“I’m not sure.I sent the staff home today, remember?Numbers will undoubtedly decline, but it won’t mean the end.I’ll rebuild, and I’ll do it the right way.”I lift a wave of golden strands from her shoulder and twist them around a finger, forging a ringlet.“How was your day?”
“Busy.Probably not as busy as yours.”
“It’s not a competition.”
She grins.I like seeing her smile.She lightens the weight of the day, tilts the balance back toward bearable.
“We’re going room by room.Given so much is wireless these days, it takes time, but you should be safely up and running next week.Your employees…We still maintain Eddie didn’t work alone.”
“Right.”
“But we are working on recommended security protocols.After all, you’re not the only business that has to worry about employees selling client data.Credit card companies, brokerages, insurance companies—you’re not the first to grapple with this issue.”
“I’m more worried about Elena’s next step.Any luck on tracking her down?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ve got us a room at the Peninsula.I had Tommy’s assistant reserve it so it will be more time consuming to trace the hotel reservation.”
“We could just stay in Alicia’s place.She gave us a standing invitation.”
I shake my head slowly.“Elena knows about our connection to Alicia Morgan.It doesn’t feel safe to me.”
“Well, I believe in trusting one’s instinct.You ready to go?”
As she asks, a single mechanical beep sounds.Brie stiffens, then pushes up as if alarmed.
“What?What is it?”
She’s already at the door, peering into the waiting area and my receptionist’s desk.“That’s the alarm we installed.A door opened.”She holds a finger up.“Stay there.”
Like hell.
Within seconds, I’m beside her, listening.
And I hear it.A soft foot fall.
Then another.
Brie pushes me back into the office, shutting the door.
She taps the light switch twice—lowering the light to half-dim.
“Do you have a gun?”she whisper-shouts.
“No.”I give her a look that says I was raised with different tools—contracts and cameras, not handguns.“Why would I?”
She huffs and I recognize it for what it is—frustration.She’s not armed either.
But as I think that, I realize I’m wrong.She’s opened her handbag, a simple leather clutch, and she lifts a small handgun with a pearl-inlaid handle.
“It’s small, but it’s powerful.You stay here.”
“Absolutely not.”
A shadow crosses the threshold below the door.
There’s a knock.
