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Ryan entered some information. A few minutes later, he asked, “Hey, Marc, you speak Russian. What does all this stuff mean?”
Marc leaned forward, read through the stuff, and started chuckling.
“What’s so funny?” Ryan demanded.
“Seems like this building has a Russian software company as a major tenant. They hire hot, young female software engineers straight from Russia and have them sell software projects to male engineers. It’s a simple but effective sales model. The building has other tenants, mostly Russian companies. The coffee bar in the lobby is standing room only in the morning. I guess girl watching is a universal sport.”
A corner of Ryan’s mouth lifted. “A nice perk for us. Early-morning field trip tomorrow?”
Starbucks
Upper Montclair, New Jersey
Shannon was sipping her vanilla latte and nibbling on her brownie, trying to relax on her first solo excursion outside the apartment. She’d begged for this little bit of space, wholeheartedly agreeing to have one of Patrick’s men watching her every move as she walked the bustling suburban streets of Upper Montclair. Being holed up in Lisa’s small apartment, besieged by her worsened panic—now that Julie wasn’t Julie and Upper Montclair wasn’t the safe haven she’d run to—was worse than being holed up in her house in Chicago. Lisa’s apartment was small, claustrophobic, and more than Shannon could bear. She was suffocating, and the isolation was only making things worse. She needed to breathe.
The walk had helped. So had being a part of humanity agai
n.
Setting down her drink, she took a bite of her brownie and glanced around. People watching was always cool and usually distracting. That helped, too. It also made her a little homesick. Quickly, she sent another reassuring text to her mom, promising her that everything was fine, including her health.
She started when a tall, broad-shouldered man in his midfifties with thick graying hair and a neatly trimmed beard, dressed in a black sports jacket and slacks, sat down across from her, a cup of hot coffee in his hand. She knew who he was. John Nickels. Patrick Lynch had introduced him when he’d started being her security guard. But the two of them had never talked beyond that first meeting, and he always kept his distance.
“Mr. Nickels?” she asked in confusion.
“Hi, Shannon.” John gave her a paternal smile. “I need you to act like I’m your father or your uncle—someone close and caring, definitely not a predator who’s trying to pick up a sixteen-year-old girl.”
Bewildered or not, Shannon giggled.
“Good girl,” he said. “Now I want you to keep drinking your latte and munching on that delicious-looking brownie while you listen to what I’m saying, without looking scared. Remember that I’m here to protect you, and that keeping you safe is my number one priority. Nothing is going to happen to you while you’re under my protection.”
“Okay.” Shannon paled a bit, but she stayed put and took another fierce bite of brownie. “Is someone watching us?”
John frowned, torn between candor and making sure Shannon didn’t lose control, blow his cover, and endanger her life.
“I think so, yes,” he replied carefully. “But you know you’re going to be all right with me.”
A tiny nod was her response.
It was reassuring enough to make him continue—not that there was any other choice. John had to get Shannon out of here and safely back to Lisa’s apartment.
“There’s a van parked in the municipal lot behind us that looks suspicious to me,” he said. “It showed up shortly after you did. It hasn’t moved in an hour, and the only sign of activity I’ve seen, other than the fact that the car is still idling, is the burly thug who’s feeding the meter. He alone sets off warning bells in my head. I could be wrong, but my instincts say otherwise. Just to be on the safe side, you’re going to leave here with me and go directly back to the apartment. I’ll walk you inside and check out the place. Then I’ll stand outside the door, just in case. Mr. Lynch will be arriving shortly thereafter, and he’ll keep an eye on the building and make sure the van isn’t hanging around. If it is, he’ll take care of it. Does all that make sense?”
“Yes,” Shannon managed, trying hard not to break down. “Do you think they’re here to kill me?”
“I think they’re here because they’re scared. You talked to the Chicago Police. They want to know what was said and how much the cops know. So they’re on high alert.”
John’s gaze darted quickly around to make sure they weren’t being overheard. But the loud chatter and the even louder music ensured that they weren’t. “I’m not trying to alarm you,” he said. “I just want you to realize how serious this might be, and stay close beside me when we walk to my car. Again, act as if I’m your dad or your uncle. Chat about how much you’re enjoying spending time with Julie. Tell me how cool her gym is, and how Miles is helping you with your homework. We’ll be in the car in three minutes, and on our way.”
Shannon couldn’t eat another bite. She pushed aside her brownie and picked up her latte with a trembling hand. “What if they follow us?”
“Then we’ll know that I’m right. But they won’t get near you—not with me accompanying you. I don’t think they’ll even make an attempt.” John shot her a lighthearted smile. “I’m a pretty scary-looking guy when I want to be.”
And I’m armed, he thought silently. They’ll see that, if need be.
Shannon took a last gulp of latte—as if that alone would give her the guts she needed to pull this off—and set down the empty cup.
“Should we go now?” she asked. “Or is it better if we stay awhile?”
