I clutch her wrist. “Grab the sat phone from our closet. Call 911 if I yell to you.”
She nods while rounding her eyes at the men, who are still locked in a tangle of wills.
I walk to within five feet of them and lean back against the couch with an air of dispassion. “Lucas, why don’t you take that seat?” I point to the scuffed leather chair. “We can discuss whatever you felt you needed to protect me from.”
“Good idea.” Lucas steps around Clint, who glares as he passes.
“Where’s Candace?” I say casually as I take a seat on the couch.
“Yeah, Lucas. Where’s your wife?” Clint snarls his words as he perches on the couch beside me, his body almost vibrating with tension.
“She really is a different woman. Combat changed her. In a good way. When she got back and got into private security—”
“Cut the crap, Lucas. We know about her court-martial.” Clint shakes his head.
Lucas’s eyes blaze as he almost levitates from his chair, ready to fly across the coffee table at his brother. “There was never a court-martial. She was only defending—”
“Don’t lie to my face!” Clint spits out.
“Please. Both of you.” I extend my hands to each of them. They are forcing me to the middle. “Tell us why you’ve come, Lucas.”
“We came to warn you.”
We.My spine straightens. “What do you need to warn us about?”I hold up my palm to him. “And before you say anything, you have to know that I’ve already sent a message about everything I know. The investment data, which is real. The borrowing from our funds. The falsified reports. There’s no more hiding.”
Lucas sits back in his seat, his face blank. A switch has been pulled. He says nothing.
For the first time since the pounding on the door, I am truly afraid. My breathing accelerates. Maybe I should call out to Erika to dial 911.
Maybe this has all gone too far.
54
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN,falsified reports?” Lucas asks without moving, without any disruption to the space around him.
“The reports coming from Meymack that spell out the subpar rates—those falsified reports.” I watch for the explosion. The denial.
“Does Betsey have these reports?” Lucas still hasn’t moved or shown any emotion.
My stomach churns. Completely different reaction to the court-martial that we all know didn’t end up happening.
Clint is silent beside me. Like me, he’s probably aware—this is when we learn the truth.
“She gave me data from your advisor offices about our sales. How did Betsey get that, Lucas?”
“I can’t tell you that.” Tiny beads of sweat break out across his hairline.
“Of course you can’t. You’re up to your eyeballs in this, and you’resetting up my wife to take the fall for your greed.” Clint begins to rise, but I clamp a hand down on his thigh.
“No. Nothing like that.” Lucas blows out a breath as his face falls. “Betsey came at me about someone working against the funds. I can tell you, it’s the opposite. Our advisors have been impressed with the investment opportunity. You can see it in the sales.”
“Yes.” I lean forward. “But what about the reports?”
“I haven’t seen them. I assume we send reports regularly. I haven’t heard anything troubling about that business. Certainly nothing falsified.” His face is tight. There is more there. Clint senses it too. I clamp his leg harder. I need him to let me do this.
“But Meymack is going through an independent lending agent, not our custodian.” I speak slowly and clearly to the man who’s been using me. Pretending to want a relationship with his brother, just to keep me in line for whatever scam he’s been running.
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t know anything—”
