Chapter 14 - The Woman Rourke Couldn’t Control
Beatrice knew someone was following her before Desmond did.
That pleased her.
“You're smiling,” he said.
“We have company.”
His expression changed.
“Where?”
“Blue sedan. Three cars back.”
Desmond glanced at the mirror.
“How long?”
“Since the courthouse.”
“You should have said something.”
“I just did.”
“You waited.”
“I wanted to be certain.”
Desmond sighed.
“You’re impossible.”
“That is apparently why you like me.”
“I didn't say like.”
“No?”
He looked at her.
Beatrice smiled.
Wrong time.
Maybe.
But after the week they had survived, humor felt like rebellion.
Their driver turned.
The blue sedan followed.
Desmond called police.
Beatrice stopped him.
“Wait.”
He stared.
“No.”
“We need Rourke.”
“No.”
“He won't meet us voluntarily.”
“He has threatened you repeatedly.”
“Exactly.”
“Beatrice.”
“I’m not suggesting we let him kidnap me.”
“Wonderful. The standard is improving.”
She explained.
A false departure.
No visible protection.
Let Rourke’s people believe she had separated from Desmond.
Then follow them.
Desmond rejected it.
Immediately.
Absolutely.
Repeatedly.
Beatrice waited.
“Finished?”
“Yes.”
“My turn.”
“No.”
“You said finished.”
“That didn't mean—”
“Desmond.”
She took his hand.
He stopped.
“I spent five years helping you make impossible decisions.”
“This is different.”
“Because you care about me?”
“Yes.”
The honesty silenced her.
“Then care enough to trust me.”
He hated the request.
Because she was right.
Again.
The operation was arranged with federal investigators.
Beatrice publicly left the hotel after an apparent argument.
News photographers conveniently captured her without the engagement ring.
Within forty minutes, social media exploded.
HAYES ENGAGEMENT ALREADY OVER?
She drove alone.
Or appeared to.
Undercover vehicles remained several blocks away.
The blue sedan followed.
Beatrice entered a hotel bar.
Ordered sparkling water.
Waited.
Carter Vane sat beside her.
“You always did enjoy theater.”
“I learned from your employer.”
“Rourke wants to speak with you.”
“I’m not interested.”
“He thinks you are.”
“I think he’s overconfident.”
Carter smiled.
“You really did fall for Hayes.”
Beatrice looked at him.
“Was that supposed to embarrass me?”
“It makes you predictable.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“It makes Desmond predictable to you. There's a difference.”
Carter's smile faded slightly.
Good.
Beatrice continued.
“Rourke's mistake has always been assuming loyalty is weakness.”
“Isn't it?”
“My father remained loyal to me for fifteen years from another country.”
“He abandoned you.”
“He saved me.”
“That's one interpretation.”
Beatrice turned toward him.
“And Desmond gave away hundreds of millions rather than let your boss control him.”
“That was stupidity.”
“No.”
She leaned closer.
“That was freedom.”
Carter didn't like that answer.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“You'll see.”
She stood.
The tracking device inside her bracelet remained active.
Desmond watched the signal from three blocks away.
Every instinct demanded that he stop this.
The federal agent beside him said, “She knows what she's doing.”
Desmond gave him a look.
The agent returned to the monitor.
Beatrice entered Carter’s car.
They drove south.
Then underground.
Signal weakened.
“Where?” Desmond demanded.
“Lower Wacker.”
The tracking signal disappeared.
Desmond’s heart stopped.
“Find it.”
“We’re trying.”
“Find it.”
Inside the car, Beatrice felt the bracelet vibrate once.
Signal lost.
Rourke had anticipated tracking.
Of course.
Carter removed a device from his pocket.
“Signal jammer.”
Beatrice smiled.
“Paranoid.”
“Professional.”
They arrived at an abandoned railway service facility.
Thomas Rourke waited inside.
He was not the monster Beatrice once imagined.
He looked almost ordinary.
Sixties.
Gray suit.
Calm face.
That somehow made him more disturbing.
“Patrick's daughter,” he said.
“Thomas.”
“You look like your mother.”
“You never knew her.”
“No.”
His smile faded.
“But your father spoke about her constantly.”
That hurt.
Beatrice refused to show it.
“What do you want?”
“The final page.”
“Desmond destroyed the trust.”
“Not yet.”
She knew he was right.
Dissolution required final federal approval.
“You think I can stop it?”
“I know you can.”
“How?”
“Convince Desmond.”
“No.”
“Then marry him.”
Beatrice blinked.
That she had not expected.
Rourke smiled.
“The trust becomes marital property. Dissolution pauses pending review.”
“You want us married?”
“I want time.”
“And then?”
“You sign your interest to me.”
Beatrice almost laughed.
“You think I would do that?”
“No.”
Rourke's expression changed.
“But I think you might if your father’s life depended on it.”
He turned a laptop toward her.
Live video.
Patrick.
Sitting inside a room.
Beatrice’s blood went cold.
“Where is he?”
“Safe.”
“You promised him protection once.”
“And he betrayed me.”
“You betrayed him.”
“History depends on who tells it.”
Beatrice stared at the video.
Patrick looked unharmed.
But he was being held.
Rourke placed a document on the table.
“Marry Desmond.”
“What?”
“Then prevent dissolution of the trust.”
“You've lost your mind.”
“Perhaps.”
“Desmond will never agree.”
Rourke smiled.
“He will if he sees this.”
Another screen.
Live video.
Desmond’s estate.
Elena entering the kitchen.
Beatrice went still.
Rourke had people watching everyone Desmond cared about.
“Tell him the deal,” Rourke said.
“And if I don't?”
“I start removing options.”
Beatrice stared at him.
Fear rose.
Then anger crushed it.
For months Rourke had controlled people with secrets.
Threats.
Isolation.
He expected fear to make Beatrice obedient.
He still did not understand her.
She leaned forward.
“You made one mistake.”
Rourke smiled.
“Which?”
“You let me speak to Desmond.”
His smile faded.
Beatrice picked up the phone Rourke had provided.
Called Desmond.
He answered immediately.
“Beatrice.”
She heard the fear in his voice.
Not panic.
Something deeper.
She said, “I'm fine.”
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
Rourke watched.
Beatrice continued.
“Thomas wants me to convince you to stop dissolving the trust.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“He has my father.”
Desmond’s voice changed.
“Is Patrick alive?”
“Yes.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Beatrice, listen carefully—”
“No. You listen.”
She looked directly at Rourke.
“Do not stop the dissolution.”
Rourke's face changed.
Desmond went silent.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“No matter what he threatens.”
Rourke stood.
Beatrice continued.
“Finish it.”
Rourke grabbed the phone.
“You think this is courage?”
Beatrice looked at him.
“No.”
She smiled.
“It’s loyalty.”
Then every light in the building went out.
Darkness.
Rourke cursed.
Emergency lights flickered.
Carter ran toward the entrance.
A voice came from outside.
Federal agents.
Beatrice stared.
Rourke looked at her.
“How?”
She raised her left hand.
The engagement ring glittered.
“The bracelet was the tracker.”
Rourke understood too late.
“The ring was the microphone.”
Desmond had hidden the secondary transmitter inside the setting.
Every word had been recorded.
Every threat.
Every demand.
Rourke moved toward Beatrice.
Then stopped as armed agents entered.
Desmond came behind them.
His eyes found her immediately.
Nothing else mattered.
Rourke looked between them.
For the first time, Thomas Rourke appeared afraid.
But when agents searched the building, Patrick Gallagher was not there.
The video had been transmitted remotely.
Rourke smiled as they handcuffed him.
“You caught me.”
He looked at Beatrice.
“But you still don't know where your father is.”
May you like
And the man who knew the answer refused to say another word.
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