Hooked Emily Mcintire Novels & Stories

Before they walk forward, Eloise looks to Stanley who gives her a reassuring look. The lead detective knock gently and after a short while, the door swings open to reveal Emily. As always, she is poised and elegant in a short black dress and black heels. Her hair is blown out and light so that the wind from the outside blows them freely. In her hand is a half full glass of wine which she holds on tightly too for dear life. When she sees those before her, her eyes widen in surprise. The surprise is quickly replaced by panic. "What’s the meaning of this?" she demands, her voice dripping with disdain. "Emily Flores," one of the officers steps forward, "you are under arrest for conspiracy, haras

Smith glared at her daughter for not replying and being so rude. Miranda nodded and bowed to the detective, doctor and Mike as she went away, a small smile on her lips. Emmy couldn’t stop staring at her, she knows that she is sure that she had seen the tattoo that showed on Miranda’s waist because her shirt rode up when she tried to open the door. She also wondered where she knew the nurse that was entering to make her nod firmly to her, as if confirming something. -----------------

Marcus nodded once, his expression carefully neutral as he stared down at his phone, fingers hovering over the screen as if he might receive another update at any second. "Nothing serious, ma'am," he said in that calm, professional tone of his. "Miss Emily was emotional and driving recklessly. The officers detained her temporarily for her own safety and to prevent any accidents." I released a shaky breath, letting my body sink back against the headboard. The movement sent a dull throb through my temples. That actually sounded exactly like Emily. Dramatic and a little impulsive, yet fiercely stubborn to her core. Even in her pain, she charged forward like a storm that refused to be tamed.

Twenty-one missed calls. All from Emily. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, scrubbing a rough hand down his face, feeling the day's exhaustion catch up to him all at once. In the chaos of the raid, the gunfire, the chase across half the city, the arrest, the drive to the off-book warehouse, the interrogation of Don Emilio, and then straight into questioning Mira without so much as a breath in between, he'd completely forgotten to call her. Emily Dawson had been sitting in her living room for hours, pacing the same stretch of hardwood floor, not knowing whether her daughter was alive, whether the mission had succeeded, or whether she'd ever see Jems again in this life.

“And now you’re slandering my good name, in public. I’ll be sure that my uncle, the department head, hears about this. What was your name again?” He didn’t answer her question. Instead he responded, “Oh, I see. So you’re Emily Jones.” Mistaking his lack of regard as backing down, Emily barrels on ahead, her tone lifting to gain attention from anyone nearby who might overhear. “Yes, that’s right. I’m Emily Jones, one of the elite researchers working under Dr. Winchester. If he knew how you were treating me, like this, he’d report you to the head of the department, my uncle Dr. Harold Jones.”

She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head as she sits on the edge of the bed. “No,” she says. “It didn’t feel off.” I frown slightly. She looks up at me, her expression sharpening. “It is off,” she corrects. “But not because of tonight.” She crosses her arms. “Emily knows something’s coming. Her contacts aren’t talking. Hunter’s already been arrested. There’s too much going on behind the scenes.” She tilts her head slightly. “She knows.” I exhale slowly, running a hand down my face. “Yeah,” I mutter. “I think she does too.”

“Jonathan bumped into Lucy’s handler at the hotel spa. We planted trackers. We found burner phones. But every time we got close, Albert slipped away. When we realized Charlotte was already taken, already drugged, we moved fast. Too fast, probably. I did not want Jonathan involved, but he insisted. Nathan came too. And I knew I had to end it before… before something happened to her that no one could fix.” Emily leans forward. “I am listening.” I nod, throat tight. “The night we intercepted the boats… when I saw her on the deck, tied up, bruised… something inside me snapped. I did not think. I leaped. I fought. I remember hearing Jonathan yelling. I remember the shots. I remember dragging Albe

“You didn’t think I put those handcuffs on you, did you?” She walked towards the door and opened it, and two large men in dark suits stepped in. Emily stood behind them with a twisted smile, and she said in a sweet voice, “Honey, these are Detectives Lawson and Bradley. They said they would like to have a word with you about the accident. I hope you don’t mind.”

The call went through on the second ring “Elijah. I want the footage from the restaurant. Every hallway camera, cross-check for unknown individuals. Anyone not on the guest list and pull Intel on the caballos, the contis, and anybody else with a death wish.” “Yes, sir," Elijah replied without hesitation. I hung up and parked at an old bridge I didn't know for how long I stood there for, but I later ended up booking a hotel ** The next morning, I met Emery at the balcony, drinking coffee from the mugs I had kept for her, but she froze, and I knew something was wrong the moment she stopped breathing. Emery sat across from me, her fingers frozen around her coffee mug, her skin draining of all c

I sat in a hard plastic chair in the hallway, wrapped in a jacket that belonged to Dani, my hands folded tightly in my lap to hide how badly they were still shaking. A few feet away, a heavy metal door separated us from the interrogation room where Emily was being questioned. Through the thick glass of the two-way mirror in the observation room, Dani and Ross were watching her every move. I couldn't bear to stand in the observation room itself, but the door was cracked just enough that Detective Miller’s voice, and Emily’s sharp, mocking replies, drifted out into the hall.