Page 29 of Bastard

“You’re freaking me out a little,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, well. That’s because I’m a little freaked out.”

“But why?” She shrank closer to me than usual when we were in public.

“Because something’s not right.” A split second later, a shot rang out. The crowd screamed. I pushed Sam down and stood over her. What a fucking day to skip the vest. Chaos erupted as fans ran into the street, down the sidewalk, and attempted to gain entrance to the office building.

Storm got the car door open and I shielded Sam while she scrambled for the Rolls Royce and the safety of the bulletproof car.

“Plan?” Storm asked.

“Only one shot?”

He nodded once.

That was fucking weird. “Anyone hit?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Get Sam to the apartment and lock her down.” I would do it myself, but I was needed here. “Just you and Teddy.” I hadn’t used Home Run’s real name in a long time, but it was what Sam preferred and I wanted her to feel safe.

“You got it, boss.”

I breathed a little easier when the car pulled away. By then the cops were on us, trying to make sense of it all. At least the building had cameras. The officers allowed us to view the footage in case we recognized anyone in the crowd, but in the end all we came away with was that someone shot a bullet into the air from the middle of the crowd. The person ran away with the first wave of fans. No second shot. No attempt to move towards Sam.

“Probably someone hoping to scare her,” Officer Pike suggested. “In the future, when she has a meeting that draws a crowd like this, please coordinate with us. We can arrange escorts and secure perimeters.”

I didn’t like that her fame had exploded to this level. It made everyone and everything feel like a potential threat. “We’ll do that.”

I was handed a card with contact information and promised to be updated if anything developed in the case.

I didn’t expect them to find anything.

It was interesting though. The way they treated me. As if I was the absolute authority on the scene. I’m sure part of it came from the suit and confidence, while the rest had everything to do with the Roark-Stroman name. If this was going legit, I liked it. I got the same respect but without the constant threat of being arrested and thrown in a cell for the rest of my life.

“What if it was just a crazed fan,” Storm said. We sat and stood around the kitchen island in Sam’s newly refurbished two-story apartment. It had blinding white surfaces, glass, and chrome everywhere. I’m sure everything was expensive and state of the art, but I didn’t have time to appreciate it.

Sam frowned. “But all they did was scare everyone. They didn’t hurt me or even say anything. It was so random.”

And that’s what bothered me the most. “I think someone was making a statement. They wanted us to know they could get close. And they probably want you scared, Sam.” It sure as shit sounded like a Feyereisen move.

But that didn’t mean it was. With all the conspiracy theorists in a frenzy over Baby Victoria being found, we couldn’t discount that it was simply an obsessed fan incapable of dealing with their emotional state in a healthy way.

As if he were reading my mind, Storm brought up his work identifying the more active websites. “We’ve been able to identify the owners of five of the websites pushing Baby Victoria conspiracies. But the one with the biggest chat room, the Dark-Files-Black-Box site, we’re still working on. They went through all the proper channels to hide their identity. Which of course makes me uncomfortable.”

“Because they’re professional,” Sam murmured. “At Excel we sometimes use an algorithm to identify any patterns the owners may have. Posting at the same time of day, vocabulary choices, things like that to help narrow down the possibilities. From there it’s easier to extrapolate identity. I can hook you up with our guy at Excel if you think it might help.”

Storm looked to me for permission. I gave a single nod. If Sam could help us, I wasn’t going to say no. It was her safety on the line after all.

“Yeah. Let’s get it done,” Storm said. “I bring it up because the chatter on the Dark File site has been aggressive and weird. The weirdest one is that Sam is a clone developed in the Stroman labs and she’s going to spark the end of humanity or some crazy shit like that. The other is that Sam’s not really Baby Victoria. She’s someone Georgia found that looked enough like her to pass her off as her daughter. They’re convinced a genetic test will prove they’re lying.”

“Do people have nothing better to do with their time than make up stories about my DNA?” Sam massaged her temples and closed her eyes.

I wanted to tell the guys to fuck off so I could relax her by every means necessary, but we needed to finish our conversation first. “Until we know otherwise, we assume someone is trying to kill Sam.” Not that we weren’t already. “No slacking. Vests at all times. At least two of us with Sam.” I gently took her hand and lowered my voice to something I hoped was calming. “You’re never to be alone with anyone else on the team.”

She nodded once. “You really think someone might infiltrate the team to get to me?”

“It’s possible,” Home Run said quietly. “It’s also possible they could be bought. You’re a high value target. If someone wants you dead there are literally billions on the line.”

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