That was all.
Keep telling yourself that.
Emma sighed.
“Lot going on in that head of yours,” Patch said. “Always was. Guess I know why now, considering he ambushed me in my kitchen and tried to stab me.”
A tear rolled down the side of her face.
“It’s nice you care, darlin’. Otherwise I’d have gotten stuck for no reason. Or a stupid one.”
It was the way he said it. One second she was almost out-and-out crying, the next she burst into laughter. Still, tears rolled down her face.
He lifted his hand and squeezed the side of her neck.
“I’m really glad he didn’t hurt you too badly,” she said. “The world would be a poorer place without you in it.”
“Darlin’.”
She figured that was about the most she was going to get in terms of a thank you. She smiled at him, thanking God in her heart that Patch hadn’t been killed—or kidnapped—by Aaron Jones. She genuinely didn’t know what she would do if he was dead. The diner would never be the same. Nor this town. Or her.
Patch had become a mentor in the short time she’d known him.
And a friend.
“Knock, knock.” A perky looking nurse stuck her head in. “Are you Ellie?”
It took Emma a second to realize that was the name she’d used when she showed up here. The name Patch knew was a fake.
She said, “Yes.”
“Kerri is awake. She’s asking for you.”
Emma turned back to Patch. “I’ll be back shortly.” Hopefully she could avoid the sheriff in the hallway. It wasn’t far to Kerri’s room, and Patch could tell Mint where she’d gone.
She followed the nurse to the end of the hall, and they turned the corner.
“Right here.”
This wasn’t the right room. Had they moved Kerri? “Oh, but—”
The nurse said, “You should hurry.”
Emma stepped into…the stairwell?
The door slammed behind her and echoed against the concrete stairs and walls.
“Took her long enough.”
Emma spun around. Aaron Jones stood in front of her, a smug look on his face.
Holding a gun.
Chapter 12
Mint didn’t bother smiling at the sheriff, who would know it was fake. “Unfortunately my client requires confidentiality.” He didn’t need the sheriff seeing Emma and realizing what this was—or arresting her.
“Of course they do.” The man wasn’t convinced. Mint was sort of surprised the sheriff hadn’t put two and two together and gotten four. Yet. The man had talked with Emma at the motel. He’d also likely seen her face on the wires. News broadcast or otherwise. Or, the sheriff of this county just didn’t watch TV and wasn’t online all that much. The official notice of the FBI wanting to speak with Emma Burroughs may not have hit his desk yet. But anytime now he was going to connect the dots with national news and the woman he knew as the diner waitress, Ellie.
The sheriff said, “Anything you can give me on this waitress attack and the fire?”
“I can tell you they’re all connected.” Mint pulled out his phone and swiped to a picture of Aaron Jones. “This is the guy we’re looking for.”
The sheriff frowned at the picture. “And the woman you were with at the motel. Ellie, I think. From the diner.”
Mint nodded. He’d concede that. “She’s part of what the client wants from us. That guy has it in for her, and we’re here to keep her safe while we find him.”
“Good.”
This guy was so far from the twisted machinations of a DC blackmailer that Mint would find it refreshing. If he wasn’t completely astounded.
“I might look and sound like an old-time hick county sheriff, Mr. Malone. But that doesn’t mean I operate the same way.”
“Understood.” Mint nodded. He’d given the sheriff his real name, his real ID, after the motel fire. As a gesture of good faith. It meant official record would be tied to Double Down, but they weren’t trying to hide. Not even from the blackmailer.
That wasn’t the point of what they were doing here. Plus, often it was easier to operate in plain sight than try to stay under the radar—under cover of darkness—and still be effective in their mission.
The sheriff’s cell beeped. One of those old flip phones, completing the image of a man set in his ways who hadn’t quite yet accepted the digital age. Mint didn’t much appreciate the digital age either, but it was necessary for his job to have a smart phone. So long as that phone had been doctored by Double Down not to give away his location, or anything else he didn’t want someone to know.
Two things happened then.
First, a nurse turned the corner at the end of the hall. Her face was smug, and she stuffed a wad of folded bills down the front of her scrubs top. He’d never understood women who stored personal items in their bras, but he also wasn’t going to think too much about it.
Second, Patch opened the door to his room and hopped out holding one ankle off the ground as he looked around. He caught Mint’s gaze. “Got a minute?”
Mint nodded.
The sheriff didn’t object to his getting up, so he went over to the diner owner. “What’s up?”
“Weird feeling. Something didn’t sit right after that nurse said Kerri was awake. Can’t shake the feeling.”
Mint turned before he’d even finished talking and hurried after the nurse. His own injuries made it so he couldn’t go all that fast, but this was a busy hospital. They probably had rules like they did back in school, about not running in the hall. “Hey!”
She glanced over her shoulder, saw him coming and let out a squeal.
“Where is she?”
“What? Who?”
“Don’t play me. I invented that game.” Mint folded his arms across his chest. Firstly it served the purpose of making her think he was less of a threat, but still reminding her he was huge. Secondly, it would keep him from giving in to the urge to throttle her. “Who paid you and what for?”
“Fine. It’s just a prank.” She rolled her eyes. “Big deal. The guy wanted to surprise his girl, so he had me bring her to the stairwell.”
Mint leaned forward. “If he kills her, that’s on you.”
“What?”
She continued to sputter, but he didn’t wait around to explain more. Mint yanked the handle on the stairwell door and had to make the decision—up or down. He chose down, considering Aaron likely still wanted Emma in DC taking the rap for the murder he’d committed.
He raced down the stairwell, praying she would be okay. That she wasn’t dead, or hurt in a way she’d never recover. He had been all over the world. He’d seen what men could do to women, and sometimes it was worse than death. Praying was all the power he had, because there was nothing else he could do. Bradley and Steve both said it worked. Mint figured he didn’t have anything else to lose. If God was real, then He could kick in now. When it counted.
He rushed out into the parking lot, and the first bullet sent him to the ground. It took a second to realize he’d reacted. He hadn’t been shot.
“Mint!” She screamed his name, fear and terror in her voice.
He did a push up and got his feet under him. Please, please, please. It was like a mantra in his head. Or another prayer.
He raced after her and saw Aaron dragging Emma to a car.
Aaron lifted his arm and squeezed off another shot. Emma screamed and clapped her hands on her ears. But the damage would’ve already been done.
Mint dived behind an old Toyota and pulled his own weapon. He lifted up and fired a shot into Aaron’s back tire.
Aaron moved to fire again.
Emma shoved at his arm.
Mint ducked, and the bullet hit the front of the car instead of the spot where his head had just been. Aaron wasn’t a professional at this. But that didn’t make him not a deadly threat. He was desperate and that meant unpredictable. Faced with Mint’s military training, and the tactics
Steve drilled into them, meant Mint didn’t exactly know how this was going to go.
Emma screamed, part roar. He looked over the trunk of the Toyota and saw her wrestling him for the gun. Mint rounded the back of the car and made his way over, gun up.
“Back up, Aaron.”
The stairwell door opened behind him, and Mint heard multiple sets of boots coming up behind him. More problems, or assistance?
“Put it down!”
“Drop the gun!”
The sheriff and another man. Security maybe.
Aaron sneered. He shifted his hold on Emma and got her in front of him.
“No. Let her go,” Mint demanded. “She isn’t your ticket out of here.” He continued, hoping Aaron would do what he said, “So let her go, and lay your gun down. It’s over, Aaron.”
“It’ll never be over,” he said, now gripping Emma’s neck in a way he could see wasn’t good for her. “You think he’ll stop coming? No one crosses him.”
“Bradley and Rachel did. They’re good now.”
Aaron burst into humorless laughter. “Just a matter of time.”
The sheriff moved into the corner of Mint’s vision to his left. “Drop the gun, and let the lady go. Then put your hands on your head.”
“I’m not going to surrender. I’ll be dead before I hit whatever excuse you have for county lockup in this town.”
**
Black spots had begun to invade her vision. Like a nightmare, she couldn’t blink them away. Unconsciousness threatened to swallow her up. All she could see was Mint, a bunch of guns and sparking blackness.
Aaron’s grip on her neck tightened. A whimper emerged from her throat. He was really going to use her as a hostage. And for what? He was hardly negotiating for them to let him go. The man seemed so sure of his fate. He’d hurt Kerri and Patch. He’d shot at Mint. People all over were looking for him.
It just made Emma so mad that he could think to cause so much damage and then…what? Get away with it? Wasn’t that what he would be doing by resigning himself to death? What lay beyond wasn’t exactly going to be a picnic for him.
She tried to shift in his grasp and kicked out with her foot. Around her they continued to shout, but she couldn’t make out the words.
And then Aaron jerked once.
His body crumpled to the ground.
Before Emma could figure out what happened, Mint caught her in his arms. She knew it was him from the feel, and smell, of…his shirt. The warmth made her shudder, her face against the soft material over his shoulder.
He caught her up, lifting her into his arms. “Let’s get you out of here. Have a doctor look at you.”
A whimper escaped her throat. All the noise she could conjure up in that moment.
“No?” He almost chuckled. “I think you just took years off my life. If Perkins hadn’t taken that shot, I would have, and it wouldn’t have been nearly as neat. You’re a very lucky woman. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was someone upstairs looking out for you.”
A door slammed, and then his voice was echoing in the enclosed space. Emma opened her eyes. The stairwell. “I can walk.”
“You can. Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you.” He paused. “I know I’m babbling right now, but like I said, you took years off my life. Give me this.”
“Okay.” She didn’t exactly know what he meant. But if he wanted to carry her, who was she to argue? “Can we go?”
“You need to get seen by a doctor. If I can do that without the sheriff catching up to us, wanting to chat through what just happened, then I’m going to see to it.”
“No.” Exhaustion weighed on her until she could barely make out more than, “Go.”
Mint sighed. She felt it move through his chest. He pushed through a door, and they were in the lobby area. Then he carried her outside and all the way across the parking lot. “Put me down, Mint.”
His lips curled up. “I’m good. Almost there.”
She wanted to roll her eyes, but that had taken the rest of her strength. She woke up in the backseat of his car with him driving, shifted and tried to stretch in the cramped space.
“You awake?”
“Yeah.” The word was little more than a sigh.
“Give me a second. I’ll pull over and you can get in front.”
The rhythm of the car tires on the road was almost soothing. She said, “My dad took me on road trips.” Where that thought came from, she didn’t know.
“Mine took me to the local bar. I’d wait in the car while he got sloshed, and then he’d have me drive home. Didn’t get caught doing it until the summer after my thirteenth birthday.”
“Mint.” She lifted her gaze high enough to see him shake his head.
“Don’t, Em. I don’t know why I told you that, and I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“’Kay.”
He reached back, then glanced back for a second, and squeezed her arm. “Thanks.” He pulled over at a gas station and got her some coffee. When he settled back in the front seat, her on the passenger side, she said, “What happened?”
“Perkins had a shot. She took it. Don’t think the sheriff is too happy, but since she has federal credentials, he’s going to have a hard time arguing with her. Even if it was a judgment call.”
“Aaron is dead?”
He nodded. “One shot, one kill. I couldn’t do it because there was too much risk of hitting you. She was behind you and to the side, so she had a clear shot of Aaron’s head. It worked because you didn’t move.”
“Too busy passing out.”
His brow furrowed. “You okay?”
She sipped the coffee rather than answer him. “This isn’t over, is it?”
He stared at her rather than answer her question. Emma finished her coffee in the silence, concentrating on each muscle group and getting it to relax. Her hands shook through the release of adrenaline. She catalogued the new aches and pains she had. The wound in her arm, considerably less warm now that she was on antibiotics. But added to the bruises she was gaining with every passing hour, she didn’t have a body part that wasn’t sore.
Was Aaron Jones really dead? Part of her couldn’t believe it.
“Convince me I shouldn’t have taken you to a doctor back there.” His voice was soft. Quiet. Like for once in his life, he might actually be unsure of himself.
“I’m…” she was going to say “okay” but that would be a lie. “I don’t need a doctor. I need to cry for two hours and then nap for a week.”
He started to smile.
“Oh, and a strawberry milkshake.” She gave him a pointed look. “Great coffee chaser. Doesn’t matter what time it is.”
The smile turned into a chuckle. “This you in denial?”
“No. This is me enjoying a moment between the chaos, almost dying and running for my life. Realizing Kerri is safe, and Patch will be fine. Aaron is dead.”
“You think the blackmailer will come after you now?”
“I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“What does he have that he’s holding over you? I need to understand the potential for fallout this could create.”
She nodded. “You’ll need to manage that as part of your mission.”
He placed his hand over hers. “It’s more than just the mission now. You know that, right?”
Emma thought about how it had felt, being held in his arms. How he’d told her that tiny snippet about his father—about his past.
He frowned and turned away. She’d taken too long. Emma bit her lip, then said, “Mint?” When he glanced at her then, she said, “I know.” Putting all the feeling she didn’t have words for in her gaze, praying he understood. The nascent attraction. How she felt, surrounded by his strength. All of it was something she didn’t know how she was going to live without when this was over. When he got back to his life, and she got to work building a new one that would hopefully give her what seemed to be missing all this time.
She’d thought getting an
swers from the senator was what would’ve filled the part of her that had always seemed empty. Finally, she would know the truth. Then she’d have been able to move on.
Now? Emma couldn’t help thinking that maybe life had brought her here instead—to Mint—for a reason.
He leaned closer. “I’m glad that you’re all right.”
“For now, at least.” She felt her lips curl up.
“Let’s plan on keeping it that way. Deal?”
She nodded, so tired.
Mint closed the distance between them. He was going to kiss her? At the last second he shifted his head, and his lips touched the corner of her mouth. Her cheek. She felt his intake of breath and shut her eyes at the sensation of his skin against hers. A tiny touch, but she felt it all the way to her bones.
How was she going to let him go?
Chapter 13
Mint parked by the RV and rounded the car before Emma opened her eyes. He pulled her door open and crouched. Touched her shoulder. “Hey.”
She sucked in a breath and shifted as she blinked away the fog of fatigue. She looked around. “Oh.”
Wishing she was somewhere else? Mint didn’t know if that was disappointment or something else. Either way, they were here. He held out his hand. “Ready?”
She nodded, and he helped her inside. One of the guys—Drew—was on the computer with headphones. A video chat with one of the team members still in Virginia. He flicked two fingers in Mint’s direction when they climbed the steps into the RV. Mint led Emma to the table, and she slid onto the bench seat. He made her a cup of tea, heavy on the honey, and set it in front of her.
She smiled up at him. “Thanks.”
He slid in opposite her and grabbed his iPad, which he used to compose an email to the boss explaining what had happened. Steve was likely not going to be happy with the fact Aaron Jones was dead—if he didn’t already know.
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