Page 148 of Liar's Point

“Nicole.”

She reached for her crutches in the back.

“You need to stay here,” he said.

She planted her crutches and pulled herself to her feet.

“Nikki, come on.”

She glanced at him over the roof of the car. “What?”

“You need to stay back. You’re not in any shape to participate in a takedown right now.”

“Is that what this is?”

Before he could answer, she turned to look at the other two vehicles. All three federal agents were crowded around the trunk of their unmarked unit, dragging out tactical vests and weapons. Owen and Adam were doing the same from the LBPD vehicle.

Nicole watched Emmet pop the trunk of their car and pull out a Kevlar vest. Her throat went dry. She’d seen him gear up before, but it felt different now.

“You can’t do this on crutches,” he said, strapping the vest on.

He gave her a sharp look as he slammed the trunk shut and walked over to hand her an extra vest. “I repeat, stay here. Better yet—stay inside the car.”

She took the vest from him.

“Yo, Emmet, come on, man.”

They looked over, and Owen was motioning him to the huddle, where they were obviously putting together a plan.

Emmet dug his phone from his pocket. “Here.” He held it out it to her. “Call Brady and give him an update for us.”

She took the phone, which was obviously her consolation prize.

“And do it from the car, okay?”

She looked at the huddle again, where everyone was gearing up to either go over or through that big black gate somehow.

“Nicole.”

She looked at Emmet. He reached up and gently touched her cheek, right there in front of Owen and Adam and everyone.

“Please?” he said, and the plea in his eyes made her chest hurt.

“Fine.”

His hand dropped. “Thank you.”

***

Twenty-six acres,” Agent Raddick was telling everyone. “Looks like it’s divided into rectangular sections.”

Everyone peered down at the satellite map on the agent’s tablet.

“I called the number posted on the gate there.”

Emmet turned around as the younger FBI agent rushed over with his phone in his hand. His cheeks were flushed, as though just wearing his vest was putting a strain on him. He seemed to be the tech expert here. Did the guy even have SWAT training? Emmet doubted it. He seemed like he spent more time in front of a computer than conducting tactical operations.

“And?” Driscoll asked him.

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