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OPEN-FACED SANDWICH

Emma

I t sucks to lose control of your own life because someone else is a shallow, ugly-on-the-inside, conniving bitch.

Do I have proof Molly Minders fictionalized an entire daytime TV melodrama about Brett Sullivan and me?

No.

But when a girl knows, she knows.

I watched the newsclip over and over on our way to the city. Every time I pressed play on that sucker, I was more and more convinced.

I could see it in her eyes.

She might’ve been “reporting the news” but she did it with a smug-ass look. August was beside himself apologetic for not being able to do more, and Ross texted to tell me he knows it’s not true and he’ll make some calls to do what he can.

At least I have people in my corner who believe me.

And let’s be real … the last time I felt in control of my career was when I was reporting on tornados and bison. Since then, the highs and lows have been so drastic, I can’t keep up.

If I’m not high on luck, then I’m down for the count.

Jack puts his fancy car in park, kills the engine, and turns to me and Mason. “We have no idea what we’re walking into, so this is how it’s going to go: we stick together no matter what. I don’t care if you’re about to pee your pants, no one breaks up the three amigos, got it? Mason, we will flank Emma. Do not leave her side. No one is nabbing her tonight or ever again.”

Mason unbuckles, leans up between the seats, and puts his hand out for the universal go-team gesture. “A Homies sandwich. Who’s with me?”

I crinkle my nose in disgust.

Jack winces. “Fuck no. You’re a bodyguard. Emma is mine. No one is sandwiching her. She’s an open-faced sandwich.”

Mason yanks his hand back and rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Let’s do this. I’ve got to get home before sunup. Jessica is in her last trimester—it’s bad enough she had to put the chickens to bed by herself.”

We all climb out of the car. “We can’t be late. I don’t want Rylan to freak out and leave.”

Jack claims my hand in a tight grip. “At least he agreed to meet in a public place. A sports bar is fitting.”

Mason is on my other side as we walk down the busy sidewalk. “What do you think he’s going to tell you that he wouldn’t tell you over the phone?”

“I’m not sure. All I know is Rylan Crawford has the answers we’re looking for, and in a weird way, he wants to help Brett. We need him to trust us, especially after I told him we found out his identity. And we need to make sure his mom and sister are okay.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I internally groan when I see the caller. Shit. I connect the call and put it to my ear. “Hey, Dad.”

There’s a pause. For a moment I think the call didn’t connect until my father’s low and barely controlled voice hits me. “You do remember that we’re tapping your phone, right?”

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk. It takes a half a step, but Jack and Mason follow suit.

Jack frowns. “What’s wrong now?”

I give him a small shake of my head as I lie to my dad. “Yeah. I remember.”

I totally did not remember. Too many things are happening at once.

Another pause.

A less-controlled Asa Hollingsworth’s voice turns into a slight growl. “So you’re telling me that you talked the guy into meeting you in a bar by yourself? The same guy who drugged and framed an NFL quarterback who’s twice your size?”

Suddenly, I feel like I’m fifteen and back in high school all over again. “First of all, we’re meeting in a sports bar, not a bar-bar. And I’m not an idiot. Jack is with me.”

Mason holds out his arms and looks offended.

“Sorry. Mason is here too,” I amend.

“Oh, well now I feel better,” Dad bites with sarcasm. “As long as Mason is there.”

“We’ll be fine, Dad. The place will be packed.”

The sarcasm just keeps on coming. “Right, just like the parade since you were totally fine there. I can rest easy. Have fun. Stay for a drink. Enjoy yourself.”

“Don’t you have better things to do at the moment? Like keeping Keelie from murdering Knox’s cougar girlfriend?”

Dad’s exhale tells a tale of his stress level. “Making sure everyone lives through the night is my only priority at the moment—and that includes you. If you wanted this to happen, all you had to do was say the word. I would’ve sent someone from the team with you.”

I don’t take my eyes off Jack when I answer. “We’ll be fine. I’ll even call you when we’re on our way back to Levi and Carissa’s.”

“Even though I’m watching your location constantly, that’s nice. It’s the thought that counts.”

“And here I thought Mom was the helicopter parent. I’ve got to go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Call me no matter what,” Dad demands. “I want to hear your voice. Love you, baby.”

“Love you too.” I disconnect the call and turn back to my bodyguards for the night. “Let’s do this.”

Jack

I open the door for Emma without taking my other hand off her.

The place is covered from top to bottom in Founders colors, still celebrating the city’s victory on the biggest stage of the year. Every television in the place has a different basketball game going but one. The big one in the middle is replaying the football championship from last weekend.

I wrap my hand around Emma’s hip and put my lips to her ear. “Did he happen to share a selfie so we’ll know who to look for?”

She puts her hand over mine as she looks around the bar. “He’ll find me. He always has.”

“That’s the truth,” I mutter and lead our threesome to an empty high top in the center of the bar. Emma takes a seat next to Mason, but I stand at Emma’s back.

A waiter doesn’t waste any time greeting us with his hands full of empties. “What can I get you started with?”

Mason looks at me. “Are we eating? I missed dinner at the birthday party.”

I turn to the waiter. “We’re not staying long, but I’ll make sure and tip you like we were. Four waters.”

He must not believe me because he loses his smile and grumbles, “Be right back.”

“Please and thank you!” Emma calls after him as her elbow connects with my ribs.

“I’m too tense for manners right now, Em.”

“Now that you have his number, maybe you should text him and let him know where we—” Mason stops mid-sentence, and stares over our shoulders. “Never mind. I think he found us.”

Emma and I turn at the same time. The guy is barely taller than me, but I’ve got at least thirty pounds on him. He’s skinny and doesn’t look like he has an ounce of fat on him even though he’s in an oversized hoodie and old jeans that swallow him whole. He’s probably in his mid-twenties.

Rylan stares straight at Emma. “Hey.”

She smiles.

She actually smiles at him.

“Hi. Thank you so much for coming. It’s just the three of us. I know I said Brett’s agent would be with me, but this is our friend. We were all together when you called.”

Rylan frowns at Mason. “Do I know you?”

Mason shrugs and waves him off. “I get that all the time. You’ve probably seen me online. I’m the chicken man.”

Rylan hikes a brow. “No shit?”

Mason smirks. “Yep.”

Rylan is impressed. “Your wife is hot.”

Mason’s smirk grows into a grin. “I know.”

Enough of this. We need to get this party started. “I’m Jack Hale, Brett’s agent. We need information to get the charges dismissed. We promise to leave you out of it.”

Rylan forgets all about how hot Mason’s wife is and turns to me. “Dude, that’s not possible. I told you enough. It’s your job to figure out how to get him off the hook.”

Emma puts a hand out to try to calm the situation. “Let’s take it down a notch. This is the main reason I wanted to meet with you. We learned something tonight—something you need to know.”

Rylan stuffs his hands in his hoodie pockets and looks around the crowded bar. “It’s the only reason I agreed to this.”

“Do you want to sit?”

He shakes his head. “No way. Spit it out. This place isn’t my jam. I want to get out of here as soon as I can.”

Emma shifts on her barstool and glances at me before letting loose. “We know why you’re trying to help Brett Sullivan. But the people who paid you to drug him are going to use that against you.”

Rylan takes a step back, and for a second, I think he’s going to bolt on us.

“They’ve been trying to contact you, but you haven’t answered. Am I right?” I ask.

His gaze jumps to me, but he doesn’t confirm.

“Rylan, they said they know where your family is.” Emma’s tone softens. “They even know where your sister is—down to her dorm room number.”

His expression hardens. “The fuck?”

“And that’s why you’re trying to help Brett,” I continue. “Because he helped Renee. She’s a recipient from Brett’s foundation. You did what you did, and now you feel guilty.”

Rylan shakes his head, but not because we’re wrong. He realizes Pike and Acosta have him right where they want him.

Emma gives my arm a squeeze. “You helped us. We wanted to help you. You need to know your family and your sister could be in danger.”

“Not family. My mom,” he bites. “Mom and Renee. “They’re all the family I have. How do you know this?”

“We know people who can find information. This is even more of a reason to work with us.” Anger settles in my gut as I think about Fred Pike threatening this kid’s mom, sister, and me. “We’re one step ahead of these fuckers. We can let you know what they’re doing. But we need more from you. We need evidence to get Brett Sullivan off the hook because you framed him.”

Rylan finally comes unglued and takes an aggressive step toward us.

I shift in front of Emma.

But Rylan doesn’t get aggressive.

He’s as pissed as I am for the same reason.

“You want me to go to the cops and tell them what I did? I’ll go to fucking jail for that,” he bites.

Emma stands from her stool and moves to my side. “We can find another way. We need to work together, but we’re running out of time. What I do know is that to keep your mom and sister safe, keep you off the radar of the police, and get Brett off the hook, we need to expose the people who did this to begin with.”

Rylan looks skeptical. “How the hell are we going to do that? You basically got fired, right? It’s not like you can just whip up a piece to put on TV anymore.”

Emma sets the record straight. “I was not fired. I might have my own problems at work, but that’s a separate issue. Once this is taken care of, the world will know I’m not with Brett Sullivan.”

I pull Emma’s back to my front. “Trust me, she’s not with Sullivan. What do you say?”

Mason pipes in and surprises us all. “You seem like you care about your mom and sister, Rylan. It seems to me you don’t have a choice. I’ve known them for over a decade. You can trust them.”

“No offense, but I don’t trust anyone.”

“I get it,” I agree. “My list is getting shorter and shorter these days too. I don’t know you and you fucked over my client in a big way, but we need each other to dig our way out of this shit.”

Rylan gets defensive. “I didn’t know who he was, okay? I’m not above doing some shady shit to make some money. When my buddy passed the job to me, all I knew was what they wanted done. He funneled enough cash for a plane ticket to me with instructions. They even told me where he’d be at the last minute. I didn’t know the target was the guy who runs that foundation. That scholarship changed my sister’s life. She’s smart—different from me. I might do some questionable shit, but I never would’ve taken the job had I known it was him. Hell, I didn’t know it was him until it was too late.”

“What do you say? Are we going to show the world who these motherfuckers are so we can all move on with our lives?” At my words on moving on with our lives, Emma leans into me further.

Rylan directs his glare at me. “You’d better not fuck me over.”

“We would never,” Emma assures him.

Rylan looks around the bar, anxious to get out of here, which I agree. “What do I have to do?”

“You can start by answering your phone when we call you,” I say. “And call Acosta back first thing in the morning. Make an excuse as to why you ghosted him. Tell him you think you found Sullivan. Get him to talk. The more he says about what went down in Vegas, the better. I’ll make sure he pays for masterminding the whole thing.”

“What good is that going to do?” Rylan demands. “That won’t prove shit.”

“Trust me, it will. We’re monitoring Acosta’s phone. How do you think we found you? Between you talking to him and me handling his boss, which I plan to do first thing tomorrow morning, we’ll have all the evidence we need. We have the evidence now, but it won’t be admissible.”

“You sound like a fucking lawyer,” Rylan mutters.

Mason smiles. “That’s because he is.”

The color drains from Rylan’s face, but he stammers his agreement. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

I feel Emma’s relieved exhale. “Thank you. You won’t be sorry.”

“I’d better not be.” Rylan makes a move to leave without saying goodbye but turns back to us. “Does this mean my phone is tapped?”

“Um, yeah.” Emma winces. “But not officially. Still, I wouldn’t conduct any other … business on that line.”

“See?” I point out. “You can trust us.”

“Fuck.” Rylan shakes his head, and this time he really doesn’t say goodbye. He proves he can move fast and make himself disappear in a crowd for the second time.

Mason smiles. “I think that went about as well as it could have. Please don’t tell me we have any other stops to make tonight. I’ve got to get back to the fam.”

The waiter never returned. Even so, I pull a twenty from my money clip and toss it on the table—my way of creating my own karma.

“We’re done for tonight. Let’s go.” I take Emma’s hand in mine and dread the fact we’re going to Levi’s place.

I need to get my house put back together. I need windows, locks, and a new security system so I can have Emma to myself again.