And he had found her. She’d been roughed up but not hurt badly. Mint had sucked in smoke being a hero.
“If you’re having problems breathing,” the sheriff told him, “you should see a doctor.”
Mint nodded. “I will.”
The sheriff turned to Emma. “Anything you want to add, considering you stayed outside while Davis headed in? It’ll help me have a more complete picture.”
Emma tried to smile. Davis? Why did Mint seem to fit him so much better?
“That’s a nasty gash on your head. How’d you get it?”
“Well,” she started.
“My fault, I’m afraid.” Mint cut her off successfully, then said, “I was a little unsteady. So when we were on our way back here, I stumbled her into the door frame.”
The sheriff glanced at her.
Emma touched the bandage she’d put on and winced.
“I already made her promise to forgive me, but I figure I’ve got my work cut out for me with this one.”
Emma blinked. Thankfully the sheriff had turned to Mint and wasn’t looking at her. She bugged her eyes out at him, but he just sent her a smile back. The effect on his face was astonishing. Years bled away. Stress and fatigue disappeared. His lips curled up and he winked. “You did promise.”
She’d done nothing of the sort.
“See what I mean?” Mint chuckled.
The sheriff did the same. “Yes, I do.”
Okay, so maybe some of that emotion had bled onto her face.
The sheriff shook both their hands and headed for the door.
“Sheriff,” she called out. Mint shot her a look, but she ignored him and turned to the law man.
The sheriff turned back. “Yes?”
“How is the search for Kerri going?”
“The missing waitress?” When Emma nodded, he said, “I can’t really comment on an ongoing investigation—” She started to speak, but he held up his hand. “But I can say that, if you have any information at all that might help me find her, I would definitely appreciate it.”
His face was grim. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Aaron. Then a strong arm wrapped around her, and Mint pulled her against his side so that her cheek was pressed to his chest. His warmth was enormous. That was the only way she could think to describe it. Had she ever been that warm in her life?
“Thank you, Sheriff.” He squeezed her shoulder while Emma fought the urge to pummel him. “We’re both worried about Kerri. If we think we can help, we’ll let you know.”
The sheriff nodded. He glanced between them.
Emma managed a tiny smile.
Only then did the sheriff shut the door behind him.
Emma shoved Mint away from her. “He could have helped.”
“He wouldn’t have told you anything, and your information about Aaron wouldn’t have done anything but confuse the man. He needs to follow the physical evidence for his best shot at finding Kerri in time to save her life.”
“And you know this?”
He stared her down.
Emma pushed out a breath. Mint’s phone beeped, taking his attention again. She’d left her phone in Virginia before she embarked on this desperate dash for freedom. Still, she’d never really enjoyed 24/7 access to the world, and the world to her. Most of the time she left the volume off and checked it when she was ready to engage. Her tiny rebellion against her mother’s public persona.
“You really want to turn yourself in to the FBI?”
She turned back to him. “If it saves Kerri’s life, yes.”
“Okay.”
**
As if he was going to let her turn herself in to the FBI. That was just ridiculous. And now that he knew the rest of the team in Colorado with him were actively looking for Kerri, he could focus better. Except for Perkins. His female team member was going to meet them. If Emma wanted to turn herself in to the FBI, he’d give her FBI to turn herself in to.
His head swam, but he fought the sensation and gripped the wheel as he drove. Focus. Emma was his priority. She was his part of the mission. Aaron would be found, and as a team they would find out what he knew about the blackmailer. Emma’s knowledge—if she truly had some—was his to uncover.
And yes, part of that meant possibly using her as bait to catch Aaron.
“What’s your plan?”
They raced down the highway to the next town. A neutral location where they could do this. And somewhere, Aaron could easily have followed them. Which he had, if that car that’d been tailing them the last twenty minutes really was who Mint thought it was.
“If you want me to trust you,” Emma said with a short tone, “then you’re going to have to start talking. Otherwise, I get out the next time you stop. I can make my own way to the FBI.”
“I get that you want to save Kerri, and in order to do that you’re trusting Aaron to keep his end of the bargain. But you’re also trusting that he was actually telling the truth in the first place.”
“I know that.” She looked as happy about it as he was.
“So how about going to an FBI agent I trust. One that I know, who will do the right thing by you?”
“Why do I care if they ‘do the right thing by me?’” She shrugged. “What difference is it going to make?”
“None, if Kerri is already dead.” Mint changed lanes to let an Audi speed past him in the fast lane. “But we’re talking about your future. You can turn yourself in if that’s what you want, but you don’t have to sacrifice your entire life as a martyr to Aaron Jones’s demands.”
There was something she hadn’t told him. Mint was as sure of that as he was that if he ever saw his father again he would shoot the man. Certain things in life you didn’t quibble about. Vengeance was one. Peace was another. And if Emma thought this would give her peace, he wasn’t going to deny her the chance. But he would do his very best to change her mind.
A tear rolled down her cheek. She swiped it away. “I can’t just do nothing.”
“Is turning yourself in for a crime you didn’t commit the answer?” He wanted her to be sure this was what she was prepared to do. “Because it’s unlikely the charges will even stick if your lawyer can argue enough reasonable doubt that you didn’t do it. So what does Aaron have to gain by forcing you into a messy legal battle that will last a while and then likely fizzle out. Except that it will leave you with a mark on your record, so to speak.”
“And my mother’s.”
“Huh?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“So, what does the FBI possibly have that they can use to make their case?”
“Maybe you should ask your FBI agent friend that?”
“I’ll do that.” He’d have to email in to the office and get them to contact Agent Walker if he was going to find out what they had on Emma. Last he’d heard, though, was that they only wanted to talk to her. Still, what the FBI told the news to broadcast was likely different—spun to make Emma feel safe enough to show her face. After all, they’d told everyone Senator Francis Sadler had killed himself. To try and lull the blackmailer into a false sense of security?
They made a pit stop at a gas station, and he made a few calls. When Emma emerged from the restrooms he said, “My FBI contact is on her way. When she gets here, you can go with her to Virginia.”
Hopefully he could lose the tail before Perkins got here.
They got back in the car, and he took her toward Colorado Springs. Not a long drive, but a good enough stretch of highway to see if the car was still behind them. Twenty minutes later it showed up again. The guy was good, but Mint was better.
Emma rubbed her hands over her knees.
“Nervous?”
She shrugged. “I just… Aaron said to go to Virginia and turn myself in. Then he would let Kerri go.”
Mint bit down on his molars. Trusting Aaron, even if it meant the waitress lived, wasn’t a good idea. “We have to assume he’s watching us.” Following them. “He’ll kno
w you met with an FBI agent. That you went with her.”
Once Perkins had thoroughly questioned Emma, they would call agent Walker and figure out what would happen to her next.
Aaron needed to think Emma had turned herself in to the FBI. She needed to know she was doing what Aaron had asked of her. This was the way to do that. Because Mint was going to get the answers they needed out of Emma. He was going to help find Kerri. With his teammates. And he was going to bring down Aaron.
When Emma realized he’d deceived her, it wasn’t going to go down well. But they didn’t need to be friends when all this was said and done. She might pull on certain heart strings—if he let her, which he wasn’t going to. He’d rather keep all those cut. Chopped up, the way his father had left them. She might forgive him when she considered everything she was keeping from him now.
Either way, he’d be gone.
Off to the next mission.
Personal ties weren’t part of his life. He had the job and his friends on the team—such as they were when he engaged only the bare minimum. He respected them and that was enough. He was pretty sure that was reciprocated.
Emma and her big eyes, full of fear, couldn’t be part of it.
Not if he was going to stay sane.
His phone beeped. He looked at the screen long enough to see that Perkins was in place and drove to the diner they’d agreed on. She’d been in the area, tasked with finding Kerri. Now they were going to switch places, forced into different roles. But that was the nature of the game.
Mint found the exit and pulled off the highway. He took a right and headed for the chain diner. A cookie-cutter match to all the others across the country.
Perkins stood leaning against a silver rental. Her blue jacket said FBI, and a badge hung from a chain around her neck. She was a striking woman a little older than him. Single, as far as he knew. Not interested in anything but doing her job, for reasons she didn’t intend to share. They had that in common at least, and he respected it.
He lifted his chin as they approached. “Perkins.”
She did the same, then held out her hand to Emma. “Special Agent Megan Perkins.”
Megan? Mint tried to think if he’d ever heard her first name. He’d only ever used Perkins.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
Emma nodded. “We really appreciate this.” She paused. “I just hope it gets back to Aaron, so he will let Kerri go.”
Perkins motioned to the diner. “Why don’t we get a cup of coffee, and you can tell me the whole story?”
Emma said, “Okay. Yes, that actually sounds good.”
They moved toward the door. The window of Perkins’s rental exploded in a shower of glass. A crack, like rifle fire, echoed off the building.
He yelled, “Get down!” And dove to the asphalt as bullets rained down.
Chapter 7
Emma’s injured arm got squished under her torso, pinned against the asphalt. Perkins landed on top of her, pressing down hard enough that Emma bit her lip to keep from screaming.
“Stay down.” Perkins’s voice was short. Efficient, but she also seemed kind of mad. Even while she was covering Emma with her body. This woman would take a bullet for her? They didn’t know each other, but maybe Perkins was exactly that type of person.
Time seemed to slow. The length between each shot that cracked across the parking lot growing longer. Every breath roared in her ears like the ocean. If Mint was going to dump her off on anyone and walk away, she was actually kind of glad it was this woman.
Perkins lifted up enough that it took the overwhelming pressure off Emma’s arm. She tugged at Emma’s other arm and said, “Up. Go to the restaurant and get inside. Keep your head down.”
She didn’t argue, just got her feet under her and started to move.
Perkins continued to cover her with her body, shielding her from bullets. Emma pushed at the front door of the restaurant.
A bullet hit the rental car and another window smashed.
Perkins shoved her inside and immediately pulled her phone out. “Mint?”
“I’m pinned down.”
Emma heard his answer, even with the phone pressed to the other woman’s ear. She also heard the stress in his voice.
“I’m coming to you,” she said.
“No.” His answer came fast. Too fast for Emma’s liking. “Stay with Emma.”
“Go help him.” Emma motioned to the door. She needed Perkins to go out there and help him. To protect him the way she had protected Emma.
Perkins didn’t move. She said, “Are you hurt?” to Mint.
The answer took too long. “Stay with Emma. I’ll call and get our back-up on their way here.”
“Fine.” Perkins hung up. She moved immediately to the window and looked out.
“You aren’t an FBI agent, are you?”
Perkins didn’t turn around. Before Emma could say anything else, a man bustled up to them. He was shorter than Emma, maybe only barely five feet tall and had more red hair on his face than was on the top of his head. “Should I call the police?”
He directed his question to Perkins. She turned back from the window. “Tell them to keep it quiet. They show up, sirens blaring, it could scare him off, and we need this guy caught. Keep everyone away from the windows, and we’ll have the situation locked down ASAP.”
She certainly sounded like a federal agent.
“I’ll get on that.” He hurried away.
She didn’t see a single head pop up above a table, and she could hear the muffled sounds of a baby crying.
Outside, shots were still being fired. But not at the restaurant.
“He’s trying to kill Mint.”
Perkins stopped her from going all the way to the window. “Will you stay here if I go assist?” She paused for a fraction of a second. “I’m not going if you’re going to stick your neck out. Figuratively or literally.”
Emma wanted to smile at that, but didn’t. “Go help Mint. I won’t move.”
She had no desire to be face to face with Aaron Jones again. And as long as he was still firing—at Mint—then she figured he wasn’t headed here to deliver another “message.” Not to mention the fact she was about to fall over. Perkins needed to help Mint. That was her skillset.
Perkins was out the door before Emma realized. She caught a glimpse of the woman moving fast, on her phone again with her gun out in the other hand. Emma slid down the nearest wall and huddled in an alcove of the foyer.
For the first time in a long time, she wanted to pray. Not to the God her mother seemed to worship, a stifling being with no personality who expected perfection from His followers. No, Emma needed a rescuer. Mint needed a rescuer. She prayed for Perkins, that she would have the strength to help him, and that she would know what to do.
After a few minutes she realized the shooting had stopped. The door opened, and Mint strode in. His face was gray, even paler than it had been only hours ago.
She shot up and met him. “Come and sit down.” She didn’t comment that he looked like he was about to fall over.
“Your arm okay?” He slumped into a chair and winced.
“My arm?” She’d been pushing the pain away since it happened. What did that matter now? Her skin felt flushed, but apart from that and the nagging ache, she was all right. “Let’s worry about you right now.” That was the important thing. He’d been hurt.
“Just scratches.” He pulled his hand away from his shoulder, but she didn’t see anything. Until he turned. The shirt on the back of his shoulder was shredded. Blood stained the edges of the tears.
He twisted, trying to look over his shoulder, and sighed. Emma moved around to his back. “Let me look.” She fingered the edges of his torn shirt and pulled it apart. Half a dozen places had been cut. “Looks like glass.”
“From the car window.”
Underneath and around the cuts were old scars. Warped skin, like he’
d been burned. Pale white lines. Emma touched the edge of a prominent one and traced the line with the pad of her index finger.
Mint shot from the chair and paced away.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He didn’t answer her. Just strode to the window where he pulled out his phone and made a call. “Perkins, status.” Like he was in charge, and she reported to him.
But Emma couldn’t get those scars out of her mind. They weren’t all war wounds. She’d volunteered at a children’s hospital in college, reading stories to the kids. Keeping them company. Playing card games. She knew what abuse looked like.
His dark eyes turned to her. “Good.” He hung up the phone.
She wasn’t sure what exactly she should say. “I—”
He didn’t let her get the words out. “Perkins is headed back. Jones got away.”
Emma nodded. “Are you okay?”
He pinned her with a stare. “Are you?”
Touché.
What was that quote from that movie about being at an impasse? It fit here. They were both just stubborn enough to not admit they needed help.
“Perkins has your antibiotics.”
Determined to help her get better. Did he have anyone in his life who would do the same for him? The way he’d held back from her. The way he was professional with Perkins. Telling her to stay with Emma…
She didn’t think there was anyone who did that for him. And either he didn’t think he needed it, or he wasn’t prepared to allow it to happen. The phrase kill them with kindness came to mind. Was that how she was to break through to Mint, come at him with nothing but the softest of kindness?
And did she want to?
The man would be tough to crack…and apparently having stress and an injury made her think in nothing but analogies and metaphors. Mint might care about her and be determined to keep her safe—even if he wouldn’t admit it to her. But would he accept her doing the same for him?
Emma figured she just might want to find out.
**
Mint figured he could stand for about five minutes, and then he was going to fall over. But he wasn’t about to let Emma in on that little secret. Or anything else.
Deadly Secrets Page 5