Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(67)

Whale mode is my new normal.

Max taps his watch and speaks to someone. “Trace this Jersey license plate: 2 Alpha Lima Quebec 3.”

Ella Fitzgerald sings on as Scout joins us in the main seating area, taking the leather chair beside Max’s, tossing her short legs over the arm of it and swigging her soda.

“Okay, debrief,” Max says. “Where did the motorcycle find you?”

I explain Duff’s Brooklyn sighting, and the subsequent events. “The kid can drive.”

“His dad is a NASCAR champion. And he has the best eyesight of anyone on my team. I talked him out of becoming a Navy SEAL.” Max sips his whiskey. “So what do we know?”

“Motorcycle man has a trimmed black beard and a small stature,” Scout says. “He wasn’t Jared Tatum.”

“I could have told you that,” I hear myself offer. “I never heard him mention a motorcycle. Golf is more his speed.”

“He’s at home watching golf right now, as a matter of fact,” Max says. “It’s the first thing I checked.”

“But wouldn’t Tatum hire someone to intimidate Alex?” Eric asks. “Cowards outsource.”

“Maybe,” Max says, and his tone makes me think he isn’t a believer. “It’s not as easy to pull off as the movies would have you think, though. You can’t go to goons.com and order up a guy in creepy black motorcycle goggles. And it’s only been ten hours since Alex’s lawyers dropped their bombshell on him.”

“Maybe he has a crazy little brother, too,” Eric says.

Max shakes his head. “Only child. Besides, I’ve been monitoring his phone. The first person he called after the lawyers left was his mom.”

“Oh,” I say quietly. He called his mom for advice. “That’s not what a deranged man does.”

“Not generally, no,” Max says quietly.

We all sit with that idea for a second. And then I ask the obvious question. “If Jared Tatum isn’t trying to scare me, then who is?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” Max says. “What if this has more to do with your factory fire than with your baby?”

“But…” A factory burns down in China. What does that have to do with me? “I still don’t follow the logic. Intimidation would be a ridiculous idea. I’m never doing business with anyone who tries to frighten me.”

Max drains his scotch. “It doesn’t all add up yet. But I’m going to figure it out.”

I hope he does.

“So what’s the plan for getting Alex home?” Scout asks. “It’s already midnight.”

“She’ll have two guards tonight, not just one,” Max says. “I’ve already woken Pieter to send him home with Alex and Duff.”

“I’ll go,” Eric says beside me. And I throw him a quick, grateful glance. I don’t know why I associate Eric with safety. But I just do.

“No,” Max says. “I got other plans for you. We’re going to pull a classic maneuver. You’re driving Alex’s BMW out of the garage. But Alex won’t be in it. I’ll put Scout on your tail, so it looks like the same caravan the biker followed earlier. Then I’ll depart in a third car and then Duff, then Pieter and Alex in a fourth car. Nobody takes a direct route.”

Max really is a smart man. “So, if that motorcyclist is still out there, he won’t know who to follow.”

“Right,” Max agrees, tucking his hands behind his head. “It’s a classic for a reason. We’ll leave in fifteen?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job, ma’am.” Max gets up and makes a call, peeking out of the heavy curtains as he talks.

“How’s that appetite of yours?” Eric asks. “Want a snack before we leave?”

“No thank you.” Now that my hands have stopped shaking, I could totally use a snack, but I’ve had enough of being the helpless pregnant lady tonight. Except for one thing. “If you could point me toward the bathroom, though?”

“Sure.” He stands up and takes my hand. When we walk around behind the sofa, I see a doorway I’d missed. It’s a hallway, and the first door opens into a powder room. “You okay?” he asks me before I can slip inside.

“Yes. Really,” I promise. I give him a smile just to make the point.

The smile I get back makes me all squishy inside.

It isn’t until after I close the door on Max’s beautiful bathroom—with glass subway tiles and bamboo towels—that I remember what happened right before our car chase unfolded.

Eric was just about to kiss me. And I was just about to let him.

And now I’m really enraged at whichever psycho stopped that from happening. Kissing Eric would have been a bad idea. But I would have enjoyed the heck out of it.





I’m feeling calm again by the time Max assembles us on the garage level again. He hands my car key to Eric. “Good thing the surgery was on your left knee,” he says.

“Good thing,” Eric grunts.

“You want a vest? The car is armored, though.”

He shakes his head. “If our stalker tonight had wanted to fire some shots, he would have already done so.”