“Emily Webster called me.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
Nathan put the phone on speaker and signaled for the team to circle.
“Emily called you?”
“She didn’t think Big Brother would be watching me.”
“Smart girl,” Tox said around a bite of turkey club.
Alex conveyed the message and signed off.
“Holy shit. She busted out.”
“That’s... impressive.” Ren chuckled in disbelief.
“The first rescue?” Tox asked, running a big hand over scruff that was about to cross into beard territory.
“The Jane Hotel. Two years ago, I helped her when some asshole slipped something in her drink. That’s what she means.”
“Marry that girl,” Twitch said without humor.
“That’s the plan.”
“Okay.” Ren smacked his hands together. “Let’s get the girl and save the day.”
Twitch clicked away on the keyboard. “We have to assume they can track her to The Jane. Odds are, whoever wants her is using hired guns. If he’s foreign he’d need locals, and if he’s local, he won’t want his own security getting pinched.”
“That’s an advantage,” Nathan nodded, “no loyalty.”
“Although a big enough paycheck buys a lot of loyalty.”
“Not the die-for-your-cause kind.”
“True.”
“I’m calling Harris.”
“You sure?”
“I want to send a message. Whoever this guy is, he’s not going after a little girl anymore.”
“Our back-up plan needs a back-up plan?”
“Move the pieces around the chessboard, Twitch. Let’s look at every scenario.”
“On it. The Bishop will protect the queen.”
Nathan threw a balled-up piece of paper at the back of Twitch’s head and they got to work.
Counterintuitively, the hotel was quiet on a Saturday night. Summer weekends in the city were subdued, as most of the elite took their parties to the Hamptons. Emily looked out-of-place in her now grimy workout ensemble, but it was a hotel after all. People showed up in all manner of dress. The bitchy queen behind the desk, wearing a name tag that read ‘David’ and a fake smile, gave her an unabashed sweep with his disapproving glance and arched a brow. On any other day, Emily could have had this guy with his tail between his legs, but she was out of gas. She cleared her throat. “I... um, I need to get to the conference rooms.” It never even occurred to her that she would have trouble getting past a fucking doorman.
“I see. And what sort of conference were you planning on attending?”
It was then she felt a warm palm on the small of her back. “David, she’s with me.”