Chapter 5 - The Name Emmett Couldn’t Forget
At eleven that night, Delaney was dressed in black.
Not because she had suddenly become part of Emmett's world.
Because the only alternatives in the staff wardrobe were navy blue and white.
Emmett had found her trousers, a sweater, boots, and a winter coat.
The sweater stretched tightly enough across her stomach that her pregnancy was impossible to hide now.
He noticed.
He politely said nothing.
They stood inside an underground garage beneath a building owned by Ror Holdings.
Three black vehicles waited.
Six men checked equipment.
Delaney hated every second of it.
"This looks like the beginning of a very bad decision," she said.
"It probably is."
"Comforting."
Emmett handed her a small earpiece.
"If I say leave, you leave."
"Fine."
"You don't argue."
"Let's not become unrealistic."
He looked at her.
"Delaney."
She softened slightly.
"I'll try."
They had spent hours studying the warehouse photograph.
The building had belonged to a maritime insurance company before Victor secretly acquired it.
Emmett's people confirmed movement there within the last forty-eight hours.
They also confirmed the official midnight meeting location was empty except for two vehicles and armed men.
A diversion.
Victor expected Emmett.
He did not expect Emmett to recognize the real location.
Delaney climbed into the rear of the middle SUV.
Emmett sat beside her.
"You knew Nolan before the audit," she said.
His gaze shifted.
"What?"
"The way you reacted to his name."
"I knew him during the audit."
"No."
She had been watching him.
Emmett Ror controlled almost every expression.
But not the first one when she said Nolan's name.
That had been recognition mixed with something deeper.
Respect.
Maybe grief.
"Tell me."
Emmett looked out the window.
Finally he said, "Nolan saved my life."
Delaney stared.
"When?"
"Ten months ago."
"Before he disappeared."
"Yes."
"How?"
"A meeting went wrong."
"What kind of meeting?"
"One you don't want details about."
"Try me."
Emmett sighed.
"There was a shooting."
Delaney's stomach tightened.
"Nolan was there?"
"He wasn't supposed to be."
"What was my accountant husband doing at a shooting?"
"He followed financial records to a warehouse. He thought he was investigating stolen inventory."
"And instead?"
"He walked into an ambush."
Emmett's voice grew quieter.
"I was hit."
Delaney looked over him instinctively.
He touched his left side.
"Nolan dragged me behind a truck."
"He never told me."
"I made him promise not to."
"Why?"
"Because once he understood what he had found, he wanted out."
Delaney looked down.
"Then why didn't he quit?"
"He tried."
Her head snapped up.
Emmett continued.
"I told him I would release him from the audit."
"But?"
"He came back the next morning."
"Why?"
"Because he said if he stopped, the people stealing from me would keep hurting people."
That sounded exactly like Nolan.
Stubborn.
Moral to the point of self-destruction.
Delaney felt tears gathering and blinked them away.
"He always had to fix everything."
"Yes."
"You liked him."
Emmett hesitated.
"I respected him."
"For you, I'm guessing that's practically love."
The faintest smile appeared.
Then vanished.
They drove in silence.
At 11:37, the vehicles stopped two blocks from the warehouse.
Emmett's men moved first.
Delaney stayed inside until he returned.
"You are staying here."
"No."
"Delaney."
"You promised."
"I promised nothing."
"You nodded."
"That isn't legally binding."
"Ask my husband. I'm excellent at arguing."
His expression shifted when she mentioned Nolan.
Then he opened the door.
"Behind me. Always."
They moved through an alley.
The warehouse loomed ahead.
One side window was broken.
Two security cameras had been disabled by Emmett's men.
Inside, everything smelled of rust and cold concrete.
Delaney's breathing sounded too loud.
They reached a corridor.
A door.
Emmett raised one hand.
Everyone stopped.
A man opened the door silently.
Empty room.
Rope on a chair.
Blood on the floor.
Delaney's knees weakened.
"Nolan."
She rushed forward.
Emmett caught her arm.
"It's not enough blood."
She looked at him.
"What?"
"Someone was hurt. Not necessarily killed."
On the floor lay a paper cup.
Still warm.
"They moved him recently," one of Emmett's men said.
Delaney searched the room desperately.
Nothing.
Then she saw marks scratched into the underside of the chair.
Letters.
D.C.
Her initials.
Below them, numbers.
2-14-9-19-8.
"What is that?"
Delaney touched the scratches.
Nolan loved codes.
He had used simple substitution games with her when they were dating.
Numbers became letters.
2=B.
14=N.
9=I.
19=S.
8=H.
BNISH.
Wrong.
"Maybe backwards."
H-S-I-N-B.
No.
Emmett crouched.
"Could be coordinates."
"No."
Delaney stared.
Then remembered something.
"Nolan uses alphabet positions, but he shifts everything one place when he wants me to read it."
She subtracted one.
1-13-8-18-7.
A-M-H-R-G.
Still wrong.
She frowned.
Then laughed once in disbelief.
"It's not English."
"What?"
"It's shorthand from college."
She translated.
"Basement. North. Inside. Service hall."
Emmett stood immediately.
They found a staircase behind stacked crates.
The basement smelled damp.
One narrow corridor extended north.
Delaney's pulse pounded.
At the far end—
A metal door.
Locked.
Emmett's man forced it.
Inside was a mattress.
Bottled water.
Medical supplies.
And another message scratched into the wall.
This one was clear.
DELANEY DON'T TRUST—
The sentence ended there.
Her blood ran cold.
"Don't trust who?"
Emmett stared at the unfinished words.
Then his phone vibrated.
Security at the mansion.
He answered.
"Yes?"
His face changed.
"What do you mean she's gone?"
Delaney stepped closer.
"Who?"
Emmett didn't answer.
"Who is gone?"
He lowered the phone slowly.
"Mrs. Bell."
Delaney stared.
"You said she was missing already."
"She came back."
"When?"
"Thirty minutes ago."
"And?"
"She told security she'd been forced to leave the house."
Delaney's stomach dropped.
"Where is she now?"
Emmett looked at her.
"Inside the mansion."
Delaney thought of Lily asleep upstairs.
"No."
Emmett was already running.
They raced toward the stairs.
Then Delaney's eyes caught something on the basement floor.
A silver necklace.
She knew it.
She had given it to Nolan on their second anniversary.
She picked it up.
Behind it, written in dried blood beneath the mattress, was one complete sentence.
DELANEY, DON'T TRUST THE MAN WHO SENT ME TO EMMETT.
Delaney stared at the words.
Only one man had recommended Nolan for the Ror audit.
His former professor.
His mentor.
The man Delaney herself had called repeatedly after Nolan vanished.
Dr. Adrian Vale.
And according to what he'd told Delaney two weeks earlier—
He had been the person who suggested she apply for housekeeping work in Beacon Hill.
May you like
The man helping Delaney search for Nolan had been guiding her toward Emmett from the beginning.
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