Page 185 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

“I think we should. Just in case.” Emma pressed her thumbs to her temples. “Maybe they should do the whole living room.”

She wanted every spec of Fletcher’s DNA removed from the apartment. “Would calling in a crime scene cleaner be too extreme?”

“Oh, Emma.” George’s thin but surprisingly muscular armswrapped around her. “It’s going to be okay. The memory of it will fade—trust me.”

Emma knew George spoke from experience, but it was different for her. This attack had occurred in theirhome.

“It’s not me. Not really.” Emma fought back tears. “I am having a hard time having my baby play here in this space.”

She watched Stella, willing herself to calm down. It didn’t seem possible. “Maybe we should stay downstairs in my mom’s place for a while.”

George’s brow creased. “If you think that’s best. But let’s get those cleaners in here too. We can replace the entire carpet.”

Emma was still mulling that over when the men came out of the office.

They moved like a pack of wolves—smooth, coordinated, and utterly silent. And not just the two who ran their own private security company. Garrett and Rainer were moving the same way, the elite training they’d undergone with the others suddenly obvious.

It freaked her out.

Emma was on her feet and across the room before she knew it. “Where are you going?”

Garrett’s hand brushed her hair aside, but his face didn’t soften.

“Toya checked out a place Fletcher owns in a little town down the Baja Peninsula called Puerto Nuevo. He bought it on a whim because he liked the restaurant downstairs. The electric meter started up the day he disappeared.”

“It did?”

That didn’t sound right. The one time Fletcher had spoken Spanish within earshot of her, haranguing a waiter at the wedding, he’d mangled every word.

“Are you sure? He doesn’t seem the type to subject himself to any sort of inconvenience.”

Fletcher was the type of American who’d get annoyed if anyone spoke anything other than English, even if he was the one in a foreign country.

“He isn’t, but it’s stillin his name.”

“Aren’t a lot of other places too?” Garrett had multiple homes. It made sense that Fletcher would too.

He stroked her upper arms. “Yes, but given the timing, we have to check it out.”

Emma stepped closer and fisted a hand in his shirt. Part of her wanted to cling harder, to tie him to the furniture. “Are you sure you should go? Can’t Elias and Ian go check? It’s what they do.”

Garrett took her hand, his hold light as he pressed his thumb to the center of her palm. “I’m the one he fucked over. I have to go. But I don’t want you to worry. We’ll be taking every precaution.”

That just made her heart race faster.

“What does that mean?” She checked that Stella was still occupied before leaning closer to whisper, “That you’re going to wear body armor?”

His hands came to rest on her shoulders. “Yes. And we’re taking an entire team with us—guys Rainer and I both trained with. They’re pros. You have nothing to worry about.”

She cast her nervous gaze across the room. George and Rainer appeared to be having a very similar conversation by the couch.

Emma gripped his shirt a little tighter. “I know better than to try and stop you, so I’m not going to. I don’t care if it looks stupid—wear a helmet. And it better be bulletproof.”

He put his hands over hers. “It will be. Not that I’ll need it. He’s probably not there. But if he is, it’s not going to be just me gunning for him.”

Garrett gestured to the militia mobilizing around them. Computers were being packed into secure cases, vests, and tactical belts stored in heavy packs.

She took a deep breath, trying to find comfort in the preparation. Her husband did have a point. Fletcher had no idea of the shitstorm he’d brought down on his head.

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