Page 40 of Protecting What's Mine
I forward the pictures to Dean, adding a quick message:
Need a full check on these guys. Followed us from the diner. Probably nothing, but I want to be sure.
It’s only a few minutes before my phone buzzes with his reply:
Will get on it. Any issues with Tory?
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me, and type back:
No. She’s fine. Just didn’t like the way they were watching her.
Almost immediately, my phone buzzes again, this time with an incoming call. Dean.
I answer on the first ring. “Talk to me.”
“Got your picture,” Dean says, his voice low and steady. “I’ll run it through our systems, but they look like your run-of-the-mill idiots. Still, I’ll check.”
“They followed us all the way to the boardwalk,” I reply, my tone sharp. “Idiots or not, they’re watching her. I don’t like it.”
“Noted,” Dean says. “I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything.”
There’s a brief pause, and then he adds, “How’s it going otherwise? Tory okay?”
“She’s fine,” I say automatically, though my gut twists at the memory of her nervous glance over her shoulder earlier. “Worried about her dad, but she’s holding up.”
Dean sighs. “Things are heating up over here. Chatter’s picking up, and BRAVO team’s already in motion. We’re doing everything we can to lock it down, but it’s a pressure cooker. Something’s gotta give.”
“Define ‘something,’” I demand, my voice hard.
“Could be nothing,” Dean says, though his tone doesn’t match the words. “Could be a demonstration, or it could be worse. That’s why BRAVO’s on-site. If it goes sideways, they’re ready to act.”
I don’t like it. Not one bit. The idea of something happening at the G20 Summit with Tory’s father right in the middle of it—it sets my teeth on edge.
“What about Malser?” I ask. “How’s his security?”
“Locked down tight,” Dean assures me. “He’s got the best of the best. But you know how these things go. The wrong person gets through, and it’s chaos.”
My grip on the phone tightens. “Keep me updated. I don’t care what time it is—if something happens, I want to know.”
“You’ll be the first call,” Dean promises. “Just keep Tory safe. She’s your priority.”
“Always,” I reply firmly.
We end the call, and I sit there for a moment, staring at the screen. The unease in my gut hasn’t eased. If anything, it’s worse.
After a deep breath, I push to my feet and head back into the main part of the house. I find Tory in the living room, her book open in her lap, but she’s not reading. Her phone is in herhand, her thumb swiping across the screen, and her brows are furrowed in frustration.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping closer.
She looks up, and the worry in her eyes hits me like a punch to the chest. “I’ve been trying to call my dad,” she says softly. “I can’t get through. It just keeps going to voicemail.”
I sit down beside her, resting a hand on her knee. “He’s probably busy. These Summits are chaos—they’ve got a million moving pieces.”
“I know,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. “But I just… I need to hear his voice, you know? Just to know he’s okay.”
I hate seeing her like this—her usual calm and steady demeanor replaced by uncertainty and fear. I squeeze her knee gently, trying to offer some kind of reassurance.
“He’s okay, Tory,” I say firmly. “Dean’s got eyes on everything, and your dad’s surrounded by top-level security. They won’t let anything happen to him.”