Relentless (Option Zero #2) - Christy Reece Page 0,104
owl floundering on the ground. He’d scooped it up in his gloved hands, wrapped it in a warm towel, and called a wildlife expert, who came within the hour and took the bird away with the promise of a full report on its health as soon as possible.
She’d told him about the one and only TV show she’d been in and its short-lived success. Explaining how her shift in focus from acting to creating documentaries had occurred had been easy. If there was anyone who understood why, it was Liam.
When she’d told him about going to the NYC library that day and how heartbroken she’d been until she had somehow inhaled the scent of roses, he’d held her close in comfort. They had lost twelve years of being together, which made their days here and now even more poignant and precious.
They talked endlessly about the silly and the serious, watched movies, tried out their favorite recipes on each other, and made love. She reveled in his seemingly endless passion for her. All her earlier insecurities had disappeared.
She knew Liam would have to return to work soon. While they had enjoyed idyllic days of wonder and nights of passionate delight, the rest of the OZ team were still working. And one of the things they were working hardest on was finding out more about this mysterious organization.
The end of the beautiful days came much sooner than she had anticipated. The morning started perfectly with Liam waking her with a kiss and making slow, sweet love to her. They showered and had just finished breakfast, looking forward to a day of playing in the snow, when the call came.
Her phone lay on the counter a few feet away. Liam grabbed it and handed it to her. “LA number,” he said quietly.
Her shoulders went tense, and her heart thudded with dread. “I’ll put it on speaker.” Sliding her finger over the answer icon and then the speaker, she said, “Hello?”
“Is this Aubrey?”
“Yes, this is Aubrey. Who’s this?”
“Hello, Aubrey. It’s Norman Hartley. As you know I was your uncle Syd’s attorney. Becca was also my client.” He cleared his throat and added, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“Both Syd and Becca left you a substantial amount of money and property. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to come to LA within the next few days. There are papers to sign and items to review. It would be best to do those things in person.”
Aubrey sent Liam a questioning look, and though his face was grim, he nodded.
“I’ll see if I can work that into my schedule. Where would I go?”
“I’ll text you the details. If you’ll let me know what day you’ll be here, I’ll be sure to set aside a couple of hours to go over the details of their individual estates.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Her hand shaking, Aubrey ended the call and dropped the phone on the table. She had known this day was coming. Before they’d agreed to the moratorium on talking about what had happened, Liam had told her that at some point they would again try to draw her out.
“This is a ruse, isn’t it?”
“Could be legitimate, but I don’t doubt for a moment that they’ll know the moment you notify Hartley you’re coming.”
“You think he’s in on it?”
“Not necessarily. But who knows? He might be one of their many pawns.”
“What now?”
The dangerous glint in his eyes sent a shiver through her. “We take the fight to them.”
“How?”
“We’ll set a trap. Don’t worry. We’ll work that out with the OZ team. You don’t have to be involved.”
“What do you mean?”
“One of the female operatives can take your place.”
“That won’t work.”
“Of course it will. We’ll make it work. Eve is about your size and height. We have a makeup artist on retainer who can—”
Aubrey shook her head. “You don’t understand. I know Norman Hartley quite well. He was a frequent guest of Uncle Syd’s for various get-togethers. He knows exactly what I look like.”
She paused a beat and then said, “I’ll have to go to the meeting, Liam. I’ll need to be the bait.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Los Angeles, California
Law Offices of Hartley, Sharp, Weeks, and Franklin
Her legs only slightly shaky, Aubrey stood at the reception desk and said in a clear, no-nonsense voice, “I’m here to see Mr. Hartley.”
The well-dressed, serious young woman looked up at her. “Your name?”
“Aubrey Starr.”
“He’s on a conference call at the moment, Ms. Starr. Have a seat, and he’ll be with you soon.”