“The papers?”
Where the hell was Joe? Or security? Anyone?
“I don’t have them here. I . . . gave them to someone. For safekeeping. I need to make a call to get them. But then they’re yours. I swear to God I have no use for a bunch of old love letters. They have no value to me, they’re lovely and all but—”
“Love letters? What the hell are you talking about, lady?”
“The papers I found. The letters.”
He stared blankly and then menace grew.
“The love letters from your father to his mistress.” She uttered the words in a hoarse whisper, understanding now that she was imparting news, bad news, to this man. Not that he didn’t know about his father’s mistress, because it had been documented in the tabloids along with everything else about the infamous man. He’d had a fondness for leading a high-profile life. Which had led to his premature death. But Sal clearly hadn’t known about the letters.
“Love letters? Don’t give me no shit, lady. I’m not above knocking you around.”
“I’ll get them for you and you can see for yourself. Let me make a phone call.”
“The papers better be the papers I’m looking for. Donotthink of holding out on me.”
“No, of course not.” She reached for her desk phone and the man stopped her with a painful grip on her wrist.
“I dial the phone. You tell me the number and I listen. First, you tell me who you’re calling.”
Her mouth clamped shut. There was no way she wanted to tell this guy Joe’s name. She knew Joe wouldn’t want his identity compromised, wouldn’t want to be known as a Zero Go Team operative. Wouldn’t even want Zero Go Team known. It wasn’t as if the group had an office with a door and their name on it.
“I’m calling Joe. My friend Joe. I gave him the letters to hold for me. He’s . . . my boyfriend.” She felt foolish sayingboyfriend, but she didn’t feel comfortable saying he was her lover and she had no idea what else to call him. She certainly wasn’t going to admit that he was her bodyguard.
“What’s the number?”
She recited the number of Joe’s throwaway phone, the emergency number he’d made her commit to memory. The one she had promised to call if there was the least sign of trouble. Maybe she had waited a smidge too long. But there hadn’t been much warning.
She hoped to God her call had gone through and that he had heard every word they were saying right up until Sal picked up her phone off the floor and tossed it. Lucky for her he hadn’t checked to see if it was on. Maybe her knee to his face had served its purpose after all.
Sal gripped her arm so that it tingled with numbness while he shoved his phone to her ear. She heard it ring twice and then Joe answered.