Page 68 of The Bodyguard

So neither of them could take a steady breath. He liked knowing that what was happening to her was the same as what was happening to him. Sawyer wanted to be back at the beach house and carry her off to bed. He wanted to overwhelm her world so that all she could do was think of him. But something in her eyes told him they weren’t there yet. “What is it?”

She closed her eyes and kept them shut while she sighed. Finally, she refocused on him shyly. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Ange—”

“Or bore you—”

“Angela—”

The piercing ring of a cell phone made her jump. She sucked in a quick breath and pulled out of his arms to retrieveher ringing phone from her bag. “It’s Parker.” She answered the call. “Hey.”

Sawyer studied her switch from curious and uncertain to the no-nonsense woman who set agendas for fun. He liked both sides of her. Just then, though, he really wished she were back in his lap.

Angela pulled her notebook and pen from her purse and scribbled as Parker peppered her with information. Finally, the call ended.

“What’s Parker have to say?” Sawyer asked, suddenly uncomfortable with the possibility that this trip could wrap up quickly.

“Well,” she said, still in business mode, “he confirmed what we already knew about my mother blowing my cover. Pham didn’t know I was working for Titan. They only found out because Pham’s network had been trailing her for years. When she arrived in Abu Dhabi without a public agenda, they put two and two together and posted people all over the city.”

Senator Sorenson should’ve known better. But Sawyer didn’t have to say that. Angela knew. “What else?”

“Mylene’s and Mark’s family still live in the area. We could go talk to them.”

Talking to relatives? That wasn’t Sawyer’s bailiwick. No one wanted a heartbreaking past to knock on the door without warning. “What else?”

“Parker has learned more about Pham’s public-facing business network. There are several shell companies semi-associated with his network in the area. They follow the Interstate 95 corridor from North Carolina to Delaware.”

“What do we do with that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Parker’s trying to find any real estate associated with them that might raise red flags.”

Sawyer frowned. What constituted a red flag? They didn’t have the resources to check everywhere, and even if they did, red flags were often red herrings. Angela had been rescued from a commercial warehouse in a run-of-the-mill industrial complex. Titan had rescued many people from locations that would not raise red flags. Pham’s people could hide Mylene Hathaway in the backroom of a burger joint or the basement of an office building. “I guess that’s a start.”

“Parker has his ways,” Angela said, sounding like she needed the encouragement as much as Sawyer did. “We could go talk to Mylene’s parents.”

Back to dredging up people’s pasts. What would the two of them learn that wasn’t in the investigative reports they’d yet to comb through? “What are our other options?”

“We could try to find Mark’s family?”

Sawyer bristled. “Talk to the family about their dead child? Not unless we have to.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Back to the paperwork?”

Or the beach. The ocean. Seclusion… But Angela’s attention was focused on Mylene. His was stuck on the conversation prior to Parker’s call. “That’s probably best.”

Angela adjusted her hat and gathered her trash. The only redness left on her cheeks was from the sun. He tossed the car keys in the air and caught them, deciding to bring that heat back as quickly as possible.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The afternoon had been filled with more paperwork than either Sawyer or Angela wanted to read. Folders held newspaper clippings and copies of every report Parker could find. Receipts and rental guest history began years before the night of the murders, starting when Mylene Hathaway had first been assigned to the DNI. Parker had scrounged every speeding ticket and toll booth payment between Mark Hathaway and Tabby Foster. The paper trail was never-ending.

Angela stretched and watched Sawyer fill his water glass and return to the table. “Should we take a break?” she asked.

“I can’t look at this anymore. My eyes are crossing.” He reached from behind her and pushed the papers away. “It can wait until later.”

Her eyes were probably crossing too. Somewhere in the records of phone conversations and bank transactions was the answer she needed. But she was so tired of reading through the piles of paper that she might miss the answer even if it were in front of her. She stood up and stretched. “You’re right.”

His warm hands rested on her shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the muscles that had tightened while she was hunched over the table. His fingers squeezed.

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