Emmett’s stare held Gwen’s before sliding to Blake. “Give her the number.” To Gwen, he ordered, “Make the call.”
“Me?”
“Your idea.” He shrugged. “Figure you’re our best chance to convince him.”
With hopeful grin, Gwen typed out the digits on her phone while Blake read them off. With hurried movements, she got up and made her way toward the door. “I’ll let you know what he says when I’m done.”
He and the others stayed put while they waited. Emmett’s nerves fired on all fronts, and he had to fight to keep from outwardly showing his fear. Not from worry that Jethero would turn Gwen down but from not knowing if Janie was okay.
Please be okay.
“He’s in.” The feisty woman returned with a wide grin as she turned Blake’s way. “I told him you’d text him the location and anything else you think he needs to know. He said he’d meet us there.”
Relieved by the news, Emmett headed for the door. “Grab your gear and meet me in the lobby.”
A short time later, they were walking out of the office together. The elevator dinged as they marched that way.
The doors slid open, and Detective Boone stepped out. He stopped mid-stride, both hands balancing two full, disposable beverage carriers.
“Oh. Hey.” The man blinked as he took in their change in appearance. “Uh . . . where ya going?”
Emmett walked past their new friend on his way to board the elevator. “Pretty sure we know where they’re keeping Janie.”
His teammates followed, but Boone stayed put. “That’s great, but where?”
“A building that’s being used as front,” Gwen explained.
Boone belatedly fell in line, squeezing himself inside the big, metal cart.
“So what’s the plan?” he asked. “I’m assuming you’ve already called it in?”
“Nope.” Draven gave a quick shake of his head.
The doors closed, and they began the ride down to the building’s garage.
Boone gave Emmett and the others a careful, assessing glance. Emmett knew exactly what he was seeing.
Their protective vests. Secured Pistols. Thigh holsters. The automatic rifles in their hands.
When the detective spoke again, he had more of an authoritative tone in his voice. “You can’t do this.”
Emmett huffed. “Watch me.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
The elevator stopped. The doors opened, and Emmett and his team filed out around the objecting man.
“Dammit, Shaw,” Boone hollered out for him. “Will you just . . . hold on.”
From his peripheral, Emmett saw the frustrated man dump the now-wasted coffees into a large trash can as he passed by.
“There’s no time.”
In a few, hurried steps, Boone caught up to Emmett with ease. “If you have evidence, or at the very least a valid reason to believe that woman is being held hostage there, then wehaveto call this into the authorities.”
I don’t have to do anything.
