One Kiss More (33 page)

Emma pressed her forehead into Landon’s shoulder. He didn’t reach out to take her hand. Didn’t put his arm around her or whisper words of comfort in her ear. He simply stared straight ahead, every muscle in his body solid with tension. Landon didn’t want to have anything to do with her and really, she couldn’t blame him. She’d got him into this mess, after all. And whereas she craved any physical contact she could get: the solid comfort of his shoulder, even a glancing touch of his finger, he seemed content to pretend she wasn’t even there.
Not even dead and I’m already a ghost
.

“Don’t touch me.”

Emma’s head snapped up from Landon’s shoulder, at first thinking she’d imagined the callousness of his voice. His eyes settled on her, those blue flames now nothing more than ice. “Landon?” She knew he was angry with her, but . . .

“I saw how you looked at him.” Landon’s accusation stung her like a thousand needles, his voice loud enough for everyone in the van to hear. “You think you can sit here and put your head on my shoulder after you played me like that? Jesus, Emma, you went to
him.
Put your arms around him. I should have known better than to trust you. I don’t want you to touch me again. Ever. Don’t even look at me. I can’t stand the sight of you for another second.”

Landon watched as something inside of Emma broke with his words. Tears welled in her deep brown eyes, spilling in rivulets down her cheeks. The raw hurt in her soft features cleaved him in two, his own pain so intense that he felt the urge to wrap his arms around himself to keep his halves intact.

He’d done what he had to.

He hoped she’d understand, that somehow she’d remember what he’d told her a few days ago. That men like these only respected ruthlessness. And if he was going to get them all out of this alive, he had to be every bit as heartless and uncaring as the bastards preparing to kill them. He leaned forward in his seat as though trying to put distance between himself and Emma, careful not to draw too much attention. “Put pressure on the wound,” he murmured to Javier. “As much as you can.”

He didn’t acknowledge Landon with so much as a twitch, but who could blame him? He’d just publicly humiliated the man’s daughter and treated her with cruelty and indifference when he’d made a promise to take care of her. He watched, though, as Javier pushed the heel of his palm against Jeremy’s shoulder, eliciting a grunt of pain from the football star as he did as Landon instructed.

Emma sat up straight, the gentle sound of her tears stoking the fire of Landon’s rage. It was a necessary hurt, one that would buy him the distraction he needed to save their lives. He prayed that she’d understand when everything was said and done, because even now, Landon wasn’t sure he could forgive himself for dealing such a low blow. A lover’s rift was the distraction that he needed, however, to get to the gun that Damien had left for him under the middle bench seat.

The undercover marshal hadn’t left him completely in the lurch, but Jesus Christ, he was one armed man against three. His chances of getting the upper hand weren’t exactly stellar. Damien had his hands full, though, and with any luck, in a few short hours, the Department of Homeland Security and the FBI would be busting Sousa’s ass and confiscating the dirty bomb he was about to buy before the son of a bitch could arrange to deliver it to his associates in Mexico.

That was a hell of a lot of loose ends to tie up.

The drive was one of the longest of Landon’s life, the minutes stretching into years as the distance between him and Emma grew wider and wider with each passing mile. Unspent adrenaline pooled in his gut and his brain buzzed with anticipation. Every thought in his head was crystal clear, his senses heightened and sensitive to every shift of each individual body in the van. Beside him, that son of a bitch Luis said something in Spanish to his buddies in the front seats that elicited their mutual laughter and Landon vowed that he’d be the first one to go down.

Thirty minutes later, Cesar pulled off the highway onto a dirt road that led them farther away from the city and out into a secluded, wooded area. No doubt he planned to execute them and dump their bodies in the woods. Cesar must have assumed it would take a week or so before anyone stumbled upon the bodies out here. And by then, Sousa and his entire crew would be long gone.

Landon peeked over the seat to check on Jeremy, trying not to be too obvious about it. Javier was still applying pressure to the wound, and from the looks of Jeremy’s bloodied back, the bullet had gone through his shoulder. A favorable wound as gunshots went, but it wasn’t going to help Javier in his effort to slow the bleeding. Jeremy’s brow knitted tight as the van jostled them over a bumpy backwoods road, and Landon took in their surroundings, which grew more remote by the second.

Another ten minutes passed before Cesar pulled the van off the main road and into a stand of trees. He cut the engine and looked back at his prisoners, a sick anticipation twisting his dark features. Landon took a deep breath, readied himself for what was going to be one hell of a feat. This was some serious cowboy shit he was about to pull. Galen would be so proud.
Yee-haw
.

“Get out.” Cesar barked out the order before hopping out of the van along with his companion in the passenger seat. The side door growled open, letting in the chill afternoon air. The forest smelled of rain and evergreens. Clean. It helped to clear Landon’s mind until it was as sharp as a freaking razor. His limbs shook with the energy he’d stored, waiting to explode in a rush. His muscles ached from remaining inert, but it wouldn’t be much longer before he put them to good use.

Luis and his buddy exited the van next. It pained Landon to sit by and not react as Luis grabbed Emma by the arm and hauled her bodily from the van, jerking her body against his, his dark eyes sparking with lust. Bastard. Javier was next, and Landon breathed a sigh of relief.
So far, so good
.

While Cesar dealt with Emma and Javier, Landon launched himself over the bench seat onto Jeremy. He made a show of grabbing him by the shirt and hauling him up, shaking him roughly before rolling them both onto the floor of the van as though Jeremy had flipped him over, making sure the football star was positioned on top of him.

“You and Emma thought you could play me?” Landon shouted as Jeremy struggled to free himself from Landon’s grasp. “You were sneaking around behind my back. Admit it, you motherfucker!”

Their quarters were close, but Landon managed to free his right hand. He reached under the seat, groping until his fist made contact with cold steel. Grabbing the gun, Landon prayed the damned thing wouldn’t go off accidentally, and he reached between them again, stuffing the weapon into his waistband at his hip. Jeremy let out a shout of pain as one of Sousa’s men hauled him off of Landon, wrenching his injured shoulder in the process. Shit, he hoped it wouldn’t fuck up his shoulder too bad. The last thing the guy needed was a bad throwing arm. If they lived, Landon could probably expect a hefty lawsuit out of this.

Eh, what the hell. He’d worry about that complication later.

“I’m gonna kill you, you son of a bitch!”

Once Jeremy was clear of the van, Cesar leaned in, leveling his weapon on Landon. “Maybe we ought to let the deputy here take care of
Sancho
for us, huh, Luis?”

Luis snickered in response, and Cesar waved the gun in front of Landon, urging him to get up and out of the van. “You want to off Sancho?” he sneered as Landon crept out of the van.

He made sure to appear winded, resting his palms on his knees once he was on solid ground. “What are you talking about?” he said between breaths. “Who the hell is Sancho?”

“It means the guy who’s running around with your lady.
’Prendé?
You want a piece of him or not, cop?”

Cesar’s bloodthirsty expression wasn’t doing much for Landon. But he’d wanted a distraction and this was it. “You’re goddamned right I do.”

Their armed guards formed a triangle around the two men and the only person to look more shocked at the turn of events than Jeremy was Emma. Luis stood with his arm wrapped tight around her waist—the son of a bitch—and Landon had to avert his gaze from her puffy eyes, tear-streaked face, and slack jaw.

“Landon, are you out of your mind?” Emma finally spluttered. “Stop this!”

He bent at the knees, hunched over and arms out. The guy holding Jeremy shoved him at Landon and he stumbled toward him, his left arm up to defend while his right hung limp at his side. Sousa’s men began to take bets on the victor, with Cesar throwing down a grand on Landon. He ran at Jeremy, shoulder down, and aimed for the softest part of the other man’s gut. He was weak from blood loss, and probably in the beginning stages of shock so it wasn’t too tough to take him down. With their captor’s attention focused on Jeremy, they ridiculed him for his weakness, and Landon hated that this had to go down at Jeremy’s expense.

Reaching across his hip, Landon grabbed the gun from his waistband and swung it around at Goon Number One. He aimed for the chest and squeezed the trigger. The report of the shot echoed all around them as adrenaline pumped through his veins in a mad rush.

“Landon, watch out!” Emma’s terrified shriek drew his attention and he whipped his head around as Cesar squeezed off a couple of wild shots.
Bam! Bam!

The scream that followed cleaved right through Landon’s skull as white-hot pain shot through his torso. He felt himself falling before he actually realized that he was going down, and he gritted his teeth against the pain, twisting mid-flight as he aimed for Cesar’s chest and squeezed the trigger. Though it took only a second, time seemed to slow as Cesar’s body jerked from the impact, his head falling back as his arms went wide. Blood welled from the bullet wounds in the center of his chest and he lurched backward, eyes wide and unseeing as he landed with a crunch of dried leaves and twigs.

Two down, one to go.

Luis seemed to be in shock, holding on to Emma, his human shield. Landon’s vision blurred though his pain no longer registered. He was too far gone, too lost to the high to feel anything. He pushed himself up from the ground and leveled the gun at Luis’s face as his breath wheezed through his lungs. “Let her go.”

“Right,” Luis snorted. “You’re dead,
cabrón
.”

“No, asshole. You’re dead.” Landon pulled the trigger without a second thought. Luis had the nerve to look surprised when the bullet struck him in the center of his forehead. Emma gasped and lunged forward, falling to the ground as Luis landed beside her. Frantic, she clawed through the grass, crawling toward her father, who was already on the ground, tending to Jeremy.

Landon took one stuttering step, and then another. As the adrenaline drained out of his body, it was replaced with a pain so intense that stars twinkled at the periphery of his line of sight.
Well, shit
. He reached for his side, and his fingers made contact with something warm and sticky. There was too much of the sickening wetness soaking into his shirt for a simple flesh wound.

“I kept my promise,” he said as he went to his knees. “You’re safe. Everything’s going to be okay, Emma.” Black spots swam in his murky vision and he thought he saw her scrambling toward him.
I love you
. Did he say it out loud? He couldn’t be sure, couldn’t feel his lips—couldn’t feel much of anything, really.
Damn it, I love you, Emma. So much
.

“Landon?” Her voice came to him as though down the length of a tunnel. A faint echo that he strained to hear. “Landon?” Again, frantic. “Landon? Can you hear me? Stay with me!”

I’m here, Emma. I’m not going anywhere
. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? The darkness settled around him, thick and sludgy. It pulled him deeper, farther away until he couldn’t see her anymore. It was okay, though. As long as Emma was safe, nothing else mattered.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Being dead wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.

Son of a bitch
.

Landon cracked one lid, and the brightness invading the room drove into his skull like an iron spike. His ribs ached and his torso felt as if someone had thrown him into a meat grinder turned onto high. The silhouetted form of a body sat next to his bed, the dark outline framed in sunlight.

“Something tells me you’re not God,” he said to the shape. “Unless you’re making me pay for asking Jodie Thompson
and
Beth Farmer to prom my senior year. But in my defense, they got along just fine.”

“You must be feeling all right if you’re capable of being a smart-ass,” Bill Crawford said from his perch. “Though I’ve got to admit, I could’ve lived another day without hearing about your prom threesome.”

“What can I say”—Landon grunted as he tried to sit up—“I was in high demand.”

Crawford chuckled as he pushed himself out of his chair and approached the bed. “You’re a tough son of a bitch, McCabe, I’ll give you that.”

As the room came more into focus, one unmistakable absence made Landon’s heart clench inside of his chest. Panic rose hot and thick in his throat and he lurched forward in the bed, pulling at the wound in his torso. “Mother
fuck
,” he said through his teeth. “That hurts like a bitch.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t advise any sudden movements for a while.” Crawford’s easygoing tone was doing nothing for Landon’s mood. “Why don’t you settle back and let me bring you up to speed before you pull something.”

“Where’s Emma? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Crawford said. “Her father was released from the hospital two days ago along with Jeremy Blakely. Everyone is okay, though the football player won’t be on the field for a while. You saved their lives with your stunt, you know.”

Crawford must’ve pieced it together after getting statements from the others. He still regretted having to hurt Emma with his pretense, but given the chance, he’d do it all over again. “What about Damien? Was he able to stop the buy?”

“He was,” Crawford said. “Sousa is in federal custody, and he’s not going anywhere any time soon. I hope you know he was just doing his job, McCabe. Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have left you like that.”