Chapter 7 - THE BODYGUARD
Amy stared at him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
The man was in his forties, broad-shouldered, calm.
“Good,” Amy said.
He nodded toward her phone.
“Call Margaret.”
She did.
Margaret answered immediately.
“Amy?”
“There’s a man in an alley claiming you sent him.”
“Gray hair? Awful blue tie?”
The man looked down at his tie.
“It’s navy,” he muttered.
Amy almost laughed despite herself.
“Yes.”
“That’s Thomas Hale.”
“Who is he?”
“Former federal agent. He handled security for my husband years ago.”
Thomas held out his ID.
Amy checked it.
Margaret continued.
“I sent him after you left New York.”
“How did he find me?”
“He tracked Daniel’s calls.”
Amy’s expression hardened.
Thomas raised one hand.
“With permission.”
“Whose permission?”
“His.”
Amy nearly threw the phone.
“Of course.”
Margaret spoke quickly.
“Amy, I know you asked us not to track you. But after Ryan’s accident—”
“You mean attack.”
“Yes.”
Amy looked toward the diner’s front entrance.
The man in the baseball cap stepped back outside.
He scanned the street.
Thomas saw him too.
His posture changed.
“Get in the car.”
“Yours?”
“Yes.”
“How do I know he isn’t with you?”
Thomas gave her a tired look.
“You don’t. But he’s reaching inside his jacket.”
That was enough.
Amy ran.
Thomas opened a sedan parked behind a delivery truck.
They got inside.
He accelerated before she had fully buckled the seat belt.
The man from the diner ran into the street.
For one terrifying second, Amy saw something black in his hand.
Not a gun.
A phone.
He photographed the car.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Great.”
Thomas made three quick turns.
“Daniel thinks Ryan and Vanessa were working with someone inside an acquisition firm.”
“Which one?”
“Blackwell Capital.”
Amy knew the name.
Everyone in New York finance knew it.
Blackwell bought troubled companies, split assets, cut labor, and sold the pieces.
“They want Harrison Freight?”
“For months.”
“Daniel refused?”
“Repeatedly.”
“So they go after his marriage?”
Thomas glanced at her.
“They go after leverage.”
Amy placed a hand over her stomach.
“Me.”
“Possibly.”
“The baby.”
“Possibly.”
She hated that word.
“Can you stop saying possibly?”
“Would you prefer I lie?”
She looked at him.
“No.”
“Then possibly.”
Amy almost liked him.
Almost.
Thomas drove toward a private residence outside the city.
On the way, Amy received another anonymous message.
Thomas is safe. For now.
She showed him.
His face hardened.
“Whoever this is knows where we are.”
“I noticed.”
“Turn off the phone.”
“If I do, we lose the source.”
“If you don’t, they can track you.”
Amy looked at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
Ryan wasn’t trying to hurt you. He was trying to get out.
Thomas read it.
“That changes things.”
“How?”
“If Ryan wanted out, someone needed him quiet.”
Amy thought of the crash.
“And Vanessa?”
“Maybe she ran.”
“Or?”
“Maybe she didn’t get the chance.”
Amy’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
Not a text this time.
A call.
Thomas shook his head.
“Don’t.”
Amy answered.
“Hello?”
Static.
Then a woman’s voice.
Weak.
Breathing fast.
“Amy?”
Amy straightened.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Vanessa.”
Amy’s whole body went cold.
Thomas mouthed, speaker.
Amy turned it on.
Vanessa whispered, “I need your help.”
Amy stared at the phone.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I didn’t sleep with Daniel.”
“I know.”
A pause.
“You know?”
“I know about Ryan.”
Vanessa started crying.
Not elegant crying.
Ugly, breathless crying.
“They’re going to kill him.”
“Who?”
“Blackwell.”
Thomas leaned closer.
“Where are you?”
Vanessa ignored him.
“Amy, Ryan copied everything. Contracts. Payments. Emails. They were bribing board members.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Daniel wouldn’t sell.”
“I know.”
“So they needed him vulnerable.”
Amy’s stomach turned.
Vanessa continued.
“They wanted a divorce scandal. They wanted you unstable. They wanted Daniel distracted, embarrassed, under pressure from the board.”
“And you helped them.”
Silence.
“Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
Amy closed her eyes.
“You planted the texts.”
“Yes.”
“You made sure I saw them.”
“Yes.”
“The dance?”
Vanessa sobbed.
“Yes.”
Amy gripped the phone.
“You humiliated me for money?”
“No. For Ryan.”
“That’s worse.”
“I know.”
Thomas cut in.
“Where are you?”
Vanessa whispered something.
Amy leaned closer.
“What?”
“Storage facility. Newark.”
Then they heard a door slam on Vanessa’s end.
Her breathing stopped.
A man’s voice said, “Who are you calling?”
May you like
Vanessa screamed.
The line went dead.
