“Murder.” Heat rose up Marshall’s neck, and he swallowed it down. “There was no accident.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Ed shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been two years. I don’t want to see her death strangle you anymore. Eventually, it could choke out everything and leave you with nothing. Amara wouldn’t want that.”
A headache throbbed behind Marshall’s eyes. Her death wasn’t strangling him. It fueled him. Keeping it in the forefront of his mind propelled him to work harder. He’d make her family company he’d inherited into a name that others equated with influence and power, bolstering the nation’s freedom he loved so much. Could wanting that as a monument to his wife be such a bad thing?
Could his drive to make up for his colossal mistakes kill everything good left in his life? Carter filled Marshall’s mind. When was the last time he’d really played with his son? Sure, they saw each other every day, even bringing Carter along when Marshall had to travel. But were the snatches of thirty minutes here and there enough? The three-year-old learned something new all the time, and Marshall barely had a moment to celebrate his son’s milestones.
A pub employee set down the small folder with the credit card and receipt as they rushed past, and Marshall pushed the troubling thoughts aside. He could worry about his son and their relationship later. His focus had to remain on the task at hand—getting senators and congressmen to see reason and vote for limited terms. There had to be enough loyal to the republic to see that lifetime seats equated bad policy. When they all got back to Kentucky, he’d work in his schedule more time with Carter.
“I just …” Ed sighed and met Marshall’s gaze. “I just want what’s best for you, man. I don’t want you to crash in a blaze of glory when you could cruise into your goals.”
Marshall really looked at his best friend across the table. Though he had just turned thirty-one like Marshall, Ed’s hair was graying at his temples, and he appeared more worn around the edges than he should. Was that Marshall’s fault as well? Had his desire to right his own past put unnecessary strain on his friend?
“Man, you know I’m not the cruisin’ type.” Marshall forced a laugh as he reached for his credit card. “But if it’ll make you happy, I’ll look into that organization again. Maybe I’m wrong.”
Marshall opened the receipt holder and plucked up his card, his eyes skimming the handwritten note beneath the card. His hand froze, and the room closed in around him, blurring and slowing as he read the words again.
Do what we say or your son will end up like your wife.
“I know you’ll never slow down, but at least y—” The muffle of Ed’s voice thawed Marshall’s frozen muscles. “What? Marsh, what’s wrong?”
Marshall picked up the note. His hand shaking made the paper flutter loudly in the air. Ed scanned the note and gulped. He lifted wide eyes to Marshall as his face paled.
“We’re leaving.” Marshall shoved his chair out so fast it crashed to the floor. “We’re leaving now.”
As he rushed to the door with the note bunched in his hand, he pulled out his phone and dialed Lena Rebel, Carter’s bodyguard that posed as his nanny, scanning the restaurant for the employee that had dropped off the receipt. She wasn’t anywhere in sight. In fact, he couldn’t remember seeing her before that either. The sinking feeling from earlier hit him again as he glanced back to their table where Ed threw the pen after scribbling a signature on the charge slip.
The call connected, and Marshall didn’t wait for Lena to talk. “Is Carter safe?”
“Yes. He’s right here with me in the house.” Lena’s answer fired at him with the efficiency he’d come to expect from her.
Relief flooded through him. “Good. Keep him close. I’ll be there shortly to explain.”
Marshall hung up before she could answer and stomped out the pub door, his frigid shock turning to white-hot anger. He didn’t understand what they wanted him to do, but no one threatened his family. Not again. He’d keep his family safe this time at all costs.