The Real Plan

Marcus's POV

Marcus's hands shook as he gripped the driving wheel. His phone had been ringing for ten minutes straight, but he couldn't answer it. Not when Emma was in danger upstairs.

"Answer the phone, Cole," he whispered to himself. But that wasn't even his real name.

The phone stopped ringing, then started again instantly. Marcus knew who it was. His FBI handler, Agent Thompson, possibly wondering why Marcus hadn't reported in for two days. But how could he explain that everything had changed the moment he saw Emma again?

Five years ago, he was Marcus Webb, a broken man ready to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. Emma Martinez had saved his life with her kind words and gentle smile. She'd given him hope when he had none left.

Now he was Ryan Cole, an undercover FBI agent whose job was to get close to Emma and use her as bait to catch Vincent Torrino.

The irony made him sick.

Marcus watched Emma's apartment window, his heart racing. Vincent was up there right now, probably threatening her. Marcus should have stayed with her. He should have protected her instead of running away like a coward when his phone started buzzing with important messages.

But his cover was everything. Three years of work building the Ryan Cole brand. Three years of following Vincent's human trafficking ring. Three years of watching innocent people suffer while he collected evidence.

And now Emma was stuck in the middle.

His phone rang again. This time, Marcus answered.

"Where the hell are you?" Agent Thompson's angry voice filled the car.

"I'm watching the target," Marcus lied smoothly. "Vincent made contact with Emma Martinez this morning."

"Good. Is she cooperating?"

Marcus closed his eyes. The FBI wanted Emma to help them catch Vincent, but they didn't care if she got killed in the process. To them, she was just another tool.

To Marcus, she was the woman who'd saved his life.

"She's scared," Marcus said slowly. "Vincent broke into her room. She might run."

"Don't let her. We need her to stay close to Vincent until we can move in."

"And if Vincent decides to kill her first?"

Agent Thompson was quiet for a moment. "That's a risk we have to take. Vincent has killed dozens of women, Cole. If we don't stop him now, he'll kill dozens more."

Marcus knew Thompson was right, but it didn't make him feel better. "How long do I have?"

"Two weeks, maybe three. We're still gathering evidence on his overseas ties. Keep Emma close, keep her safe, but don't let her run."

The line went dead.

Marcus threw his phone on the passenger seat and put his head in his hands. How had his life become so complicated? Six months ago, this task seemed simple. Get close to Emma Martinez, the woman who'd watched Vincent killing Federal Judge Morrison five years ago. Use her evidence to put Vincent away forever.

But Emma didn't even remember watching the murder. The FBI psychologist said stress could cause memory loss. Emma had blocked out the whole night, remembering only that she'd saved a stranger from death.

That stranger had been Marcus.

A movement in Emma's flat window caught his attention. The lights had been off for twenty minutes, but now they were on again. Marcus grabbed his glasses and looked up at the third floor.

Emma was walking back and forth, talking on her phone. She looked frightened.

Marcus's blood ran cold when he saw who was standing behind her.

Vincent Torrino had never left her room.

Marcus reached for his gun, then stopped. If he went up there now, his story would be blown. Three years of work would be lost. Vincent would flee, and dozens of trapped women would never be saved.

But if he didn't go up there, Emma might die.

His phone buzzed with a text message. Marcus looked down and his heart nearly stopped.

The message was from Emma's phone: "Help me. He's going to kill me. Please."

Marcus was out of the car and running toward the building before he could think. He took the steps three at a time, his gun drawn. He didn't care about his cover anymore. He didn't care about the FBI or Vincent's crime ring or anything else.

Emma was in trouble, and he was going to save her.

He reached Emma's floor and crept down the hallway. Her flat door was slightly open. Marcus could hear voices inside – Emma's scared whimper and Vincent's cold laugh.

"You really think someone's coming to save you?" Vincent was saying. "Your precious Ryan doesn't even exist. He's FBI, sweetheart. Everything he told you was a lie."

Marcus felt sick. Vincent knew his real name.

"That's impossible," Emma whispered.

"Oh, it's very possible. Agent Marcus Webb has been watching you for months, learning your habits, becoming exactly what you needed him to be. And you fell for it totally."

Marcus pressed himself against the wall, his mind running. How did Vincent know the truth? Who had misled him?

"But here's the really funny part," Vincent continued. "Webb doesn't know that I know who he is. He thinks he's so smart, but I've been playing him from the beginning."

Emma made a small, hurt sound. "So Ryan... Marcus... whoever he is... he was just using me?"

"Completely. Though I think the poor boy might have formed real feelings for you. That's going to make this so much more fun."

Marcus heard footsteps moving toward the door. Vincent was going, which meant Emma was either dead or coming with him.

Marcus had seconds to decide: show himself and save Emma, or stay hidden and try to save her later.

The footsteps stopped right on the other side of the door.

"You know what, Emma?" Vincent said softly. "I think I'll let you call your FBI boyfriend. Tell him goodbye."

Marcus heard Emma's phone calling. His phone started ringing in his pocket.

Vincent laughed. "Answer it, Agent Webb. I know you're listening."