Page 33 of Silver Lining (The Diamond Trilogy 3)
I can’t wait any longer to make this phone call.
Google reveals plenty of references to North Security. There are a few images by the Associated Press of high-ranking politicians and celebrities with men wearing suits and dark sunglasses in the background. There are some news articles about new security technology with quotes from Joshua North, co-owner and spokesperson for the company.
There are a few magazine articles about the prodigy violinist Samantha Brooks and her budding romance with her bodyguard, a man who was once her guardian. Liam North. The oldest brother. The founder of North Security.
The call connects after half a ring. “North Security.”
“Hi.” I lean back on the couch, the details of my plan disappearing like a mermaid into deep water. My hands are shaking. This is just a phone call, but my body won’t settle down. “I’m calling to speak with Liam North.”
Despite having lots of references elsewhere, the company website is sparse. A white background, a sleek logo, and an email address. There are no flashy images or little reassurances in text to make a prospective client want to call. I get the impression they’re massively successful both in private security and government contracts, but it must come through referrals.
“He’s not available right now. You can leave a message with—”
“No.” The startled silence on the other end of the line is the first clue this woman doesn’t get interrupted often. “I mean—it’s an urgent call.”
“Mr. North receives many urgent calls in the course of business. If you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll pass along a message.” She’s already started typing again, fast and loud.
“I need to speak with him.” For some reason, for some stupid reason, I thought this part of the phone call would be the easy part. “Right now. There’s a security problem. A bad one.” Very smooth, Holly. Very believable. I can hear my heartbeat thudding like a hammer on concrete. “I need to hire North Security for a private security job.”
“Again, miss, you’re welcome to leave a message with—”
“It’s about his brother,” I say flatly. “Elijah.”
“One moment, please.”
Apparently Elijah’s name was the magic word. There’s a brief pause. The phone doesn’t have a chance to ring before Elijah’s brother is on the line. “I wasn’t expecting a call from you, Holly.” His voice is so like Elijah’s that it crushes my heart and makes it hard to breathe.
“How did you know it was me?”
“We have caller ID.”
A manic laugh bursts from me. “Oh. Of course. Yes. Not because you’re fancy security people. Even though you are. The article in Vanity was really impressive.”
“Tell me what happened.”
So I tell Liam North what happened. I tell him about the meeting with my editor from a thousand years ago, missed because of Elijah. I tell him about the church hideout and Adam. About the colonel. About the gun. About getting shot. He says less and less after this until finally he’s dead silent while I tell him about the raid and my subsequent release and the horrible absence in my life since then, and how I am looking for his brother, and how I need his help.
The silence stretches on until I can’t take it anymore. I already feel wrung out from telling the story in the first place and the worry that’s held me in its grip since the church.
“Did we get disconnected?”
“No.”
“You’re going to help him, right?”
There’s a soft shuffling in the background, as if he’s rifling through papers. “Don’t get involved in this, Holly. Forget Elijah. Pretend you’ve never met him.”
The words register first. Then the shock. Then a clean, hot fury. “How dare you. He loves you.” I leap up from the couch and pace through my living room, trying and failing to work out the urge to reach through the phone and strangle Liam.
He’s turning his back on his brother, and why? Why?
“You can’t save him.”
“The hell I can’t.”
He sighs. “The things you’re talking about, they’re above your pay grade. They’re above my pay grade. If Elijah made an enemy of a dirty colonel then there’s going to be a lot of people interested in his death. Not only the government, but whoever he had illegal ties to. You can’t protect him against that, Holly. Leave it alone.”
There’s a click. He’s hung up.
It’s not until I’ve thrown the phone into a couch cushion that I discover the tears slipping down my cheeks. The takeout container seems like a cruel joke now. How am I supposed to sit here and eat when Elijah was real, he could be alive, and even his brothers won’t help me? Bile rises in my throat. Forget the food. Forget everything.
I reach for the phone to send a text to London. It’s something to do, even if it won’t solve the problem, and I can’t be here alone with this. Not completely.
