Page 13 of A Man of Wealth

“Fuck.” He whips out his phone and calls someone, the car’s Bluetooth picks up and I hear a deep, gravelly voice answer.

“Gallagher.”

“Bryce, when did your team last sweep my cars?”

“Last week, why?”

“Fuck. I think the McLaren is bugged.”

“Why do you think that?”

Conner looks behind us and glances back over at me. “Because I’m being followed.”

“Shit. Hold on.” There’s silence for a moment.

“Why are you at the port of Baltimore? And where’s my team?”

“Research. And, I maybe ditched them.”

I hear some curse words muttered on the other line. “Alright, I just got into the city camera system. It looks like a black sedan with tinted windows. I’m running the plates now.”

I look over at Conner and mouth, “What?”

Conner hits mute on the car. “Bryce runs my security. He’s watching us through cameras,” he points to a traffic camera on the road.

“Fucking big brother-y,” I murmur as I continue to drive. “Where should I go?”

He unmutes the car and asks Bryce where to go.

“Get on I-95 at the next intersection,” Bryce commands. “Wait. Who the hell is driving?”

I grin and wave at a camera on the side of the road.

Conner shakes his head and runs a hand over his face. “That would be Vivienne Westerly.”

“I don’t even want to know what you two were doing, do I?”

“Nope.”

“Great. Are you on 95 yet?”

I pull onto the on-ramp and merge into traffic. The car follows us.

“Yes, we just got on.”

“Then, floor it and take the far-right lane when you get to the tunnel. The left lanes are blocked after the tunnel with an accident that hasn’t shown up on the navigation systems yet.”

I floor it and enjoy the revving of the engine as I speed through traffic. The car behind us keeps pace with ours, and I begin moving around cars as Conner braces himself against the passenger door. I grin as I shift and then, at the last minute, jerk the wheel to put us in the far-right lane. A car cuts off the car that’s following us, forcing them to stay in the left lanes.

I speed through the tunnel and continue around the accident scene at a slower speed before testing out the car once more as I weave in and out of traffic.

When I get us south of the Baltimore beltway, I ease up on the gas.

“He’s stuck at the accident scene. You’re clear. You may want to be careful with where you go tonight. I’m not the only one who can hack cameras. I’m sending men over to watch your penthouse and home. I’ll have your other cars swept. Leave the McLaren out when you get home.”

“Will do.”

“And stay the fuck out of trouble,” Bryce mutters as he hangs up.

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