10. Cole

10

COLE

M y jaw sets hard as I weave my way in and out of the party guests. Lovejoy. Here. After I told Emory that it wouldn't be an issue.

The guy is either ballsier than I thought, or crazier. Maybe both.

There's so many people here, all milling about. How am I supposed to find Lovejoy in this mess? He's tall, but so are a lot of other people. That leg breaking height surgery seems to have grown much more popular in LA.

Damn it, this isn't my usual scene. This is more Griff or Grayson's kind of thing. A CIA spook would know what to do. I just have to think like Grayson.

Everyone is here for the party. Talking, milling about, eating, dancing…I need to look for the one person who's not acting like everyone else. The one person trying to flee.

I catch a glimpse of a knot of people moving slightly like reeds in a stiff breeze. There! He dyed his hair like Emory said, that's got to be him.

I make my way through the ballroom, trying not to draw too much attention to myself. Lovejoy stops and starts to look behind him. I duck behind the chocolate fountain just in time. Lovejoy peers around, and then turns to continue his flight. His hand reaches up to his face for a moment, then he shakes his fingers out.

Probably pulled that fake mustache off. I keep that in mind as I continue my pursuit.

Lovejoy is being smart about this. He's not running full out, or in a panic. When someone stops him to ask a question—thinking he's a legit event employee—Lovejoy doesn't freak out. He smiles and politely answers the guest before going on his way.

This is a slow pursuit, but my heart pounds like I'm running full out. I'm so close. So close to making Emory safe. The hidden holster bearing my nine mil is a comforting weight. I'm not sure I'm going to try and arrest this man.

To keep Emory safe, I'd do anything. And I wouldn't regret it. Especially after that kiss…but I can't think about that now. I have to stay focused.

I reach a hallway leading to the restrooms and kitchen area. There's a huge glut of people here, packing the hall like sardines. I lose sight of my quarry. Politeness goes out the window. I start shoving my way through.

"Watch it, asshole," snaps one elderly gentleman.

"Sorry, Mr. Nicholson. I'm a big fan," I call over my shoulder. I never take my eyes off the path ahead. In particular, I watch the kitchen door and the lavatories.

How did Lovejoy make it in here so easily? He has to have help, from several sources. Otherwise, they would never be able to pull these stunts off.

I catch a glimpse of a tall blonde man heading into the kitchen. I finally cut through the crowded hallway and then break into a run.

My shoulder slams into the swinging metal doors. I scare the shit out of the kitchen crew. A woman in a chef's hat drops a silver mixing bowl. Crab cakes go spilling onto the floor, but I'm finally in arm's reach of Lovejoy.

"Got you now, you son of a bitch."

I grab his shoulder and spin him around, tearing his jacket sleeve in the process. I cock my fist back, ready to knock Lovejoy into next week…

Only to realize I'm staring into the face of someone much younger, confused, and terrified.

"Sorry," I say quickly. "Sorry. Thought you were…"

I push past him and run through the kitchen. Blasting out the rear exit, I find myself in an empty alleyway, with only a stray cat and a huge bag of garbage as my company.

Lovejoy is nowhere in sight.

Dejected, I make my way back to Emory. The kitchen staff glare, but they don't say anything. I guess I have that kind of look on my face.

Emory looks up hopefully. But once she sees my expression, she understands that I failed.

"I'm sorry. He gave me the slip."

She nods, her mouth turning into a thin, tight line.

"He threatened my family, again. That serial killer was outside my sister's house."

"Shit. We need to call–"

"I already did. Both the police and Platinum Security."

"Good. That was good thinking. What did they say?"

She sighs. "The police said they'll send a car out, but Jax said that's not good enough. He's going to have Bastian watch over my sister's place tonight."

"Bastian's a good choice. I feel sorry for Blumbert if he tries something with that bad ass mother around."

"I thought you were the killing machine at Platinum Security?"

I grunt. "There can be more than one. Lovejoy is in the wind. Let's get out of here."

We leave the party, passing the dance floor on the way. It feels like our dance was a long time ago, now. Emory's upset, and understandably so. After all, I assured her she would be safe and then her crazy ex showed up.

"How did things go with Diego?" she asks when we're back in the truck.

"Not as well as I hoped. Diego doesn't know shit."

She sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. "Then it was all a waste of time."

"Not quite. I said Diego doesn't know anything. Not that he can't find it out. He still has tons of connections, on both the legal side and the not so legal side. Believe me, if Lovejoy is trying to smuggle himself to Colombia, Diego will find out."

It's a silent ride back to her place. I wonder if we can get back to where we were right after that kiss. Then I wonder if we should even try. Maybe it's for the best that Lovejoy showed up and killed the mood.

My stomach feels like it's full of hot coals. I want to puke, because I'm so disgusted with myself. I almost let Emory get hurt. I'm supposed to protect her. Just like I was supposed to protect Jake.

Emory breaks the silence as we pull up to her place. "It was insane for Julian to show up like that. Do you think he followed us?"

"He must have. That's why I took such a long route to get back here."

"How did he do it?"

I sigh as we head into the house. "I should have thought about the fact there's really only one way out of your neighborhood. All he'd have to do is watch. Or more likely, have someone do the watching for him."

"How do we stop him from doing that?"

"I don't know. I'll talk to the office. Maybe someone there has an idea."

Emory sits down heavily on the sofa. I join her, making sure to keep a good foot between us. I want to wrap my arms around her, but I can't. I'm supposed to protect Emory, not seduce her.

"I'm sorry. I never should have left you alone at the party," I say.

Emory shakes her head. "It wasn't your fault. There was a lot going on. And we were both…distracted."

She suddenly looks over at me, her face full of fear, but also a tinge of hope.

"That was my first kiss since…Julian…you know?"

I had been trying to avoid the subject of our kiss, but there it is. Right out in the open.

"Really?" I shake my head in disbelief. "I would think a woman like you would have guys lining up around the block just to see your smile. Not to mention your dance moves."

Emory's soft laugh tickles my ears. Slowly, she rises to her feet, eyes half lidded and smoldering.

"You have some pretty good moves too, Cole Drake, but I bet I can still teach you a thing or two."

Her eyes dart upward. "Alexa, play Dance Mix 7."

Music throbs to life from speakers all over the house. I can feel it pulsing through the floor as surely as my own blood pulses through my body. Emory's sinuous saunter has my full attention.

"How about a little side to side booty pop?"

I laugh at the name, but not for long. Especially when Emory spins around and demonstrates the move from the rear.

"And there's always citywork," she purrs, gyrating her upper body with her hands on her hips. "For this one, you pretend you're sitting down in a car."

"You can dance sitting down?"

"You can dance anywhere."

She suddenly thrusts her finger against my lips.

"Now hush, I'm not done with my lesson, yet. I haven't even shown you the most important move in modern dance."

I reach for her hand, but she flits away before I can touch her. Emory twists around like a mini tornado, presenting her bottom to me.

"I'm talking about the twerk. Bet you can't pull this move off, Navy boy."

She plants her hands on her knees and throws what god gave her. Emory is incredibly…talented.

Emory twists about and faces me again, a huge grin on her face. She knows exactly what she's doing. Destroying any measure of resolve I might have left.

"I love it, but it looks more like a strip club move than a dance move."

"Strip club?"

She leaps onto my lap and grinds her hips.

"I'll show you strip club."

I can't hold back any longer. My inner beast rages for release. My hands move up her flanks, cupping her breasts and feeling her heartbeat.

Then our lips meet, and everything is right with the world.