One Kiss More (20 page)

Did he kiss his mother with that mouth? Landon’s body went rigid beside her, and Emma sensed the angry tension rolling off of him in waves. No matter what the language barrier between them, Landon must have sensed the innuendo in Sousa’s tone. He might have looked civilized and respectable, but the arms dealer was nothing more than an animal. And though it warmed her to think that Landon was enraged on her behalf, she needed him to keep a level head. Not that Emma was happy with being called a bitch.

She leaned in as if sharing a secret and let her gaze wander leisurely from Cesar to his boss. “I can appreciate the fact that you might be a little upset over being played by a . . . little
puta
like me. But don’t you think your anger is a bit misplaced? I mean, sure, I stole your money, but aren’t you even a little interested in how I managed to circumvent your security? I mean, your tech, whoever he is, must not be very good at his job because it took me less than a minute to get through your protocols and take that money right out from under your nose.”

Sousa sat back and folded his arms across his chest as he regarded her. A long moment of silence stretched out between them, and Emma fought the urge to squirm under his intense scrutiny. She just had to keep it together.

“So you’re clever. So what? There’s always a bigger fish waiting in the shadows to eat the smaller ones. You’re not the biggest fish in the ocean,
pequeña
. I’m sure I could find one to swallow you up.”

“Maybe,” Emma said with a shrug. “But I’m not as small as you think I am. You can go fishing all you’d like, Señor Sousa. That still isn’t going to change the fact that I have your money and you don’t.”

“Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to the Metropolitan Grill.” A tight smile settled on Sousa’s face as a perky waitress filled their water glasses. “My name is Janelle and I’ll be your server today. Our specials include a fresh artichoke appetizer that’s tossed in olive oil and lemon juice and grilled over live mesquite. We also have a chicken Waldorf salad, and our soup of the day is a seafood stew that, I have to tell you, is my absolute favorite menu item. Would anyone be interested in—”

“We’ll let you know,” Cesar cut her off with one of his trademark scowls and Emma was surprised their waitress didn’t melt from the heat in his glare. “Now get the fuck out of here and don’t come back unless we call you over. This is a private conversation.”

“Cesar,” Sousa snapped. What followed was a string of angry Spanish that made Emma’s ears burn. A slew of threats and curses and a brief chastisement on social graces that shut Cesar up in a heartbeat. He might have been a lowlife criminal, but keeping up appearances was apparently important to Teyo Sousa.

“You’ll have to excuse my associate’s bad manners,” Sousa said to Janelle. “Perhaps you’ll give us a few more minutes while we conduct our business?” He motioned for her to come closer, and when she rounded the table to stand by his side, he slipped a folded-up bill into the pocket of her apron. “My apologies.”

Emma wanted to gag at his mock show of gallantry. To shoot up out of her chair and scream, “He’s an arms dealer and human trafficker for Christ’s sake! He probably trips grandmas and steals candy from babies in his free time, too!” But no. She had to sit there and watch as Janelle flashed him a smile brighter than the sun before heading back to wherever she’d come from as though Cesar hadn’t snapped at her like a rabid pit bull.

“Now, before we’re interrupted again, let’s get back to business. I want my money. You want your father returned to you. If you can guarantee that my funds will be safely deposited into the account from which you stole them, I can guarantee that you and your father will be reunited by tomorrow.”

Emma knew he was lying through his teeth, but that didn’t do much to quell the hope that swelled in her chest. She wanted to agree right then and there, give him whatever the hell he wanted. Landon cleared his throat beside her, as though gently urging her to use caution. Emma reminded herself who Sousa was and what they were here for. The only way she’d be reunited with her dad that way was in the morgue.

“It could be that easy,” Emma mused. “But I doubt it. First of all, who’s to say my father is even still alive? The last proof I received was a picture that, to be honest, didn’t exactly elevate my hopes that you were taking decent care of him. And secondly, do you think I’m so foolish, Señor Sousa”—she addressed him with respect despite her disrespectful tone—“that I’d just give you your money back and trust that you’ll deliver my dad to me, safe and sound?”

Emma looked askance at Cesar, and he gave her an arrogant smirk. What a jerk. He slung one arm over the back of his chair and chuckled before turning his attention to his employer. “Told you.”

Told him what? That she was a raging pain in the ass? Stubborn? Arrogant? Difficult and not a team player? “You can think whatever you want, but you’re the one who started this. Not me. If you hadn’t threatened and blackmailed my father and sent him to prison, you wouldn’t have to be dealing with me right now.”

Sousa ignored her words and shifted his focus to Landon instead. “And how do you fit into all of this, Deputy? It’s not often that I entertain federal law enforcement, but I have to admit you’ve piqued my curiosity. We did a little checking into your history with the Marshals Service. You’ve managed to rack up quite the list of allegations, haven’t you?”

Emma glanced at Landon from the corner of her eye. He answered Sousa with an arrogant smirk and a casual shrug of one shoulder. “Allegations, yes,” he said. “But nothing that’ll stick.”

“Tell me, what does your agency believe about our dear Emma’s death?”

“Whatever I tell them,” Landon remarked. “We loaded her up into an ambulance, took her to the hospital, and as far as they know, she died en route. Don’t you watch the news? They held a press conference and everything.”

“I saw it,” Sousa said. “But don’t think for a second that your sitting with me here now is indicative of trust. Your greed”—his eyes slid to Emma—“in addition to other things, might be motivating your actions, but I won’t hesitate to have one of my men take care of you the second you walk out this door if I feel like you’re a threat to the business I’m trying to conduct.”

“You don’t have to trust me,” Landon replied in a cool tone that gave Emma chills. “As long as she trusts me. Emma’s in charge here, not me. I’m here to protect my own interests and to make sure nothing happens to her.”

“Your own interests?” Sousa muttered. “Such as lining your own pockets if the occasion arises?”

Another casual hike of his shoulder.

Sousa said something to Cesar in Spanish, a derogatory comment that suggested Landon might be a little “pussy whipped,” and they both had a nice little chuckle at the aside. Landon’s eyes narrowed and his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white. Emma doubted he spoke a word of Spanish, but you didn’t have to know the language to pick up on the innuendo.

“You said that I’m a small fish in a big pond.” Emma reached over and cupped the back of Landon’s neck, massaging gently before passing her palm across one tense, heavily muscled shoulder and down his right forearm. He relaxed into her caress and the nervous butterflies in Emma’s stomach swirled in a riot. Touching Landon affected her more intensely than sitting face-to-face with a terrorist. She didn’t know if that should make her feel brave or just plain foolish. “Who’s to say the CIA or DOJ doesn’t have a bigger fish than me?”

“What are you getting at?”

Cesar looked as though he might throttle her, and it gave Emma a perverse sense of satisfaction to have rattled his chain. He was quite the guard dog, wasn’t he? Looking out for his master like that. “I’m suggesting that maybe you have the wrong people on your payroll.”

Sousa burst out into a round of raucous laughter that drew the attention of the diners around them. “And you think you’re the right person?”

Emma shrugged. “I might be.”

“And what would you be interested in getting out of a business relationship with me, Emma?”

“Money,” Emma said. “What else would I want? You managed to get my dad out of jail and I don’t plan on sending him back there once you let him go. He’s sick and needs taking care of. When this is all said and done, I’ll need to get him—as well as myself and Landon—out of the country as soon as possible. I’m offering you a trade. Our services for your help. I have skills you can use. Landon, for the time being, can make sure that federal law enforcement steers clear of your operation while you conduct business. You have the cash and connections to set us up. I think that’s a reasonable offer, don’t you?”

Sousa gave her an appraising look. “I’ve done pretty well for quite a while without your particular set of skills, Emma. And as far as the marshal goes, who’s to say I don’t already own a dozen exactly like him. What makes you think I need you at all?”

Emma smiled. “This is the technology age. Pretty soon, operations like yours are going to be run by people like me at twice the efficiency with triple the secrecy. As far as Landon goes, we’re a package deal. No negotiation on that front. And I can be a pretty big pain in the ass when I don’t get what I want.”

“Really? Because I see you as nothing more than a minor inconvenience at this point.”

Emma leaned in as though sharing a secret. “Oh, but I took your money
so
easily. Aren’t you even a little worried about what other information I could already have my hands on?”

Any good humor at their table quickly evaporated with Emma’s words. “You know
nothing
.”

Emma took a sip from her water glass. Sousa’s accent became thicker, more defined when he was agitated. A nice little tell to let her know that she’d gotten under his skin. All she needed now was to plant a seed of doubt and let his imagination do the rest. If Crawford’s intel was correct, Sousa needed to get his hands on his money ASAP. If he was worried about who else might be digging around in his business, he might be tempted to keep Emma around for a while. At least long enough for him to get his hands on the bomb. And in doing that, she hoped to ensure her dad’s safety as well.

“I know more than you think,” she said.

Sousa leaned over and whispered something to Cesar. The other man pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial, barking orders in Spanish to someone on the other end. Emma only caught half of it, but it sounded as though Cesar was making arrangements for another field trip.
Great
. In what felt like seconds, they were surrounded, four of Sousa’s men standing behind them and drawing curious stares from the other diners. Not exactly the way to deflect attention. Blond wig or not, Emma could easily be recognized if the right person was curious enough to give her a good look.

“This meeting is over,” he said. “Good afternoon, Miss Ruiz. Deputy.”

Chapter Sixteen

Their prompt dismissal didn’t leave any room for continued discussion. Landon sensed Emma’s panic mounting as her eyes grew wide, her expression full of worry. If she let her emotions get the better of her now, they were as good as screwed.

“What about my dad?” Emma asked, her voice little more than a controlled burn. One of Sousa’s guys grabbed her by the arm and she jerked free, causing curious murmurs to erupt around them.

“It’s time to go,” Landon said softly as he urged her away from the table. He threw a pointed look Sousa’s way and added, “I’m sure this isn’t over.”

Sousa didn’t respond, simply returned Landon’s stare with one of his own. Cold. Calculating. Emotionless. Whether he decided to use Emma or not, it was clear that they were as good as dead once she was no longer useful. She knew too much for her own good. Her bravado had touched a nerve, and though Emma had played her part exactly as Crawford had expected her to, Landon doubted their situation would have any other outcome regardless of her behavior.

And Crawford probably knew it.

As they turned and headed out of the restaurant, his skin crawled with the sensation of being watched. A burst of adrenaline dumped into Landon’s gut, spreading through his limbs as they walked, and he held his arms tight at his sides to keep from swinging at the first available body. He was painfully aware of the fact that he had no weapon and they were outnumbered. That wasn’t to say he couldn’t be a scrappy son of a bitch when he needed to be, and if push came to shove, Landon was going to be sure to take some of Sousa’s men with him.

The same dark blue Range Rover was parked outside of the restaurant waiting for them. Landon had to give these guys credit: they’d stepped out of the box with their vehicle color. No stereotypical black rigs for these criminals. They were met by three more escorts, two of whom weren’t any of the guys who’d dropped them off. Just how many people did Teyo Sousa have on the payroll, anyway? And how many of them did it take to guard one crooked marshal and one agitated hacker? If anything, Sousa was showing how big a coward he was if he had to hide behind so many to see his dirty deeds carried out.

Either that or Emma was way more intimidating than Landon gave her credit for.

“Get in the car.”

The new guy was rougher around the edges than the rest of Sousa’s employees. Though most of them sported ink of some kind, this guy sported tattoos on his forearms as well as on each of his fingers right above the knuckles. He was tall, corded with bulky muscle, and wearing ragged jeans and a T-shirt rather than the more expensive clothes the other guys favored. And whereas most of Sousa’s guys were Latino, he’d be surprised if this MMA-looking dude spoke a lick of Spanish. It wasn’t only his clothes or tats—or his white-bread appearance—that had Landon on edge, though. This guy had a hardness to him, a bone-deep iciness, void of emotion, that went beyond a bunch of thugs who peddled weapons and women to the highest bidder. Even hardened criminals had a tendency to wear their negative emotions on their sleeves. They were brash, impulsive. But not this guy. One look at him and Landon knew that he’d checked his emotions at the door a long time ago. All of them.
One of these things is not like the others....