Chapter 4 - The Offer at Bellamy’s
The next morning, Chantelle insisted on going to work.
Devlin stared at her as though she'd announced plans to swim across the Atlantic.
“Absolutely not.”
“My manager will fire me.”
“I'll compensate you.”
“That isn't the point.”
“It seems exactly like the point.”
“No. The point is that normal people can't disappear because a billionaire with enemies tells them to.”
Devlin adjusted his cuff.
“I'm not asking you to disappear.”
“You put six security men outside my hotel room.”
“Four.”
“That's your defense?”
He almost smiled.
Chantelle grabbed her coat.
“I'm going to Bellamy's.”
Devlin sighed.
“Fine.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“That was too easy.”
“I'll come with you.”
“No.”
“Then you're not going.”
Twenty-five minutes later, Bellamy's dining room became very quiet.
Chantelle entered first.
Devlin followed.
Liam and two security men remained near the entrance.
Her manager, Peter Wallace, rushed over.
“Chantelle! Where were you?”
“Long story.”
Peter noticed Devlin.
His face drained.
“Mr. Murphy.”
“Mr. Wallace.”
“You know him?” Chantelle asked.
Peter looked at her as if she'd asked whether he knew the president.
“Everyone knows him.”
“Apparently I missed a newsletter.”
Devlin's gaze moved around the restaurant.
“Where was Crane sitting?”
Chantelle pointed.
“Seventeen.”
They approached the table.
“Show me exactly what happened.”
She placed three menus down.
“Crane sat here. The man with the phone sat there.”
“And the third?”
“Here.”
“What did they leave behind?”
“Nothing.”
Devlin examined the table.
Chantelle suddenly looked toward the wall.
“What?”
“The third man kept touching something.”
“Where?”
“Underneath.”
Liam crouched.
His hand disappeared beneath the table.
He removed a small magnetic device.
Devlin's expression hardened.
“A recorder.”
Chantelle whispered, “They recorded themselves?”
“No.”
Liam looked toward the surrounding tables.
“They recorded everyone around them.”
Devlin turned toward Chantelle.
“What table did you serve before seventeen?”
“Sixteen.”
“After?”
“Eighteen.”
“Who was at eighteen?”
She hesitated.
“Your employee.”
Devlin froze.
“What employee?”
“A man from Murphy Maritime. He had your company logo on his folder.”
“Describe him.”
“About fifty. Silver hair. Blue tie.”
Liam cursed quietly.
“Martin Shaw.”
Devlin looked at him.
“Find him.”
Liam stepped away.
Chantelle watched Devlin.
“Crane wasn't worried about me overhearing him.”
“No.”
“He wanted someone else overheard.”
“Yes.”
“Then why threaten me?”
Devlin looked toward the recorder.
“Because you might have seen the exchange.”
Chantelle closed her eyes.
Images returned.
Plates.
Wine glasses.
Crane.
Shaw.
A folder.
Then something else.
“Wait.”
Devlin stepped closer.
“What?”
“Shaw went to the restroom.”
“When?”
“About ten minutes after Crane arrived.”
“And?”
“Crane left shortly afterward.”
She stared at the table.
“They bumped into each other.”
“Accidentally?”
“At the time, I thought so.”
“Now?”
Chantelle shook her head.
“No.”
Devlin's phone rang.
Liam.
Devlin answered.
“Talk.”
His face became unreadable.
“When?”
He ended the call.
“Shaw disappeared this morning.”
Chantelle whispered, “So he's your leak.”
“Possibly.”
Peter approached nervously.
“Chantelle, can I speak with you?”
She stepped aside.
Peter lowered his voice.
“Customers are uncomfortable.”
“With what?”
He glanced toward Devlin.
“With all this.”
“You mean him?”
“I mean whatever you've gotten involved in.”
Chantelle's expression hardened.
“I didn't get involved in anything.”
“I'm sorry, but until this settles down, I can't put you on the floor.”
“You're suspending me?”
“For everyone's safety.”
Devlin had heard every word.
Chantelle turned before he could speak.
“Don't.”
“Don't what?”
“Buy the restaurant.”
Peter's eyes widened.
Devlin looked mildly offended.
“I wasn't going to.”
“You were thinking about it.”
“I was thinking about firing him.”
“You can't fire him.”
“I could if I bought the restaurant.”
“Devlin.”
“All right.”
Peter quietly retreated.
Chantelle grabbed her bag.
Outside, she walked quickly through the rain.
Devlin caught up.
“You're angry.”
“Excellent observation.”
“He's frightened.”
“So am I.”
“You hide it better.”
She stopped.
“No, I don't. I just don't have the luxury of letting fear stop me.”
Devlin looked at her.
For once, there was no clever answer.
A black sedan turned onto the street.
Liam's voice exploded from behind them.
“Devlin!”
The sedan accelerated.
Devlin grabbed Chantelle and pulled her behind a concrete planter as the vehicle jumped the curb.
People screamed.
The sedan missed them and tore back into traffic.
Chantelle's breathing came fast.
Devlin's arm remained around her.
“You hurt?”
“No.”
“Look at me.”
She did.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
His jaw clenched.
Something had changed in his face.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for her.
Chantelle whispered, “They just tried to scare us.”
Devlin stared after the disappearing sedan.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Crane knows exactly who I am.”
His voice became dangerously calm.
May you like
“If he wanted to scare me, he would have chosen another method.”
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