Page 67 of Her Faithful Protector

She chuckles, apparently intentional in her use of the acronym. “Wafer-Scale Engine, currently the most powerful chip in existence. Anyway, Willem’s tests have failed so far.”

“Did you say pressure?” Ava asks. “I remember there was an accident at W-Bot not long before I left L.A. An engineer lost his hand.”

“Right on again, Ava,” Cora-Lee responds. “There was an explosion in one of W-Bot’s pressure chambers.”

“I wonder what will happen to his other business, the database tech thing,” I ponder.

“No doubt the DOJ is after him too,” Ava adds.

It’s music to my ears that Willem’s power is diminishing. But he’s not going to give up just like that. He’s a wounded tiger. I haven’t forgotten his ego. He’s losing control of his company and has already lost what he considers his family—Ava and Quinton. He won’t let go of both easily. He needs to hold on to something. His invisibility will make him more dangerous. And I detest facing an enemy I can’t see.

23

JACK

Craving a change of scenery, today we take advantage of the sunny weather and bring Quinton to a picnic at a downtown park. Little Quinton has become quite the chatterbox. His joyful babbling fills the air as he crawls eagerly across the picnic blanket. Meanwhile, Elmo relaxes at the edge, his contented gaze fixed on Quinton as if guarding his every move.

Willem has disappeared without a trace, while the ticking clock reminds me of our impending move to Hawaii—a decision that has been burdening me.

“We can stop by the store on the way home. I think we might need an extra suitcase, don’t you think?” I say to Ava.

“Good idea. We might even need two.” With a drink in her hand, she stretches to stop Quinton from climbing into the picnic basket. “Oh shoot!” she suddenly exclaims. She has spilled cranberry juice on herself, causing a large stain on her shirt. “Stay here. I’m just going to quickly wash this off.”

As she sprints toward the park’s restrooms, my phone vibrates with an incoming call. It’s been so long since I relied on my phone like a lifeline.

“Jack Kelleher,” the voice says.

A mix of anger, surprise, and hate churns in the pit of my stomach. “Willem Botha. The missing man,” I respond. “Are you trying to make friends with me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You’re in a lot of trouble.”

“I’m never fazed by trouble. You should know that by now.”

While still engaged in conversation with the man, I quickly scoop up Quinton and rush toward the restroom. Elmo automatically tags along.

I warn the cockbag, “I’m sure you remember what I said the last time we spoke. If you try to threaten us, I’ll chop off your fingers and torture you until you learn how to stay away. So, Willem, hang up and run far.”

He dismisses me with a scoff. “I’m calling you because I have a proposal. A peaceful one.”

“A man who would try to kidnap his own son is never capable of promoting anything peaceful.”

My heightened state of alertness amplifies. It might be unfounded fear, but I have the sense that he’s nearby.

“Yet you’re still talking to me,” Willem mocks.

I am. I want to feed his ego, figure out his next move, and buy some time because if he’s here, I need to know where.

He continues, “I’m a businessman, Mr. Kelleher. When two people have wants, there’s always a deal to be made.”

“I have reservations about entering into a deal with a man whose days are numbered.”

“Your wants and my wants are not time-bound. It doesn’t matter when or under what circumstances. The two of us will always be on a quest for it.” He pauses as if giving me time to ponder over it. “I’m aware of your past. You know I have accessto the DOJ database. Well, not for long, though. In that context, you were right. My days are numbered.”

“I have no interest in joining your criminal activity,” I state, clutching onto the phone like I could squeeze answers out of it without involving the villain who hurt the woman I love.

“How far would you go to find the truth, Mr. Kelleher?”

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