The Phone Call

Emma's POV

Emma's finger shook over Ryan's number on her phone. Vincent stood behind her, his cold breath on her neck.

"Call him," Vincent whispered. "Tell him you love him one last time."

Emma's heart was beating so fast she thought it might burst. Vincent had just told her that Ryan was really an FBI agent named Marcus Webb. That everything between them had been a lie. That Ryan had been using her to catch Vincent.

But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was staying alive.

Emma hit the call button.

The phone rang once. Twice. On the third ring, Ryan answered.

"Emma? Are you okay?" His voice sounded different. Scared. Desperate.

"Ryan?" Emma whispered, trying not to cry.

"Emma, listen to me very carefully," Ryan said, and his voice was shaking. "Don't trust Vincent. Whatever he's told you, whatever he's threatening, don't believe him."

Vincent smiled and pressed the gun harder against Emma's back. He'd been holding it there for ten minutes, making sure she knew what would happen if she tried to run.

"He says you're FBI," Emma whispered into the phone. "He says your name is Marcus Webb."

There was silence on the other end. Emma's heart sank. The silence told her everything she needed to know.

"Emma," Ryan finally said, and now his voice was broken. "Yes, I'm FBI. But I can explain—"

"You lied to me," Emma whispered. Hot tears rolled down her face. "Everything was a lie."

"No!" Ryan's voice was desperate now. "Not everything. Emma, what I felt for you, what I feel for you, that's real. That was never part of the job."

Vincent laughed quietly behind her. "Tell him goodbye, Emma."

"I have to go," Emma whispered.

"Wait!" Ryan shouted through the phone. "Emma, meet me at the old subway stop on 42nd Street. The one that's been closed for years. Do you know it?"

Emma nodded, even though he couldn't see her. She'd written a story about that abandoned station last year.

"Come alone," Ryan continued. "In one hour. I'll explain everything. I'll tell you the truth about why I'm really here."

"She's not going anywhere," Vincent said, loud enough for Ryan to hear.

"Vincent?" Ryan's voice turned hard and scary. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you myself."

"You'll try," Vincent answered. "But first, you should know something interesting, Agent Webb."

Emma felt Vincent's grip tighten on her shoulder.

"Emma didn't just save your life five years ago," Vincent said into the phone. "She also saw you kill Federal Judge Morrison."

"What?" Emma gasped. "That's impossible. Ryan would never—"

"Not Ryan," Vincent interrupted. "Marcus. The broken man you saved from death. He killed Judge Morrison right after you left him on the bridge."

Emma's world spun. "No. No, that's not true."

"Ask him," Vincent said. "Ask your precious Marcus if he killed Judge Morrison."

The phone was quiet for so long that Emma thought Ryan had hung up.

"Marcus?" Emma whispered. "Is it true?"

"Emma," Ryan's voice was barely heard. "I didn't have a choice. Morrison was working for Vincent. He was helping Vincent trade children. I had to stop him."

Emma felt sick. The man she'd saved, the man she'd fallen in love with, was a killer.

"But you're FBI," she whispered. "You're supposed to arrest criminals, not kill them."

"I wasn't FBI then," Ryan said quietly. "I was just... broken. Angry. I wanted justice for all the children Morrison had hurt."

Vincent was smiling now, enjoying every second of Emma's pain.

"So you see, my dear Emma," Vincent said, "you didn't save a good man that night. You saved a killer. And then you fell in love with him all over again."

Emma couldn't breathe. Everything she believed about that night, about Ryan, about herself, was falling down around her.

"Emma," Ryan's voice came through the phone, desperate and begging. "I'm not that guy anymore. Joining the FBI, working secretly, it was my way of making up for what I did. I'm trying to save people now."

"By using me as bait?" Emma asked, her voice getting louder with anger.

"I never wanted you to get hurt. That's why I'm going to end this tonight. Meet me at the subway stop. We'll face Vincent together."

"Don't listen to him," Vincent whispered in Emma's ear. "He's planning to sacrifice you to catch me. That's what FBI agents do. They use people."

Emma closed her eyes. Who could she trust? The man who'd lied to her for months, or the man who'd killed her cousin?

Maybe she couldn't trust either of them.

"Okay," Emma said into the phone. "I'll meet you at the subway station."

Vincent nodded approvingly.

"Come alone," Emma continued. "No FBI help. No tricks. Just you."

"Emma—" "Promise me," Emma said firmly. "Or I won't come."

"I promise," Ryan said. "Just you and me."

Emma hung up the phone.

Vincent smiled and put his gun away. "Very good. Now, let's go have some fun."

"Wait," Emma said. "Why are you letting me go to him? Aren't you afraid he'll arrest you?"

Vincent's smile grew bigger. "Oh, my dear girl. Marcus Webb isn't going to arrest me tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've been planning this for five years. Ever since that night on the bridge when you saved his life and he killed my business partner. Tonight, I'm going to kill both of you."

Emma's blood turned to ice. "But you're letting me go to him."

"Because he's not going to be alone," Vincent said. "No matter what he told you, FBI agents never work alone. He'll bring backup. And when he does, I'll be ready for all of them."

Emma realized with growing fear what Vincent was planning. "You're using me to trap him."

"And he's using you to trap me. The difference is, I'm going to win."

Vincent grabbed Emma's arm and started walking toward the door.

"Where are we going?" Emma asked.

"To the subway stop, of course. But we're taking a different way than Marcus expects."

As they left the apartment, Emma saw Vincent pull out his phone and send a quick text message.

The word was simple: "It's time."

Emma had no idea who Vincent was texting, but she had a bad feeling that Ryan was walking into something much worse than a trap.

He was walking into a trap.

And Emma was the bait.