Chapter 5
Devon’s sleep had been anything but restful. If she hadn’t been worn out from the shock of what happened, she might have slept longer. But the black SUV and the two men kept intruding into her dreams. One minute they were running her off the road, and the next they were chasing her and Logan and shooting at them.
She looked at herself in her bathroom mirror and made a face. She was paler than a hospital sheet, and fear had stamped dark shadows beneath her eyes.
“Pull up your big girl panties,” she ordered herself, and headed into her bedroom.
The clothes she’d worn carried the odor of smoke and burning oil from the docks so she tossed them onto the floor of the closet to wash later. She pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a soft cotton long-sleeved shirt, brushed her hair, and pulled it into a neat ponytail. She looked in the mirror again and made a face. Better but not much.
The pleasant aroma of the soup tickled her nose and her stomach grumbled. The soup sounded better and better. As she made her way into the kitchen she heard Logan’s voice. Was someone here? God. How many people would she have to face before she had her act together? But when she walked into the kitchen, she saw he had his cell phone to his ear.
“Devon’s up,” he told whoever was on the other end of the conversation. “Gotta go.” He stuck his phone in his pocket and looked her over.
“Much better.”
She made a face. “And you’re a big fat liar, but thanks. Who was on the phone?”
“Avery. Here. Come sit down.” He guided her to a chair at the table. “Let me dish up some soup for you.”
“The housekeeper always keeps the pantry fully stocked, although I’m not sure who eats half the food. But I’m pretty sure we won’t starve while we’re here.”
“I’ll check it out and see what we can find for dinner.” He found a bowl in one of the cupboards, filled it with soup, and placed it on the table with a spoon.
His smile threatened to curl her toes.
“Chef Logan’s award-winning chicken noodle soup for you.”
She stared at him, eyes wide. “You really made this?”
He shrugged. “Everyone needs a hobby. A long time ago I discovered fiddling with recipes was the best stress reliever I could find. I always have stuff in my freezer. I figured with the way things were going this might just be what you need.”
She would have kissed him if she wasn’t so stressed out, and worried what he might think. Or not think. Instead she just wet her bottom lip, gave him a smile, and whispered, “Thank you.”
The soup was everything he said it would be—just a tad spicy and loaded with tender chunks of chicken and broad noodles.
“Okay, what did Avery say?”
He sat down at the table at an angle to her. “Please promise me you will not freak.”
“Oh, God.” She dropped her spoon in the bowl. “Don’t you know that’s guaranteed to make me freak?”
“Sorry.” He captured her free hand with his warm one. “Just take a breath, okay?”
She drew in a deep breath and let it out, willing herself not to shake. “Okay. Let’s have it.”
“The divers salvaged several pieces in the water. Devon, they found a few small remnants of a timer. That boat was blown up on purpose.”
For a desperate moment, Devon was afraid the small amount of soup she’d eaten would come back up in a rush. She swallowed hard and took another breath.
“Blown up. With a bomb.”
“Yes. Avery tried to get all the pieces so she could get her people on it, but the Coast Guard claimed it. Deering promised Sheri and Avery to get them info as fast as he could.”
“Can they trace anything with as little as they have?”
Logan shrugged. “Sometimes that’s all you need. It depends. But we’re on top of it, I promise you.”
“Logan, you know what that means?”
“It means a couple of things. I don’t believe your dad blew up his own boat. Either whoever is controlling our favorite thugs did it to send him a message, or there’s a third player in the game and we don’t know who that is.”
“God.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her face. “This just gets worse and worse.”
“But at least we’re collecting more threads to pull.” The smile he gave her took the edge off her nerves. “And the crew outside is almost finished with the new security system. At least we won’t have to worry about people sneaking up on us here. By the time your soup is gone, they’ll be ready for me to give you the tour. Now eat, and that’s an order.”
Finishing the soup was no hardship. So Logan was a cook. She’d never have imagined that. She guessed everyone had their own surprises. If he was this good, maybe she could talk him into cooking for them while he was here. Lord knew her own culinary skills left much to be desired. Whatever she ate had one requirement, easy and fast to fix.
She had just finished the last spoonful when the landline rang again, startling her. She dropped the spoon in her bowl with a clatter and stared at the offending instrument.
Logan wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Don’t answer that.”
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of it.”
He lifted the receiver and barked, “Hello?” Pause. “Hello? Listen, if you have something to say, spit it out. Otherwise quit calling.” Another pause. “Hello? Okay, we’re done.”
He placed the receiver back in the cradle with a deliberate motion.
“Was that—”
“An asshole who thinks he can intimidate you.”
She chuffed an unsteady laugh. “He’s not far from wrong.”
“Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of it.” Logan looked at her soup bowl. “Good. Come on, I’ll show you what’s going on.”
She carried her empty bowl to the sink, rinsed it, and stuck it in the dishwasher. When Logan took her hand to lead her outside, she didn’t protest. His hand was strong and warm and the contact made her feel more secure than she had since she’d received the first call about her father.
The same vans were still parked in front of the house, the men in jeans and black Vigilance T-shirts busy with whatever they were doing. She wondered for a crazy moment if she’d fallen into a reality television show where all the men dressed in black. God! What was wrong with her mind?
“I told Avery I want the most complete security system she can install. We’re placing rotating cameras at all corners of the house.” Logan released her hand and pointed them out. “Some of them are long range. They’ll catch anyone in the vicinity and approaching the house. And we have others located in trees.” He pointed to one man up in a tall palm tree and another crawling around on the roof of the house. “Everything will feed into the house to three high-tech computers—one in the kitchen, one in the den, and one in my bedroom.”
“Your bedroom? Really?”
He pointed to two more men crawling around on the ground, each with a large canvas bag. “Sensors. Anyone steps foot on the property anywhere, the sensors will trigger the alarm system. If by some electronic miracle, they get past those, I’m also placing sensors on all the windows and doors. If someone tries to get in at night and I’m already in my room, I want immediate access to the cameras to see who it is.”
Devon shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Cold?” Logan looked at her. “Need a jacket?”
She shook her head. “It’s at least ninety-five outside. I’m just having a hard time with the reality of the situation. All this”—she swept her hand to indicate the grounds—“the equipment, the phone calls, everything that happened today. I keep getting the sense I’m trapped in a nightmare. If my father did this deliberately, didn’t he know how it would affect me? I can’t imagine what kind of trouble he could be in that would make him do this.”
“When people are pushed to the wall with no place to go, they do desperate things,” he reminded her. “The question is what devil is he running from?”
She looked up at him and frowned. “I wish I had the answer.”
“We’ll find it,” he assured her. “If anyone can, Vigilance will get the answers.” He studied her face. “So, just to cover all bases, is there a strange face that might be showing up here that I should keep from shooting?”
“Strange face?” Devon pinched her eyebrows together. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You know, someone special in your life? Semi-special?”
Devon laughed. She couldn’t help it. The men she dated always told her she was too wrapped up in her work, or too independent, or too…something. Translated, she didn’t fawn all over them or show proper appreciation for their prowess in bed. Obviously she had a knack for making poor choices where men were concerned.
“No, no one special. No one at all.”
God. Could she have sounded any more pathetic? And was that a tiny smile twitching at the corners of Logan’s mouth?
“Good to know.” He cupped her elbow. “Let’s take a look at the rest of this.”
When they were through walking the outside, he guided her back into the house. Two men were in the front hall. They had removed the panel from the old security system and were in the process of installing one that looked capable of flying a spaceship.
Devon gave a nervous giggle. “I hope I can figure out how to use that thing.”
“No worries. I’ll make sure of it. I—” His cell rang, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. “Yeah? Uh-huh. No kidding. Uh-huh. All right. We’ll be ready for them.”
“What?” Devon asked when he hung up. “Who was that?”
“Sheri. Two guys in very expensive suits from Cole International just left her office. They’re on their way here.”
“What did she say about them?” Devon worried her lower lip between her teeth.
He snorted, a derisive sound.
“They’re typical corporate stuffed shirts who look like they have a stick up their collective asses. They asked a ton of questions, told her absolutely nothing, and weren’t very friendly.”
Devon frowned. “I just thought of something. They might have a copy of the insurance papers for the boats. Russell Deering was right. I’ll have to file a claim and I have no clue who insures them or anything.”
“Let’s get more information before you worry about filing claims.” He squeezed her hand again. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and your dad will turn up by then.”
“God. Don’t I wish.”
“Anyway, Sheri gave them a copy of the Coast Guard report from this morning and any other information she had, and they took off like their pants were on fire.”
“Lovely. I can hardly wait to meet them. I’m sure they’ll be a gigantic pain in the ass, especially since I have nothing I can tell them.”
“Ahhh, but they might have something to tell you,” he pointed out. “I’m damn well going to pump them as much as I can.”
“Well, bring it on.” She got up to make some coffee. “Want some?” she asked over her shoulder.
“I think I’ll wait until our visitors leave.”
“Okay, but I’m stoking on caffeine.” She took a sip of the hot liquid, aware she needed to be tough. This meeting wouldn’t be any picnic.
As if she’d conjured them up from her mind, the doorbell rang.
“Okay, Devon. Here we go. If anyone asks, I’m your security detail.”
She giggled. “Okay.”
In an unexpected move, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her.
“Your body is humming like a high-tension wire. It’ll be fine,” he promised. “You can handle it. You’re a tough cookie.”
The doorbell rang again, twice, as if the person pushing it was impatient.
“I guess they don’t like to be kept waiting,” she joked. “I’m good.” That seemed to be turning into her favorite mantra.
When Logan opened the front door, she saw two men standing there, men who could have popped from the same factory. Both were tall, well groomed, dressed in dark suits with fine linen shirts and silk ties and carrying expensive-looking leather briefcases. Working for Cole International obviously paid well.
“We’re here to see Devon Cole,” the one on the right said.
“Identification, please.”
Logan made it a statement, an order, not a question or a request. After this morning’s episode, Devon was glad he wasn’t letting anyone in the house without some verification of who they were.
He took the business cards they handed him and studied them carefully. Then he stepped back and gestured them inside but only as far as the foyer.
“I’m Craig Alford,” the one on the right said. “And this is Wilson Bodine. Corporate attorneys for Cole International. We weren’t aware there was anyone in the house besides Miss Cole.” He glanced toward the living room where Devon was sitting.
“Is that a problem?” Logan’s voice and face were expressionless.
Devon wondered what they might have to say that made them so picky about who heard it.
“No problem at all.” Wilson Bodine shook his head. “Of course not. But under the circumstances we have to be careful who we discuss anything with. I’m sure you understand it’s a delicate situation. We’ve already had to deal with some of the media who got wind of this. This is very bad publicity for Cole International.”
“Which is why we need to understand your role here,” Alford added in a stiff voice.
“I’m her security detail.”
“Her what?” Alford’s voice almost squeaked the word.
“Security detail?” Bodine repeated. “How about some identification from you, just to be sure you’re who you say you are?”
Devon stifled a snicker at their outrage.
Logan flipped open his wallet and showed them his Vigilance identification.
“Then I’m guessing,” Bodine said, “you have something to do with all those people outside?”
Logan nodded. “New security system.”
“Is there something here that we aren’t aware of?” Alford asked.
“I’m sure there are a lot of things,” Logan told him. “But first, how about telling us why you’re here.”
Bodine, who seemed to be the one in charge, stepped forward. “If we could sit down, we could discuss this more privately.”
“Yes, of course. Come in and have a seat.”
Devon was more than grateful for the security of Logan’s quiet presence as he introduced the two men to her. They carried an air of hostility that she didn’t understand and it immediately put her on the defensive. What did they have to be hostile to her about? They had questions? She had a few of her own. She sat stoically on the edge of her seat, hands folded in her lap, watching as they seated themselves across from her. She was glad Logan didn’t ask them if they wanted coffee. She certainly wasn’t about to play hostess.
“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” She looked from one to the other. “This is a very difficult time for me, as I’m sure you can understand.”
“And for Cole International,” Alford told her.
“I have no connection with my father’s corporation. I barely know anything about it. But I’m his daughter, so this situation is particularly upsetting for me.”
The two men exchanged another look.
“When was the last time you saw your father?” Craig Alford asked.
“Three weeks ago. Why?”
“Did he discuss any problems he was having? Anything that was bothering him?”
Devon frowned. “Like what? You probably spoke to him more than I do. I was hoping you could tell me something that would help me understand what this was all about. That’s not why you’re here?”
“Anything you can remember at all, Miss Cole,” Bodine persisted, ignoring her comment. “Any little fact you can think of.”
“If there’s something specific,” Logan broke in, “maybe you could dial us in on it and we could be more help.”
Craig Alford cleared his throat. “I’m more interested in anything he might have told you. Something he might not have discussed at the office, or with his executives. Anything he might have given you to hold for him.”
Devon looked from one to the other. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re looking for.”
“Okay.” Logan leaned forward. “You want to let us in on what the hell is really going on here? What aren’t you telling us?”
Devon thought if Alford and Bodine exchanged one more look she might smash their faces.
“Please understand what we’re dealing with here.” Bodine was obviously choosing his words carefully. “Cole International is a business of some significance. We came down here specifically to ask you what you know about your father’s disappearance and what information you can give us. Any personal papers or anything he gave you for safekeeping. On top of Vincent Pellegrino’s death, we’re dealing with some very precarious things.”
“What precarious things?” she demanded.
“I’m sure you understand there are things we can’t discuss. We—”
“If you can’t discuss them,” Logan said, “then what the hell are you doing here upsetting Miss Cole? We thought you were here to see if you could be of any help.”
“We’re sorry,” Bodine said in a stiff voice. “But we need whatever information she can give us.”
“I don’t have any.” She held out her hands, palms up. “Don’t you understand? You probably know more than I do.”
“Perhaps,” Alford said, “if we could look through your father’s office to see if he left anything that would point us in the right direction, that would help us all. Maybe even give us some answers about the fire. We heard about that from Chief March.” He shook his head. “Terrible, terrible thing.”
Devon stared at them, stunned. “You want to go through his private things? I think not. Surely everything dealing with Cole International is available in his office at corporate.”
“Yes, well.” Bodine pressed his lips together.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
“Look, Miss Cole.” Craig Alford’s voice had softened. “We don’t mean to make things unpleasant here. We appreciate your emotional distress and we’re sorry we have to bother you right now. But there are things going on that aren’t for public information. If Graham Cole did a disappearing act with critical information, we have a real problem.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t think—”
“We don’t think anything. Right now we’re looking for answers.”
“Well, I have none to give you.” Devon clenched her fists. “I thought maybe you were here to see if you could help me.”
Logan covered her clenched fists with his large hand and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Never mind, Devon. We’re not getting anywhere here. They aren’t going to tell us anything, anyway.” He paused. “Are you aware Miss Cole was attacked on the road on her way into town to see the police? Maybe the two situations are related. Would you happen to know anything about that? I’m very concerned for her safety.”
If she hadn’t been looking, Devon might not have caught the look of shock on their faces replaced by one of anger and then quickly wiped away.
“That’s damn insulting,” the one named Bodine growled. “Why would we know?”
Devon caught the underlying tone of panic. Interesting, she thought.
Logan shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Dial it back, Wilson.” Alford cleared his throat. “Of course it’s a given that her safety is important. I assume, Malik, that’s why you’re on the job?”
“It is. To protect her from everyone.” His voice was edged with sarcasm.
“It’s just important that we get on top of this,” Bodine told her. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how critical that is. Your father is the face of Cole International. His disappearance raises a lot of questions with everyone. We can’t just leave things hanging.” He paused. “For example, do you have his power of attorney?”
Shock ratcheted through her. “Power of attorney? Why would I have that? Wouldn’t it more likely be someone at Cole International? One of you as the corporate attorneys? Or maybe his personal one?”
Alford shifted uncomfortably.
“Mr. Cole recently changed personal attorneys. We discovered it when we contacted the one he’s had for years. Graham gave him a written request for all the files, both print and digital.”
Logan frowned. “And he wouldn’t tell you where he sent them?”
“Graham took them with him.” Bodine practically spat the words. “He had all the digital files copied onto a thumb drive and then stood there while a paralegal erased them from the server.”
Devon couldn’t help the tiny smile that tilted the corners of her mouth. “Apparently he no longer trusted anyone with his personal papers.”
“He hardly trusted anyone,” Logan added, “if neither of you has his power of attorney. Would you happen to know why that is?”
The men exchanged one of their many looks.
“He set it up to be good for one year, renewed annually.” Alford cleared his throat. “Last week I reminded him the one we had expired. I was unable to pin him down to sign the new one.”
“It makes things damn difficult,” Bodine insisted. “We can only operate for so long without it. That’s why we were hoping you had copies of everything and can provide us with them.”
Devon had to bite down on her anger, to keep from telling them her father’s disappearance was more important to her than any of their priorities or business contacts. “I’ll say this once more so please listen carefully to me. I just found out about everything this morning. I don’t know where my father has gone or why. I don’t have any information. I don’t have any papers. I can’t say that any more plainly.”
Logan rested a hand on her shoulder, or she would have jumped up and smacked the guy. “Okay. That’s it. We’re done here. Now.” He rose to his feet. “If you want updates, I suggest you keep in touch with Chief March.”
Alford looked as if he had something else to say but his companion shook his head.
“Let’s go.” Bodine looked at Devon. “We’re sorry to have disturbed you.”
Yeah, I’ll bet.
Devon also stood up, doing her best to keep a lid on her anger. “Mr. Malik will show you to the door.”
She turned her back and walked out of the room. In the kitchen she took a long moment to steady herself, to fight back the anger seething through her. The jackasses hadn’t even asked if she was okay or if the company could do anything for her. She heard Logan ushering the men to the door, their voices protesting one last time. Then he was right beside her, his arm around her shoulders, giving her a slight squeeze.
“You okay?” His deep voice rolled over her like warm molasses.
“I’m mad more than anything else.” She curled her hands into fists. “They’re lucky I didn’t punch one of them in the nose.”
He laughed, and the sound sent heat surging through her. “That I’d pay to see. But good. Mad is good.”
“I thought maybe they had information they could share with us,” she told him. “But that’s not why they came here. They never even asked how I was holding up or anything.”
“I don’t like those guys. Devon, my antennae are vibrating here. I’ve met men like that before. Been on the other side of the table from them. What’s driving them is more than just concern for the business. Something doesn’t add up here.”
“What do you mean, other than the obvious?”
“They were in a panic about your father’s personal papers or anything relating to the company he might have had here. More than just standard operating procedure. They were fishing for something. CEOs die all the time, and even without a power of attorney the companies keep functioning while it all gets sorted out. They have a hidden agenda and I damn well want to find out what it is.”
The phone rang again, interrupting him.
Logan yanked the receiver from the cradle. “Yes? What? Oh.” His voice lowered. “Sorry. Just a minute.” He handed the phone to Devon. “Cash Breeland.”
She took the receiver from him. “Cash? What can I do for you?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking that question?” The man spoke in a warm southern drawl. “I hear you ran into some trouble today. Twice.”
“News really travels fast here.”
He chuckled. “Arrowhead Bay is gossip central.”
“Well, I’m okay. And Vigilance is taking care of my security until we know what’s going on.”
“Good, that’s good. Well, Devon, honey, if you need anything at all, you just give me a ring. Your daddy and I are good friends.”
She wanted to ask him if they were such good friends, how come he didn’t know what happened. But she swallowed her words. Cash probably didn’t know any more than she did.
“Thanks for calling.” She handed the phone back to Logan.
“You might want to think about asking Cash Breeland if he knows who your father’s new attorney is,” Logan suggested.
“That’s a thought, but I’d rather not give him the opportunity to ask questions I don’t want to answer. Let’s wait until Avery digs up whatever facts she can and go from there.”
He was about to hang up the phone when it rang again.
Devon threw up her hands. “Oh, my sweet fucking Lord. What is with all the phone calls?”
“I’ll get it,” Logan told her.
“I want to listen,” she insisted, “in case it’s another one of my father’s friends. Maybe, finally, we’ll find out who it is and what they want.”
“Let’s find out.” Logan held the receiver so they both could hear. “Hello?”
“We want to know where he is.” The voice was a monotone, obviously disguised.
“Where who is?” he asked. “Who do you want? Who is this? Who are you looking for?”
“You know. You’d better be prepared to tell us. We’ll do whatever we need to get that information. I’ll get back to you, and this time I want the senorita on the phone.”
“Forget it,” he snapped. “She’s got nothing for you so don’t call again.”
“Too bad.” The line went dead.
Logan stood there, holding the receiver, frowning.
Devon felt chilled again and took another sip of her coffee. “What do they want?”
“I think, like us, they’re looking for your father. The difference is they don’t seem to be quite as friendly. Or have his welfare in mind, any more than the corporate suits do.”
“If I don’t know where he is, what will they do to me?” She cleared her throat to get rid of the little quiver in her voice.
“Nothing,” he assured her. “That’s why you have me.”
Devon picked up the remote for the big flat-screen television on the wall and clicked it on.
“What are you doing?” Logan tried to take the remote from her.
“I want to see what’s being said.”
“It will probably only upset you.”
“Maybe, but I’m already upset and I’d really like to see this for myself.” She looked at her watch. “It’s about time for the local news.”
She selected one of the local channels. She was curious if they thought this was worthy of a cut-in. The picture that came up was of a news commentator in the studio.
“Police in Arrowhead Bay are still looking into the disappearance of wealthy business entrepreneur Graham Cole. His boat was found by the Coast Guard floating offshore of Arrowhead Bay where he lives. It is feared he fell overboard and drowned. Several hours of searching has turned up nothing, but the Coast Guard will continue their search.
“Cole’s catamaran, Princess Devon, was destroyed by fire today. So far the origin is unknown but an investigation is ongoing. Meanwhile, Cole International is still reeling from the death of their vice president for corporate finance, Vincent Pellegrino, in a one-car accident.
“Adding to the situation, we’ve learned that Cole’s daughter, who rushed to Arrowhead Bay from her Tampa home, was run off the road and attacked by two unidentified men. Police are investigating to determine if all the events are connected.
“Stay tuned for further updates.”
Devon felt sick as she watched the report, and not just because she was having to hear about Vince’s death again.
“Logan?” She turned to him. “They showed pictures of me, too. My face is plastered all over the place.”
Logan took the remote from her nerveless fingers and shut off the television.
“Everything is out there on the Internet if you know where to look for it. News outlets have access to just about anything. Come on. You don’t need to see that anymore.”
“What if he’s done something that would send him to jail? God, Logan.” She shivered.
It seemed the most natural thing for Logan to take her hand and tug her in close to him.
“Just keep in mind that anyone who tries to get to you has to go through me,” he reminded her in a fierce tone of voice. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She absorbed the strength from his body, his clean masculine scent surrounding her. They stood like that for a moment, as if he knew she needed to be grounded. To find her balance in a world gone crazy around her.
“Just so you know,” Logan murmured against her hair, “this is not one of my usual bodyguard duties.”
She smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “I would hope not.”
Maybe, she thought, today would end on a good note after all.
Then Logan’s cell phone rang. He looked at the readout.
“It’s Avery. What’s up?” He listened for a moment. “Yeah, they just left here. And let me tell you, something smells there. Yeah, I know. Uh-huh. Well, I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
Whatever he might have planned to say was cut off by the ringing of the doorbell.
“Fuck,” he said. “What now? If a damn reporter has made his way out here, this may be the last story he’ll ever do. You don’t need that right now.”
But when he opened the front door, they got an unpleasant surprise. Craig Alford was standing there, reaching for the doorbell again, an angry glint in his eyes.
“What now?” Logan growled. “I thought I made it plain I wanted you both to leave.”
“I’m sorry, but we have one last thing.” He looked at Devon, a hard, almost angry look that made her nerves jangle. “We want to remind Miss Cole not to say a word to any of the press. We’re releasing our official statement. I’ll fax you a copy.” He looked at Logan. “You have my card if you have any questions, but we’ll be controlling the situation from here on out.”
He climbed into the passenger seat of a Lexus and the car pulled down the driveway.
Devon looked at Logan.
“What could possibly happen next?”
He grunted. “Don’t ask. That’s when shit comes out of the corner. Come on, let’s see what we can fix for dinner. That soup will only hold you so long. Meanwhile, let’s see if we can even the odds a little.” He pulled out his cell phone and pressed a speed dial number. “Hey, Avery? Since you guys aren’t doing all that much around there, add this to your laundry list. Get me everything you can find on Wilson Bodine and Craig Alford, attorneys with Cole International. And throw in Vincent Pellegrino. Yeah. I know.” He chuckled. “I owe you everything. But you love me, right? Thanks.”
“Wow.” Devon grinned at him,
“Let’s see if we can level the playing field a little.”