Out in the yard, Trent continued to talk to Sadie, his body language seemingly sympathetic and even kind as he leaned in closer and closer andcloserto ask her questions, and to listen to her answers. It was creepy to watch him work.
“Vulnerable,” Hobbit whispered.
Jules whispered, “Check.” He glanced at his friend. “This is the last time he’s ever gonna do this, because we are catching him tonight.”
Hobbit looked back at him, warrior face on. “Double check.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Present Day
Palm Springs, California
Mission Day Three
Mick felt sick.
He let Emily disappear into the crowd on the sidewalk before he slowly followed her back to the hotel.
He’d be there in the lobby, as she’d requested, so she could give him his room key, and he’d try at least once more to convince her to take his car.
But really, why would she?
He was a liar—for all she knew, he’d never really had car trouble. For all she knew, he’d rigged his car to break down while she was driving it, so he could... what?
Trap her, kidnap her, kill her?
Tell her she’d just inherited twenty million dollars.
In the chaos of his confession, he’d failedto tell her the thing he should’ve told her as soon as he’d found out: that his father had made her his heir.
Although she’d never believe he didn’t want a penny of her newfound fortune.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out—the caller ID came up as the Los Angeles Police and he sent it to voicemail. Nope, he did not want to be pressured into donating to whatever they were calling about, but he saw from his list of missed calls that they’d tried to reach him more than once. And in there was that call he’d gotten during dinner from a...
Wait.
619 was a San Diego area code and... that number was familiar.
Shit, it was the number for the Troubleshooters cowboy. Sam Starrett.
Callingthisphone—not his burner.
Clearly Starrett and Cassidy had figured out his true identity. Might as well call them back and let them shout at him, too. Get it over with.
But first he listened to the message that the investigator had left...
“Hey, Milt or Mick or whatever the fuck you want us to call you.” The voice on the message was male with a hint of Texas. Definitely Starrett. “We need to talk to you ASAP. It’s urgent. Oh, yeah, since I’m calling you on Mick O’Rourke’s phone you might not have my number in your contacts. This is Sam Starrett from Jules Cassidy’s Troubleshooters office here in LA. You know, the team you hired to find Emily Johnson, even though you knew exactly who she was and where she lives?”
Oh, shit, they knew that, too...? Damn, theyweregood.
“Yeah, we found out where she lives, too,” Starrett’s message continued. “We believe she’s in serious danger?—”
What?
“—and maybe you already know that, but maybe you don’t.”
Christ, he had no idea.Danger...?
