Chapter 3 - A Debt Victor Couldn’t Pay
Bridget opened the apartment door before Victor could knock.
She threw the envelope at his chest.
He caught it.
“No.”
Victor looked down.
“Good morning.”
“You cannot leave thousands of dollars on my kitchen table like you’re tipping a valet.”
“I wasn’t tipping you.”
“Then what was it?”
“Rent.”
Bridget’s expression hardened.
Victor realized his mistake immediately.
“How do you know about my rent?”
Silence.
Pippa peeked around Bridget’s leg.
Victor’s gaze shifted briefly toward the child.
Bridget caught it.
“You investigated me.”
“I had to know whose apartment I was sleeping in.”
“You had 5 hours.”
“My people are efficient.”
“Your people are creepy.”
Behind Victor stood a broad-shouldered man in his 40s with silver beginning at his temples.
He coughed to hide a smile.
Victor glanced at him.
“Something amusing, Gabriel?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.”
Bridget crossed her arms.
“Take your money and your surveillance team and leave.”
Victor handed the envelope to Gabriel.
Then he surprised her.
“Agreed.”
Bridget blinked.
“That easily?”
“You asked me to leave.”
“I expected an argument.”
“I save arguments for matters where I intend to win.”
Something about the answer unsettled her.
Victor crouched despite the pain in his side.
Now he was eye level with Pippa.
“I owe you a goodbye.”
Pippa studied him.
“Yes.”
“I apologize.”
“Okay.”
Children were apparently more efficient at forgiveness than adults.
Pippa hugged him.
Victor went completely still.
His hands remained suspended for a second before one slowly settled against her back.
Bridget watched his face.
There it was again.
That strange, unguarded grief.
When Pippa released him, Victor stood.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“My mom did the stitches.”
“You kept me from being scared.”
Pippa smiled.
Victor left without another word.
Bridget should have felt relieved.
Instead, she spent the day checking the street.
No black vehicles.
No strange men.
No Victor.
By Friday, life had almost returned to normal.
Then Bridget was fired.
Her manager, Owen, refused to meet her eyes.
“Corporate reviewed the security footage.”
Bridget’s stomach dropped.
“What footage?”
“Tuesday night.”
Of course.
Owen lowered his voice.
“You treated someone in the storage room.”
“He was bleeding.”
“You violated about 15 policies.”
“He would have died.”
“I know.”
“Then what exactly was I supposed to do?”
Owen looked miserable.
“Call an ambulance.”
“He refused.”
“And you brought your daughter into an active medical emergency.”
“My babysitter canceled.”
“I’m sorry, Bridget.”
The words meant nothing.
Forty minutes later, she walked into the rain carrying a cardboard box containing 4 years of her working life.
Pippa was at school.
Rent was overdue.
Her savings amounted to $612.
Bridget sat at a bus stop and finally allowed herself to cry.
A black sedan stopped at the curb.
Her tears vanished.
Gabriel stepped out.
“No.”
He stopped.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Mr. Lacombe would like—”
“No.”
“He heard what happened.”
“How?”
Gabriel’s silence answered.
Bridget stood.
“Tell Victor to stop monitoring me.”
“He isn’t.”
“Then how did he know?”
“I am.”
Bridget stared at him.
“That is not better.”
Gabriel looked genuinely uncomfortable.
“Mr. Lacombe ordered protection after the pharmacy incident. The men who attacked him may have seen you.”
Bridget’s anger cooled.
“How much danger?”
“We don’t know.”
That frightened her more than any dramatic answer could have.
“Pippa.”
“She’s safe at school.”
Bridget stepped toward him.
“If you know where my daughter goes to school—”
“Ms. Carone, listen carefully. The man behind the attack is Adrian Mercer. Victor’s CFO. Mercer disappeared after the attempt. He knows Victor survived. If he learns you treated Victor, he may assume Victor told you something.”
“He didn’t.”
“Mercer won’t care.”
Bridget closed her eyes.
This could not be her life.
Yesterday she had been calculating grocery prices.
Today she apparently required protection from a criminal accountant.
“What does Victor want?”
“To move you and your daughter somewhere safe temporarily.”
“No.”
Gabriel sighed.
“He predicted that.”
“Good.”
“He also predicted you would change your mind when you saw this.”
He handed her a photograph.
Bridget looked down.
It showed Pippa leaving school the previous afternoon.
Taken from across the street.
Her blood went cold.
“Your people?”
“No.”
Bridget’s fingers began shaking.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
ASK THE NURSE WHAT HE SAID.
Bridget looked up.
“When do we leave?”
Victor’s penthouse occupied the upper floors of a glass tower overlooking Vancouver.
Bridget entered holding Pippa’s hand.
The luxury barely registered.
She noticed security first.
3 men near the elevator.
2 near the hallway.
Victor stood beside the windows.
He had changed since the pharmacy.
Dark trousers. White shirt. No jacket.
The wound still affected the way he moved.
Pippa released Bridget’s hand.
“Victor!”
She ran.
Every armed man in the room looked startled when Victor Lacombe bent and caught a 6-year-old girl against his chest.
Bridget approached more slowly.
Victor looked at her over Pippa’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Your job.”
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“But it was my consequence.”
Bridget looked around.
“I’m staying until this is over. Then Pippa and I go home.”
“Yes.”
“And you tell me everything that affects us.”
“Yes.”
“No investigating me.”
A pause.
Victor glanced at Gabriel.
Gabriel suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.
“Victor.”
“Yes.”
Pippa pulled away.
“Do you have cookies?”
Victor stared at her.
“I own several shipping companies.”
“That’s not cookies.”
Bridget covered a laugh.
Victor pressed an intercom.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“Yes, sir?”
“Apparently we need cookies.”
For the first time since seeing the photograph, Bridget felt the fear loosen.
Only slightly.
Because across town, Adrian Mercer was sitting in a dark hotel room watching another photograph.
This one showed Bridget entering Victor’s building.
Mercer smiled.
“So,” he murmured.
“The nurse came home with him.”
May you like
Then he placed a photograph of Pippa beside it.
And circled the little girl’s face.
