Page 100 of Believing in a Billionaire
“What do you mean?” Grant asked.
“I mean it’s telling me your wife was last seen in Singapore, and your daughter in Zimbabwe.”
Grant’s eyebrows knitted as he stared at the screen. “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. There’s something odd here.”
He clicked a few buttons before he minimized the window.
“What are you doing?”
“Running a diagnostic on the program. It’ll take about an hour. Maybe then we can figure out what’s happening. In the meantime, is there anything I can do about the financial situation?” Mike skirted the desk and reclaimed his chair.
“It’s not looking good. I can’t get anyone to give us the money. And even cobbling together the offers I do have, we’re not even at half.”
“I may have a few connections who have quick access to cash. I can call them, but it’s…tricky.”
“Does that translate to less-than-legal?”
Mike lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “It translates to methods you don’t need to be privy to. However, they will want some…assurances. But I’m certain you can provide them. Just say the word, and I’ll make the call.”
Grant leapt from his chair, pacing the length of his office, each step echoing his mounting desperation. Was he ready to cross this line? He flexed his jaw as he considered the riskyproposition. “Let me try a few more people before I make that call.”
Mike bobbed his head. “Absolutely. I’ll keep this in my back pocket in case we need it.”
He rose from the chair, buttoning his jacket before he strode silently from the room. Grant collapsed into his chair, his brain a scramble of worry on every front.
He glanced at his monitor, staring at the minimized program Mike had used to track Julia’s and Sierra’s phones. Why had it not worked? And where were they?
He snatched his phone from the desk, desperate to make contact. His thumb hovered over the call icon next to Sierra’s name before he shook his head. She wouldn’t answer. She said as much.
At least she’d seemed confident that they were fine. However, he’d rarely known Sierra not to be confident. Sometimes too confident.
He tapped his fingers against the desk, drumming out a frantic rhythm as his mind spun in a thousand directions.
With a deep sigh, he forced himself to scroll past his daughter’s name and on to another financial contact. He pressed the call button and waited for the man to pick up.
“Charles,” Grant said, trying to force some levity in his voice despite the storm brewing inside of him, “thanks for taking my call at this hour.”
“Grant, what can I do for you?” the man asked.
“Lend me some money. I need a quick cash infusion for a project, and I’d love to throw my business your way.”
“Really?” Charles asked, the surprise obvious in his tone.
“Of course. We’ve been friends for a long time. I couldn’t think of a better person to include on this.”
Silence stretched between them before Charles finally spoke again. “How much are we talking? Word on the street is you’re already dangerously close to overextending yourself.”
“That’s completely false. This is a short-term loan. I plan to repay it in a few months. That’s how sure I am.”
“So, what’s the bottom line?” Charles asked.
Grant’s jaw tightened as he stared at the number on the sheet in front of him. He swallowed hard before he passed it along, trying to inject as much confidence into his voice as possible.
The laugh on the other end of the line stripped him of most of it. “Grant, you can’t be serious.”
“I am. Can you do it or not?” He tightened his grip on the phone as he waited for the answer.
