Page 89 of A Tempting Seduction

And she wouldn't be fighting alone.

Chapter Nineteen

Ford didn’t have to say a word. I just left my car at Miss Gladiola and Little Grandma's house and climbed into his truck. I wanted to be close to him. My hand automatically found his as he pulled away from the curb. The warmth of his fingers wrapped around mine should have been comfort enough, but my stomach churned with nervous energy about what we might learn at Onyx Security.

It felt like forever to get there. Ford kept glancing at me, his brown eyes filled with concern.

“You, okay?” he asked as we turned onto the street where Onyx Security was located.

“Getting there.”

When we pulled up to the building, Ford parked in front, and we walked to the main entrance together.

The door was locked, but a buzzer sounded the moment we approached, and the lock clicked open with an electronic hum. I looked up and spotted the camera mounted above the entrance, its green light indicating we were being watched.

Ford squeezed my hand as we stepped inside.

This time, there wasn't a receptionist to greet us like there had been during our first visit. Instead, Simon’s voice called out from somewhere deeper in the building.

“Come on back past the conference room to my office.”

Ford and I walked hand in hand down the hallway, our footsteps muffled by thick carpet. The building felt different today, more serious somehow. Maybe it was just my nerves, but even the air seemed heavier.

Simon's office was spacious but functional, with a large desk, comfortable chairs, and a small conference table near the windows. Simon sat behind his desk, papers spread across the surface, while Roan occupied one of the chairs in front. Both men looked up when we entered, their expressions focused and alert.

“Have a seat at the table,” Simon said, gesturing toward the small conference table. “We've got some good news.”

Ford and I settled into chairs across from each other, the polished wood surface between us reflecting the afternoon light streaming through the windows.

“What's going on?” Ford asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Before we left the ladies’ house, I texted two of my contacts at the FBI, to see if either of them knew Special Agent Isaacson. I wanted to get a proper introduction before we take the next step.”

My pulse quickened. “Did you find someone?”

“Better than that,” Roan said, moving from his chair to join us at the table. “Simon served with a guy who's now working joint task force operations with the FBI. He vouched for us.”

“It seems smarter to start working with the FBI before having us go out to California,” Simon continued, his fingers dancing across the keyboard. “That way, you'll have even more protection when you access that safety deposit box.”

The logic made sense, but something nagged at me. “Why do you think my father didn't just give this information to the FBI in the first place?”

Roan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “I think Simon was right. He gave some information to the FBI before he died, but this other stuff was an insurance policy. Something to make sure Horace would never come after you.”

“He probably never imagined you'd end up needing to use it,” Simon added.

Before I could respond, Simon's desk phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and held up one finger.

“This is him.” Simon hit the speaker button. “Agent Isaacson? It's Simon Clark.”

“Simon.” The voice that came through the speaker was crisp and professional, with just a hint of a New York accent. “I understand you have some interesting information for me.”

“I do. But first, you should know I have the person of interest here with me.” Simon looked directly at me. “Special Agent Isaacson, I'd like you to meet Ruby Miller. Formerly Ruby Banks.”

The silence on the other end of the line stretched for several heartbeats. When Isaacson finally spoke, his voice carried unmistakable shock.

“Ruby Banks? Michael Banks' daughter?”

“Yes sir.”