Justin Dubose. Every day that passed she resisted thinking about him, but he was always there lurking in the shadows of her memory. She feared that he always would be.
When she paused, Hunter said, “It’s a clever attempt at extortion, but there’s no solid information to prove they do know who you are.”
His handsome face revealed no hint of alarm. Perhaps that meant she was overreacting, or perhaps it meant he simply didn’t understand the severity of her danger.
Biting her lower lip, she read to the end. “‘Please do not misunderstand my intention. I was hired to find you. I have no personal stake in your recovery. My goal is simply to give you the opportunity to stay hidden. Should you choose to take that opportunity I will disappear with my payment, never to be seen again. Should you refuse, then I have no choice but to report my findings to my employer. The choice is yours. If you wish to stay hidden, have five thousand dollars directed to the account number and bank below. You have one week.’”
There was no signature, only an account number and the address of a bank in Chicago.
The room was silent as she laid the letter on her desk. A myriad of emotions played out in her mind: fear, disbelief, frustration, anger, resolve. In the blink of an eye, she went from uncertainty to somehow knowing exactly what she wanted to do. “We have to find this person.”
“Are the details in the letter accurate?” Hunter asked.
“Close enough.” The waver was gone from her voice, thankfully.
Able stood, his hand going up to the back of his neck to massage away stiffness. “It doesn’t say much, but the things it does say...” His voice trailed off and he walked to the window that looked out over the mansion’s immaculate front stoop and the street beyond, his unfocused gaze taking in the night sky.
Zane walked around to take Able’s vacated chair. Sitting down, he leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “Did you run from someone, Glory?”
She blinked, her body instinctively tensing in reaction to having that old wound prodded. “I’d rather not get into my past. That’s why I want the person caught.”
Zane stared at her, his gaze touching every inch of her face. Maybe he thought if he looked hard enough he’d find the answer there. God help her, a part of her wanted to tell him everything. To share the secret that only Able knew because he’d been there when it had happened. She’d never told another soul, because she’d never trusted anyone enough. She didn’t know Zane well, so there was no reason to trust him, but as she stared into the depths of his sympathetic eyes she wanted to tell him everything. Some small part of her hoped that sharing the burden would make it lighter, but realistically, she knew that wouldn’t happen. Telling anyone else would simply open herself up to more situations like this. The world was ruled by greed. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.
Hunter intervened before Zane could reply. “We can find this person, but it would help if you’d let us know a little more.”
“It’s best that you know as little as possible.”
Hunter frowned but the expression was mild. “If we’re going to help we do need to know where to look for this person. And if a threat is coming, then we need to know who to look for to stop it.”
She wavered and stared down at the letter again. What he said made sense, but there was no way she was letting anyone know where she and Able had come from. She didn’t think that Hunter or Zane would intentionally betray her, but if the wrong person found out they could easily bring the devil himself to her door.
“Glory and I came here twelve years ago.” Able walked over to stand behind her chair. “We have no contact with anyone we left behind. We can’t tell you any more than that.”
His brow creased in visible frustration, Zane said, “You don’t have to tell us who...yet, but we need to know... Is it possible that someone is looking for you?”
Taking a ragged breath, she nodded. “Yes.”
“And what would happen if this person found you?”
She was silent as she thought about how much to tell him. Finally she went with the simplest version of the truth. “Very bad things.”
He sat up straight, his palms running down his thighs as he visibly tried to control his anger. She was glad he was angry on their behalf. Maybe he and Hunter would be able to control this threat before it could hurt them.
“Able will be in danger as well,” she added.
“We’ll find the person responsible for this letter.” Hunter stabbed at the letter lying on her desk with his index finger as he spoke.
Glory nodded. “It’s not that I can’t pay the five thousand dollars. It’s that I’m concerned that this person will turn over the information to their employer anyway. I can’t emphasize enough how important it is that Able and I stay hidden.”
“Do you think the person you’re running from would involve the authorities? Marshals? Congressmen?” Hunter asked. He was asking if they’d done something illegal.
“No, nothing like that. This is a personal issue,” she said.
“Could it be Harvey?” Zane asked.
“How do you know about William Harvey?” she asked, surprised he knew when she’d only just realized that Harvey could be a potential, immediate threat.
His well-shaped lips tipped up into a semblance of what passed as a smile for Zane, giving her a flash of white teeth. “I saw you talking to him downstairs. He didn’t seem pleased when he left.”
“You saw him leave then?” she asked.
He nodded. “I followed him out.”
“Well, then it wasn’t him who left the note,” she concluded. “I was with him from the time he arrived until I left him, and then you followed him out. He wouldn’t have had time to come up and leave this.”
“Wait.” Hunter held up his arms and all attention turned to him. “The letter was left in your study?”
She nodded. “Right here on my desk.”
“Does anyone have a key to your study?” he asked.
“No. The only key is here in my pocket where it’s been all day.” She felt its solid weight through the silk of her gown.
Zane moved so fast that she sat back in surprise as he drew a small revolver he kept in his boot.
She gasped but managed to keep her voice low as she said, “You know there are no guns allowed in this house, Mr. Pierce.” Every man who entered was required to hand over his guns at the door to be returned upon his departure.
“Tell that to whoever broke into your study and could be in your apartment now. Go downstairs.” He walked to the door that led to her suite of rooms, where he pressed an ear against the solid wood as if listening for movement within.
“I don’t want to go downstairs. People are bound to get suspicious and I don’t want anyone to know what’s going on,” she argued, staying where she was. “Besides,
