by Mandy Baxter
Emma had been a staunch supporter of her father, declaring his innocence on several national news programs as well as E! News and US Weekly. A first-class celebutante, Emma was often categorized as famous for being famous, or whatever it was the gossip rags said about overprivileged daddy’s girls like her. She had often been whispered about in the Portland office when they’d investigated Javier six years ago. At eighteen, she had already been on the road to stop-your-heart gorgeous and had a reputation for playing fast and loose with several pro athletes. She’d had a mouth on her, not to mention a penchant for fucking with anyone who fucked with her dad. During the course of the Marshals Service’s investigation, she’d made it her life’s ambition to cause any deputy involved in bringing dear old daddy down a world of hurt. Landon’s team had been on the receiving end of several of her malicious pranks, including the old potato-in-the-tailpipe routine. That shit wasn’t urban legend, and the blowback from the exhaust had damned near asphyxiated him. Not the best experience for a rookie on his first case.
Watching her over the past couple of weeks had stirred up all sorts of memories. One of those being the euphoric rush he experienced every time he laid eyes on her. Landon couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t usually the sort of guy who got twisted up at the sight of a pretty girl. But Emma was different. Her presence triggered something primal in his subconscious. And that instant, gut-clenching reaction bothered the shit out of him. So, yeah, he wasn’t exactly enthused about paying a visit to the now twenty-four-year-old Emma, and grilling her about daddy’s whereabouts while he tried not to fall under her spell yet again. Landon was certain that no matter what, Emma was going to give him a run for his money. Paybacks were a bitch.
Emma Ruiz hung up the phone and stared off into space as she tried to collect her thoughts. One of the benefits of living in a building with top-notch security was getting a heads-up from the front desk that a deputy U.S. Marshal was about to pay her a visit. Not that she hadn’t been expecting it.
She cast a furtive glance toward her closed bedroom door as a riot of butterflies took flight in her stomach and fluttered toward her throat. Everything was happening so fast and she needed to play her A-game right now. The key to a good offense was a strong defense. Any sports fan worth her salt realized that. And Emma knew that if she wanted the ball to be in her court with the Marshals Service, she needed to make sure they were off their game. She looked down the length of her purple tank top, black yoga pants, and bare feet. Not exactly an outfit that screamed I’m in charge! And whereas she’d hoped never to go toe to toe with those self-righteous do-gooders again, she guessed she’d just have to suck it up and face the music. At least the next few weeks wouldn’t be boring.
When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, Emma took a deep breath and held it in her lungs before expelling it all in a rush. The cops weren’t as scary as they liked to come off. Emma wasn’t easily intimidated, and besides, she’d done this dance with them six years ago. If she could handle their pushy bullshit then, she could certainly handle it now. She could do this.
A round of obnoxious knocks followed on the heels of the bell, and Emma rolled her eyes as she walked to the door. God forbid she keeps the U.S. Marshals waiting. After all, they had a dangerous criminal to find and apprehend. She snorted. They were all a bunch of idiots if they thought that Javier Ruiz was a criminal mastermind. They were all so ready to believe he’d orchestrated the perfect escape and were itching to get one up on him. And of course, none of them knew how far off base they were.
Emma plastered what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face to mask the apprehension creeping up on her and swung the door open. The smile faded in an instant and her stomach did a twisting backflip that kicked out at her lungs on the dismount, leaving her breathless and a little stunned. Great. They would send the guy who’d arrested her dad in the first place, wouldn’t they? The one guy who’d get under her skin. Emma clenched her fists at her sides as she wondered how much time she’d get for socking a U.S. Marshal in the jaw.
“Deputy McCabe,” she said, infusing her voice with innocence. “What a surprise. By all means, don’t come in.”
The bastard had the nerve to smirk.
“Obviously you know why I’m here,” McCabe said. “So tell me where Javier is and I’ll be on my way.”
Emma relaxed against the doorknob, shifting her weight so that her braced arm supported her. It took a lot of effort to look so calm while her knuckles turned white as her fingers clenched the knob. Coming face-to-face with Landon McCabe again was like stepping back into time. He was technically the enemy, but even after all this time Emma couldn’t deny his appeal. His voice tumbled over her like a cascade of warm water, relaxing the tight knot that had settled in her chest. His blond hair was almost too short, but Emma was willing to bet she could still tangle her fingers in its length. And his eyes . . . keen and bright blue with a warm spark that ignited something low in her stomach. Her brow puckered as she realized his presence had become even more commanding, his face even more handsome with the passage of years. Totally not fair.
“Why ask me?” She made sure her voice was devoid of any emotion. “When Dad was remanded into the care of the U.S. government, I was sort of under the impression that you’d be keeping an eye on him. It’s not my fault you guys suck at your jobs.”
“Come on, Emma. I’m not in the mood to play games.”
Emma saw an opportunity not only to intercept Deputy McCabe’s innuendo, but to deflect his questioning with her own distraction while she ran in for the touchdown. “That’s too bad, Deputy. I love to play. Maybe later? You can be shirts and I’ll be skins.”
McCabe’s jaw tensed, and it gave Emma a perverse sense of satisfaction to have rattled the cocky deputy’s chain. The quicker she could get him out of here, the better.
“Don’t say I didn’t try to make this easy on you.” His voice hardened and lowered an octave, causing a pleasant chill to race down Emma’s spine. “You’d better clear your schedule for the rest of the day, Miss Ruiz. A pair of deputies will be along in an hour or so to escort you to the federal building for questioning.”
Yeah, well, Emma could be hard, too. “What’s the matter, McCabe? Not man enough to cuff me yourself ?”
He took a step back from her doorway as though tempted to do just that. He looked down the length of her body, and though she assumed it was meant to be disdainful, a thrill rushed through Emma’s veins. “Just be ready to cooperate,” he said. “Otherwise, I won’t hesitate to issue a warrant for your arrest.”
Without allowing her to respond, McCabe turned on a heel and sauntered down the hallway toward the elevator. Emma couldn’t help it, she leaned out of the doorway to watch him leave, appreciative of the way his designer jeans hugged his ass. Boy was tight. His shoulders rolled as he walked, the precision and grace of every placed step a thing of beauty. Deputy U.S. Marshal Landon McCabe was still the enemy. He was the one who’d arrested her father and the man who was looking to do it again. But, damn, was he ever something to look at.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Emma bristled at the sound of the voice behind her. A chill that was nothing like what she felt in Landon’s presence chased over her skin and she rubbed at her arms to banish the goose bumps that rose up there. “I told you, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, I know, chica. I only wanted to be sure you could play your part. Now that I know you can, I’ll leave you alone. For now.”
Emma tried to slow the racing of her heart with a few deep breaths. All of this was her fault. If she’d stayed out of trouble like her dad asked her to, he’d be okay and getting the care he needed right now. “I know what’s expected of me,” Emma said, still refusing to turn and face the man speaking to her. She just wanted him to get the hell out of her condo.
“Good. That’s good.” His low voice snaked around her, dark and dangerous, squeezing the air from her lungs. “I’ll be in touch.”
> Emma closed her eyes as he walked past her through the door. His body brushed against hers and she cringed as she inched away. She waited until the sounds of his footsteps disappeared down the hallway before she closed the door with shaking hands. Her mind raced as adrenaline seeped into her bloodstream, making it difficult to focus. Landon McCabe’s appearance in Seattle was going to be a problem. And she hoped that his interference in her life wouldn’t get him killed.
About the Author
Mandy Baxter lives in rural Idaho. She’s a part-time pet wrangler, a full-time sun worshipper, and only goes out into the cold when coerced. She loves black clothes, pink appliances, and thinks junk food should be a recognized food group. In the summer, she can be found sitting by the lake, enjoying the view from her dock. She also writes urban fantasy under the name Amanda Bonilla. For more about Mandy, visit www.mandy-baxter.com.
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Copyright © 2014 by Amanda Bonilla
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-3479-7
First Electronic Edition: September 2014
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3480-3
eISBN-10: 1-4201-3480-9