“That’s my girl.” His skin bristled with pride. He glanced at his watch. “I have to go. I have one brief meeting on the way and should be home by four-thirty. I love you so much, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, honey.”
With a lingering grin, he stuffed the phone into his coat. Trey slipped on sunglasses and followed the slate sidewalk to the discrete parking lot adjoining his office. His Bentley sat at the back, next to Reva’s car. A black SUV was parked closer to the front of the densely landscaped, private lot. Tourists, no doubt. He couldn’t fault them. They were an important part of Savannah’s economy, an economy his family had cultivated since the eighteenth century.
First one, then three more broad-shouldered bodyguard types in dark suits, day-old beards and aviator sunglasses poured out of the SUV and approached him.
Trey’s stomach clenched. He’d seen the tactic before, like a wolf pack on prey. A slug of adrenaline cannonballed into his stomach, jacking his nerves. This was no Welcome-Wagon visit. And sending four meant they weren’t here to talk. He should have listened to his earlier intuition; it had never steered him wrong.
He glanced at the thick-necked thugs, opened his jacket and brought his gun hand to his underarm weapon, poised to draw on the slightest provocation. Provocation he knew was coming, he just didn’t know which of them would make the first move.
As they spread out surrounding him, Trey jockeyed for position, but had no good alternative other than to back up against Reva’s car. The lead tough studied Trey like a coiled cobra deciding when to strike. The man’s hesitation was good. He was likely considering his options. Would the man walk? Or would he—
Suddenly, the side of Trey’s neck seared with a Taser shock, then another. His torso went rigid. His legs buckled. His mind imploded, then everything went black.