Mustang lay long into the night without falling asleep. His time with Emily had taken an altogether different path than he’d ever imagined. A path he didn’t want to see come to an end. Especially such a permanent end as death.
If her attacker managed to slip by him and his team, she could be dead within a week. Heck, within the next twenty-four hours.
His fists clenched. Losing her was not an option. He’d risk his own life to save her. The woman had so much to offer the world in intelligence and kindness.
By the time the sun crept through the gaps in the blinds, Mustang was up and pacing the length of the room, trying to figure out how to capture the attacker without putting Emily up as bait.
“Hey,” a soft voice called out.
Mustang stopped halfway across the room and turned to the woman lying in the bed, her hair rumpled and her cheeks flushed with sleep. God, she was beautiful.
He wanted to go to her and make love to her all over again, but the worry eating at his gut kept him at a distance. He knew if he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to resist. And he needed a clear mind and a hell of a lot of focus to see this job through. And when it was over…when the attacker was captured and Emily was safe again, then Mustang would start over and woo this beautiful professor the proper way.
She reached out a slender arm and the comforter slipped lower, exposing a tempting breast.
Mustang swallowed a moan and turned away. “I’ll leave you to get dressed. We need to come up with a plan today.”
“Is it something I said?” she asked.
He turned back to her. “No, it’s something we have to do before this can go any further.”
She sat up, pulling the comforter over her chest, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. “Having second thoughts?” She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, a frown furrowing her brow.
“Far from it. Until we find out who is attacking you, I need to keep my focus.”
Her frown smoothed and a smile curled the corners of her lips. “And I make you lose focus?” She chuckled. “I suppose that’s a compliment.”
“Damn right, it’s a compliment.” He stood in the middle of the room, staring at her, wishing the circumstances were different. “Please,” he said. “Just get dressed. I’ll be in the other room.” He marched out of her bedroom, refusing to look back.
Her soft laughter followed him.
He could hear her moving around, opening the bathroom door, the sound of water running and the tap of a toothbrush against the porcelain sink.
He was so aware of her, he could imagine everything she was doing.
Finally she appeared in the door frame of the adjoining room, buttoning the front of a soft pink blouse she wore with a pair of gray trousers. “Just so you know,” she said, “you make me lose focus, too. But I don’t necessarily consider it a bad thing.”
“It would be bad in my case if my loss of focus left you vulnerable to attack.” He nodded at her bare feet. “I’d wear something comfortable.”
One side of her mouth lifted in a sardonic grin. “In case I have to run?”
He nodded. “Precisely.”
She disappeared into her room and came back wearing a pair of black-leather flats and carrying her cell phone. “Will these do?”
He nodded. “Let’s get downstairs and see if Cole’s made any progress on locating the hotel where Phillips snapped that photo.” He strode to the bedroom door, pulled the chair away and yanked it open. He stood back as Emily passed so close he could smell the scent of her shampoo.
She leaned closer. “Your focus is slipping.” Emily’s grin spread across her face as she walked ahead of him to the top of the staircase.
He hurried past her to take the lead, descending to the main level.
He followed the voices emanating from the dining room.
Declan gave him a chin lift as he entered. “Oh, good, we were just about to come get you.”
“What have you found?” Mustang held a chair for Emily and waited for her to be seated before claiming the chair beside her.
Charlie, Grace, Jonah and Cole sat at the table with half-eaten plates of food in front of them.
“Jonah and Cole were able to hack into Phillips’s tablet and retrieve the digital images. We found the one you were talking about that showed Blunt and the ambassador’s daughter with Viktor Sokolov in the alley in the background.”
Mustang paused in the middle of scooping scrambled eggs onto his plate. “And?”
“We think we know where they were,” Cole said.
“The Trinity Hotel.” Jonah jabbed his fork at a piece of chicken. “It’s located in Alexandria.”
Emily pushed back her chair. “Well, let’s go check it out.”
Mustang grabbed her arm and urged her to take her seat. “Not without a plan. And I’m not so sure you need to go. Declan and the others can check it out. You and I can stay put until they return with whatever they find out.”
Emily scowled. “I’m not good at sitting around doing nothing.”
“Then you can work with Jonah as he hacks into the embassy database,” Charlie said.
Jonah nodded. “I understand you understand Russian. All the information in that database might as well be Greek to me.”
Emily seemed to consider the prospect. “You’ll let us know what you find, as soon as you find anything?”
Declan held up his hand as if swearing before a judge. “Promise.”
“Okay.” Emily settled back in her seat. “I’ll stay and translate.” But she didn’t look all that happy about being left behind.
Mustang was more than relieved. He could keep a closer watch on her if she stayed inside the house. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep her housebound for long. The woman had a life and she’d refuse to be held captive for any length of time.
Grace reached over and covered Emily’s hand. “The guys are only trying to keep you safe.”
Emily sighed. “I know. I’m not used to being the target of some nut job. If I knew who it was, I’d confront him.”
“No, we’d send the police after him,” Charlie said. “Whoever these people are, they are playing for keeps. You’re not trained in warfare. That’s why we have Declan’s Defenders. They’ll help keep you safe, if you let them.”
Mustang wanted to cheer Charlie for her comments, but he kept quiet, letting her words sink in with Emily.
“You’re right,” she said. “And I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t be alive today without their help.” She slipped her hand beneath the table and captured Mustang’s, giving it a squeeze.
After a quick breakfast, Declan and Cole left the estate, destined for the Trinity Hotel in Alexandria.
Emily and Mustang helped carry dishes into the kitchen where the chef and his staff made quick work of cleaning up.
Jonah led them to the computer room where he had an array of six monitors lined up in front of a single keyboard. He tapped on the keys and brought up a screen filled with files all labeled in Russian.
For the next two hours Emily translated file names and searched through data on the Russian embassy’s database. For all the work, they came up with nothing substantial. Names of people, biographies of individuals, schedules of visiting diplomats and records of Russian ships entering American ports all over the US, including some in the DC, Maryland and Virginia area. Nothing jumped out at them as being something that could help them determine who was after her and Jay Phillips or why.
Emily pinched the bridge of her nose and stood. “I need something for a headache.”
“Let’s take a break.” Mustang walked with her to the kitchen where the chef offered them a cup of coffee or hot tea.
“I’d like the tea,” Emily said.
“I could use some coffee.”
They collected their steaming cups and sat at the solid-oak kitchen table. No sooner had they taken their seats than Emily’s cell phone buzzed with an incoming text message.
She glanced down, a frown forming on her brow. “It’s from Sachi Kozlov.”
Mustang leaned over her shoulder and read the message.
Found Tyler’s journal. You need to see this. Meet me at DC’s Eastern Flea Market at 2:00 pm. I’ll be at the Crepes food truck wearing a gold scarf.
Emily checked the time on her cell phone. “That gives us an hour to get there and find her.”
“Us?” Mustang shook his head. “I don’t feel good about you being out and about. What if this is a setup? We just did a meeting that didn’t end well. Call her back. Ask what’s up.”
“I’m not calling her back. If she wants to meet, it could be because talking on the phone is difficult. People might be nearby she doesn’t want eavesdropping. I won’t do anything that might put her at risk.”
“I don’t like doing anything that puts you at risk,” he countered.
“I can go in a disguise,” Emily said. “I’m going. You can come with me or not.” She responded to Sachi’s text.
I will be there.
Mustang already knew he wasn’t going to talk Emily out of going. “Fine. But we will have to make your disguise good enough to fool the best. Where’s Grace?” He stood and held her chair for her.
She rose and hurried through the house. “Grace? Charlie? I need your help.”
Meanwhile, Mustang was on his cell phone clicking on his team lead’s number. “Declan, I need your help.”
* * *
AT PRECISELY 1:58 P.M. Emily, dressed in baggy jeans and a hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over her hair, stood twenty yards from the Crepes food truck at DC’s Flea Market at Eastern Market, searching for a woman in a gold scarf. “I don’t see her,” she said to Mustang, who stood beside her, wearing a similar outfit, his hands in his jacket pocket, resting on his handgun.
“It’s not quite two. Give her a minute,” he said softly.
From around the other side of the rendezvous truck, a woman emerged, dressed in a gray trench coat and a gold scarf.
Emily’s heart beat fast. “There she is.” She stepped forward but Mustang’s hand held her back.
“Wait a moment in case she was followed.” He scanned the area, searching for anyone watching Sachi and her movements.
Emily kept her head down to disguise the fact she wasn’t the teenaged boy she was dressed as. She’d scrubbed her face, pulled back her hair and tucked it into the hoodie she’d brought for her disguise. She’d had Grace and Charlie give her thicker eyebrows. Charlie had invested in costume makeup on the off chance Declan’s Defenders needed to disguise themselves. She’d been excited that they would actually put the makeup to use for a good cause…keeping Emily safe. Charlie had also found the hooded sweatshirt and helped Emily into it. Then Charlie had hugged her. “Don’t lose the hoodie. It will help us find you.”
They’d left the estate in the back of a delivery van and caught a taxi once they’d arrived in the DC city limits. They had the taxi drop them off several blocks from the flea market and walked the rest of the way like two guys just hanging out.
“Well?” Emily asked. “Is it safe?”
“I can only hope so. I don’t see any suspicious characters.”
Sachi had settled into a seat at one of the bistro tables with her back to a shade tree, her face and body cloaked in the shadows.
“We’ll order a crepe before we engage with Sachi. Stay close to me,” Mustang ordered.
“No argument here,” Emily said in her gruffest guy-voice.
They walked over to the crepe truck. Mustang ordered a crepe with strawberries.
Emily stood beside him, watching Sachi out of the corner of her eye.
The woman pulled her scarf over the lower half of her face, but her ice-blue eyes were unforgettable and gave her away.
“I’m going to join her,” Emily said.
“Wait for me. It will look more natural if we both sit together. The other tables are filling up.”
Emily saw reason and waited for the man in the food truck to finish making the strawberry crepe. Then she and Mustang looked around as if searching for an empty table and not finding it. Sachi’s table was the only one with a single occupant.
Mustang carried his plate with the strawberry crepe and stopped in front of Sachi. “Mind if we share your table?”
The Russian ambassador’s daughter started to shake her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m waiting for someone.”
Emily looked down at Sachi, willing her to recognize her despite the disguise. Finally she whispered. “It’s me, Emily.”
Sachi’s gaze darted to Emily’s eyes. Her own narrowed. Then she glanced around nervously and nodded, her gaze lighting on Mustang, whom she seemed to remember from the classroom visit. She relaxed a little. “Please, take a seat.” She shifted her chair to make room for them.
“I’ll eat, you two talk.” Mustang cut off a piece of the crepe and popped it into his mouth.
Sachi glanced down at the purse in her lap. “This was one of the places Tyler and I would meet when I could escape my bodyguards. It’s easy to blend into the crowd, as long as I change the color of my scarf. The trick was to wear something unmemorable besides the scarf.” Her hand fluttered to the gold cloth. “But that is not the reason I asked you to come.” She shifted in her seat and unzipped her oversize purse. “I found these in the safe deposit box Tyler and I share at a local bank. They’re the journals he kept when he was doing an investigation.”
“Did you find anything about you or the Russian embassy in it?” Emily asked softly, barely moving her lips lest someone see her talking to the stranger.
Sachi nodded, almost imperceptibly. “He was following a story about human trafficking in the DC area. He wrote that he suspected someone in the Russian embassy was responsible for transporting women out of the US.” She pulled a small leather-bound journal out of her voluminous bag and pushed it across the table. “I bent the page where Tyler noted that he suspected one of the higher-ranking embassy staff was involved. He’d seen the man outside a hotel with a very young woman who’d appeared to stagger and drag her feet, maybe drugged.
“He’d gone back to that hotel and asked questions of the staff, most of whom knew nothing about any potential human trafficking going on beneath their roof. But some of them were less talkative and more guarded. Tyler had planned a stakeout to capture more evidence on video. He’d even given up a chance to be with me in order to gather the evidence he needed to turn the mastermind behind the human trafficking in to the authorities.
“That had been the night before. Since then, Tyler has disappeared.” Sachi’s voice faded into a silent sob. “I don’t know where he is or who took him.”
“Sachi, I was at the embassy two days ago, interpreting for your father. I saw Tyler Blunt there.”
The other woman’s eyes grew wide. “You saw him? That was the day he disappeared.”
“Your father was very angry about your relationship with the journalist,” Emily said. “He stormed out of the meeting, shouting.”
Sachi shook her head. “He came to me and told me that I had to break up with Tyler. I told him that I would not. I would leave the embassy and him if he banned me from seeing the man I love.”
“What did he say?”
“He threatened to pay Tyler to quit seeing me. I told my father I would never speak to him again if he damaged my relationship with Tyler.”
“Is your father capable of kidnapping and potentially murdering?” Emily asked quietly.
Sachi shook her head. “I’ve known my father to get very angry, but he has never hurt another human being. I don’t think he would hurt Tyler.”
“Have you ever suspected your father of having any dealings with the buying and selling of women to other countries for profit?” Mustang asked between bites of the crepe.
Sachi’s eyes opened even wider. “No. Of course not. He was very much in love with my mother, and he’s been a good father, so very protective of the women in his family and on his staff. He would never hurt another woman. His anger is legendary, but his kindness is equally revered.” She glanced down at her watch. “I’ve told you all I know. Now I have to get back to my bodyguards before they call my father or send out a search party.”
Emily wanted to ask more questions but the woman was clearly packing up her things to leave. “Let us escort you back to your people,” Emily offered.
Sachi frowned. “I don’t know. It might be better if I show up alone.”
“Please,” Emily implored. “With so many attempts on my life, what if the information you just passed on to us is what our attackers are after? That could place you in just as much danger as myself and the private investigator who was assigned to follow you and Tyler around.”
“No one knows that I know about Tyler’s journal and its contents besides you two.”
“I’d feel better if we followed you back. You know the investigator is in the hospital?”
“The private investigator who was following us?” Sachi asked. “No, I did not.”
“Someone broadsided him on his motorcycle last night and then tried to hit us, as well.”
Sachi’s hand fluttered over the scarf. “I did not know. Will he live?”
Emily shook her head. “Only time will tell. He was still unconscious, the last word I received.”
Sachi shook her head. “I hope he recovers. And, yes, I would like you to follow me, but not so close that it appears obvious to onlookers.”
Mustang tossed his crepe into a trash bin as he followed Emily and Sachi from the food truck.
Emily hurried after Sachi, afraid she’d get too far ahead of them to provide any kind of protection should someone try to harm her.
The ambassador’s daughter wove her way through the throngs of people milling about the flea market, until she emerged along another street where a homeless man dug in a trash can and a black limousine stood ten yards farther against the curb.
Sachi didn’t slow until she reached the limousine.
Emily watched as Sachi came to a stop in front of one of the bodyguards. She frowned heavily at the big, burly man standing at the rear door of the limousine. Then she backed away quickly.
The man caught her arm and yanked her against him. And just like that, the situation went to hell.
Sachi screamed and struggled against the big guy’s grip on her.
Emily leaped forward, racing toward Sachi, too far away to be of any real assistance. But she couldn’t stand by and do nothing.
Sachi was forced into the back of the limousine.
“Emily,” Mustang called out, his footsteps pounding on the ground behind her.
She couldn’t stop. Sachi was in trouble and they’d promised to see her safely to her people. The man at the limousine had obviously not been one of her regular bodyguards.
As Emily and Mustang reached the limousine, the burly guy had already slammed the door and was moving toward the front passenger door.
“Hey!” Emily called out.
The man turned and faced her.
Mustang caught up with her before she reached the big man who’d shoved Sachi into the limousine.
Still more footsteps sounded behind Emily and Mustang.
Mustang spun, but not soon enough to block the steel pipe that crashed down at the base of his skull. He went down and lay as still as death at Emily’s feet.
“Mustang?” she cried and dove for the man who’d saved her life on more than one occasion.
A hand caught her hair before she hit the ground and yanked her back.
She screamed and fought, but the man holding her hair clamped strong arms around her middle and lifted her off the ground.
The man who’d wrestled with Sachi pulled open the door to the back seat. Emily was deposited like a sack of potatoes onto the floorboard and the door was slammed shut behind her.
Sachi lay on the floor, sobbing.
“Are these your bodyguards?” Emily demanded.
Sachi shook her head. “I’ve never seen these men before.”
Emily found the door handle and pulled hard, but the door wouldn’t open. The locks were obviously controlled by the driver up front. She pounded her fists against the glass windows but they didn’t break.
And Mustang lay on the ground, unmoving.
Was he dead?
Oh, dear God, Emily prayed. Please let him live.
The limousine pulled away, rounded a corner and left Mustang behind.