tent. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, too. But I prefer the truck.”

His hold on her loosened, and she thought she was in the clear until his hands settled on her hips, sending little shivers through her. His face was shadowed in the moonlight, but she could see the heat in his eyes as his hands curved around her butt.

“Ryan, I’m serious. We tried this before, and it didn’t work out.”

With a slow, deliberate move, he brushed her hair off her shoulder and dipped his head down. “Oh, yeah?” He kissed her neck, and a shot of lust went through her.

“Yeah.”

He slid his mouth over the tender spot beneath her ear and then down to her collarbone. He pushed the flannel aside so he had better access. He nuzzled her, and she couldn’t help squirming against him as she inhaled his musky scent. He smelled like male sweat, and she should have been turned off, but she wanted to bury her head against his shoulder and soak up his scent like a sponge. She blamed pheromones. Or hormones. Or some other chemical reaction that she had absolutely no control over, because whenever she got close to this man, she seemed to lose the capacity for logical thought.

Her hands settled on his strong shoulders, and she couldn’t bring herself to push him away as he trailed kisses over her neck.

“I thought it worked out great.” His breath was warm against her skin.

“No, it didn’t. We ended up in a fight.”

His gaze locked on hers. “Honey, I remember the look on your face, and it definitely worked out.” He cupped his hands on either side of her face and gently tipped her head back, then slid kisses down her throat and started unbuttoning her shirt.

“Ryan.”

“What?”

She kissed him then, stroking her hands over the stubble along his jaw. He tasted sharp and familiar but slightly sweet tonight because of the Coke they’d shared. “You taste good,” she whispered.

He kissed her again, expertly distracting her as he pushed her skirt high on her thighs and shifted her so she was straddling his hips. He was rock-hard, and she made a little gasp, but he swallowed up the sound.

Her head was spinning. Heat pooled inside her body, and she felt that ache starting deep in her core. She instinctively arched against him, even though her mind was telling her to back away. But she couldn’t. His kiss was too potent, too demanding, and every cell in her body was screaming for her to get closer, as close as she possibly could, as his warm hand slid under her flannel shirt and closed over her breast.

“Ah, Emma.” He murmured against her mouth, rasping his thumb over her nipple until she pressed against him. “You like that?” He looked at her in the moonlight, but she couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak, could only kiss him to shut him up, because she didn’t want to think.

Yes, she liked it. Loved it. Loved his big palm cradling her breast and the rasp of stubble against her skin as he slid his way down her throat. He fastened his mouth over her nipple and sucked her hard through the lace of her bra, and she nearly jumped from his lap. But he held her in place and gentled his touch, and she squirmed closer, stubbornly ignoring all the warnings racing through her mind.

She shouldn’t get into this with him. It was temporary for him, nothing more. And meanwhile, she was getting more and more emotionally attached.

He held her close, licking and suckling her, and she combed her fingers through his soft hair and pressed herself against him, even as the logical side of her brain told her to pull away and escape while she still could.

The thing was, she didn’t want to. She knew what his mouth and his hands could do to her, and she wanted it with a determination that shocked her. She wanted him to take her to that white-hot, blissful place again, that place that made the rest of the world disappear, until it was just his kiss and his body and the all-consuming heat of what he did to her.

His hands slid over her hips, and she realized her skirt was hiked up around her waist now. She ground against his erection.

“I need—Jesus, Emma—” He kissed her again, pushing the shirt off her shoulders, then flinging it aside. And then she was on his lap in her bra, the white lace practically glowing in the moonlight as her breasts spilled over the cups. He gazed up at her, his eyes simmering. “I need you naked.”

Need. She could see it in his eyes. And there was something different now, something rougher in his tone that sent a tingle through her. He kissed her again, and it was harder, fiercer. He gripped her hips with a possessiveness she’d never felt from anyone. And in that moment, she knew that whatever he wanted from her, anything at all, she’d say yes.

He broke the kiss and pulled back. Heat blazed in his eyes, as though he’d read her mind. He slid her off his lap and pulled her toward the tent. She stumbled against him, and then he lifted the flap and guided her inside.

The little shelter was darker and warmer and strangely quiet. She heard him moving around outside, getting something from the truck, and her heart pounded as she looked around, trying to get a handle on what she was doing. But before she got a handle on anything, he eased in beside her, and she was acutely aware of the enormous maleness of him as he completely filled the tight space. Moonlight filtered through one of the mesh windows, and in the dimness she saw that he’d taken off his shirt and his boots.

Emma’s heart skittered. It was just the two of them. No blanket, no sleeping bag, only a few scraps of clothing between them, and the raw energy emanating from him made her pulse race. Suddenly, she was beset by doubts. She was alone in a tent with this huge, beautiful man, this warrior, and she didn’t have a clue what to do with him.

“Come here.” His voice was low and rumbling, and he pulled her on top of him, making her breath whoosh out. She pushed up onto her palms, and her breasts rested on his chest, completely spilling out of the lace now. He reached behind her and unhooked the clasp, and his low moan of approval gave her a rush of pride.

His hands glided up and over her legs and settled on her bottom as he kissed her. It was deep and warm and thorough, and she started to relax into it, into him, but then her heart skittered again as she heard the rasp of the zipper at the back of her skirt. She went still, and the faint little noise was the only sound in the world. Then he gently rolled her onto her back and in one deft motion slid her skirt and panties off her body.

She heard his low groan in the dark and felt his eyes raking over her body. She brought her arms to her chest, but he took her wrists and pinned them at her sides.

“Don’t hide from me.”

She stared up at him in the dimness and tried to ignore the hot flush of nerves. “You can’t even see me.”

His hand glided over her thigh, her hip, her too-round stomach, and came to rest on her breast. “Yeah, I can.” He bent down, and she felt the hot pull of his mouth on her.

She let her hands sweep over his muscled shoulders and combed her fingers into his hair as he kissed and licked her. His mouth did something to her, flipped a switch deep inside of her, and that delicious warm pulsing started up again. His stubble rasped against her skin, and she shivered with anticipation as he slid down her body.

He was doing it again, getting ahead of her. She reached down and felt the rough denim of his jeans. She dipped her fingers under the waist, but he moved farther out of reach.

She squirmed lower, groping for him in the darkness, encountering his muscled torso, his lean waist, the hard bulge in his jeans. He looked at her, propping himself up on his palms as she reached for his zipper. She watched him as she tugged it down. As she slipped her hand inside his jeans, he made a low groan.

She pushed at the denim, and he rolled to his side, moving out of her grasp as he got free of his clothes. But then he was back again, settling himself heavily between her legs, and a gasp of pleasure escaped her. He propped himself on his elbows and kissed her, and she felt a giddy rush. This was what she wanted, this intimacy. She shifted under the hard weight of him, and the pulsing started up again, and she felt a sharp craving deep inside her body. She slid her hand over his lean hip and pulled him closer. His kiss became more insistent, and the rhythm of it mesmerized her as she clutched her legs around him and arched her body.

“Ryan . . . please.”

He dipped his head down and took her nipple. “Please what?”

She rolled her hips.

“Say it.”

“Please . . .” She couldn’t get the words out. She wanted him to do things to her that she didn’t even have the nerve to tell him. She just wanted him to know, and she had a feeling he did. She knew he did.

Suddenly, he rolled away. She lay there in silence, gasping for breath. She looked at him in the dark and heard the rustle of a condom wrapper, and then he was back where she most wanted him to be. He slid her legs apart, and she bit her lip and braced herself. She held on to him as he pushed inside her, and she gasped against his neck.

“You okay?” His breath was warm against her temple, and his voice sounded tight.

She rolled her hips to let him know she was fine and felt his shoulders tense under her hands. “Oh, yeah.”

He pulled back slowly and thrust into her again. And again. And with each push, she took him deeper and deeper, until every nerve in her body was focused on the place where their bodies fused together.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe, so she pulled him closer as they picked up their rhythm again, their sweet, perfect rhythm that made her blind with need for him.

He moved faster, harder. She slid her hands down to grip his hips, desperate to keep up, to reach that elusive place together, but he kept going and going until she thought she’d die from the wait. Her heart pounded crazily, and she panted against his neck as she moved with him.

He was holding back. She could tell. She could feel it.

“Please,” she gasped.

But he wouldn’t let go. His shoulders were taut, his muscles hard, as she clutched him closer and moved against him.

“Ryan, please.”

She bit his shoulder, and he reared back, sending a spear of pleasure through her. And then something snapped in him—she felt the change instantly—and every move, every breath, became fierce and relentless. He drove himself into her over and over as she raked her nails down his back and gripped his body. It was more than she’d ever imagined, the searing heat, the blinding intensity, the frantic race to a peak that seemed just beyond her.

“Oh, yes. Ryan.”

“Tell me when.”

She pulled him close.

“Tell me, Emma.”

At the sound of her name from his mouth, she cried out. He was right there with her, coming into her with a powerful thrust and then collapsing against her.

She clung to him, sweaty and dizzy, not wanting him to move even though he was crushing her. She wanted him right where he was, slick and heavy, with his heart pounding hard against her.

With a deep groan, he rolled onto his back, dragging her with him. She sprawled on top of him, blinking down in the darkness.

He mumbled something that sounded like a curse.

“What?” She pushed up against his biceps, awed by the immense power he kept stored in his body.

He ran a hand down her back and settled it on her bottom. “Nothing.”

“What did you say?” She was breathless, but she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t used to exercise, and having sex with him was the most intense thing she’d ever managed to do, and she felt proud of herself. She should get a bumper sticker.

He opened an eye and peered up at her in the dimness. “Nothing.”

She really wanted to know his uncensored reaction, but she’d missed it, and he wasn’t going to tell her.

His hands stroked lazily over her butt, and she felt self-conscious about her weight on him. She started to sit up, and his grip tightened. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“I like you right here.”

She stared down at him. His eyes were open now, and he was watching her closely. She felt an unexpected swell of emotion. She rested her head on his chest and listened to the strong thud of his heart. He combed his fingers through her hair, and tears stung her eyes.

She would not do this.

She would not have the most mind-blowing sex of her life and then get weepy all over him.

She didn’t know what was wrong. Maybe the trauma of the day finally catching up to her. Or maybe lack of sleep. Or maybe the simple fact that she hadn’t ever had sex like this—this raw and powerful—with anyone else, and now some crazy hormone cocktail was coursing through her veins. But whatever it was, she had to ignore it and get control of herself. A hot lump clogged her throat, and she swallowed it down.

His body beneath her was solid and warm, and the feel of his fingers in her hair made her heart sore.

“Hey,” he murmured.

She looked up.

“You good?”

She smiled at the concern in his voice. “Very.” She nuzzled against his chest. “That was nice.”

———

Nice.

What the fuck did nice mean?

He shifted in the dark and frowned down at the top of her head. He could have sworn he’d made her come. At least once, if not twice.

She slid off him and onto her side, ignoring his attempt to hold her in place, because she was too self-conscious about her body to lie on him for any length of time.

He sat up on his elbows. “Nice as in . . . hell, yeah, let’s do it again?”

She sighed softly, like maybe she was drifting off to sleep.

“Emma?”

“Hmm?”

“Just checking in here.”

She smiled. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“Sorry. Can’t help it.” He rolled over and got rid of the condom. He glanced through the mesh window of the tent and then looked to make sure his Sig was still in place by his boots. He stretched out beside her, and she rested her hand on his chest.

She sighed heavily. “Nice as in . . . a really big drink of water on a hot day.”

She scooted closer. He liked the really big part, but the nice didn’t sit well.

Her breathing slowed, and he watched the steady rise and fall of her shoulder. She was falling asleep, and Ryan knew what he needed to do. He needed to let her. She’d been battling insomnia since the plane crash, and she needed sleep.

But she was warm and soft, and those full, beautiful breasts were pressed up against his side, and the part of his body that knew she needed sleep wasn’t communicating with the rest of him.

He wanted her again. He’d just had her, thoroughly, and still he wanted her again with an urgency that caught him off guard.

So many things were wrong about this. She was in a vulnerable situation. Again. And he knew damn well that he was taking advantage of her here, but he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He’d tried, and he couldn’t. She seemed to need him, and he got off on that. It made him feel full, purposeful, in a way he never had before. He wanted her to need him even after this was over.

He wasn’t sure what this was, or how this woman had somehow taken over his life. He only knew that his most important objective right now was to protect her, around the clock, until the threat against her was eliminated. As for the nature of that threat and how to eliminate it, that was tomorrow’s mission.

She sighed softly, and Ryan felt a pinch in his chest. He’d let her rest. For now. He slipped his hand around her hip and pulled her close.

SEVEN

Emma bolted upright. Her heart slammed against her rib cage as she blinked into the darkness. Something clamped around her wrist.

“What’s wrong?”

The deep male voice pulled her out of the dream and into reality.

She was in a tent. With Ryan.

She’d been kidnapped and put in a dark room. But she was free now.

“Hey.” He sat up and pulled her against him. “Bad dream?”

“No, I just—” She glanced around. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

She crawled for the door and found her flip-flops in the corner.

“Wait.” Ryan was pulling on his boots. He was in jeans already, and she had a vague memory of him getting up earlier to tromp around the campsite, probably making sure they were secure.

Emma pulled on her flannel shirt and buttoned it up. It went to her knees, so she decided to skip the rest of her clothes. Ryan unzipped the tent and slipped out, then held the flap as she followed. A bright half-moon illuminated the campsite, and she watched in amazement as he tucked something big and black into the back of his jeans. “What the hell is that?” she demanded.

“My Sig.”

“Since when do you have a gun?”

“Since always. Come on.”

He led her down a dark path through the trees, and again she marveled at his sense of direction. It seemed like they were wandering into the wilderness, but sure enough, they arrived at a bathroom. There was some sort of windup lighting system that involved turning a dial to generate about a minute of light. Emma hurried through her pit stop and rejoined Ryan out front.

He stood shirtless in the moonlight, surveying the surrounding woods.

Emma’s breath caught. He turned to look at her, and all she could think was How did I get here with him?

They walked in silence back toward the tent, and she folded her arms over her chest to fend off the chill.

“Sorry I woke you up,” she said.

“I’m not.” He pulled her against his side and wrapped his arm around her. “You fell asleep too quick, threw a wrench in my plan.”

“What plan is that?”

“I’ve got a whole list of things we haven’t gotten to do yet.”

“Ha-ha.”

“You think I’m kidding?”

“When did you have time to make this list?”

His arm tightened. “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now.”

Emma’s cheeks warmed. He was probably just saying it to flatter her, but she didn’t really want to pin him down. “So I’ve made a decision,” she said, redirecting the conversation. “I’m going to go to the FBI tomorrow.”

They reached their campsite, and he stopped beside the pickup. She looked up at him, and even in the dimness, she could see the worry etched on his face. “You sure you’re ready?”

“I can’t avoid them forever. I figure it’s time to suck it up and get the meeting over with.” She kept her gaze trained on his face, because she didn’t want to look at his bare chest and think about how perfect he was and what a fluke it was that he was here with her. “I need to sort this out, whatever it is, so we can get back to our regularly scheduled lives.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “You sure about this?”

“Yeah.” She wouldn’t tell him how scared she felt, how she still didn’t trust anyone.

He looked so strong and powerful he nearly blocked out the moon. Everything about this was fleeting—she knew that—but she couldn’t stop the pang of longing inside her.

She cleared her throat. “So this list of yours. You plan to tell me what’s on it?”

“I don’t know. You might get offended.”

“Tell me.”

The corner of his mouth curved up. “Might be easier if I show you.”

———

Emma slumped against him, breathless and sated. Her skin was so wet she had to peel herself off him.

She rolled onto her back, and he leaned over and dipped his head down to lick her neck.

“Umm.”

She pushed him away. “Ew, I’m sweaty.”

“You’re sexy.”

She was soaking wet, and the humidity in the tent had turned her hair to frizz. “I don’t think so.”

“I do.” He settled himself between her legs. “Everything about you is sexy.”

She stared up at him in the dimness. A question popped into her head, and she decided to ask it before she lost her nerve. “Why’d you keep turning me down that first night? If you’re attracted to me—”

“Not if.”

“Then why did I practically have to beg you?”

He gazed down at her, not saying anything for a long moment. “Why are you stuck on that?”

“I’m not.”

He rolled onto his side and pulled her back to fit against his chest. “Yeah, you definitely are.” He brushed her hair off her damp neck and kissed her behind her ear, sending a shiver through her body. “I’m sorry I made you upset.”

“You didn’t make me upset, really. You made me feel . . .”

“What?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “I don’t know. Rejected.”

“Rejected.”

“Yeah. Do you have any idea what it feels like to bare yourself to someone and they look at you and say ‘no thanks’?” She watched him, but she couldn’t read his expression.

“You really want me to answer that?”

“Yeah.”

“No, that’s never happened to me.” He kissed her shoulder. “But I didn’t intend for you to feel rejected. That’s the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted you to feel, I don’t know, respected.”

“Respected?”

“Not like some casual hookup. That first time, we didn’t really know each other.”

She blinked at him. “It was last night.”

“Yeah, and a lot’s happened since then. Anyway, what’s so bad about you getting off?”

“Nothing.”

“Jesus, I was trying to be considerate. I didn’t want it to be all about me.”

“But it shouldn’t be a one-way thing.” She sighed, wishing she could make him understand. “Women like to share things. It’s called intimacy.”

He pulled her closer and nestled her bottom against his strong thighs. The tent was dark and quiet, and the moment stretched out as she waited for him to respond. “I’ve never been good at sharing,” he said, and she detected a warning note in his voice.

“Oh really?”

“Really.” He gave her shoulder a little nip. “Just so you know.”

She settled her head against his arm and closed her eyes, loving the warm stroke of his palm over her hip— “Ouch!” She jerked up, bumping his chin.

“Jesus!”

“Something bit me.” She swatted at her knee.

“A mosquito?”

“I don’t know. Something. Maybe a spider.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She lay back down.

“There’s a hole in the tent. Sorry. I know you’re scared of bugs.”

“I’m not scared of bugs. I hate their little guts, but I’m not scared of them.”

He pulled her against him. “I thought you were.”

“No. Bugs are a nuisance. Flying, I’m scared of. Always have been.”

“Oh, yeah? Even before the crash?”

“Yeah.”

For a few moments, there was only silence. She closed her eyes and tried to relax as his hand moved lazily over her hip. She needed to sleep tonight. She really, really needed to sleep tonight. It felt like forever since she’d truly slept.

He kissed her shoulder. “I should take you skydiving.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I can help you get over your fear,” he said.

“I’d probably have a heart attack.”

“We can go tandem. I’ll be right there with you.”

“That is so not happening.”

“Do you trust me?”

His voice sounded serious. It wasn’t just a throwaway question. He propped himself on his elbow and looked down at her.

“I did, but—”

“But what?”

She sighed. She didn’t want to talk about this right now. But when else would they talk about it? They were alone in the quiet privacy of their crappy tent. “You shouldn’t have called my father behind my back,” she said.

He brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “That’s a big deal to you, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

It got quiet again. She could feel him waiting for her to explain, but she didn’t want to. Not right now. She didn’t want to ruin the moment by delving into it.

“I apologize.”

Two simple words. But she knew that he meant them, and she felt her chest tighten. He could be so sincere, and sincerity—true sincerity—was so rare in her life. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She rested her head on his bicep, and the solid heat of his body enveloped her as she lay there in their wooded hideaway. His warm hand stroked over her, and she closed her eyes, suddenly so tired she couldn’t move. But her mind was racing, and random snippets tumbled through her head.

She was going to the FBI tomorrow. In a stolen truck.

She wasn’t some casual hookup.

He’d made a list.

He settled his arm around her waist, and she let out a sigh. What a long, strange trip it had been.

And it wasn’t over.

———

Saying she was ready to talk and actually going through with it were two different things, Emma realized, as they sped down the highway.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

She glanced at Ryan. “I want to,” she said.

“No, you don’t.”

“I need to.”

He darted another look at her as he slowed for their exit. “You sure?”

“This has dragged on too long already. This isn’t even your job.”

“What isn’t?”

“Protecting me like this. I mean, it’s Tuesday morning. Don’t you have someplace to be? Like on base or something?”

The sign for the truck stop came into view, and she gripped the door handle. Ryan swung into the lot and surveyed the scene. He had that look again, that sharp, assessing look he got when he was on a mission. He’d handpicked this meeting spot. When Emma had called Special Agent Mays from a gas station, Mays had wanted them to come to the FBI field office, but Ryan had nixed that plan in favor of a public place. Emma wasn’t sure why.

Her stomach tightened with nerves as Ryan pulled into a space.

“Still time to change your mind.”

She looked at him. “No. And I’ve been thinking. If the subject comes up, we should tell her I stole the truck. She wants information from me, so I can trade on that, maybe get immunity from charges or something.”

“No one’s going to believe you hot-wired a truck.”

“We’ll say I coerced you.”

“Also not believable.”

“But you could face charges.”

“Don’t worry about me. Anyway, they have it on tape.”

“Have what on tape?”

He hopped out of the truck and slammed the door. She did the same.

“Ryan?”

“Come on, I want to get there ahead of her, scope out the area.”

She strode up to him. “They have it on video? How do you know?”

“Jake said something about it when I talked to him this morning. Relax.”

“I will not relax! You’re going to get in trouble, Ryan. You need to just . . . leave. Go back to San Diego, and let me handle this from here.”

“No.”

“But why are you helping me? Why is Jake?” This had gotten totally out of hand. She’d never meant to drag them into this.

Ryan wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy scanning the parking lot, looking for God only knew what. Probably undercover FBI agents or assassins or both.

“Ryan?”

“Jake feels bad because he’s pretty sure he led a tail to the safe house. He thinks that’s how they found you.”

“He does?”

“He offered to check out Mays for us. He believes we can trust her, and Jake has a radar for that kind of thing, so as far as I’m concerned, she’s clear.”

Emma shook her head. Jake was helping her out of guilt? It made no sense. Jake wasn’t responsible for her. Neither was Ryan. And yet they were risking their careers to get involved.

“We need to get inside.” Ryan put his hand on the small of her back and steered her across the parking lot toward the entrance. He pulled the door open for her, and the smell of frying bacon wafted over from the diner attached to the gas station.

Emma caught Ryan’s arm as they reached the hostess stand. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

He scanned the restaurant, and then his attention settled on her. “What’s that?”

“Why are you helping me?”

He smiled slightly and picked up her hand. “You really don’t know?” He kissed her knuckles, and Emma’s heart skittered. Then his gaze darted over her head, and his expression darkened. “They’re here already. Let’s go.”

———

Special Agent Alexa Mays wasn’t at all what Emma had expected, and she could see right away why Jake had offered to check her out.

Tall and slim, with long chestnut-colored hair, she looked more like a supermodel than a federal agent. But the badge clipped to her belt reminded Emma not only of who she was but also the gravity of the situation. She shook the agent’s hand and slid into the booth across from her.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Emma said.

“No problem.”

It was a lie, obviously. Everything about this meeting had been problematic for Mays. But Ryan had insisted on this venue, a full two hours outside of Los Angeles. Emma darted a look over her shoulder.

He’d also insisted on sitting at a nearby table that faced the door. Emma figured he had some sort of tactical considerations in mind.

A server came by and flipped up two mugs. “Coffee?” she asked sweetly.

They both nodded. Mays waited until the waitress was gone to begin talking.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Ms. Wright.”

“It’s Emma.”

“You’re in a dangerous situation here, Emma.”

“I’m aware, thanks.”

Mays tipped her head to the side, not liking the sarcasm. “After your friends reported you missing, we recovered traffic-cam footage showing a black Land Rover speeding away from the area where you were abducted. That vehicle is registered to Orion Shipping.” She paused. “You ever heard of them?”

“Not before this, no.”

“Orion Shipping also owns the building where you were being held. We were on the verge of executing a raid on that building when you managed to escape.”

None of this was news to Emma. Ryan had told her all of it in the car the night before. She clutched her hands around her coffee mug as the agent pulled out a file folder.

“You recognize any of these people?” She placed a picture in front of Emma containing two rows of mug shots, six in all.

Emma’s stomach clenched as she recognized a heavyset man with flat, dark eyes.

“Which one?” Mays asked.

She glanced up, and the agent was watching her intently, obviously aware that she recognized someone.

Emma cleared her throat. “Him.” She tapped the photo. “He was the one who abducted me. And later he was guarding me, but I managed to get away.”

Mays’s eyebrows tipped up. “Lucky you.”

There was an edge in her tone that put Emma on the defensive.

“You don’t recognize this man?” Mays pointed to a mug shot on the top row.

“No.”

“He’s Ricardo Avedo. Known as Ricky. He’s in charge of Orion Shipping’s U.S. operations and he resides in Los Angeles. You’ve never seen him?”

“No.”

“Lucky again. Avedo is not a nice guy. We’ve been investigating him for three years.”

“For what?” Emma examined the photo.

“Drug smuggling, racketeering. We’re particularly interested in his ties to a human-trafficking ring operating out of Southeast Asia. A lot of people are paying big money for passage to this country and phony documents.”

“I can imagine.” Emma pushed her coffee mug away. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“You may also be aware that Richard Conner is under investigation.”

Emma sat back against the booth and stared at her. “Since when?”

“You didn’t know, then?”

“No.”

“Since March.”

“Well, what’s he being investigated for?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

Emma stared at her, a knot in her stomach. “Are you telling me . . . the ambassador was mixed up with this criminal enterprise? That Avedo had something to do with our plane going down?”

“I don’t know.”

But she didn’t deny it. Emma’s heart was racing now. Maybe she’d had it all wrong. Maybe her hunch was off, and the ambassador was the target after all.

“I take it, given your closeness to Ambassador and Mrs. Conner, that you were aware of the previous attempts made against her life?”

“Yes.” Emma felt numb. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was starting to put it together. The ambassador was mixed up in something criminal. And whatever it was had gotten his wife killed.

Mays was watching her closely. “You’re in possession of some very sensitive information, Emma. At this point, we think it’s best if we bring you in to discuss how we can ensure your safety.”

Emma gulped. “Bring me in?”

“We’d like to put you under federal protection until this investigation is concluded.”

“That’s not happening.” Emma turned around to see Ryan standing behind her. He slid into the booth and leveled a hard look across the table at Mays. “Until the threat against Emma is eliminated, she stays with me.”

“Lieutenant Owen—”

“You can’t guarantee her safety, and you know it. You can’t even tell her who called her the other night pretending to be you. Or did I miss something?”

Mays looked from Ryan to Emma, then back to Ryan. “You think you can guarantee her safety against the entire Avedo network? You overestimate yourself.”

Ryan just watched her with a steely look. Then he turned to Emma. “It’s your call, Emma. What do you want to do?”

EIGHT

Ryan looked across the truck at Emma. She hadn’t spoken in ten minutes.

“You surprised me back there.”

“Why?” she asked.

“The FBI offered you protection. You picked me.”

She didn’t say anything.

“How come?”

She turned her gaze out the window. She still wore the plaid flannel shirt she’d bartered for and the gas-station flip-flops, and her hair was a mess, all wild and curly around her face. And when she’d walked out of that diner with him, he’d wanted to pin her against the building and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.

The pair of unmarked cop cars in the parking lot had put his plans on hold, though. One of them was still in his rearview mirror, and Ryan had no doubt the other was lurking nearby, waiting to pick up the tail.

“The FBI is a bureaucracy, an institution.” She looked at him. “My father’s part of the oldest institution in American history. I’ve seen institutions up close, and I don’t trust them.”

“You’re a cynic, huh?”

“Aren’t you? Institutions are made up of people, and people are fallible. Not just fallible, sometimes downright selfish and destructive.” She gave him a long look. “And anyway, you were right. She never explained exactly who called me from a government number.”

They drove in silence for a while as Ryan kept an eye on the tail. He was going to have to lose it at some point. He figured it would take about half an hour of skilled maneuvering. He looked at Emma. “What exactly happened with your dad?”

“Nothing.”

He shot her a baleful look. They’d been circling this topic for weeks, and he was ready for her to open up to him.

“I really don’t think you’d be interested in all my family melodrama.”

“I asked because I’m interested.”

“You really want to hear this? Fine.” She folded her arms over her chest. “He cheated on my mom while she was dying of cancer.”

Ryan looked at her. “That sucks.”

“Yes.”

“That must have been hard for you. On top of everything else you were dealing with when your mom was sick.”

She looked out the window. “It was hard for my mom, not me.”

“She knew about it?”

“He didn’t have the decency to cover his tracks well. I mean, it was really pathetic. I figured it out, and I was only eleven.” She shrugged. “But hey, you can’t blame him, right? What was he supposed to do? He was in love.” She rolled her eyes. “He even married her.”

“When?”

She pursed her lips. “Twelve months and nine days after my mom died.”

“So he waited a year.”

“The obligatory year, yes. He had an image to think about.”

Damn, what an asshole. But Ryan was glad she’d told him what the deal was. It explained a lot—her distance from her father, her unwillingness to ask him for help.

Her distrust of men.

“But you want to know what’s even more pathetic?” She looked at Ryan. “I still loved him growing up. Even after everything he did.” She gazed out the window. “Sometimes I hate myself for that.”

Ryan didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

Sometimes families sucked. His family had gone through some rough years when Callie was sick. His dad drank all the time. His mom went to church obsessively, as if that would fix anything. Ryan got into fights at school and got himself kicked off the football team.

He remembered hurting. Constantly, day and night. He remembered the rage and frustration and wanting to pound anyone who got in his way to a bloody pulp. Sometimes he hoped someone would give him shit about something—anything—just so he’d have an excuse to throw a punch.

“I stopped asking for his time and attention,” Emma said. “It hurt my feelings too much when he wouldn’t come through. He’d pass me off to some staffer, and it felt like crap, so finally I decided not to expect anything from him.”

“Do you see him?”

“Occasionally.” She shrugged. “Christmas, Thanksgiving, maybe a weekend during the summer. But he doesn’t show up in my life unless it makes a good photo op. Renee’s funeral, for example. There were plenty of cameras there.”

Ryan didn’t say anything for a moment. “I’m sorry you aren’t close.”

“So what’d you think of Mays?” she asked, deftly changing the subject.

He looked at her. “I think she holds her cards close.”

“That’s what I thought. But she told me Ambassador Conner has been under investigation since March. I think she told me that for a reason.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know. I could be wrong.”

“So far, you’ve been right about damn near everything. What are you thinking?”

She brushed a curl from her eyes. “Well, there was this scandal in the spring at the embassy. Some passports went missing. You know how tourists come in for replacements when theirs get lost or stolen? So we had some blanks in the embassy vault, and a stack of them disappeared.”

“Was Conner implicated?”

“I don’t think so. At least, I didn’t. A staffer was fired over it. She had access to the vault. I think they were pursuing charges against her, but I haven’t really kept up with the case.”

“How many passports are we talking about?”

“I don’t know exactly. Hundreds.”

“Big money on the black market.”

“I know. And I was thinking about what Mays said about Avedo and the human trafficking.”

“I see where you’re going, but what does this have to do with Renee Conner getting killed in a plane crash?”

“I’m not sure.” She looked at him. “I wish I had my computer. There are some things I’d like to look at. I guess we can’t go back to my hotel room in San Diego, huh?”

“Nope.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Our safe house is burned, too,” Ryan said. “And my apartment, because you said someone shadowed you when you drove by there last week. But I might have a line on another place we can stay. When we stop for food, I’ll call Jake and get an update.”

“Ryan.”

Something in her tone caught his attention, and he looked at her across the truck.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He shook his head.

“I mean, I appreciate you saving me back there with Mays. I really don’t want to be under the FBI’s thumb. But you don’t have to babysit me. I know you have other things you should be doing right now.”

“I’m on leave.”

“You are?” She sounded surprised.

“Yep.”

“Well . . . didn’t you have plans?”

“I was planning to go to Florida, but I’ll do it next time.”

“I’m taking you away from your family. And your friends back home.”

He glanced at her, and somehow he knew she meant female friends back home. He caught the hint of jealousy in her tone, and he liked it. “Emma, I’m going to say this once. Are you listening?”

She just looked at him.

“There is no place in this world I’d rather be right now than in this truck with you.”

Her look turned skeptical. “This old, crappy, stolen truck with FBI agents following us and our lives at risk?”

He didn’t respond, just let it sink in. Between her father and her ex-fiancé, she really had some stuff to get over. So this new situation was going to take some getting used to.

Situation.

Ryan wasn’t even sure what the situation was, and he wasn’t really eager to put a label on it. But he knew what he knew. He wanted to be with her. As much as possible. Being with her naked was his first choice, but he’d take whatever he could get.

He had to seize the day, because the odds were stacked against them. He was overseas all the time. She lived in Seattle. Could they make something work long-distance? He’d never been much good at relationships, and he’d never even attempted anything serious since he’d become a SEAL. It was something he’d always put off for later or maybe even never.

So, yeah, this situation was a little intimidating. But so what? He’d been intimidated plenty of times in his life, but that hadn’t stopped him. If anything, it made him more determined to prove himself.

So that was what he planned to do now: prove himself to Emma. Make her understand that she could trust him, that she should give this thing a chance.

The concerned look on her face made him smile.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t get you.”

“I know. We’ve already established that. Where do you want to eat? I need to call Jake. And then we need to shake this tail, and that could take a while. I’d just as soon fuel up first. How much money do we have left?”

She poked through the cash and coins in the cupholder. Jesus, this was humiliating. She came from a rich family, and he was pretty sure she’d never had to scrounge up loose change for a meal. When this was over, he was going to get a wad of cash from the ATM and take her somewhere nice.

“Four dollars, seventy-eight cents,” she said.

“Sounds like we’ll be sharing.” He exited the freeway and started looking for signs.

“So I’ve been thinking about the safe house being burned,” Emma said. “I think I know a place we can stay tonight.”

“Where?”

“My apartment in Los Angeles.”

He did a double take.

“Well, not mine, exactly. I’m subletting from a friend. My name isn’t on the lease or anything. It doesn’t connect to me.”

Ryan pulled into an In-N-Out Burger and swung into a space. He parked and turned to face her. “Why are you subletting an apartment in Los Angeles?” he asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“Let’s hear it.”

She took a deep breath. “Well . . . you know Juan Delgado?”

Oh, shit. Maybe he didn’t want to hear this. “The doctor who was in the plane crash with you,” he said. God damn it, the guy was fifty-five.

“I met him when we started doing those aid missions together. He was a very inspiring man.”

Ryan gritted his teeth.

“After watching him work, I started thinking about a career change. I applied to graduate school. Then in May, I was accepted into the nursing program at UCLA. Classes start at the end of the month.”

He stared at her. “You’re going to nursing school.”

“Yes.”

“In Southern California.”

“Yes.”

He watched her, at a complete loss for words. How many hours had they spent together and she’d never mentioned this?

Her brow furrowed. “What’s the problem?”

“No problem at all. Where’s this apartment?”

NINE

Alexa strode into the doughnut shop, and Jake’s pulse picked up. He leaned back in his chair, trying to look bored as she approached the table.

“Doughnuts for dinner?” she asked.

“Sure, why not?”

She pulled out a chair and sank into it. He slid a napkin over, offering her a chocolate-iced doughnut with chocolate sprinkles. She didn’t even look at it. “No, thank you.”

“What kind of cop doesn’t like doughnuts?”

“I’m not a cop. I’m an FBI agent.”

“That gun on your hip says you’re a cop, babe. Same with that scowl you get when you’re annoyed. At least have some coffee.” He pushed the cup toward her. “You probably plan to be up late.”

She ignored the coffee, too. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“You’ve got it wrong, Alexa. I’m here to help you.”

“What makes you think I need your help?”

“The Ricky Avedo case is one of the most important investigations your office is running right now. And your most important witness rejected your offer of protection. She’d rather have a SEAL.” He smiled. “Can you blame her?”

“We don’t need your help. She’s under surveillance.”

“You mean Rosewood and Taggart? Sorry to break it to you, but Ryan shook them loose an hour ago.”

She tried not to react, but he could see no one had told her about this development.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Emma’s been transferred safely to an undisclosed location. I’ll be happy to put her in touch with you, but I’m going to need you to answer a simple question first.”

Alexa waited, not talking or scowling or giving anything away. But just the fact that she hadn’t gotten up and left yet told him how important Emma was and that the FBI needed his help communicating with her.

“What’s your question?” she asked casually.

“Who called Emma and set up that fake meeting? And don’t tell me you don’t know. You ran her phone records as soon as you found out about it.”

She tipped her head to the side. “If Emma’s so safe with your friend, then why does it matter?”

“Threat assessment. We like to know the direction a threat’s coming from to better defend against it.”

She looked at him for a long moment. Then something changed. Her shoulders sagged, and she leaned back in her chair, sighing. For the first time since he’d met her, he got a glimpse of the real woman beneath all the armor. Jake could see she was under a lot of strain.

She pinched off a bite of his doughnut and popped it into her mouth. She chewed for a moment and then took another bite.

“That’s good.”

“I know.” He watched her, waiting patiently. When she glanced up again, he felt like she was ready to talk.

“I can’t tell you who exactly. In fact, I really shouldn’t tell you anything.”

“We’re on the same team here, Alexa. Five weeks ago, I dropped into the jungle to help rescue this girl. I want to help her stay alive, same as you.”

Alexa looked around the little restaurant. It was almost empty, and the employees were wiping down counters and wrapping up for the day. “Like I said, I can’t tell you who. But I can tell you what.” She took a deep breath. “ICE.”

“Immigration and Customs Enforcement?”

She nodded. “Their LA office. The call originated from there.” She took a sip of coffee. “It’s been said—and I’m not confirming this—that Ricky Avedo has a contact on the inside somewhere. Someone who helps him with his trafficking operation. He’s had way too much luck dodging raids in the past, and investigators believe he’s getting tips. Good ones. Whoever provides them also helps him troubleshoot problems.”

“Problems such as Emma Wright.”

“We’re looking into that, yes. We believe someone may have planned to ambush her at her hotel, possibly grabbing her on her way to her room or inside it. The room is on the first floor, so they could have slipped out through the patio door. When she didn’t enter the hotel, they changed the plan and went after her on the street.”

Well, shit.

Emma was dead on when she’d told Ryan she couldn’t trust the feds. Someone within their ranks was gunning for her. Or helping Avedo gun for her, which was the same thing.

Avedo was dangerous and highly motivated, a very bad combination for Emma. Jake had been doing some digging, and Ricky and his dad had an extremely lucrative business. There was a lot on the line, a lot to protect.

A lot to lose if some nosy congressman’s daughter blew the lid off everything.

“Sounds like you have your hands full,” he said.

“I gave you something. Now it’s your turn.” She leaned forward. “How can I reach Emma? I’m sure you can see how dangerous this situation is for her.”

Jake nodded. “I can.” He stood, and she looked up at him, startled. “When she’s ready, I’ll have her get in touch.”

———

The place wasn’t what Ryan had pictured. When Emma said Manhattan Beach he’d expected a fancy setup, maybe with a view overlooking the Pacific. But it was your basic walk-up apartment, a couple dozen units centered around a sparsely landscaped courtyard. She was in a second-floor apartment, but that was about the only good thing he could see about the place.

She led him down an open-air walkway.

“Your super needs to change out these bulbs,” Ryan told her.

“What’s that?”

“These light bulbs. I see two out on the other side. Where is he? I’ll talk to him.”

“I have no idea, actually. The management doesn’t know I’m staying here.” She stopped at a door and knocked. “I hope this woman’s home. I’ve only met her once. I don’t even know what she does for a living.”

The answer became apparent when Emma’s neighbor answered the door in orange short-shorts and a Hooters T-shirt.

She smiled. “Emma, hey. What’s up?” Her gaze landed on Ryan, and her smile brightened.

“Sorry to bother you, but I’m locked out again.”

“What’s that?” She shifted her attention back to Emma.

“I misplaced my key. You mind lending me the spare?”

“Sure, no problem.”

The neighbor went and got the key and then rushed off to work, giving Ryan a little wink when Emma wasn’t looking.

“Good thing we caught her,” Emma said, unlocking her door. “I don’t know how we would’ve gotten in otherwise.”

“I do.” Ryan followed her into a dark apartment. The front hallway was lined with large brown moving boxes sealed with tape.

“It’s a mess.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I haven’t unpacked yet. I’ve only spent one night here.”

The living room had almost no furniture, just a faded blue futon and an armchair that had to have come from the Salvation Army. The place was immaculate, though, and the kitchen smelled like Pine-Sol.

“My friend left it clean, but she sold off some of the furniture before she left, so . . .” Emma’s words trailed off as she made a beeline straight for the refrigerator and opened it. “Aha!” She beamed a smile at him. “Can I offer you a beer?”

“Definitely.”

Ryan crossed the living room to check out the windows. Between them was a door to a narrow balcony, barely room for one person to stand on. “You need some new locks on these windows.”

“Huh?” She looked up from the fridge.

“These old latches are crap. You can pick up some burglar latches at any hardware store. Or I can.”

She popped the top off a Corona and handed him the bottle. “I’m on the second level. You really think that’s necessary?”

“Yeah, I do.”

She shook her head and went back into the kitchen. “I don’t have much food, unfortunately. I’ve only picked up a few staples. Oh—I have Grape-Nuts. Damn, but no milk. You want some dry cereal?”

“I’ll pass.”

A box near the window was open and partially unpacked. Ryan looked inside. She had a stack of review books for the GRE, an anatomy textbook, a Tagalog-English dictionary.

She also had a couple of yearbooks and several pictures in frames. Ryan picked up the top photo. Emma was standing on a snowy hilltop with her arms wrapped around some guy. They both wore ski jackets and scarves, and the backdrop was a snow-covered mountain range.

“This him?”

“What?”

Ryan looked to the kitchen, where she was rummaging through the pantry.

“Hunter Bevins, your ex.”

She glanced up. “Oh. Yeah.” She frowned. “Where’d you get that?”

“In your box.” The box packed with stuff she wanted in her new place.

Ryan’s gut tightened with jealousy. He couldn’t help it. The fucker had taken her skiing and probably to expensive restaurants all the time. He probably had some six-figure job and drove a fucking BMW.

And he’d hurt her and embarrassed her in front of everyone she knew, and still she wanted his picture in her new apartment.

She walked over and took the frame out of his hand, then tossed it back into the box. “That’s old,” she said.

“Is it?”

“Yes.” She stared up at him, and he tried to read her expression.

A sharp rap sounded at the door, and Ryan was across the room in a few strides to peer through the peephole. No one there, which was exactly what he’d expected.

He opened the door and found an olive-green duffel on the ground.

“Who was that?” she asked from behind him as he closed the door.

“Lucas Ortiz.”

“Who?”

“Lucas. You met him.” He unzipped the duffel and took out a black notebook computer.

“That’s my laptop! How’d he get this?”

“He dropped by your hotel room in San Diego.” Ryan pulled out a clear zipper bag of makeup. “I told him to grab everything in the bathroom, in case you needed anything.” Lucas had remembered to get her prescriptions, Ryan was glad to see. He handed her the zipper bag and continued going through the duffel. He found a change of clothes, a new burner phone, an envelope containing a hundred dollars in cash, and a jumbo box of condoms. Lucas definitely had his back.

“Dropped by?”

Ryan looked up.

“How do you ‘drop by’ a locked hotel room?”

“He let himself in.”

“How? He could have been arrested!”

“Not likely.”

Ryan zipped the duffel before she could catch a glimpse of his provisions and get offended. On the ride over here, Ryan had realized he might have been taking some things for granted with Emma. He couldn’t just assume she wanted to be with him. She hadn’t told him about nursing school, so maybe she saw this whole thing as a one-off. If so, Ryan had plans to convince her otherwise.

But she wasn’t paying attention to his provisions. She was already booting up her computer on the kitchen counter.

“What are you searching for exactly?” Ryan asked, looking over her shoulder.

“I need to check something. The date of this argument I overheard at the Conners’.” Her hands flew over the keys as she entered search words. “I stopped by the ambassador’s residence to drop off an itinerary for one of our mission trips. The maid let me in. They were arguing in the living room. . . . Damn it, where is that itinerary? It was the trip to Leyte. Richard’s assistant e-mailed me the schedule. Here.” She clicked open an e-mail. “I knew it! March twentieth.”

“I’m not following.”

“The argument. It was after the passport incident. I told you about the missing passports? That whole thing blew up on March fifteenth. Oh my God, Ryan. Do you see?” She looked up at him eagerly.

“Not at all.”

“Sorry. Backtrack. Renee and Richard were arguing when I showed up. I remember she said something like, ‘You think I don’t know your little secret?’ It was so much like an argument my parents once had, and I jumped right to the conclusion that she’d found out about one of his affairs.”

“He had affairs?”

“All the time. And she said, ‘I’m not trapped, you know. I have resources,’ or something along those lines.”

“You’re saying the ‘secret’ she was referring to was the passport thing?”

“Yes! What if he was involved? What if he’s working as an inside man for the Avedo family, getting them things they need and giving them tips to help them run their operation? As the ambassador, he’s privy to all kinds of sensitive information.”

It wasn’t a bad theory.

It was damn good, in fact. Better than anything Ryan had come up with, and he had plenty of information Emma didn’t.

She was exiting her e-mail account now and logging into someone else’s.

“No way. I still have access to Renee’s.” She smiled up at him, her eyes glittering with excitement. “Okay, let me just search a few things here. If you were talking to a divorce lawyer, what are some things you’d discuss? Money! Of course.” She entered the word retainer in the search field and came up with an e-mail trail. Ryan skimmed the messages over her shoulder and whistled.

“Damn, you’re good at this. You sure you want to be a nurse?”

“Here’s an invoice right here. She retained a divorce lawyer in Los Angeles, Ryan. She was planning to leave him.”

“Which makes me think Conner helped orchestrate the attack,” Ryan said.

“You mean . . . the attack on the plane? I thought some sort of missile brought it down. I thought it was militants.”

“The Avedo family’s connected throughout the region,” he said. “They spend millions a year running their operation, and despite all their political rhetoric, these militant groups are happy to sell their services to the highest bidder. Kidnapping for ransom, murder, extortion, whatever—they do it all.”

“So you think Avedo arranged with one of these militant groups to have her targeted?”

“Yes, but with help. Whoever carried out the attack on her plane, and even her car before that, would have needed details about her schedule, her security, details the ambassador definitely had about his wife.”

Emma’s hands were shaking now. She was white as chalk.

“Hey.” He slid his arm around her waist. “You want to sit down?”

“No.”

“Honey, you don’t look good.”

“I’m fine, I just—” She slapped a hand on the counter. “That prick. He killed her, Ryan.”

“I know.”

She glared up at him, tears of anger in her eyes. “His own wife, Ryan. He killed Juan and Mick, and he tried to kill me, too. And you and your team almost got killed—”

“Now, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Ryan, he’s a murdering bastard, and I want him in jail!”

Ryan wanted him in a dark alley without any witnesses around. But he knew what she meant.

Her hands were still shaking, and she looked like she was going to unravel. He pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her.

“I can’t believe it. How can he live with himself?”

“Hey.” He gave her a squeeze and stepped back. “Why don’t you take a break? Get a hot shower or something. I’ll comb through this and make sure we didn’t miss something.”

She glanced at her computer. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“That sounds like heaven, actually. I haven’t showered in days.”

“Go. I’ll work on this.”

She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

She went up on tiptoes and kissed him, brushing her breasts against his chest. She felt soft and tempting, and Ryan’s cock perked up. He forced himself to ignore it.

“I won’t be long,” she said, grabbing her beer.

He watched her disappear down the hallway and then turned back to her computer.

One thing at a time. He needed to get this evidence secured ASAP, before someone at the embassy realized that she still had access to the system. He skimmed through, selecting a few messages and forwarding them to himself. Then he created a document and saved it to Emma’s hard drive as backup. A printer would have been good, but she didn’t have one set up.

He glanced around her apartment as the water went on in the bathroom. She really hadn’t unpacked much. The place was practically empty. He eyed the box with all the books and photographs.

Hunter. What the fuck kind of name was that, anyway? The guy had probably never hunted for anything in his life besides a missing golf ball. Probably didn’t even know how to hold a gun. And who wore a Rolex skiing? The guy was a loser, no question. He wouldn’t have survived a day in the jungle by himself or even five minutes with one of Avedo’s goons. Emma had not only survived, but she’d managed to escape.

Emma was tough. She might not look it, with the fancy clothes and the heels and the Bambi eyes. But underneath all that was a woman who could build latrines and sleep in the forest. A woman who liked cheeseburgers and french fries and hot sex. A woman who considered beer a staple, for Christ’s sake. That was the real Emma, the one he was falling hard for. So hard it scared him.

He glanced at the hallway, where he heard the hum of the pipes. She was having a moment to herself now, and he should leave her alone. Really.

In need of a distraction, he took out his new burner phone and called Jake.

———

Emma stepped into the hallway and jumped.

“My God, you scared me!” She held her arms over her bare breasts. “I was just getting some towels from my room.”

But he was a step ahead of her. He handed her a towel and backed her against the wall, taking her mouth with his before she could get a word out. And he didn’t just kiss her—he kissed her.

“You’re naked,” he murmured, dipping his head down to kiss her breast.

Not quite. She was still in her panties, but he was quickly taking care of that, sliding them down her legs.

“Ryan.” She gasped as he kissed his way up her body, then took her mouth again. His kiss was hot and urgent, as though it had been weeks instead of hours since they’d last been together. His tongue delved into her mouth as he pressed her against the wall.

“I wanted to leave you alone, but—” He plumped her breast in his hand and squeezed her nipple. “I can’t. You’re so fucking hot, Emma, I can’t stop touching you.”

“Hot. Right.” No one had ever called her hot before, but maybe he thought flattery would put her in the mood.

He pulled back. “You don’t think I’m serious?”

“I think . . .” She rubbed her hand over his erection. “I think you seriously want to get laid.”

“You’re fucking beautiful, Emma. How do you not know that?”

“I need to lose a few pounds.”

“Don’t.” He slid his hand over her butt and squeezed. “I love you like this.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared up at him. He didn’t realize what he’d said, but it was sweet anyway, and she pulled his head down to hers for another kiss. She loved the way he kissed her. And touched her. The way he gripped her flesh like it was something he desperately needed to hold on to. She loved the way he made her feel confident and sexy, like the star of one of his fantasies.

One of those fantasies apparently involved a shower, because he was towing her toward the bathroom now. He stepped into the steamy little room and quickly stripped off his clothes. Taking her hand, he pulled her into the tub with him and positioned her under the scalding spray.

She loved his body, so hard and muscled. She’d been awed just touching him in the dark last night, but in the light like this, he was truly heart-stopping.

He dipped his head down to her breast, and she tipped her head back, loving the warm pull of his mouth as his talented fingers slipped down and inside her.

“God, Emma.” He moved up and kissed her neck as he touched her. She was already flushed and fevered, but he was turning the heat up, making her ache inside again with that relentless yearning. He knew just how to touch her to make her crazy with need for him.

“Ryan.” She clutched his shoulders, clinging to him, leaning against the cool tile of the shower as his fingers worked their magic. “Ryan . . . please.”

“I love it when you beg,” he murmured.

“Please. I need you now.”

His hands went away, and she opened her eyes to watch him through the steam as he grabbed his jeans off the sink and somehow hunted up a condom. “Hold on,” he said, and she slipped her hands around his neck. He gripped her hips and lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around him as he lowered her onto him.

He felt good. So good. There was nothing gentle or romantic about it as he took her against the shower wall. It was hard and raw and possessive, like he was staking a claim. And she was letting him. She wanted him to claim her, needed him to, and she clutched him as tightly as she could, clinging to him for dear life as he thrust into her again and again and again. She braced her hand against the wall beside her.

“I’ve got you,” he said, gripping her hips.

How many times had he told her that since they’d met? And the thing was, she believed him. He had her, body and soul. He had her heart.

“Emma.”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

She came apart, shattering in his arms, and he caught her and held her even as he came, too, driving her back against the hard tile.

They stayed there like that, gasping and holding each other as the hot spray fell against their intertwined bodies. Emma’s pulse was racing. She couldn’t breathe. He pulled back and looked at her, his gaze intense. What was he thinking when he looked at her that way?

“You okay?” he asked.

I love you.

She kissed him, too afraid to say it. Maybe she’d always be too afraid. And she felt a pang of guilt. All the risks he’d taken for her, and she was too insecure to say a few simple words? She should tell him. Right now, while they were still winded from sex.

And then a phone buzzed, and she was glad she hadn’t. She slid down his slick body. He steadied her on her feet as the phone rang again.

“Whose is that?” she asked.

“Mine. Lucas brought me a new one.”

He handed her the towel she’d left on the sink, then stepped out and grabbed his jeans before disappearing into the hallway.

Emma dried off quickly. She wrapped the towel around herself and went into the living room, where she found him standing near the window with a cell phone pressed to his ear. He was bare-chested and had a grim expression on his face.

“What’s the name of the place?” He glanced at Emma. “No, but I can find it.”

“Who is it?” she asked.

He muted the phone. “Mays. She’s with Jake. She said there’s been an important development and she wants a meeting.”

“Are you sure it’s her?”

Ryan looked at her a moment. “Good call.” He got back on the phone. “Hey, put Jake on a minute, will you?”

Ryan’s gaze drifted over her, and the look in his eyes heated. She stepped closer, and he pulled her against him.

“Jake? Hey, man, just making sure. We’re on our way.”

TEN

How firm is this intel?”

Emma glanced over at Ryan, who was on his cell in the passenger seat. She’d insisted on driving because he needed to work his phone. He’d been on and off with Jake since they’d left Los Angeles.

“Both of you or just Mays?” Ryan was asking. “Okay, keep me posted.”

He ended the call, and Emma waited for him to fill her in. It wasn’t clear exactly whom they were meeting and why. She only knew that she was going to a bar called the Navy Yard on Coronado Island. “Well?” She looked at him.

“The guy we’re meeting is Michael Jones,” Ryan said. “Jake said he’s a CIA asset in the Philippines. The name ring a bell?”

“No.” Emma searched her memory banks but came up with nothing. “Sounds like an alias, though. Is that really his name?”

“Doubtful,” Ryan said. “Anyway, he passed along some surveillance footage a few months ago showing a meeting in Quezon City outside Manila between Avedo Senior and Oscar Guinto.”

“Who’s that?”

“Guinto’s the local leader of the Asian Crescent Brotherhood, which has ties to Al Qaeda. We don’t know what the meeting was about, but we’re starting to get some ideas.”

“When was this meeting?” Emma asked.

“Ten days before your plane went down.”

Emma focused on the road, trying not to react. She couldn’t believe Richard Conner, someone she’d actually considered a personal friend, had ties to such people. Not just ties—it sounded like he was actually in business with them.

“Avedo passed Guinto a thumb drive. We don’t know what was on it, but it could have had something to do with the attack on the plane. Guinto controls militant groups that operate from many of the southern islands, including the one where the crash happened.”

“Richard Conner was supposed to be on that trip with us,” Emma said. “He canceled at the last minute because he got tied up at some meeting in Singapore. At least, that’s what he said.” The sign appeared for the Coronado Bridge. Emma checked the clock. “How are we doing on time?”

“Good.”

“I’m surprised he wants to meet so close to the naval base. You said he’s CIA?”

Ryan adjusted the side mirror. “Private contractor. My guess is he used to be spec ops, maybe a frogman. A lot of SEALs go into private work after they get out.”

What did Ryan plan to do when he got out? She doubted he wanted to leave the Navy anytime soon. He obviously loved his job. Thrived on it. What would it take to make him settle down? “So . . .” She cleared her throat. “They go into private work because they miss the action?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Or sometimes they need the money. Other times they get injured, can’t return to combat.”

Emma’s blood chilled. She hated thinking about all the dangers he faced in his job. She had spent weeks worrying about him after they’d parted ways in the Philippines, and they hadn’t even been a couple then. They still weren’t. She didn’t know what they were exactly, but just the thought of him leaving again made her stomach hurt.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look upset.”

“I’m just . . . worried.”

“We can bail on this if you want,” Ryan said. “The feds are already gathering evidence against Conner. This meeting could speed things along, but you’re not required to help with their investigation.”

“I want to help. What do you think they need me to do?”

“This guy Jones has some surveillance pictures to show you. Mays will be there, too, and she wants to determine if you recognize Avedo Senior or Oscar Guinto from anywhere, if you ever saw them in the presence of Richard Conner. This guy Guinto, he’s high up in the ACB. If they can link him to the ambassador, it would be a major break in the investigation.”

“But I may not recognize him. I mean, I spent a lot of time with the Conners, but it’s not like I knew every one of their associates.”

“Odds are you know something or saw something, and it could be something you’re not even aware of,” Ryan said. “What Renee Conner knew got her killed. I wouldn’t underestimate how badly these guys want to eliminate anyone who poses a threat.”

The words hung there in the truck as Emma drove. With every minute that ticked by, she was getting more and more nervous about this meeting.

“Change lanes,” Ryan said.

“What?”

“Be subtle about it. Shift to the middle.”

Emma cast a glance in the rearview mirror before changing lanes. She hadn’t noticed anyone following them, and she’d been looking. “What is it?” She glanced in the mirror again.

“Gray Pathfinder, three cars back. God damn it.”

“You want me to get off before the bridge?”

“Too late. Just . . . chill. Get back in the left lane, and speed up a little. We’ll see what he does.”

Emma changed lanes and sped up, her heart racing now as she eyed the gray Pathfinder in the rearview mirror. It didn’t change lanes, but it definitely picked up speed.

“Ah, fuck me,” Ryan muttered. He pulled his phone out and texted something.

“They’re following us?”

“Yes.”

“But how could they find us? No one knows about my sublet.”

“I don’t know. Shit. Yes, I do. Those boxes in your hallway. Where are they from?”

“They were shipped from Seattle.”

“All of them?”

Realization hit, and Emma felt queasy. This was her fault. “There’s a box from the embassy,” she said. “They sent me some personal items from my desk. Conner must have found out my forwarding address and—what are you doing?” Her stomach flip-flopped as Ryan pulled out his gun.

“Calm down, I’m just being cautious.”

She eyed the mirror again. “He’s closing in on us.” Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Should I get off or pull over? What should I do?”

“Don’t pull over. Sit low in your seat.”

The vehicle in front of her braked. Emma’s nerves skittered as she noticed the dark-tinted windows. Ryan noticed, too.

“Shit,” he said.

“That car in front of us is part of this, too, isn’t it?” It was a black Escalade, and it slowed again. Emma instinctively swerved around it.

“Listen to me, Emma. Don’t panic. You can do this.”

“Do what? What am I doing?”

“I want you to—”

The back window burst.

“Get down!” Ryan jerked her down by her shirtfront and grabbed the steering wheel.

“I can’t see!” she shrieked.

“I’ll steer. Just stay down!”

Another earsplitting pop.

Emma punched the gas, but then she was right up on the bumper of the black Escalade.

From the passenger side, an orange muzzle flash.

Ryan jerked the wheel, swerving into the middle lane. Horns blared. Emma’s heart pounded wildly as she peered above the steering wheel. The Escalade swerved into the lane directly ahead of them.

“We have to get off!” she yelled. “How far till the bridge ends?”

“Too far.” Ryan was still steering for her, making his head a target. The Pathfinder was directly to their right now. A window in back slid down, and a black rifle barrel poked out.

“Ryan!” She slammed on the brakes. Horns blared.

A squeal of brakes from the Pathfinder. A staccato of gunfire. Emma screamed, and Ryan returned fire with his pistol.

Emma jabbed the accelerator. The Pathfinder caught up and tried to muscle them into the left lane.

“Stay down, Emma!” Ryan fired at the driver. The Escalade lurched forward and swerved into their lane. Emma glanced in the side mirror and caught a blue sedan coming up fast behind them. Thank God, police!

But that hope was dashed when a black gun barrel jutted out from the passenger window. “Another one behind us!” she yelled. “They’ll run us off the road!”

“We’re going to let them.”

“What?”

“Drive off the bridge,” he ordered.

“Are you crazy?”

“We’re outgunned, Emma. Drive off the bridge, and we’ll swim to shore.”

“That’s insane!”

“They’ll never expect it. And they won’t follow.”

“I’m not driving—”

“Emma, we’re surrounded by three cars and half a dozen machine guns. Our best chance is the water.”

“But—”

Ryan’s window shattered. He whirled around to return fire. Another spray of bullets, this one from the Escalade in front of them.

Ryan clutched his shoulder, and Emma’s heart lurched. “You’re hit! Oh my God, let me pull over.”

“No!” Blood streamed through his fingers, but he didn’t even look at the wound. “On three, I want you to punch the gas while I cut across the lanes, okay? We have to get out of here.”

“Ryan, I love you. Please let me pull over and help you.”

“Emma, listen to me! On three, you hit the gas. One. Two. Three!”

She jabbed the accelerator as Ryan jerked the steering wheel. They careened across two lanes. Metal shrieked as they smashed into the concrete wall and kept going.

Emma’s stomach dropped, and everything went blue—blue sky, blue water, everything blue, blue, blue, as they sailed through the abyss.

They hit with a skull-rattling impact, and for a moment she saw stars. And then she was surrounded by water, cold and dark and filling up the truck cab.

Ryan was reaching for her, yelling instructions. She saw his lips move, but she couldn’t hear the words, and the icy water surrounded her, and she was sinking, sinking, sinking, faster than she would have dreamed possible.

Seat belt.

The thought popped into her brain just as the icy water closed over her head. She reached for the latch, struggling with the button. She wrestled free of the belt as a big hand clamped around her arm.

Ryan.

He was pulling her. Something sharp jabbed her arm. And he was pulling again, dragging her through the cold darkness and toward the light. She kicked her legs, desperate to help him as they went up, up, up, and finally broke the surface.

Air!

It felt like razors in her lungs. Salt stung her eyes, her nose, her throat. A strong arm wrapped around her body as she choked and coughed.

“Emma, hold on!”

She grabbed onto him as he surged through the water. It was cold. Stunningly cold. And in seconds, she could barely feel her legs. She struggled to kick, to help propel them forward, but the waves were choppy, and saltwater pelted her face as she tried to look around.

“Breathe, Emma.”

She clutched his arm, kicking as hard as she could with numb legs.

“That’s it.”

They moved swiftly through the current, as if he knew where they were going. And then she saw it. A boat. It was small and far away, but it was a boat, and the people in it were waving their arms.

“That’s our ride,” he said, gasping. “You see it?”

She squeezed his arm. “Yes,” she choked, getting a mouthful of brine. His grip tightened, and she saw that the water around her was red. “Ryan. Ryan!”

He was bleeding. His arm, his shoulder. She couldn’t tell where the blood was coming from, but it was a lot. His face looked pained, and he seemed to be struggling for air as he reached through the water, dragging her with him. She kicked her legs as hard as she could, trying to help get them to the boat, but it was too far away.

Ryan’s strokes slowed. Emma felt a cold shot of fear, even colder than the water. She kicked and kicked with all her might. Waves churned around her, slapping at her as she pulled toward the little skiff. It was a fishing boat, and finally she heard the hum of the engine as it drew near. A wave tossed them, loosening her grip on Ryan as the boat swept up beside them.

The men leaned over, reaching for them, and Ryan seemed to snap into action again, gripping Emma by the waist and pushing her up and into their arms.

“No, take him first! He’s hit!”

A wave smacked her, and the words were lost.

ELEVEN

Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, bristling with energy and watching the clock. He hated waiting almost as much as he hated hospitals. Footsteps in the hallway had him turning around.

“Good morning.” Special Agent Mays stepped into the room and glanced at her watch. “Or should I say afternoon?” She smiled tiredly. Her clothes looked tired, too, as though she’d spent the night at her office. “How’s the gunshot wound?”

“Fine.”

“And the concussion?”

“Fine.”

“Really? You look worse than yesterday.” She stepped closer and examined the purple bump on his head that had prompted the ER doc to make him stay overnight. The bullet he’d taken during the car chase was little more than a flesh wound, fortunately.

After interviewing him for hours in his cramped hospital room, the FBI agents had cleared out, and Emma had appeared at the door. She’d fretted over his injuries and then slipped into bed with him, where she’d stayed up late watching CNN and resisting his attempts to get to second base. Finally, they’d drifted off to sleep, only to be prodded awake by nurses. Emma was at the FBI office now for another round of interviews, and she’d promised to be back by lunchtime, but maybe she was having second thoughts.

“So,” Mays said, looking him over, “I thought you might be gone by now.”

“I did, too.” Ryan glanced at the door again. “Just waiting for discharge papers.”

“Well, I’ll keep it brief. I wanted to update you on what happened since our last interview. We arrested Ricky Avedo.”

Ryan arched his eyebrows.

“One of the gunmen we apprehended yesterday—the one in the black Escalade? He flipped. He has a really long rap sheet, so we used that as leverage. He basically gave up Avedo, said he was hired along with five others to pull off the hit on Emma.”

Hearing the words hit and Emma in the same sentence made Ryan’s stomach clench.

“And that’s not all. We picked up Conner at LAX. He was getting on a plane to Rio after purchasing a one-way ticket last night.”

“Rio?”

“Think he got word that everything was falling apart, then panicked and decided to make a break for it. We’re not sure what exactly his plan was, but it probably involved some plastic surgery and going into hiding. When we confronted him with all the evidence we have about his ties to the Avedo family, he crumpled and gave a full confession, much to the dismay of his lawyer.”

“What happens now?”

“He’ll get some leniency in exchange for his cooperation against the Avedo family. Ricky Avedo’s the head of a vast criminal enterprise we’ve been after for years. He’s the big fish here.” She smiled slightly. “And now we have him cold.”

“What about Emma?” Ryan glanced at the door again.

“What about her?”

“Have you offered her any kind of witness protection?”

A nurse bustled in with a stack of papers. Ryan stood up.

“Here we go.” She handed him the paperwork. “Signed, sealed, and delivered. You feeling okay, hon?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’ll see you in two weeks for a follow-up.”

No, she wouldn’t, but Ryan kept his mouth shut.

“Anything else we can do for you, sailor?” she asked.

“I’m all set, thanks.”

“Don’t be stopping any more bullets, now.”

“I won’t.” When she was gone, he folded the paperwork and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans, then turned to Mays. “You were saying? About witness protection?”

“She doesn’t need it. She’s not a witness.”

“How’s that?”

“We have Conner. And he’s backed up his confession with a paper trail. We have plenty to take down Avedo without involving Emma, at this point.”

“You’re sure? I’m concerned about her safety.”

She smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing, just—” She shrugged. “That’s a little ironic coming from someone in your line of work. Didn’t your team just get called out?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Around. I take it you managed to get cleared for duty?”

“Yep.”

Emma stepped through the doorway, and Ryan felt a jolt of relief. She had a phony smile on her face, and she exchanged greetings with Mays before settling her gaze on Ryan.

“Ready to go?” she asked, a little too cheerfully.

Mays politely ducked out, leaving them alone in the little room, with CNN droning in the background. Ryan tugged Emma against him and kissed her forehead. Damn, she smelled good.

“You showered,” he said.

“I swung by my hotel in San Diego and checked out.” Her gaze went to the bandage on his upper arm. “How are the stitches?”

“Fine.”

“How’s the bump?”

“Can’t even feel it.”

He took her hand, and they walked down a hallway crowded with nurses and orderlies. She didn’t say anything as they rode the elevator downstairs and exited the hospital into the blazing afternoon sun.

Emma tipped her head back and looked up. Then she looked at Ryan.

“So you mind giving me a ride home?” he asked.

Another phony smile. “That’s why I’m here.”

He pulled her closer. “You mind telling me what’s wrong first?”

“Nothing.”

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her in place as people walked around them on the sidewalk. Her eyes were brown and beautiful and loaded with worry. “Talk to me.”

She huffed out a sigh. “Nothing’s wrong. If you want to ignore a gunshot wound and a concussion and go rushing back to work before you’re ready, it’s none of my business.”

He tugged her out of the traffic flow and onto a patch of grass. “I’m not ignoring anything.”

“No?”

“No.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She tensed at first. But then she relaxed against him and let him taste her. She was sweet and soft and warm, and it only took a second for his entire body to lock in on one objective. He needed her. Needed, not wanted. It wasn’t a choice. No matter how much he got of her, he still needed more.

She pulled back and gazed up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. Damn it, this sucked.

“I have to leave tomorrow,” he said.

“I know.” Her voice hitched. “When?”

“I report at 0600.” He kissed her again. He wanted to memorize her taste and her mouth, and the feel of her soft, perfect body pressed against him. He wanted to memorize all of her to keep him going through the days ahead.

She pulled back. “Ryan—”

He cut her off with a kiss. “Come home with me.”

His chest felt tight as he held his breath and waited.

“I need you, Emma.” He kissed her again. “Come home with me.”

———

Jake’s patience paid off when Alexa stepped out of the elevator. She looked tired and more than a little bit wary as she approached her boxy gray Taurus. She stopped in front of him.

“You make a habit of lurking around hospital parking garages?”

“I came by to see Ryan and spotted your car.” He smiled. “Where you headed?”

“Home.”

“How about dinner?”

“It’s four o’clock.”

“How about a drink, then?”

Her eyebrows tipped up. “It’s four o’clock.”

“Come on, loosen up.” He pushed off the car and stepped closer. “Besides, I’m on leave.”

“I’m not.”

He eased closer, gazing down into those pretty blue eyes. “You should be. You look tired.”

“I haven’t slept in two days.”

“Good time for a break, then.”

She sighed heavily and looked around, as if someone might see her standing around wasting time on a workday. She glanced up.

“What did you have in mind?”

He smiled. “I know a place on the beach. Best fish tacos in town. Half-price pitchers on Thursdays.”

“Ernie’s. I know it.”

“That’s the one.”

“I have about ten hours of paperwork waiting for me back in LA.”

“Let it wait.”

“I haven’t showered since Tuesday.”

“Do I look like I care?”

She sighed. “You’re leaving soon. Wouldn’t you rather be at some bar with your buddies, picking up girls?”

“No.”

She stared at him, and he could see her weakening. When her gaze drifted to his chest, he knew he had her.

He took her hand, pushing his luck. “Come on, Alexa. Live a little.”

———

The dawn was soft and purple, and Emma rubbed her arms against the cold as she crossed the sidewalk to her rental car.

“So . . .” She tried, but her words got stuck in her throat.

Ryan’s arms came around her. He pulled her back against his chest and kissed the top of her head.

“So when do you get back?” She turned to face him, caught off guard by the intensity in his green eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said, watching her reaction.

She felt a flutter of panic. “You really don’t know, or you don’t want to say?”

“I don’t know.” He tucked a curl behind her ear.

Her stomach clenched tightly, but she ignored it. She’d been ignoring it for the past twelve hours.

“Hey.” He reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. She ducked her head against his chest.

“I knew this would happen.”

He pulled her against him, and she drank in the wonderful smell of him. Her heart was racing. She had so much she wanted to tell him, and now she regretted putting it off. They’d spent their last hours lost in the physical, desperately trying to prove something with their mouths and hands and bodies. Emma didn’t know what, just that it hadn’t worked, and she felt hollow now.

He pulled back and gently took her face between his hands.

“I’ll come see you.”

Her heart skittered.

“The second I get back, I’ll come.” He brushed her hair from her face. “If you tell me that’s what you want.”

She stared up at him, her pulse racing.

“Is it?”

She nodded. “What I said on the bridge, I meant it. I love you. I know maybe it’s rushed—”

“I love you, too.”

He kissed her, hard. With so much passion and urgency it filled her and emptied her at the same time. And when he pulled away, she felt like her heart was tearing in half.

“It’s going to be hard,” he said. “I’m going to miss you like hell. And you’re going to miss me.”

She laughed at the cockiness of it.

“But don’t you dare doubt me. Not for a minute. I don’t give up on things, and I know we can do this.”

She believed him. When he said it like that, with so much love in his eyes, she trusted him. And the steely grip of doubt and fear that had held her heart for so long loosened.

And the thing was . . . it still hurt. Loving him hurt. Letting him leave hurt. Missing him was going to hurt even more, and if he broke her trust, well, that would hurt deeply, for a very long time.

But she knew all the hurt was worth it, because when she looked into his eyes, she felt loved and cherished and alive.

He kissed her, long and deep, until she felt it to the bottom of her soul. He pulled away, and the determination in his eyes took her breath away.

“We can do this, Emma. You just have to trust me.”

She went up on tiptoes and kissed him. “I do.”

Turn the page for a sneak peek of Laura Griffin’s next heart-pounding Tracers novel,

DEEP DARK

Coming spring 2016 from Pocket Books

LANEY KNOX BLINKED into the darkness and listened. Something . . . no.

She closed her eyes and slid deeper into the warm sheets, dismissing the sound. Probably her neighbor’s cat on the patio again.

Her eyes flew open. It wasn’t the sound but the light that had her attention now. Or lack of light. She gazed at the bedroom window, but didn’t see a band of white seeping through the gap between the shade and the wall.

She stared into the void, trying to shake off her grogginess. The outdoor lightbulb was new—her landlord had changed it yesterday. Had he botched the job? She should have done it herself, but her shoestring budget didn’t cover LED lights. It barely covered ramen noodles and Red Bull.

Laney looked around the pitch-black room. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, never had been. Roaches terrified her. And block parties. But darkness had always been no big deal.

Except this darkness was all wrong.

How many software developers does it take to change a lightbulb? None, it’s a hardware problem.

She strained her ears and listened for whatever sound had awakened her, but she heard nothing. She saw nothing. All her senses could discern was a slight chill against her skin and the lingering scent of the kung pao chicken she’d had for dinner. But something seemed off. As the seconds ticked by, a feeling of dread settled over her.

Creak.

She bolted upright. The noise was soft but unmistakable. Someone was inside her house.

Her heart skittered. Her thoughts zinged in a thousand directions. She lived in an old bungalow, more dilapidated than charming, and her bedroom was at the back, a virtual dead end. She glanced at her windows. She’d reinforced the original latches with screw locks to deter burglars—which had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now she felt trapped. She reached over and groped around on the nightstand for her phone.

Crap.

Crap crap crap. It was charging in the kitchen.

Her blood turned icy as stark reality sank in. She had no phone, no weapon, no exit route. And someone was inside.

Should she hide in the closet? Or try to slip past him somehow, maybe if he stepped into her room? It would never work, but—

Creak.

A burst of panic made the decision for her and she was across the room in a flash. She scurried behind the door and flattened herself against the wall. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Her heart pounded wildly as she felt more than heard him creeping closer.

That’s what he was doing. Creeping. He was easing down the hallway with quiet, deliberate steps while she cowered behind the door, quivering and naked except for her oversized Florence and the Machine T-shirt. Sweat sprang up on the back of her neck and her chest tightened.

Who the hell was he? What did he want? She had no cash, no jewelry, just a few thousand dollars’ worth of hardware sitting on her desk. Maybe she could slip out while he stole it.

Yeah, right. Her ancient hatchback in the driveway was a neon sign announcing that whoever lived here was not only dead broke but obviously home. This intruder was no burglar—he was here for her.

Laney’s pulse sprinted. Her hands formed useless little fists at her sides, and she was overwhelmed with the absurd notion that she should have followed through on that kickboxing class.

She forced a breath into her lungs and tried to think.

She had to think her way out of this because she was five-three, one-hundred-ten pounds, and weaponless. She didn’t stand much chance against even an average-size man, and if he was armed, forget it.

The air moved. Laney’s throat went dry. She stayed perfectly still and felt a faint shifting of molecules on the other side of the door. Then a soft sound, barely a whisper, as the door drifted open.

She held her breath. Her heart hammered. Everything was black, but gradually there was a hole in the blackness—a tall, man-shaped hole—and she stood paralyzed with disbelief as the shape eased into her bedroom and crept toward her bed. She watched it, rooted in place, waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting.

She bolted.

Her feet slapped against the wood floor as she raced down the hallway. Air swooshed behind her. A scream tore from her throat, then became a shrill yelp as he grabbed her hair and slammed her against the wall.

A stunning blow knocked her to the floor. Stars burst behind her eyes as her cheek hit wood. She scrambled to her feet. She made a frantic dash and tripped over the coffee table, sending glasses and dishes flying as she crashed to her knees.

He flipped her onto her back, and then he was on her, pinning her with his massive weight as something sharp cut into her shoulder blade.

She clawed at his face, his eyes. He wore a ski mask, and all she could see were three round holes and a sinister flash of teeth amid the blackness. She shrieked, but an elbow against her throat cut off all sound, all breath, as she fought and bucked beneath him.

He was strong, immovable. And terrifyingly calm as he pinned her arms one by one under his knees and reached for something in the pocket of his jacket. She expected a weapon—a knife or a gun—and she tried to heave him off. Panic seized her as his shadow shifted in the dimness. Above her frantic grunts she heard the tear of duct tape. And suddenly the idea of being silenced that way was more horrifying than even a blade.

With a fresh burst of adrenaline she wriggled her arm out from under his knee and flailed for any kind of weapon. She groped around the floor until her fingers closed around something smooth and slender—a pen, a chopstick, she didn’t know. She gripped it in her hand and jabbed at his face with all her might. He reared back with a howl.

Laney bucked hard and rolled out from under him as he clutched his face.

A scream erupted from deep inside her. She tripped to her feet and rocketed for the door.

THIS CASE WAS going to throw him. Reed Novak knew it the second he saw the volleyball court.

Taut net, sugary white sand. Beside the court was a swimming pool that sparkled like a sapphire under the blazing August sun.

“Hell, if I had a pool like that, I’d use it.”

Reed looked at his partner in the passenger seat. Jay Wallace had his window rolled down and his hefty arm resting on the door.

“Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Reed didn’t answer. The point was probably to slap a photo on a Web site to justify the astronomical rent Bellaterra charged for one- and two-bedroom units five minutes from downtown.

Reed pulled in beside the white ME’s van and climbed out, glancing around. Even with a few emergency vehicles, the parking lot was quiet. Bellaterra’s young and athletically inclined tenants were either at jobs or classes, or maybe home with their parents for the summer, letting their luxury apartments sit empty.

Reed stood for a moment, getting a feel. Heat radiated up from the blacktop, and the drone of cicadas drowned out the traffic noise on Lake Austin Boulevard. He glanced across the parking lot to the ground-floor unit, where a female patrol officer stood guard.

“First responder, Lena Gutierrez.”

Reed looked at Jay. “You know her?”

“Think she’s new.”

They crossed the lot and exchanged introductions. Gutierrez looked nervous in her wilted uniform. Her gaze darted to the detective shield clipped to Reed’s belt.

“I secured the perimeter, sir.”

“Good. Tell us what you got.”

She cleared her throat. “Apartment’s rented to April Abrams, twenty-five. Didn’t show up for work today, didn’t answer her phone. One of her coworkers dropped by. The door was reportedly unlocked, so she went inside to check . . .”

Her voice trailed off as though they should fill in the blank.

Reed stepped around her and examined the door, which stood ajar. No visible scratches on the locking mechanism. No gouges on the door frame.

Jay was already covering his shiny black wing tips with paper booties. Reed did the same. Austin was casual, but they always wore business attire—suit pants and button-down shirts—because of days like today. Reed never wanted to do a death knock dressed like he was on his way to a keg party.

He stepped into the cool foyer and let his eyes adjust. To his right was a living area. White sectional sofa, bleached wood coffee table, white shag rug over beige carpet. The pristine room was a contrast to the hallway, where yellow evidence markers littered the tile floor. A picture on the wall had been knocked askew, and a pair of ME’s assistants bent over a body.

A bare foot jutted out from the huddle. Pale skin, polished red toenails.

Reed walked into the hall, sidestepping numbered pieces of plastic that flagged evidence he couldn’t see. A slender guy with premature gray hair glanced up. Reed knew the man, and his expression was even grimmer than usual.

April Abrams was young.

Reed knelt down for a closer look. She lay on her side, her head resting in a pool of coagulated blood. Long auburn hair partially obscured her face, and her arm was bent behind her at an impossible angle. A strip of silver duct tape covered her mouth.

“Jesus,” Jay muttered behind him.

Her bare legs scissored out to the side. A pink T-shirt was bunched up under her armpits, and Reed noted extensive scratches on both breasts.

“What do you have?” Reed asked.

“Twelve to eighteen hours, ballpark,” the ME’s assistant said. “The pathologist should be able to pin that down better.”

Reed studied her face again. No visible abrasions. No ligature marks on her neck. The right side of her skull was smashed in, and her hair was matted with dried blood.

“Murder weapon?” Reed asked.

“Not that we’ve seen. You might ask the photog, though. She’s in the kitchen.”

Reed stood up, looking again at the tape covering April’s mouth. A lock of her hair was stuck under it, which for some reason pissed him off.

He moved into the kitchen and paused beside a sliding glass door that opened onto a fenced patio. Outside on the concrete sat a pair of plastic bowls, both empty.

“I haven’t seen a weapon,” the crime-scene photographer said over her shoulder. “You’ll be the first to know.”

Reed glanced around her to see what had her attention. On the granite countertop was an ID badge attached to one of those plastic clips with a retractable cord. The badge showed April’s mug shot with her name above the words ChatWare Solutions. April had light blue eyes, pale skin. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she smiled tentatively for the camera.

The photographer finished with the badge and shifted to get a shot of the door.

“Come across a phone?” Reed asked, looking around. No dirty dishes on the counters. Empty sink.

“Not so far.” She glanced up from her camera as Jay stepped into the kitchen and silently handed Reed a pair of latex gloves. “I haven’t done the bedroom yet, though, so don’t you guys move anything.”

Reed pulled on the gloves and opened the fridge. It took him a moment to identify the unfamiliar contents: spinach, beets, bean sprouts. Something green and frilly that might or might not be kale. The dietary train wreck continued in the pantry, where he found three boxes of Kashi, six bottles of vitamins, and a bag of flaxseed.

Opening the cabinet under the sink, Reed found a bag of cat food and a plastic trash can. The can was empty, not even a plastic bag inside it despite the box of them right there in the cabinet. He’d check out Bellaterra’s Dumpsters. Reed opened several drawers and found the usual assortment of utensils.

“That’s an eight-hundred-dollar juicer.” Jay nodded at the silver appliance near the sink.

“That thing?”

“At least. Maybe a thousand. My sister got one last Christmas.”

Gutierrez was standing in the foyer now, watching them with interest.

“Did you come across a phone?” Reed asked her. “A purse? A wallet?”

“No on all three, sir. I did a full walk-through, didn’t see anything.”

Reed exchanged a look with Jay before moving back into the hallway. The ME’s people were now taping paper bags over the victim’s hands.

Reed stepped into the bedroom. A ceiling fan moved on low speed, stirring the air. The queen-size bed was heaped with plump white pillows like in a fancy hotel. The pillows were piled to the side and the bedspread was thrown back, suggesting April had gone to bed and then gotten up.

“Think she heard him?” Jay asked.

“Maybe.”

The bedside lamp was off, and the only light in the room came from sunlight streaming through vertical blinds. Reed ducked into the bathroom. Makeup was scattered across the counter. A gold watch with a diamond bezel sat beside the sink. Reed opened the medicine cabinet.

“Sleeping pills, nasal spray, laxatives, OxyContin,” he said.

Reed examined the latch on the window above the toilet. Then he moved into the bedroom. Peering under the bed, he found a pair of white sandals and a folded shopping bag. On the nightstand was a stack of magazines: Entertainment Weekly, People, Wired. He opened the nightstand drawer and stared down.

“Huh.”

Jay glanced over. “Vibrator?”

“Chocolate.” Four bars of Godiva, seventy-two percent cocoa. One of the bars had the wrapper partially removed and a hunk bitten off.

Reed was more or less numb to going through people’s stuff, but the chocolate bar struck him as both sad and infinitely personal. He closed the drawer.

“We ID’d her vehicle,” Gutierrez said, stepping into the room, “in case you guys want to have a look.”

Reed and Jay followed her back through the apartment, catching annoyed looks from the ME’s people as they squeezed past again.

“So, what’s our game plan?” Jay asked as they exited the home and stripped off their shoe covers.

Reed watched the gurney being rolled across the lot. Twenty minutes into the case, and already they needed a game plan. That was how it worked now, and Reed didn’t waste his energy cursing social media.

He thought of April’s mug shot. He thought of her anxious smile as she’d stood before the camera, probably her first day on the job. She’d probably been feeling a heady mix of hope and anticipation as she embarked on something new.

He pictured the slash of duct tape over her mouth now. It would stay there until she reached the autopsy table.

“Reed?”

“No forced entry. No purse, no phone. But he left jewelry, pain meds, and a Bose stereo.”

Jay nodded because he knew what Reed was thinking. At this point, everything pointed to someone she knew.

Jay glanced across the lot. “Damn.”

Reed turned to see an SUV easing through the gate, tailgated by a white news van. Just in time for the money shot of the body coming out. In a matter of minutes the image would be ping-ponging between satellites.

“Dirtbags,” Jay muttered.

Reed shook his head. “Right on time.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author LAURA GRIFFIN started her career in journalism before venturing into the world of romantic suspense. She is a two-time RITA Award winner (for the books Scorched and Whisper of Warning) as well as the recipient of the Daphne du Maurier Award (for Untraceable). Laura currently lives in Austin, where she is working on her next book. Visit her website at LauraGriffin.com and on Facebook at Facebook.com/LauraGriffinAuthor.

FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR: Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Laura-Griffin

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ALSO BY LAURA GRIFFIN

At the Edge: Alpha Crew, Part 1

Shadow Fall

Beyond Limits

Far Gone

Exposed

Scorched

Twisted

Unstoppable

Snapped

Unforgivable

Deadly Promises

Unspeakable

Untraceable

Whisper of Warning

Thread of Fear

One Wrong Step

One Last Breath

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Pocket Star Books

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Laura Griffin

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Pocket Star Books ebook edition March 2016

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Interior design by Carly Loman

ISBN 978-1-5011-3097-7

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Deep Dark Excerpt

About the Author