breath and began. “Avery’s memory of what happened to her last year came back.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Normally, yeah. Except the details she remembered about the guy who attacked her didn’t line up with the dead man pinned as her attacker.”
Liam turned an ear toward Reed. “Come again?”
“They had the wrong guy. The one who attacked her is still out there.”
His fist clenched. “Oh, no.”
“Avery is running around Manhattan with a picture and asking questions. According to the detective that was on her case last year, she’s searching the nightclubs, from sleazy to snazzy. At the same time, she’s making quite the name for herself. While no one has seen the guy she’s looking for, everyone has seen her. She’s making enemies daily,” Reed said.
“You mean she’s kicking ass.” Liam recalled the first time he saw her at Pug’s. It didn’t take an expansive imagination to see her doing that all over New York City. He itched to leave the table and drive straight to the airport.
“Yeah. Armstrong said it isn’t without a toll on her.”
“Armstrong is the detective?”
“Yes. He said Avery looked a little rattled, a lot bruised, and thin.”
“I need to go.” He pushed back from the table.
“Glad to hear you say that. You won’t be able to force her back, but you can keep her from making a lethal mistake. My guess is she thinks this is her fight and her fight alone. If it were you or I, I’d agree. But I have a strong aversion to men beating on women. Even if the woman can take him.”
“No one is going to touch her. I’ll make sure of that.”
Reed smiled. “Perfect. You take care of Avery, we’ll find her attacker.”
“If the police can’t . . .”
The expression on Reed’s face shut Liam up.
“It’s what we do. If he’s there, we will find him.”
“I thought you were in private security.”
“I am. Sometimes security means being a PI and neutralizing threats before they attack.”
“That sounds illegal.” And while that would have made him question Reed in the past, Liam was willing to look past it now.
“Nah . . . my goal is to find him and offer Avery the closure she needs. We make sure he can’t hurt her, and she doesn’t hurt him and end up on the wrong side of the law. I want this cleaned up before the women find out what’s going on.”
“The women?”
“Lori, Trina—”
“And Shannon,” Liam finished.
“Yeah. Keeping them out of the mix will be impossible.” Reed looked at his watch. “I’m giving this seventy-two hours before everyone is on their way home and sleeping in their own beds.”
Liam liked his confidence, found it contagious. “Are you calling the SEALs?” Liam joked.
“Not quite.” Reed reached into his jacket and removed an envelope. “Your plane leaves in three hours—”
“I bought a ticket to New York that leaves on Sunday.”
“Cancel it. Use this one.” Yeah, Liam liked that idea better.
“I’m sending you a link. Click it and we will have you tracked at all times. I haven’t forgotten what this guy did to her, so if there is any safety threat at all, the rules change.”
“How can you know there isn’t already a threat?”
“Because Avery is still vertical and she’s been there over two weeks.” Reed stood. “Three hours, Holt. Click on the link. I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Either Armstrong stripped her confidence and single-handedly made her paranoid or Avery was being watched.
She supposed it was entirely possible that the detective put someone on her, but she couldn’t imagine the limited resources the police department had would warrant that.
Still, the tingle up her spine and the need to turn around and find the eyes fixed on her was a constant cloud as she walked around Manhattan. It was midday and the streets were packed.
She stepped away from the curb and lifted her arm for a passing cab. Avery opened the back door and jumped in. “Times—” Someone holding her door open stopped her. “Sasha?”
“Scoot over, sweet cheeks.”
Avery released a frustrated breath and slid across the seat. “How long have you been following me?”
Sasha wore black. Her sleek, dark hair was tied back in a ponytail and nearly reached her waist, dark sunglasses hid her eyes, and olive skin and near perfect features made you think she was famous. “Ten minutes,” she said.
“Not possible. Someone has been on me all morning.”
Sasha’s curt accent, one born in Germany and honed by spending much of her childhood in eastern Europe, demanded attention. “I’ve been on you for ten minutes.