her, than whether the fighter had stolen twenty million dollars? It was insane, absurd.
“Look, sit down. Eat. You can tell me all about it.”
“No, I can’t. You know that.”
Mike stopped chewing and put his silverware down. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his index fingers, leaning back in his chair.
“You come home, but you don’t want to see Henry. You don’t want to talk to me. You don’t want to eat. What’s the problem?”
She swallowed and told him the only thing she could. “I’m worried about my independence.”
His laugh was immediate and devoid of all humor. Shaking his head, Mike picked up his glass and took another drink. “Trust me. You’re the most independent woman in the world.” Then he snuffed out the candles and continued eating, alone.
Nora went to her office and opened her computer. After staring blankly at the screen, she took a deep breath and emailed the other partners.
She told them she had no conflicts. She said she was ready to lead the Strike investigation. And she had no idea if either of those things was true.
GREGG
SUNDAY WAS supposed to be a day of rest, but the Sunday before Strike Down was hands down the least restful day of my life. The entire headquarters, everyone from the Director of Human Resources to the locker room attendants, showed up at U.S. Bank Stadium at five in the morning, ready to transform the venue into a kickboxing mecca. I’d been there since four, and greeted everyone with coffee, smoothies, protein bars, fruit, even doughnuts—yes, doughnuts, because I was not above sugar and empty carbs today. We conducted mini meetings, directed the setup of everything from the main ring in center field to the giant gray boxes—marked simply vStrike—lining the concourses, hung banners and signs, supervised the construction of the exhibition vendor booths, and stuffed more swag bags than the Academy Awards.
We held contests: who could do the most push-ups wearing kickboxing gloves, who could run the fastest carrying boxes of programs, who could finish a protein shake first (me, in the only competitive event where I stood a chance). The races kept everyone engaged and excited, until someone asked the inevitable question, “Where’s Logan?” Then I had to deflect, distract, and move them on to their next jobs.
I met with the entire security staff around lunchtime and took them through the nonnegotiables.
“Everyone goes through the metal detectors. No exceptions to the no-bag policy. Watch for drunks, brawlers, and loners.”
“Loners?” One of the guards laughed.
I leveled him with a look until he wiped the grin off his face and the murmurs around him faded into silence.
“Logan will have two personal bodyguards at all times. The bodyguards will pull you in for additional coverage during events with the biggest crowd exposure—primarily the meet and greets and opening ceremonies. No fan touches Logan unless she touches them first. Is everyone clear on that?”
I stared at the joker until he nodded, followed by the rest of them. As I handed the briefing back over to the head of security a notification buzzed on my phone. I moved to an empty corridor, my pulse picking up the same way it had every time I’d gotten an email in the last forty-eight hours. But unlike the last three hundred emails, this was the one I’d been waiting for.
The message was simple, direct, exactly what I expected.
Dear Mr. Abbott,
Your request for investigatory services at Strike has been approved and will commence Monday, July 1st. The senior partner in charge of this engagement is Nora Trier. Our team will arrive at your office 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. Please sign and return the attached contract prior to the scoping meeting, and insure the relevant employees are in attendance.
Regards,
Parrish Forensics
For the first time in two days I felt like I could breathe.
Twenty million dollars. It should have been pocket change. Most corporations could call the bank and get a loan, but Strike wasn’t that kind of company. A bank would ask for audited financial statements, a business prospectus, the kind of bullshit Logan and I had always refused to deal with. We’d avoided it by sinking everything we had back into the company, and Strike had always rewarded our fidelity, until now. Now our fate rested with one woman.
I sent most of the management team—the relevant employees—home after dinner with instructions to be in the executive conference room the next morning. I didn’t tell them why. I hadn’t even talked to Logan yet, and I told myself it