Chapter 3 - The Bodyguard Who Knew Too Much
Rafe Calder had spent thirteen years building an organization where betrayal was expensive.
By noon, he discovered someone had made betrayal a business expense.
Malik stood across from him in the private office overlooking the East River.
“Those surveillance invoices are real.”
Rafe looked at the screen.
“Who approved them?”
“That's the problem.”
Malik turned the laptop.
Every payment carried the authorization code assigned to Rafe's personal protection unit.
“Someone used our credentials,” Malik said.
“Who had access?”
“Six people.”
“Names.”
Malik hesitated.
Rafe's eyes narrowed.
“Malik.”
“Me. You. Two senior security supervisors. Your former operations director.”
“And?”
Malik looked uncomfortable.
“Tessa.”
Rafe leaned back.
Tessa Morgan had worked for his family since she was nineteen. Her father had died saving Rafe's father during an attempted robbery. Before passing away, the old man had asked Rafe to look after his daughter.
Rafe had treated that promise like a lifelong obligation.
Now it threatened to destroy his marriage.
“Bring Tessa in,” he said.
“She was just discharged from the medical clinic.”
“Then she can answer questions sitting down.”
An hour later, Tessa entered wearing jeans and a navy sweater.
Her expression changed when she saw the photographs.
“Where did you get those?”
Rafe didn't answer.
Instead, he slid the surveillance invoice across the desk.
“Explain this.”
Tessa studied it.
Then shook her head.
“I didn't authorize surveillance on Sloane.”
“Your credentials did.”
“Someone used my access.”
Rafe watched her.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Try harder.”
Her face tightened.
“After everything I've done for this family, you think I'd target your wife?”
“I think my wife left me last night because I kept running whenever you called.”
Tessa went silent.
Rafe continued.
“And now I'm discovering somebody used my company's money to follow her prenatal appointments.”
Tessa looked away.
That small movement told him something.
“What aren't you telling me?”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“Three weeks ago, somebody sent me a video.”
“Of what?”
“Sloane leaving the medical center.”
Rafe stood.
“You knew she was being watched?”
“I thought it was an intimidation tactic aimed at you.”
“And you didn't tell me?”
“I was afraid you'd blame me.”
Rafe stared at her.
For the first time, the promise he'd made to her dying father felt like a chain around his own judgment.
“You should have told me immediately.”
“I know.”
His phone vibrated.
An incoming call from Harper.
Rafe answered.
“Harper?”
Her voice was sharp.
“Your business associate is standing in my kitchen.”
Rafe frowned.
“Who?”
“Grant Kesler.”
Every muscle in his body tightened.
“Get Sloane away from him.”
“Why?”
“Because Kesler doesn't know where Sloane is supposed to be.”
A terrible silence followed.
Rafe continued.
“I never told him she left home.”
Harper whispered, “Oh, God.”
Then the phone disconnected.
Rafe called back immediately.
No answer.
He turned toward Malik.
“Find Kesler.”
Malik was already moving.
Rafe grabbed his coat.
And behind him, Tessa whispered something that stopped him cold.
“Rafe, there's a reason Grant knew where she was.”
He turned.
May you like
Tessa's voice trembled.
“Someone planted a tracker inside the baby-name notebook.”
