Why was someone following him?
Simon had what he wanted. So who’d appeared at the cemetery?
Someone else who might know either Abiram’s or Simon’s business? He was thinking like a reporter again, his inquisitive mind racing with questions. After all, he’d been damn good at what he did. Apparently good enough that someone decided to destroy him.
Who?
He knew enough.
But there was nothing he could do about that.
Then, or now.
Nothing at all.
———
ALLE STARED DOWN AT THE
That’s how Zachariah found her.
“There’s nothing sinister in that article,” she said, retaking her seat. “It simply describes the mysteries surrounding Columbus.”
“Yet a billionaire recluse goes to all the trouble to find you,” Brian said. “Then convinces you to deceive your own father so he can open your grandfather’s grave?”
She was curious. “How do you know all this?”
“You never answered me. What you did to your father was wrong.”
She didn’t like his attitude. He didn’t know how Tom Sagan hurt her and her mother. “My relationship with my father is none of your business.”
His gaze drifted around the room, then refocused on her. “You’re being used. Simon wants what your grandfather trusted you to keep safe. Doesn’t it concern you that his grave is about to be opened?”
More than anyone knew.
Still—
She’d listened to what he had to say, and finally agreed that opening the grave was the only way.
She’d never dreamed that she would be in such a unique position. Her new religion, her adopted heritage— those meant something to her, as they had to her grandfather. To help that, in any way, would be important.
“His grave must be opened,” she told Brian.
He shook his head. “You’re a foolish woman. And you speak of your
“And who are you? Why does any of this matter?”
“Unlike you, I actually have a grip on reality. Zachariah Simon is an extremist. And those are a problem to us all.”
Her gaze drifted past Brian, toward the cafe’s front door.
Rocha and Midnight burst inside.
Brian caught sight of them, too, and stood from the table. “Time for me to go.”
Zachariah’s men marched over.
Brian brushed past them.
Rocha grabbed Brian’s jacket. Two men at one of the other tables immediately stood, obviously with Brian. Rocha seemed to assess the situation and released his grip.
“Smart move,” Brian said to him, and he and his two compatriots left.
“Who was that?” she asked Rocha.
“You tell me. You are the one eating with him.”
“He forced himself on me. Called himself Brian.”