If he had started the engine… it wouldn’t have been the motor that ignited.
It would have been the bomb.
He staggered back, pale, his hands shaking. Slowly, he turned to the girl, who sat curled on the ground, watching him.
She had just saved his life.
But a more terrifying thought followed: who had done this?
He pulled out his secure phone and dialed immediately.
“David,” he said when the line connected. “Bring the bomb squad to Harbor Point Marina. Quietly. Now.”
He hung up and sank onto a bench, the adrenaline draining from his body.
“What’s your name?” he asked hoarsely.
“Sophie,” she whispered.
“Sophie… tell me everything you saw.”
She wiped her nose and nodded.
“I was under the dock, catching crabs,” she said. “A small boat came. No motor. A man got off. He had a suit, like yours. Gray. And shiny shoes. He had a briefcase.”
Richard leaned forward, heart pounding.
“Did you see his face?”
“Yes. He had a scar here.” She traced her eyebrow. “He was on the phone. He sounded angry. He said, ‘Today it ends. Tomorrow the company is mine.’”
Everything inside Richard went still.
The scar.
The voice.
The ambition.
Ethan.