Page 72 of Sinner’s Game

“Explain.”

Seagrave chuckled. “That movie. Die Hard. Apparently, the underling realized that the target had an attaché case full of negotiable bearer bonds. Decided to quit working for his boss, pulled up stakes, and ran.”

“That’s risky,” Ronan said, letting out a low whistle. “Sheldon Cartwright’s not a man to cross.” He’d been paying attention to Cartwright ever since he’d learned the identity of the man his father had hired to kill Michelle. Not that he’d learned it directly from his father, but Ronan had picked up a few skills of his own along the way. He’d broken into his father’s office one evening, then gone through his files. Since then—for almost two decades—he’d been trying to track the man down. It was a chore. Even with all the resources he had available to him through Saint’s Angels, this was the first time he’d had a solid lead.

“I don’t understand why you’re not in LA,” Seagrave said. “I don’t know why you want this man so badly, but I know that you do. Hell, you’ve had me looking for him for as long as I’ve known you.”

“You asked me what would incentivize me to do work for you. This was it.”

“Which is why, again, I’m asking why you aren’t in Los Angeles. This is not a man who lingers. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s doing the job himself, but I think he’s a man who doesn’t stand for being double-crossed. My guess is that the traitor’s holed up somewhere in LA County, is going to be dead by the end of the day, and that Sheldon Cartwright will be on a jet heading back to Europe by noon tomorrow. Your clock is ticking, boy.”

“I understand. Do we have any details on the traitor? It might help me locate Cartwright when I wrap up here.”

“Nothing. But one of our operatives was able to hack into a server. Downloaded a few files before a self-destruct kicked in. We’re working on getting around the encryption.”

“And you’re sure it’s Cartwright? You’re positive he didn’t send a flunky?”

“I told you. I’m positive.”

“Okay. Thank you for the information. I’ll let you know when I get up there. I’ve got something I have to deal with here first.”

He waited for Seagrave to end the call. But his friend didn’t. “I’m worried about you, son.”

Ronan closed his eyes, the word meaning more than Seagrave could know. The older man had been like a father to him for years. Ronan had worked for him after he left the military, taking contract work across the globe until he’d quit to form his own security consulting company, a job that was mostly for show. He didn’t need the money, but it served as a solid cover for the work he did for Saint’s Angels.

Even when Ronan left the SOC, Seagrave had been nothing but supportive. Which said a hell of a lot about the man and only emphasized what a shit Ronan’s father had been.

He drew a breath. He trusted Seagrave, and honestly, he was tempted to tell him everything. But he didn’t fully trust the others in the department. Not for any specific reason. Simply because that’s the kind of person he was; the only people he fully trusted were Saint’s Angels.

And Brandy.

As the silence lingered, Seagrave cleared his throat. “If you need support, you let me know.”

He thought about the afternoon. About the killer who had almost taken out Brandy. About the woman who was walking around with her face.

“Actually, there is something. I need a safe house. And I need your word that no one else will know you’ve told me about it.”

“Done.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“So this is a safe house,” I say, looking around the plain little two-bedroom, two-bath home in the inland part of Laguna Cortez. “What’s the plan?” I ask, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and sitting down.

In truth, I don’t care about the plan. I want to get back to the conversation we had before we left the hotel. The one where he said he could fall in love with me. The one where he said that didn’t matter.

But I can’t seem to conjure the words because I don’t know how to tell him that it matters. That I understand why he’s scared. That I’m scared, too. But isn’t it better for us to be scared together?

Ronan is looking in the refrigerator, which is well-stocked. I guess they don’t want people who stay in safe houses to go grocery shopping. He grabs a beer and offers me one. It’s not my favorite, but I take it.

“We hole up here,” he says. “We’ll dig in with the research, try to track her down.”

“What kind of research?”

“When I talked to Colonel Seagrave, he didn’t have a report on the status of the security tape review from your house. I’ll give the team a call directly and see if they’ve heard anything. Beyond that, you’re right. There’s not a lot we can do. We did get the license number of the car as she pulled away from the resort, but I have a feeling it’s going to turn out to be stolen.”

I nod again, disappointed, but I also understand that we’re not living in a movie. Things are going to be slow. And we may never get the answers we want. I frown at the thought. “So how long are we here? Nothing personal, but I’d like to go back home to Jake at some point. And when I do go home, I want to know that people aren’t going to shoot at me.”

He comes over and sits in the chair next to me, then he reaches out and takes my hands. “I know. We’re working on it.”