Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn

40

Gage

As Savannah trembledwith visible rage in the corner of the room and I did my best to resist picking up where she’d left off wringing the weasel’s neck for the obvious pain he had put my girl in, Woodward piped up.

“This wasn’t part of the deal. You guys never said she would be here. This wasn’t part of the deal.”

He was back to being a self-pitying little ass again. Time to get him back on track. I thought that, this time around, we’d try less carrot and more stick.

I stepped closer to him. Leaned down, menacing. He cowered away from me, which was a good indication I had him where I wanted him.

“The deal was that you help us, and we let you live. So, the deal is whatever I say the deal is. Are we clear?”

He nodded, face drawn together in a scowl. Even in a spineless jellyfish, the will to live is strong. He didn’t like it, but he’d go along with it. Which was fine by me. I didn’t give much of a fuck what he liked or didn’t like.

“How long have you been in Barlowe’s pocket?” Savannah’s voice still trembled with barely-controlled emotion as she spoke, but she stayed where she was standing.

“Not long,” Woodward grumbled.

“Not an answer,” Savanna snapped back.

I was impressed. She was taking charge of the exchange like a pro.

The man sighed. “I’m not in his pocket. I just sold him some information. One time.”

Savannah barked out a bitter laugh. “You have an interesting definition of ‘not in his pocket.’ But let’s not quibble over semantics. Pocket or no pocket—how long have you been…okay, let’s say…in contact with Barlowe?”

He shook his head. “I’m telling you, it was just the once. He got in touch with me and we worked out a deal.”

I jumped in. “How did he get in touch with you?”

“He messengered a secure cell to my house with a note that said to keep it on me. Pretty ingenious, actually. And pretty ballsy.”

“You sound like you look up to him,” Savannah whispered, incredulity obvious even in her strangled voice. “You were supposed to be protecting us from him. And you sold us out. And now, you sit here talking about him like he’s the…I don’t know…the star quarterback on your high school fucking football team.”

Woodward had the grace to at least look abashed at her words. Or maybe he was just afraid it would sour the deal. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“How much did he pay you?” she continued. “How much were we worth?”

Woodward clamped his mouth shut and sat still, probably intuiting that there was no possible answer he could give that would guarantee she wouldn’t come flying across the room and go to work on his neck again.

After a long moment of silence, I said, “I believe the lady asked you a question.”

He looked down at his lap and remained silent.

Bear reached behind him to where his piece was holstered and pulled it out, making a big noisy show of cocking it. I had to admit, it was an impressive sound in the small, echoey room.

Woodward’s head snapped up, eyes wild with terror. “Okay! God! I was just getting my thoughts together! Twenty thousand, okay? He paid me twenty thousand dollars.”

“That’s what our lives were worth? Less than…I don’t know…less than a minivan?”

“They weren’t supposed to kill him, okay? God. I never would have handed over the info for that. Not for twenty grand. God!”

She shook her head. “How much would it have taken? How much would my life have been worth? My father’s?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he protested weakly.

“That’s not what you meant to say. But it is what you meant,” Savannah asserted. Correctly, was my guess. “Now, how much?”

We were getting a little off track with this line of questioning when it came to procuring useful information, but I let it continue for a couple of reasons.

One, because she needed this. She needed answers. And she deserved them.

And two, because it ratcheted up the emotional pressure on Woodward. It was a useful technique for sending him off-balance, wearing him down.

He thought for a long moment. His body language said he was taking the question seriously instead of just deflecting, which I thought was interesting. Savannah had clearly hit on something, touched a nerve.

Finally, he looked up, and there was more steel in his eyes than I’d seen there at any time in our admittedly short acquaintance.

He looked Savannah directly in the eyes and said, “For you, there wouldn’t have been a price. I would have told Barlowe to go fuck himself. For your old man? I would have taken a tuna sandwich.”