One Kiss More by Mandy Baxter Page B

announced as he flashed his badge to the coffee shop at large. “I’m going to have to ask everyone who documented that little scene to step forward with your phones.”
    “You can’t stifle free speech, man!” some idiot called from the back of the room.
    “I can arrest you for interfering with a federal investigation,” he said. Which, of course, he couldn’t. Nothing about what had happened between him and Emma a moment ago would hinder his case. That he knew of. “So, step up and delete any pics you might’ve snapped, or spend the day in jail. It’s your choice.”
    A collective grumble spread through Starbucks as reluctant gossipmongers gathered near his table. He hated that people who didn’t even know her dehumanized Emma, turning her into some kind of media spectacle. And worse, he’d helped to fuel the fire by calling her out in a very public place. The least he could do was try to minimize the backlash by making sure as many photos of their encounter were erased from existence as possible. He had a feeling that, right now, she could use all the help she could get.
     
     
    Emma rushed down the street, swiping at a traitorous tear that escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. She’d always fought against the insecurity that plagued her when she was out in public—especially when people recognized her like the two girls at the counter had this morning—but McCabe had managed to decimate any bravado she had left.
    As she hailed a cab, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Nervous energy sent her hands to shaking as she dug the phone out of her pocket, nearly dropping it into a gutter in the process. A taxi pulled up to the curb, but she waved it on. Instead, Emma ducked into an alley off Pike Street and answered.
    “I thought you said you had the Marshals managed, chica .”
    How could Cesar possibly know that she’d been with McCabe, unless he’d been watching her as well? Great. Was there anyone in the city not following her every move? “I told you, the Marshals aren’t a problem. But honestly, what do you expect, Cesar? My father’s missing and I’m his only living relative. Who else are they going to pester?”
    “Nah, your papa ain’t missing. He escaped . Don’t you watch the news?”
    What a raging douchecanoe. Emma had never hated anyone in her entire life, but she hated Cesar deep down in the pores of her skin. She knew he was trying to get a reaction out of her. Most likely so he could retaliate. And no way would she give him the satisfaction. “Are we going to do this, or what?”
    “Not now,” he replied as though the suggestion was asinine. “Too much heat on you. Mi patrón wants to lay low for now. Until you can figure out a way to get the Marshals off your back.”
    “How in the hell am I supposed to do that?” Panic choked the air from Emma’s lungs as the weight of the world seemed to press down on her.
    “You’ll think of something, si ?” Cesar remarked in his smooth, oily voice. “ Tu padre is depending on you.”
    “Yes,” Emma said. “I’ll think of something.”
    “Good. We’ll talk soon.”
    Emma looked around at the dingy wall lining the alley as though the answer to her problems might be scrawled on the bricks. She wanted to scream. To throw something, break everything in her path, and leave a swath of destruction that would make Cesar and his asshole boss cower in her wake. The helplessness she felt was nothing new and it was a cinder burning in the pit of her stomach. She’d experienced the same helplessness when her dad had been convicted of a crime he hadn’t committed. And she’d spent the entire six years of his incarceration working, and digging, and nosing around where she had no business doing so to prove that fact.
    McCabe’s presence in her life had only made matters worse. Their hot make-out session aside, she believed that he wanted to help her. If only in the course of doing his duty. But she couldn’t trust him with the information