Page 107 of Defending You
Bartlett said, “We should wait?—”
“No.” Grant looked at his old friend and former employer. “We don’t need it.”
“Those aren’t your people in there.” Bartlett pointed to Asher. “He’s not your people. You’re not the one who has to tell his family that you got him killed.”
Oh.
Bartlett didn’t think he was incompetent. He thought he was valuable.
For all his talk in the last two days about the bottom line, what mattered most was the care of the people he protected and the people he employed.
Asher didn’t hate his employer’s priorities. But they didn’t align with his own. Rather than argue, he decided it wasn’t his place to jump into the conflict between the two men, but he trusted Grant. Bartlett hardly ever left the office anymore. His job was to coordinate the protection agents.
Grant, on the other hand, had field experience, and lots of it. He squared off with Bartlett. “You have to trust me.”
The two men stared at each other while the rest of them waited.
Finally, Bartlett’s gaze flicked to Asher. He blinked. “Right. Okay. Just…”
“I get it, man. I know.” Grant’s gaze shifted to Asher, then to Callan. “Let’s nail down the details.”
They figured out the timeline and assigned roles. Finally, they were ready.
Asher’d been involved in a lot of dangerous operations in his life, but none had ever had the stakes this one did, not for him, anyway. Because the woman he loved—and yeah, he was calling it that—was in danger. If he screwed this up, then…then she might not walk out of this alive.
That was an outcome he wasn’t willing to live with.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Cici barely dared to move, the silence in the office so complete that every shift felt magnified, drawing attention to her presence.
She’d scooched as far from Mendez’s blood as the zip ties would allow, but the metallic scent clung to the stale air. The crimson pool had spread wide, forcing her to draw her knees up to keep it from seeping into her jeans.
Falcone had disappeared with most of the commandos twenty minutes before. She’d caught the relief in his eyes when the scarred leader had barked orders at him—anything, she assumed, to escape Gagnon’s suffocating presence and the blood-stained office where Mendez had died.
What would it feel like to know your actions had led to someone else’s murder? Falcone could’ve kept his mouth shut about not being able to locate Asher’s body. He hadn’t, and now a man was dead. It was possible he didn’t care at all or was more worried about what Gagnon would do to him for keeping the information quiet for so long.
The more time that crawled by in oppressive quiet, the more Cici dared to hope. If Asher really was alive—and these guys seemed convinced—it was possible he was too injured to mounta rescue operation on his own. He’d been barely conscious before the men had gotten to them, then thrown over a cliff. She prayed he wasn’t too hurt, just enough that he wouldn’t come charging in alone like some action movie hero. Surely, he’d get help, call the authorities, let someone else?—
“Status report.” Gagnon’s voice cut through her desperate thoughts as he spoke into the comm device the commando leader had left him. The response came in the form of clipped words that told her there was nothing going on, nothing to report.
Souza hadn’t moved from his position near the door, hadn’t spoken a word since Mendez’s execution. But his dark eyes barely left her, boring into her with an intensity that made her skin crawl, as if she were personally responsible for every complication in his miserable life.
Gagnon’s cell phone vibrated against the metal desk, the sound sharp and intrusive. He glanced at the screen, squinting as he read something there. Then he looked up, first at Souza, then at Cici, and she caught a flicker of something that might have been satisfaction.
“Interesting,” he murmured, setting the phone down and drumming his fingers against its surface. “It seems your bodyguard is more resourceful than I gave him credit for.”
Cici’s heart lurched. “What do you mean?”
“No idea how, but he’s made contact.”
“We had your number.” The lie slid from her lips before she’d fully formulated it. The last thing she wanted was for Gagnon to believe Asher had help.
But how else could he have gotten Gagnon’s cell number?Please, Lord, let him not be working alone.
Even as she breathed the prayer, she realized Alyssa could’ve gotten the number for him. That didn’t mean there was anyone out there with him. He could still be alone.
Gagnon’s smile was as cold as winter. “Seems he wants to negotiate.”
