Page 24 of The Savior

“He deems you responsible.” Westin stroked his beard. “Just like he holds himself responsible. You fucked with his head. Now he’s here to fuck with yours.”

Westin was correct. A mind fuck had Liam by the balls. Every question, every memory that he replayed every day for more than a year.How would the outcome have changed if I hadn’t tried to be a hero?That bravado had forced him to lose the greater battle.

“Look, Brosnan.” Westin planted his fists on the table. “We need your help to end this.”

He blinked, surprised by the quick turn in the conversation. “What kind of help?”

“It’s simple,” Sorenson said. “Give us a list of your loved ones.”

They wanted him to name a potential hit list. But he didn’t have anyone anymore.

Black produced a paper and pen. “Write it down. That’s easier.”

Numbness stiffened his hand as he picked up the pen. Its cool black metal weighted his fingers down as if he’d grasped a cinder block. “I’m not close to anyone but the Nymans.” He scrawled out their names—Frank and Linda.

“The kindergarten teacher and the banker?” Black asked.

Liam straightened. “The Nymans are in danger?”

They didn’t answer.

“Your father?” Black asked.

Liam shook his head. “We’re not close. We haven’t talked in years. I couldn’t tell you where he is.”

Black took back the paper and didn’t ask about his mother. Liam guessed that meant they’d done their research beyond the Nymans, but reassurance didn’t come. “Are Linda and Frank in danger?” Obviously, they were. “What are we going to do?”

“Nothing,” Sorenson said.

Liam balked. “What?”

“What the senator means,” Westin snarled, “is we are in a unique position.”

“Wearen’t in a position.I am.”

“With only one target, we know who Pham will likely hit next.”

Their cavalier wording hit him like an avalanche. “Let’s be clear. If the Nymans are in danger—”

“Let’s be clear,” Sorenson snipped. “You are the best opportunity our country has had to apprehend an international terrorist. The greater good is most important. Above our personal concerns.”

Westin’s jaw ticked, and if Liam didn’t need to know more, the meeting would end right then.

Westin glared at the senator then added, “Look, Brosnan. Pham doesn’t know we’re on to him. The Nymans cannot deviate from their normal schedules.”

He resisted. “You want to use them as bait? They’re civilians.”

“They’re targets,” Sorenson corrected. “Whether you like the truth or not.”

“No way.” He’d hide the Nymans himself then patrol the streets if it kept them safe.

Sorenson steepled her fingers. The glittering bracelets dropped down onto the cuff of her suit jacket and twinkled under the bright light. Each sparkle stood out of place in the sterile glass room. “No one wants the Nymans to be in danger, and everyone knows we have a duty to protect our country.”

Her condescension only pressed salt into a wound. “They need a protective detail.”

“No,” she said firmly. “With the exception that you can keep an eye on them from a distance—ifyou can do so without tipping Pham off.”

No problem, if wrapping their yard in razor wire and bunking on the front porch with artillery meant he wouldn’t tip off Pham. “I’ll talk to them.”

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