“But I was told that would shut down leads.”
“It appears she’s onto us.”
My stomach roils.The absence of communications from Brie… “What happened?”
“There’s been a break-in; Brie Anderson’s apartment.”
I’m on my feet before I register moving, chair slamming the wall behind me.The office walls blur as I charge to the door, slinging it open and barking to the assistant, “Get me a car.Now.Have it outside by the time I’m downstairs.”
“She’s fine,” he adds, but the words barely penetrate.The palm holding the phone has grown clammy and my throat tightens.
I knew something was wrong.And I sat here—comfortable, detached—a king in glass while she was out there alone.
“This just happened.We’re still getting to the bottom of it.But the person who broke in left photographs of both you and Brie.No message but she might have surprised them before they were done.But we’re fairly certain it’s related to the investigation.”
“In what way?”
“They want us to stop.”
I sling open the door, squinting into the daylight.
“Which means we’re getting close.”
A black limousine pulls to the curb and I’m reaching for the handle before the wheels have stopped turning.
I shout Brie’s address to the driver and the second he responds with, “Yes sir,” I’m pressing the button to raise the divider.
“Say it again,” I demand.“She’s not hurt.”
I know he said she’s okay, but I need to see her.I need to touch her and know that she’s unharmed.I’m wired, unfocused—scared.There it is, the word I hate admitting even to myself.
Yes, that’s the fucking emotion.Fear, clean and corrosive.
“She’s fine.There’s no damage to her apartment.”
That fucking apartment.Her building with its single-entry code suddenly seems impossibly vulnerable.No doorman, no security desk, just a goddamn wood and glass door between her and whoever wants in.
“Why wasn’t I told the second it happened?”
“Because it just happened.We’re still sorting it out.”His tone shifts.“And I didn’t realize how personal this is for you.”
I glare out the darkened windows.We’re on the West Side Highway now, flying north, weaving across the lanes.
“We have history,” I say—too clipped to hide anything.It’s none of his damn business, and I don’t particularly care if he’s pissed his employee didn’t share.That’s her burden to explain, though every instinct in me wants her out of this assignment.
“Understood.”
There’s a sharpness to his tone but I don’t give a damn.
“I’ll be at her place momentarily.”
“I’ll let them know to expect you.”
“Them?”
“Brie and a teammate.”
“Right.”
