New York City
April 20, present day
The towering building that housed defense contractor Knightsgrove-Bishop sat in the heart of Midtown. Dozens of employees, clients, and visitors milled about the lobby and various reception areas. The fifty-sixth floor, however, was nearly silent. The security clearance level and protocols kept traffic on the executive floors to a minimum. Clients including the State Department, the NSA, and Homeland Security came to this floor to discuss business. The air crackled with the intensity of the suited men and women who walked these halls.
At the end of a long hall, in his underused, over-decorated office, Nathan Bishop was holding out a palm-full of Cheerios.
“Come on buddy, you can do it. Come on, Jackie.” He encouraged his son.
“You’re being ridiculous. He’ll walk when he’s ready. The baby books all say he’s in the normal range. You’re treating him like a dog,” Emily huffed from the couch in her husband’s office.
“I don’t treat him like a dog. That’s absurd.” Nathan rose and crossed to his son who was sitting on his bum next to the coffee table. Nathan scratched his little blond head and held out the palm full of Cheerios. Jack planted his face in Nathan’s palm and came up with two Cheerios in his mouth and one stuck on his lip.
“Charlie walks like a cadet. You’d think Jack would have a little competitive spirit.”
Charlie toddled over to where Emily sat on the couch and indicated in no uncertain terms he wanted to be held. Emily hefted him up, and he relaxed into her, scrunching the pages of the magazine she held.
“Emily.” Nathan indicated their other son with just his eyes as if any gesture or sudden movement would disrupt the moment. Jack had pulled himself to standing and faced Nathan, who had returned to his desk. Jack had his mother’s violet eyes, and he locked them with his father as he lifted a foot. Nathan sat forward ever so slightly, a look of supreme expectation on his face. Jack let go of the coffee table he was holding for support, lifted a foot…and dropped to his hands and knees. He motored over to Nathan with a devilish smile and snatched another Cheerio from his father’s outstretched palm.
“I think he did that to mess with me.”
“Come over here and mess with me.”
“Gladly.” Nathan snatched Jack up by the back strap of his corduroy overalls and carried him like a suitcase across the room, depositing him on the couch next to his twin brother. Then, he kissed his wife. And he kissed her. And kissed her.
“Well, now you’ve gone and done it, Mrs. Bishop.”
“What did I do?” Emily blinked with feigned innocence.
“We’re in my office. I have a meeting. The boys are at our side. And you’ve—he pulled her onto his lap for emphasis—initiated the launch sequence.” He nuzzled her neck. “We need some alone time. Immediately.”
“We’d have more alone time if you’d stop getting me pregnant. But then the alone time is how that happens in the first place.”
Nathan placed his large hand across her still-flat stomach.
“Our very own fantastic causality dilemma.”
Emily beamed at her husband then pushed up off his lap. “All right, JT and I are going to take the boys to Rockefeller Center to watch the skaters. It’s the last week before the rink closes for the season.”
“I’ll have a couple of guys tag along.”
“Thank you.” Emily wasn’t worried about her own safety, but after her own childhood abduction, she was still working through issues when it came to her sons. Nathan was only too happy to do whatever necessary to assuage her fears. He gave her another heart-stopping kiss.
“I’ll track you down when I’m finished here. We can grab a quick lunch and head to the plane.”
They each grabbed a boy and deposited him in the double stroller. Her bodyguard, JT, appeared in the doorway, and Emily maneuvered out of the office, creating a momentary traffic jam as the group of Bishop Security operatives filtered toward the entry. Ren and Chat bussed Emily on the cheek as they passed. Twitch waved without looking up from her tablet. The rest of the men headed for the office where Nathan had pulled a whiteboard to the end of the conference table in the expansive office. Twitch took her usual spot in the middle of the long table and mounted her tablet to a keyboard. Ren and Chat flanked her. Steady and Cam stood off to the side.
Tox lumbered in and sprawled on the couch. His expression betrayed nothing, but his brothers in the room knew. He was locked and loaded. While Calliope checked in at work, Tox had called Nathan to fill him in on the attack on Calliope and messengered the flash drive to Twitch. Nathan had assembled the team while Tox had arranged for a Bishop Security SUV to transport Calliope and Coco to Harlem. Now it was time to get to the bottom of this.
Nathan didn’t waste time. “Twitch, start us off.”
“Nothing very exciting on the flash drive. Calliope already shared it with the feds. The compliance documents were already on file with the SEC. The updated client list did have some information that they didn’t have: two new clients had recently signed on.” She swiped to change screens and a New Jersey driver’s license appeared on her screen. “John Vincent Vacarro is a plumbing supply distributor operating out of New Brunswick, New Jersey.”
“Why is the theme from The Sopranos running through my head?” Steady lobbed from the sofa where he had joined Tox.
“Yeah,” Twitch confirmed. “He’s all kinds of shady. However,” she held a finger in the air, “he signed on with Gentrify but had yet to transfer funds when Van Gent was murdered.”
Tox reflexively reached for the bowl of Skittles Nathan kept out for him, grabbing air. Nathan pointed with his pen to a bookshelf where they had been moved in a baby-proofing purge. Tox extended a long arm and snagged the bowl, scooped a handful, and shot several into his mouth from his fisted palm.