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I stopped running, heart pounding for a completely different reason.
I am not interested in what you proposed, she wrote. Find someone else.
I cursed—that wasn’t the answer I’d been waiting for. I looked up, realizing the guys had stopped running and were waiting for me as I squinted at my phone and swore to myself.
“Sorry. I have to do a quick work email.”
They busied themselves watching for threats and stretching their thighs.
I fired back an email to Biyu. You don’t want to say no to me. I could make your life difficult.
I shook my head, trying to align my realities. Here I was, in beautiful, wildly upscale Northern California, firing off harassing messages while out for a run meant to clear my head. I looked down at myself—fluorescent, expensive running shoes, trendy Capri-length athletic tights, hot-pink tank top, and a ponytail stuck on top of my head. “Firework” by Katy Perry was positioned to blare next on my playlist. I wasn’t in a position to threaten anyone—it wasn’t my style.
Still, when Biyu emailed back, asking what I meant, I didn’t hesitate. I needed to toughen up. For my sister, Wes, Fiona…for my own sake.
Help me or your family will suffer, like mine has, I wrote, hating myself for every word.
But that didn’t stop me from hitting Send.
A few minutes later, she emailed me back, asking for detailed instructions. I couldn’t help but smile. Because although I didn’t like the method of travel, I was finally getting somewhere.
And I didn’t plan on stopping until the final destination: freedom from Li Na Zhao.
Chapter 22
Wes
“I can’t believe you guys did this,” Bethany hissed, standing outside the captive’s room.
I shrugged. “We didn’t have much choice.”
Lauren must’ve told her what we’d done, because Bethany had stalked over from the main house, seething and intermittently complaining as we waited for Levi to come out of the interrogation room.
After a week of interrogation, our captive had finally told us his name was Carey, but I didn’t believe him. His license and other documents were all fake. We had no idea who he really was or who’d paid him to follow Fiona—and he wouldn’t talk.
Bethany snorted. “You didn’t have to take him captive. Of course you had a choice.”
“He’d been following Ellis and Fiona. Did you want us to wait until he attacked?”
“Did you want to call the police instead of assaulting him in public, then taking him hostage and keeping him locked up for a week?”
Bethany looked as if smoke might pour out of her ears.
I shrugged defensively. “Should I even really be talking to you about this?”
“I just want to know what you have planned for this guy so that I can protect my client—who, I should remind you, runs a multibillion-dollar business and cannot be implicated in this sort of circus!”
Hannah tore around the corner at that moment, but she stopped short when she saw her attorney. “Oh, hi.”
Bethany put her hands on her hips. “Oh, hi, yourself! I’v
e sent you ten texts this week and you haven’t responded, and now I know why.”
“Sorry.” Hannah bit her lip.
Bethany scowled. “I want to know about your source—the ‘happy’ one. I need to know what the hell is going on around here!”
She tapped her heel, the sound echoing across the hardwood floors.
