Chapter 38 Luke
LUKE
“What’s it like to not experience remorse?”
Garrison must have seen us come in and sit two chairs down from him in the back row, because he doesn’t turn. He simply opens the hymnal to the page the minister directed us to.
Hundreds of things to say to him run through my mind, but once the sermon wraps up, my tongue is tied. There aren’t enough threats in the world. He needs to be locked up, and until it happens, I won’t feel peace. Neither will Fallon.
He faces me as the last note of the song is out, ironically one about coming to Jesus “just as you are.”
He studies me as he grips his Bible. “What do you want, Lynx?”
His posture is rigid, the veins in his neck sticking out. He hasn’t slacked on his fitness routine, but I’m glad to know I make him a little nervous.
“I want you to leave my sister.”
His eyes don’t stray from my face. His jaw ticks.
“She’s safe with me.”
People move down the aisles, chatting about the message and where to grab lunch.
We’re finally alone in the public place, like I intended. This was the only place I thought I could meet with him and resist the urge to slit his throat. Also, there’s no chance it’s bugged like one of our homes or cars could be.
“She’s no safer with you than she would be with them,” I spit out at him. The enemy we fought for years was deadly, but nothing compares to the evil of a man that can shoot his own brother.
He clenches his jaw, and I know I’ve hit a mark. He turns to try and leave, but I haven’t said my piece yet. I step closer, daring to put a hand on him by gripping the front of his pinstriped shirt and yanking him toward me.
My mouth hovers near his ear, my voice low. “Listen up. You’re going to be proven guilty, and you’ll be put to death or dropped in a hole for the rest of your miserable life.
“Until then, you can try to find some of that redemption the preacher just talked about if you do the right thing for once. But since I know you’re a selfish prick, hear this: if you touch her .
. . if you lay one finger on Fallon against her will, I will tear you to pieces and feed you to the wild animals in the same desert you slaughtered him in.
You’re going to leave her. You understand me, brother? ”
He jerks back from me, eyes darkening. “I’m not willing to do that. I love her.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “Do you love her enough to want to spare her the hurt and shame that will come once they drag you out in cuffs? Once your name is blasted on the news as the traitor who killed a brother in arms?”
He looks around nervously, and I realize I raised my voice.
His response is quiet. “You’ve got it wrong, and I’ve been searching for evidence, just like you have. If I prove my innocence, can we put this behind us? Will it be enough for you? Or are you too angry to even hear me out?”
Henrik moves around to the row in front of us, so he can face Garrison. “What evidence do you have? We want to hear you out.”
My eyes flicker to his, but I pause, a tiny part of me curious to hear what Garrison has to say. He steps closer to us, lowering his voice.
“I have proof that it was Reid, the mole. As soon as I found out, there wasn’t time to share it with any of you.
I was deciphering the messages that I intercepted.
None of it made sense, until we were halfway through the last mission.
It just clicked in my mind, and I knew it was him.
I was going to tell you before confronting him, but he was communicating with them right then.
He gave them our position. None of us would’ve made it out.
I had to make a split second decision. I found out later they’d offered him a hundred million to hand us over. And he took it.”
It feels like someone is shoving a cold knife through my chest. “And why should we believe you? Maybe you got the hundred million.”
“Georginne.” Is all he says.
I raise a brow.
He glances around to make sure we’re still alone. “She was his contact. She’s been at Bradshaw Enterprises all this time, watching you, to see what you know, using Kate as a decoy. Georginne hacked into your system and hired Kate, planting the boyfriend with her roommate, all of it.”
“How do you know all this? Why shouldn’t I just believe you do because you’re still working with Tycos for more money?”
He reaches down for the bag on the pew beside him. I place my finger on the trigger of my nine mm in my jacket. He pulls out a USB, handing it out to me. I take it.
“I started dating Fallon to protect her. I didn’t mean to fall in love with her, but that is what happened. I found a lot of evidence hidden on Reid’s laptop. He used her identity to hide the money. He put her in danger, Luke. All the evidence is there.”
“Why are you just now coming forward with this?” Henrick asks.
“Because I just found the missing piece. When Georginne turned out to be the plant in your office, I hacked into her files and the Bradshaw Enterprises database. It led me to a decoy account labeled as Fallon’s trust fund, and I found the hundred million. I was able to trace it back to Tycos.”
My heart thunders. If that’s true, my best friend really was putting my sister in danger for the money, using her to hide it until he could disappear. I clasp the USB tightly, looking at Henrik. I can see on his face that he’s half convinced.
“Fallon is safe with me, but . . .” Garrison looks around the empty church. “But they’re watching, Lynx, always.”
His steel eyes laser in on mine. He patiently waits for me and Henrik to leave the church before he follows us out, turning in another direction.
My hands shake until I touch the plane back down in Dallas.
I’m beyond exhausted after having been awake for forty-eight hours and flying to the East, then the West Coast, back East and finally down home to Texas. I need a shower and my bed almost as much as I need to see Kate and hold her.
We plugged the USB into Henrik’s laptop while in the air.
And it was all there, all the evidence that Reid was the mole. I’m wrestling with myself over it, but I texted my sister and told her we needed to talk. I’m not sure how to deal with this moving forward. I need to know what Garrison’s plan is.
I finally pull into the parking garage. The elevator ride seems to take an eternity. Once the doors open to my penthouse, I see Jackson in the kitchen, making a sandwich.
“Hey, where’s Kate?”
He shrugs. “FBI told us the threat has been neutralized. Georginne—whose real name is Anya something—and the other guy said they were working alone on this mission. She was formerly working with Tycos, but he’s been in prison the last year and hasn’t been active in any US dealings.
Apparently, someone you shot up over in Dubai was her grandson and Nikolai’s cousin. It was all for revenge.”
A sense of finality settles over me. If Reid was the mole and Tycos is out of the picture . . . the danger might really be behind us.
It sounds too good to be true.
“So, where is Kate?”
“She and the purple-haired girl left a few hours ago. Said something about a spa day.”
I stare it him for a moment, my thoughts taking longer to process through my exhausted mind.
Why wouldn’t she want to be here to see me?
“I’m going to shower and sleep.”
“Sounds good.”
I pull out my phone to dial her number. It rings six times as I walk into my bedroom, and then it goes to voice mail. My fingers begin typing up a text when I see a folded piece of paper on my pillow. My skin prickles as I pick it up, unfolding it to see a typed-up letter.
Mr. Bradshaw,
I regret to inform you that this is my letter of resignation. I have found a position at another company more suited for my career path and skill set. Thank you for the opportunity to work at Bradshaw Enterprises as your personal assistant.
Respectfully,
—Kate Dawson
I read it four times before moving into action. I run out the door to the kitchen.
“What spa did they go to?”
Jackson looks up at me with his mouth full, shrugging. “No idea,” he mumbles while chewing.
“Dammit,” I say under my breath as I jog toward the elevator.
“Where you going?”
“To get her back.”
I run through what I’m going to say the whole way down to the parking garage. I practice out loud in my Lamborghini while searching for spas in Dallas on my phone.
The fact that it’s nearly ten p.m. hits me, and I realize there’s no way she’s at a spa right now.
Why would she leave without talking to me?
After I sent the sunrise photo this morning, she texted back, and nothing seemed wrong.
The FBI must have said something to her to scare her off during the interview. My chest squeezes with the realization that the right thing to do would be to let her go.
It’s better this way, safer.