“This is a nightmare.” Her earlier anger has been tempered by exhaustion. Pain pinches her brows. “Where are you taking me?”
The words are so quiet, I barely hear them, but I can’t stand the defeat marring her tone.
“We’re gonna go to a hotel to meet my brother. Then I’m takin’ you to our family cabin at Lake Livingston.”
Back in the lobby, Benny’s desk is still empty. It’s been way too long for him to still be on a smoke break. “Those two were probably acting alone. But stay behind me. Hand on my hip. Or hold onto my belt loop. Okay?”
“No. I can’t go to your cabin, Jasper. And I won’t hide from the police. I’m a reporter. If I break the law—if I run—how is the public ever supposed to trust me again?” She jams her hands on her hips. “Eugene Fowler—and his cartel connections—don’t get to scare me off my own damn story.”
I cup her cheek. “Emi, they would have killed you tonight. I’m not asking you to walk away from the story. But you can’t report on anything if you’re dead. Trust me. Please.“
She flinches, but after a beat, a sigh heaves her shoulders. “Okay. But we can’t just go to a hotel?”
“Hotels use credit cards. The cartel would be onto us within an hour. The cabin is the safest place I know. And it’s far enough from Austin to buy us a couple of days for AJ to find out who sent them after you in the first place. Stay close. We’re going to my truck. Right now.”
Thank fuck there was an open guest spot close to the door. Emi climbs into the passenger seat while I throw her suitcase and my duffel into the lockbox.
“I know who sent them,” she says softly when I’m behind the wheel. “Eugene Fowler and Consolidated Investment Group. The death threats started after my interview with him.”
Fuck. It takes all I have to force a deep breath. “The FBI didn’t offer you any protection?”
“You and my news director. Eternal optimists,” she mutters. “No. They can’t help me. Or won’t. Honestly, I think they just want my sources. If I gave those up, I’d have 24/7 guards by now.”
The truck rumbles to life, and I pull out onto the main road. My gaze pings from one mirror to the next, clocking the make, model, and color of every car on the road. Retired almost a year, and I slip back into old habits like I never left the Rangers.
“You really think the Feds are withholding protection for a source?” I ask. In the next second, I shake my head. “Of course they are. Fucking idiots. You got real intel on Fowler and CIG in what? A month? Two?”
“Five weeks. More or less.”
Shit. She’s a goddamn badass. Brilliant. Driven. And mine.
“Do you know how many times the Rangers tried to take Fowler and his companies down? AJ’s gonna shit himself.” I glance over at her, worried at the way she’s leaning against the side window, her eyelids drooping.
“Why?” she asks.
“Because the Cordova Cartel owned that warehouse on Grand. They killed Schaffer and Urbanski. I wasn’t even supposed to be there. It was AJ’s case. Would have been if…well, if he’d had his head on straight. He’d do anything to take those fuckers down.”
Emi
When did my life turn in to a TV movie-of-the-week? Yes, I wanted the story to go national. Yes, I wanted to bring down a corrupt developer I know has been hurting and exploiting people for years.
And yes…I had secretly wondered how bad it would be if someone actually did try to kill me. That probably wasn’t smart.
I’m so tired. I’d managed to forget about most of my bruises while Jasper and I flirted over dinner. Now, my entire body aches. Every time I move my head, I remember the arm around my neck cutting off my air. The gun jamming against my temple.
I curl deeper into the seat of Jasper’s truck with a shiver. He glances over at me, then cranks the heat in the cab. “You doing okay, sweetheart?”
“Where are we going?” I tug at the sleeves of my sweatshirt, needing something to do with my hands. I think Jasper’s driving in circles. Turning so often, I’m almost dizzy. “And what are ‘clean plates’?”
He checks the rearview mirror, changes lanes, and checks again. “AJ spends his weekends out by Lake Travis. We’re just lollygaggin’ for a bit until he can get back into town. He’s got resources I don’t. Including access to a car that ain’t registered to me, you, or anyone these fuckers can trace back to us.”
“Us?” My voice cracks, and my hands are so cold, I can’t feel my fingers.
Jasper merges onto the freeway and floors it, his face a grim mask of determination and purpose. “The guy I killed knew my name, Emi. These assholes are connected, and they ain’t gonna stop until someone makes them.”
Half an hour later, Jasper pulls the truck into an underground parking garage, finds a spot near the elevator, and kills the engine.
There can’t be more than ten other vehicles in the entire lot, and by the way his gaze moves from car to car, I think he memorizes all of them before he comes around to the passenger side to open my door.
