Page 131 of The Bodyguard

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

A phone call from Parker interrupted a lovely breakfast after a fitful night of tossing and turning and thinking of wishes and dreams. Angela was almost glad to have work to focus on as she and Sawyer retreated to the living room to take Parker’s phone call.

“Two things,” Parker said. “First, Angela, you’ll be happy to hear that Mylene Hathaway has been transported to a first-rate mental health facility and will be reunited with her family.”

Angela’s heart jumped into her throat, and tears burned at the back of it. She was a ball of emotions. None had been focused on Mylene, but they were all about to be. “Really?”

“Really,” Parker confirmed. “Hang on—”

“Angela?” Jared barked, joining the call.

“Yes, sir?”

“You did it. Mission accomplished.”

She did, didn’t she? Her fingers pressed to her throat. Angela couldn’t speak and looked to Sawyer to say something. If she had to talk, she might cry in an over-the-top kind of way and embarrass herself.

He read her loud and clear. “Angela’s the kind of happy where nothing’s coming out of her mouth.”

Jared and Parker chuckled.

“Thanks,” she mouthed.

“Was there a second thing?” Sawyer asked. “Or should we just throw ourselves a little congratulatory party?”

“Yeah, there’s more. Federal prosecutors told Pham’s lawyers to shove it. Negotiations are off. They’re sticking to the trial schedule. The judge says they have time to make up for.”

Her eyes opened wide. A whole new level of emotion made her head spin like a Tasmanian Devil. White noise roared in Angela’s ears. The trial had seemed years away. Ibrahim hadtried to prep her as those years had ticked by, but she’d pushed reality away. The trial would always be next month, next year. Pham would always be the good guy and bad guy and person she had to testify against. Violent, stomach-churning nausea made the room feel too warm.

“Which means,” Parker continued, “opening statements could be as soon as next week.”

Angela tried to focus on Sawyer as though he were a lighthouse in a tumultuous sea. Strong and tall and capable. But worry tightened on his face. That didn’t bode well for her beacon of stability.

“What does that mean for witnesses?” Sawyer asked.

Good. He was asking questions to get the answers she needed. Angela hadn’t even thought about when she was supposed to testify. No, her panic was stuck at square one. The trial would start. After years of building this court case, it was time for action.

“It’s the prosecution’s prerogative as to who’s called when. Opening statement and then they’ll be off and running. Angela, they’ll want to speak with you soon.”

Her head swam. She tried to nod. Panic blanketed her chest, compressing until each breath was a shallow, racing mess. Parker continued talking, but she couldn’t hear him. White noise and a little screeching voice in her head yelled that she would see Pham next week.

Oh, God. If not next week, then very, very soon. Bile rose into her throat. “I’m going to see Pham,” she tried to say but wasn’t sure that any words came out of her mouth.

“Angela?” Sawyer put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a little shake.

She couldn’t focus on him. Her tongue felt thick. Swimming through the nausea, she swayed.

“Guys, we’ll call you back.” Sawyer hung up. “Ange, hey? You okay?”

Years had passed since she saw Pham. Her mind had been so screwed up then. He abducted her! How had she ever thought of him as family? Her stomach roiled, twisting and tying into revolting knots. Cold sweat and confused memories prickled over her skin.

“Ange, look at me.” His hands squeezed her shoulders. “Focus on me.”

As her head swam, her eyes pinched shut. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Sawyer half carried, half hustled her to the bathroom. Her legs gave out. Gently, he laid her on the cold tile floor. She curled into a ball, pressing her pounding temple to the tile.

Sawyer remained close. She could hear him speak but wasn’t sure of what he said. Thoughts of testifying bore down on her with strangling force. Pham had stolen her life and pretended to care about her, but he didn’t. She was a wealthy man’s plaything, used and abused without a finger laid on her.

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