“That’s a good point,” Jonathan said. “You sure you know what you’re getting into?”
“Yeah.” Harvard smiled. “I’m sure.”
“Okay then.” Jonathan went over to place a hand on his father’s arm. “They’ve said it was a mild attack. I thought you were taking your medication and laying off that fatty food you enjoy too much. You need to take your doctor’s instructions seriously. I’m not sure if my heart can take another scare like this. Not to mention poor Sebastian. He’s scrambling to find a ride out of the Borneo jungle, just to check for himself that you’re still alive.” His voice softened. “Seriously, Dad, let’s make this the last time.”
Roger patted his hand. “I couldn’t agree more. I just had a terrible shock, that’s all.”
Jonathan frowned. “A shock involving Rachel? What has she done now? Was anyone injured?”
“Sit down,” Roger said before giving Harvard a helpless look.
“I wouldn’t mind taking it from here if that’s okay with you, Roger,” Harvard said as he led Francesca to her seat. “That way, I can fill in some gaps while I bring Jonathan up to speed.”
Roger sagged into the pillows with clear relief. “Please,” he said, turning to Jonathan. “Son, prepare yourself. This isn’t good at all.”
Burying his emotions deep, Harvard tried to be as professional and caring as he could be while he explained everything to Rachel’s family. Francesca kept a fierce grip on her husband’s hand, her free hand dabbing at her cheeks with a tissue. Jonathan’s head dropped forward, and he cursed softly with each revelation. Roger looked like he was clenching his teeth so hard they might crack.
When Harvard had finished, Jonathan looked up at him, his eyes red. “I hope she finds some whiskey in the cafeteria.”
“If there’s any to be found, Rachel will get it,” Harvard said.
Jonathan took a visible breath. “She won’t let us comfort her, bloody prickly woman.”
“No,” Harvard said. “She won’t. But you have to remember, Rachel’s had ten years to think about this; you’ve only just found out. She really is doing great.”
Francesca’s tear-filled eyes met his. “You can’t always believe what you see with our daughter.”
“I know,” Harvard said softly, giving her a silent promise. “I’m watching over her. If she crumples, she won’t be alone.”
Her mother nodded as she turned to her husband, who wrapped his arm around her and comforted her.
Roger’s steely gaze met Harvard’s, reminding him that Rachel’s dad had built a world-class company from the ground up, using grit, determination, and pure strength. Before he’d arrived on the scene, there’d been no TayFor. He was the For in the name—the man who’d single-handedly saved a failing company, making him both feared and revered within London’s business community.
“What do you need from us?” Roger asked.
Harvard pulled up a chair. “I need the envelope, the photos, a detailed breakdown of where you were when you received them, and who was near you in the time preceding it.”
Roger nodded. “You’ll have it.”
“What did the note say?” Harvard asked.
The man’s eyes blazed. “It said Rachel was told to leave TayFor. You get to deliver her last warning. Enjoy.” He turned green. “It actually said that word. Enjoy. As though this was all just a game.”
Francesca stroked a hand down his shoulder. “Whoever this is, they’re very sick.”
“Or evil,” Jonathan said.
Harvard had to agree. “We’ve got someone searching the server for clues from ten years ago. Someone else examining the photos to see what they can tell us. And we have Rachel. She might not remember much, but she has flashes of detail that will help. On top of that, we believe the blackmailer works at TayFor, and we know they were involved in the attack. Otherwise, how did they get hold of the photos?”
“And we know that all they care about,” Jonathan said, “is getting Rachel to leave the company.”
Francesca shook her head. “Why Rachel? I don’t understand how she’s a threat to anyone—ten years ago or now. Why do they want to get rid of her?”
Harvard felt a chill run up his spine. “That’s a very good question. One I’ve been asking myself, and I’ve yet to come up with an answer.” But when he did, he knew it would point straight to the person behind the attack and the blackmail. The puppeteer. The one orchestrating Rachel’s suffering for their own twisted ends.
All he had to do was figure out why and he’d have them.
“I’m very good at puzzles,” he told Rachel’s family. “It’s why the CIA recruited me. I’ll figure this out.” It was a vow.
Before anyone could say anything else, the door swung open and Rachel walked in, a tray of takeout cups in her hand. “Oh good, we’re finished with the hugging part of this visit. You’ll be glad to know that there wasn’t a spot of liquor to be found on the premises. The best I could do was coffee all round.” She handed out the cups. “Except for you,” she told her father. “You get orange juice and a lecture.” She glared at him. “I had a word with your doctor, and apparently you’ve been a very naughty boy.” She looked at her mother. “Did you know he’s been sneaking bacon behind your back?”
Roger cringed as Francesca’s face turned to thunder and Jonathan shot to his feet. Harvard sat back in his seat, sipping his coffee as he watched Rachel’s family show their love for each other by shouting, threatening, and making demands. They seriously needed a calming influence in their ranks.
They should thank their lucky stars they had him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I’m having a bath and then going to bed,” Rachel announced as soon as they were in her apartment.
They’d stopped for food on the way home, and Harvard had listened patiently to Rachel while she ranted about all the different ways she wanted her blackmailer to suffer. She was furious, and scared. He suspected the latter was mainly for her family rather than herself.
“I’m going to check in with Harry.” Harvard shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the back of one of her white sofas.
“Are you planning to leave that there?” she demanded.
“Are you trying to pick a fight?” He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. “Because I can think of other ways to work off your tension. Much more pleasurable ways.”
“You”—she pointed a talon at him—“have a one-track mind.”
“True. But it isn’t just sex. It’s all things Rachel.”
She blinked at him, as though trying to figure him out. “I don’t even want to know what that means,” she said at last. “I’m taking a bath.”
He watched her sashay away, moving like mist over rocks in those heels of hers as her long straight hair swayed across her back. Sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
As soon as she was out of sight, he pulled out his phone and called Harry. He wasn’t used to dealing with someone like the tech genius. He was used to his teammates checking in and keeping him up to date with their progress. Harry, meanwhile, had dropped off the radar entirely.