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“That was smart,” he says. “Get the card.” I push to my feet, and when I start to walk away, Damion grabs my arm.
“You know they were my father’s goons, baby,” he says softly.
I don’t play naive. “Yes. I know.”
He stares up at me as if he wants to say more, but Blake says, “Card. I need that card.”
Damion reluctantly releases me, and I rush away, my heart thundering in my chest at the idea of how close I came to something really bad happening to me. Damion’s right. Those men were his father’s goons. I reach the bedroom, and my purse is on the king-sized bed. I snatch it up and dig out the card before rushing back to the kitchen to find Blake with a laptop open in front of him and a chat window open.
I hand the card to Blake, and he glances at the information on it and types a message. I claim my seat and glance at Damion. “Anything?”
“There were no agents sent to talk to you,” he says grimly.
Blake looks up from his computer. “No agent Reynolds,” he says, tossing the card on the table. He shuts his computer and shoves it aside. “So, let’s talk. My guess is that they intended to convince you they were investigating Damion’s father and would have drug you along until they concluded there was no evidence.”
“But the FBI doesn’t even get involved in murder cases, do they?” I ask.
“Not local cases like this one,” Adam replies, “but we know Damion’s father is involved in far more than just your father’s murder. So these ‘agents’ could have easily claimed they were investigating him for more.”
I’m just plain creeped out about a plan elaborate enough to call for fake FBI agents. “They wanted me to go to their offices with them,” I state. “If they weren’t real agents, where would they have taken me?”
“Exactly my question,” Damion interjects. “Where the fuck did they want to take her, Blake?”
“They would have taken her to a coffee shop, most likely,” Blake replies.
“They said offices,” I rebut.
“They could very well have set up a fake office,” Blake replies. “I’ve actually seen that happen in another case. Look, I know you won’t like this, Damion, but Alana needs to go back and push his buttons. Force his hand. She’s right. She’s well-guarded, but we’ll make them believe she isn’t. We’ll keep you two apart—”
“Not a chance in hell,” Damion growls.
“We’ll make your father believe you’ve gone your separate ways. We’ll make him believe she has only her own protection.”
“We are not using Alana as bait,” Damion bellows. “No. And in case you didn’t hear me clearly, no.”
“I’ve got dirt on him, Damion,” Blake says, “but it’s not enough to put him in jail or send him into retirement in some far-off country. If he comes at Alana and we have the proof, you can end him. Otherwise, man, do you really think he’s going to let her go?”
“If I thought he’d back off, I wouldn’t want the fucker dead.”
“Dead isn’t an option. Caged is. Short-term pain for long-term gain.”
Damion pushes to his feet and walks to the island, where he presses his hands to the top and dips his chin. I’m standing in an instant and crossing to where he stands, my back to the other two men and my hand on Damion’s waist. “I know you want to protect me, and you think hiding me is the way, but it’s not. Protecting me is ending this.”
He pulls me in front of him, his hands planted on either side of me. “Then we do it together. You understand?”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
“All right then. It’s decided.” He pushes off the island and pulls me to his side as we face the other two men. “He won’t fear Alana, but he’ll fear me. If we want my father rattled and stupid, she stands with me. We’re back together, and we’re coming after him. He’ll go after her to shut me down.”
At this point, Blake and Adam are standing. “We can make that happen,” Blake replies.
“Alana’s mother has to be removed from the picture, or she’ll be used as leverage,” Damion replies, glancing at me. “How do we make that happen?”
“My mother doesn’t want to be protected,” I say, feeling the bitterness of her betrayal.
Damion rotates me to face him. “But you want to protect her. Put your anger aside and think. How do we make that happen?”
Guilt stabs at me. He’s right. I do want to protect her, but my anger is still so very present that it muddles up my decisions. It’s how I divided me and Damion when I should have stood beside him, but I shove those thoughts aside for now and focus on the question. “Shy of kidnapping her, I don’t know. I wish I did.” But as sure as I say the words, an idea pops into my head. “We have to scare her into hiding.”
