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“Good morning, Morgan. I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry,” she laughed. “I’m told I make the best blueberry and lemon scones in Maine. They are here on the table. The coffee is on the counter unless you would prefer tea.”
“Thank you, Ms. Fontana. Coffee is fine,” Morgan said, walking to the counter. After filling her cup, she added cream and sugar and sat at the table.
“Please call me Gia,” she said, handing Morgan a small plate with a scone. “If we are outside the house or in front of the FBI agents, Linda would be best.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I mean Gia.”
“I hope you got a good night’s sleep.”
“I did a bit of tossing and turning, but not because of the accommodations. That guestroom is so elegant. And that bed—I felt like I was sleeping on a cloud.”
Gia looked at her with concern. “A lot on your mind, dear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gia reached over and took her hand. “Why don’t you tell me what’s got that worry in your eyes? I know it’s not from this meeting with the FBI. Max told me what you guys have gone through these past few days, so meeting a few agents should be a piece of cake. It’s something else, isn’t it?”
Morgan put her coffee cup down and met her eyes. She had nothing to lose by telling her the truth.
“The agent in charge called me last night to let me know what to expect from the meeting this morning. They need my signature on the release agreement, and then their team will escort you to the post office to pick up the ledger. My phone was on speaker, so Sam, Max, and Bash heard everything. As soon as the call ended, the guys began to make plans. Who would go? Who would stay? Kind of assigning roles. Things like that,” Morgan explained.
Gia nodded slowly. “And they totally left you out of the conversation, didn’t they? Went into macho mode, with everyone putting in their two cents. Let me guess. You are supposed to stay here with your hands folded in your lap while they take care of business,” Gia said with sweet laced with sarcasm.
“Yes, ma’am. I guess I’m just a kindergarten teacher again.”
The sound of footsteps tapping against the back staircase leading to the kitchen halted their conversation. Before anyone entered the room, Gia leaned close and, with a gleam in her eye, whispered, “Regardless of what the FBI or anyone else thinks, this is your show, Morgan Skylar. Don’t let them forget it. And by the way, my keys are in my car.”
To cover the Cheshire cat grin on her face, Morgan shoved a scone in her mouth as Max and Bash entered the room.
The FBI arrived fifteen minutes late. Bash answered the door and escorted them into the dining room to a large mahogany carved table where Morgan, Gia, Max, Sam, and four security guards were seated.
Agent Perez was a tall man with dark brown hair, almost black eyes, and a serious but handsome face. From the look of the worry lines around his mouth and eyes, Morgan guessed he was in his mid-forties. Agent Miranda Scott looked more like a nerdy librarian than a federal agent. She was shorter than Morgan, wore thick horn-rimmed glasses, and her hair was in a blunt-cut bob. Both agents wore solid navy suits. Before Sebastian could introduce the people seated at the table, Perez chimed in.
“This isn’t a dinner party, folks. There are only two people I need to speak with, the first being Morgan Skylar.” His eyes roamed the table and landed on hers. “I’m assuming that is you?”
Morgan was so stunned by his rudeness that all she could do was nod. She had already gone over the final agreement in detail with Mr. Livingston. He had insisted she faxed a copy of the agreement the agent presented to verify they had not made any last-minute changes. It took thirty minutes to email the new document and receive confirmation the documents had not been altered from the original. Her signature on the page gave her a sense of relief.
Agent Perez pointed a finger at Gia. “You must be Linda Martin. You can stay put until we are ready to leave for the post office. The rest of you good people can vacate the room,” the agent said, making a sweeping motion with his hand.
Max sprung to his feet and glared at him. “Agent Perez, do you have a warrant that allows you access to this house? Or for the arrest of anyone in this house?”
The agent was taken aback, staring at Max for a few moments. “Why would I need a warrant? This is a simple agreement, and we will be on our way to pick up the ledger?” Agent Perez said indignantly.
At that moment, Morgan realized the people sitting around the table had a totally different perception of the volatility of the situation than the two agents.
Gia stood up, clearing her throat. “Let me explain what my son Maximillian is saying. You are a guest in my home, Agent Perez. You have no legal authority to be here. I don’t remember receiving a request for permission from you or any representative of the FBI to have a meeting in my home, nor did I receive a request to accompany you to pick up a ledger. If it hadn’t been for secondhand information, I wouldn’t have a clue that you were going to appear at my door. As I see it, the only legal documents you possess are related to an agreement with Ms. Skylar. I did give Ms. Skylar permission to have your meeting in my home, but you have no right to tell me who can sit at my table. After this meeting is completed, we can discuss your little trip to the post office.”
The agent’s lips parted in surprise, then quickly closed. After Gia sat down, there was no further comment about the people seated at the table.
After Morgan’s portion was completed, Bash introduced Sam Barrett as the CEO of SMB Protective Services and Max as simply Linda Martin’s son.
The agent appeared flustered when he realized he was getting pushback for what he must have assumed would be an in-and-out assignment. Without legal authority to force Linda Martin to go to the post office with him, he became more amiable to Max’s request to drive his mother and meet the agents at the post office. If Agent Perez didn’t have Gia’s (Linda Martin) cooperation, the whole deal would be on hold until he could get a warrant for the post box.
The tense expressions on the faces of the men around the table reflected their concern from the lack of FBI agents to handle the task. To make matters worse, Miranda Scott wasn’t even a field agent. She was an analyst who was asked at the last minute to accompany Agent Perez.
“Are you not aware that the Dragon Fire outlaw motorcycle club has been looking for Morgan to get their hands on the ledger? Have those men been apprehended? Is that why you aren’t concerned about security?” Max bellowed across the table.
“Asa Kline, Morgan’s biological father, would do anything to get that ledger. Are you not aware of the break-in at her apartment in Georgia? A woman and her baby were held against their will,” Bash added.
