Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn

38

Gage

“You may as well just killme. If you don’t, Barlowe will,” Woodward said. He was slumped over, his voice the picture of misery. I thought it was nothing but self-pity. Which I had zero patience for. But, like most things, it could be a useful tool.

If I gave him a ray of hope, a way that he could potentially get out of this mess he’d gotten himself into, then he just might grab onto that with both hands. He was nothing if not self-interested.

“Not necessarily,” I said stonily. “You have a go kit? Money, new identity? You help us out, we take you to get it and put you on a plane. You don’t help us…”

I trailed off and shrugged. Especially with weaklings like him, the threats you didn’t utter were often even more powerful than the ones you did. Their imaginations were boundless. Much stronger than their integrity ever was.

Like I’d predicted, his interest piqued. He sat up straighter, and looked thoughtful. After a moment, he said, “Fine. I’ll help you.”

I nodded, looked at Bear. He nodded back.

It was time to bring in Savannah.

I went to the bedroom, told her to follow me. As we made our way down the hall, she was almost bouncing more than walking, like a prize fighter on his way to the ring. She was pumping up her energy. Or maybe reigning it in. Maybe both, depending on the exact moment.

I had her stand on the other side of the doorway opening, so that he wouldn’t be able to see her until she decided to step into view. With a stronger man who had a stronger will, all of the theatrics would fall flat. For Woodward, they were critical.

I stepped back into the room. Woodward was jumping out of his skin almost as much as Savannah had been when I’d walked into the bedroom the first time, after she’d been waiting the whole time we’d been gone.

“Where’d you go? I said I’d help you! I’ll give you what you need! I just want to get this over with!”

I wanted to punch him in his whiny mouth and tell him that it wasn’t about what he wanted. But I couldn’t do that. If we were going to get all of the information we could out of him, I had to let it actually be about what he wanted. At least for a while longer.

I nodded at Savannah. She stepped forward and, in two long and lightning-fast strides, she was across the room and leaning down over him. She grabbed his tie and twisted it in her fist, yanked it up so that his face was less than an inch from hers.

“It’s not about what they need, you piece of shit. It’s about what I need.”