C-a-l-i-e-n-t-e.
Incorrect Password again.
Son of a bitch.
Slumping into the chair, I cursed again and scrubbed my palms over my face. This was useless. I could spend all night sitting here typing in random words and none of them would be correct. Who was I kidding? This was a high-ranking cartel member. He wouldn’t use the name of his own bar as his password.
Use your brain, Leighton.
I rested my hands on top of my head when a reflection in a mirror hanging outside his office caught my attention. Although, it wasn’t so much the mirror as the reflection shining in it.
“Then why is her picture still up?”
“House-fucking-orders.”
Sitting up, my fingers buzzed as I typed the four letters that drew such a heated reaction out of him.
E-d-e-n.
Lights flashed and screens shifted. Within seconds Emilio’s desktop displayed before my eyes. I had no idea where to begin, so I just started clicking folders, hoping something useful would pop up.
The first two folders labeled “business” were as laundered as the bar itself. Files filled with purchase order spreadsheets for supplies and an employee log of hours with payroll would get me nowhere with Atwood. Closing them out, I clicked on a third folder and froze.
I couldn’t breathe. I expected to find damning evidence on some poor idiot Emilio was blackmailing—not a file with my father’s name on it.
“What the hell,” I whispered. As I clicked the file, information about my father filled the screen. His picture. A photo of the precinct where he worked. An uploaded camera phone photo of the home where we lived.
Why would Emilio have such personal information?
There were four more files, all unnamed, waiting to answer my question. I wanted to look at them, but I’d been in here too long. On a whim, I opened a web browser page and accessed my email. With sweat dripping down my temple, I typed an email to myself and attached all five files.
“Come on, come on,” I begged, hitting every button to hurry up. Just as the last one loaded, the back door slammed. I jumped, my hand sending a pile of papers scattering off the corner of his desk.
“Shit!” With my heart in my throat, I exited out of the program and deleted the browser history, leaving the mess. Fuck it if he noticed. I’d rather Emilio question me than catch me. Logging out of the computer, I shut it down and slammed the top.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the kitchen as dread rippled down my back. I should’ve trusted my initial instinct, but now wasn’t the time for regrets. I reengaged the lock and closed his office just as the kitchen door swung open.
“Leighton? What are you doing?” There wasn’t as much concern in his tone as suspicion.
My positioning was perfect. Blue eyes stared back at me as if offering me a way out of the corner I’d backed myself into. Taking a deep breath, I threw myself against her picture.
“Praying,” I said, forcing a wobble in my voice.
I’m going to die right here.
“For what?”
“Not for what, for who.” Closing my eyes, I managed to squeeze out a tear. “My brother always loved her,” I admitted, hoping Brody would forgive me for throwing him under the bus. “Eden meant a lot to him, and her death destroyed him.”
Emilio snorted. “Eden Lachey isn’t dead.”
That got my attention. I snapped my head around, wiping the tear from my eye. “What?”
He glanced toward her picture once more and shook his head. “Forget it.”
I wanted to press him but being caught standing outside his office had him on edge. Pushing my luck was out of the question.
The silence became unbearable, so I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Well, it’s late, and I have to finish stacking the glasses in the kitchen.”
He stared at me, his dark eyes full of distrust. “Why do you seem so tense?”
“Me? I’m not tense. It’s just been a long week.”
Emilio pressed a hand against the wall beside my head. “I’ll clean up. Go home, Leighton Harcourt.”
My heart beat so loud, I was sure he could hear it. I tried to swallow but my throat felt like it was clogged. “Are...are you sure?”
“Like you said, you’ve had a long week. I imagine leaving everything you love behind and starting over would have its consequences.” As I rolled the weight of his words around in my head, the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that was anything but friendly.
I need to get out of here.
Fumbling with my apron, I untied the strings and skirted by him “I’m just going to get my stuff,” I announced, walking backward.
Great. State the obvious. That doesn’t sound shady.
He nodded, never taking his eyes off me. The more I walked, the more he stared. Once I made it into the kitchen and found my purse and keys, I grabbed the door knob, finally letting out the breath I’d been holding when his voice crawled up my spine.
“Leighton?”
“Yes?” I answered, my voice barely a whisper.
“Drive safely.”
I nodded and pushed the door open. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”
The moment fresh air hit my face, the smothering weight that had been on my chest lifted. Still, I laid a hand over my heart just to feel it beating.
The whole way to my car, I replayed everything that happened in my head, obsessing over every detail until, by the time I turned onto the main road, my head was spinning. I pressed harder on the gas pedal as the need to get home and read what else was on that email grew stronger.
If Alex hadn’t already told me Emilio was knee-deep in cartel business, I would’ve come to that conclusion on my own. But the information he had on my father didn’t fit. My dad was as straight and narrow as they came.
I was so busy trying to make one and two add up to four that I didn’t notice the car behind me until I turned off a darkened side street. They were too close, making the sharp turn behind me and speeding up. I hit the gas again—this time taking the next turn so fast my tires squealed.
Stay calm. You’re imagining this.
But as soon as the dark sedan behind me gunned it and took the turn just as fast, my pulse skyrocketed. I wanted to call Brody, but there was no time. Pushing everything out of my mind, I concentrated on the road.
Fuck the rules. Fuck the signs. Fuck the lights. The road and the gas pedal were all that mattered. Gripping the wheel until my fingers turned white, I rushed through two red lights, the dark car keeping up with me the whole time.
Looking around for an escape, all I saw were more side streets. More alleyways. More places for the person chasing me to block me in and trap me in a hell of my own doing.
“Not today, asshole,” I muttered.
Gritting my teeth, I blew through my third red light and prayed for a siren to pull me over. Instead, the car behind me bumped into the back of me. Shaken, I lifted my head and glanced in the rearview mirror.
That was the moment I saw the cold, steel gray eyes reflected in it. They were hauntingly familiar, but I couldn’t place them. Before I could process anything, the car backed up and hit the gas again, disappearing into the night. I let out a scream and slammed my fist on the wheel.
Then it hit me.
“Drive safely.”
They hadn’t been parting words. They’d been a challenge.