The break ended shortly afterward. The morning rehearsal resumed. This time, however, Taylor was far less focused.
Again and again, her gaze drifted toward Ethan.
Eventually, the rest of the team began to notice.
After making several mistakes in a row, Taylor closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced herself to concentrate.
Finally, the rehearsal continued without further problems. When most of the staff began to disperse, Ethan's phone rang.
It was Hank.
Ethan answered immediately.
After the initial interrogation, Intelligence had confirmed that the man they had detained was, in fact, the stalker who had been sending the threatening letters.
However, he vehemently denied having anything to do with the bomb or entering the mansion the night before.
He claimed to know absolutely nothing about it.
They had also checked his background. He was simply an obsessed fan with enough money to buy information about Taylor's location from a paparazzo.
He had followed her from Los Angeles to Chicago.
But there was a problem.
He had no experience whatsoever with explosives, much less the knowledge required to construct a homemade device with the level of precision they had seen.
—I can keep questioning him —Hank said from the other end—. But based on my experience, I think he's telling the truth.
Ethan remained silent.
—And that also confirms what you said.
Ethan looked toward Taylor, who was resting a short distance away.
—That isn't good news.
—No.
Hank's gravelly voice came through again.
—Be careful.
He paused briefly.
—We're going to speed up our investigation into every lead we have.
—Understood.
Ethan nodded and ended the call.
Ethan took Taylor's trembling hand.
—Don't worry. As long as you're with me, I won't let anyone hurt you.
Her fingers were ice-cold, whether from the weather or everything that had happened. Taylor instinctively tried to pull her hand away, but Ethan held it firmly. The warmth of his palm managed to calm her, and little by little, she stopped resisting.
—Come on. You still have things to do.
He gently patted the back of her hand before releasing it. A faint warmth lingered in Taylor's fingertips. When she rubbed her nose, she caught a faint scent of tobacco, but she quickly lowered her hand and followed Ethan.
Backstage, Megan approached them with her phone in hand.
—We still have to visit the children's hospital —she reminded her quietly—. Will you be able to do it?
Taylor took a deep breath and looked at Ethan.
—Yes. I can do it.
His presence had managed to contain some of her fear. Megan nodded, relieved.
—Then let's go. Rehearsal is over, and I've already packed everything.
The group made their way through the service corridors to the garage. In the distance, the Range Rover and the vehicle assigned to Taylor were waiting for them.
Ethan slowed down.
An idea had just crossed his mind.
He pulled out the keys and tossed them to Rick, the bodyguard with the mohawk.
—Start both vehicles and turn the heat all the way up. It's too cold.
—All right.
After their earlier confrontation, Rick had become much more cooperative. Besides, that kind of request was hardly unusual when working for a celebrity.
He and another guard ran toward the vehicles, started the engines, and turned on the heat. Ethan remained at a distance, watching closely.
Only when both vehicles were running normally did he start walking again.
They were dealing with someone capable of making explosives. Checking that the vehicles had not been tampered with was a basic precaution, but it still did not seem sufficient.
When they reached them, Ethan abruptly changed direction and pointed toward the black Audi used by the security staff.
—Taylor will ride with me in that one. We're switching vehicles.
No one argued. Ethan had the final say on security matters, and after the attack, even Taylor obeyed without protest.
Rick then understood why Ethan had asked them to start the other vehicles first. He seemed somewhat embarrassed that he had not thought of it himself, but he said nothing. He simply climbed into the Range Rover with the other guards.
The convoy left Soldier Field and headed toward the children's hospital.
Now that she knew the real perpetrator might still be free, Taylor sank silently into the back seat. Megan sat beside her, checking her phone without being able to hide her nervousness.
The atmosphere inside the Audi was disturbingly quiet.
When they were only a few blocks from the hospital, the traffic light turned red, and Ethan stopped the vehicle. He began drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he scanned the mirrors, rooftops, and people walking along the sidewalks.
Then he noticed something in a nearby flower bed.
Several stray cats were resting in the faint sunlight. Their eyes were half-closed, and their whiskers moved gently with each breath.
Ethan's fingers stopped.
Cats.
The head placed on the bed.
The body hidden inside the cake. The supposed delivery van that no camera had recorded.
The injured bodyguard was the one who had told that story. He was also one of the few people who knew about the letters, the itinerary, and the last-minute changes.
Moreover, his hospitalization had kept him out of the convoy and therefore free from suspicion.
The pieces suddenly fell into place.
—Cats... —he murmured.
Taylor tensed when she heard the word.
—What is it?
Ethan did not have time to explain. He pulled out his phone and called Hank.
The call had barely rung twice when a sharp crack thundered behind them.
Ethan looked in the rearview mirror.
The rear window of the Range Rover exploded in a cloud of glass. Rick, seated behind the wheel, took the impact to the head and collapsed over the steering wheel as the inside of the vehicle was covered in blood.
Car alarms began to blare.
Ethan slammed on the accelerator.
—Get down!
The Audi rammed the car stopped in front of them and pushed it several yards. With no time to react, Taylor and Megan fell between the seats.
—I'm here. What's going on? —Hank answered from the other end of the call.
Another burst of gunfire struck the Range Rover. The bodywork shuddered under the impacts as the windows continued to shatter.
—We're under attack —Ethan replied.
He turned the wheel, reversed far enough to give himself room, and accelerated again. The Audi shot out to one side, scraping the bumper of the vehicle he had just rammed.
—Location? —Hank demanded when he heard the gunshots and screams.
—Between Wabash and 16 E! —he shouted.
Ethan's side mirror took a hit and exploded. A second bullet shattered the driver's window. Ethan ducked; several shards of glass grazed his ear, sending a sharp pain through it.
The shooter had realized that Taylor was not traveling in the Range Rover.
Now he was concentrating his fire on the Audi.
—The attacker is the injured bodyguard! —Ethan shouted.
He floored the accelerator and gave Hank the nearest intersection. The engine roared as the Audi swerved into the oncoming lane to escape the line of fire.
Horns erupted all around them.
—Asshole!
—You're going the wrong way!
—How the hell are you driving?!
Ethan wove between the vehicles coming toward them. The tires shrieked with every turn, and smoke began rising from the pavement.
—Hold on!
Taylor and Megan barely had time to grab the seats.
Ethan violently turned the wheel and aimed the Audi toward the median. The vehicle struck the curb, went over it, and hung in the air for an instant.
Taylor felt her stomach drop.
Then the car slammed down onto the lanes on the other side. The suspension groaned, and all three of them were thrown against their seats, but Ethan regained control before the Audi could skid.
—That was close! —he exclaimed, letting out an adrenaline-fueled laugh.
It had been a long time since he had driven like that. It was dangerous, but the rush was impossible to ignore.
—You're a fucking lunatic! —Taylor shouted from the back.
Fear and adrenaline mingled in her voice. She managed to sit up and, unable to stop herself, added:
—Get down!
Megan stared at her in disbelief.
—Seriously?!
The Audi continued speeding away with one window shattered, its side riddled with bullet holes, and its engine roaring until it disappeared at the end of the avenue.
Hank took a few seconds to respond.
—All right. I'll send someone over right now.
His voice became more serious.
—What are you going to do?
—Taylor wasn't exposed during the attack. If you can keep that detail out of the press, I'll leave it to you.
Ethan turned the wheel and glanced briefly into the rearview mirror.
—I'm taking her somewhere safe. We don't know if he's monitoring police radio. I'll call you once she's secure.
—All right. Be careful.
Hank ended the call.
Megan leaned slightly forward.
—Where are we going?
—My house.
Ethan looked at her through the rearview mirror.
—Every location you've used is compromised. You two are staying with me for now.
—Thank you.
Taylor responded with genuine relief. Insisting that Ethan remain by her side had been a good decision.
Then she suddenly remembered something.
—Wait, where are Billy and the others?
Billy was the man with the mohawk. Taylor had seen the impact strike his head directly.
The chances that he had survived were practically nonexistent.
Ethan slowly shook his head.
He said nothing.
The adrenaline was beginning to fade. Only then did Taylor fully comprehend what had just happened.
Her bodyguards were dead.
She remained motionless for several seconds. Then she covered her face with both hands and began to cry.
After all, they were people who had worked beside her for a long time. And now they had died because of someone trying to get to her.
Ethan sighed but made no attempt to comfort her.
Shortly afterward, Chloe called. Megan took a deep breath, suppressed her own panic, and began discussing everything they would need to do next.
By the time they reached Ethan's property, Taylor had gradually stopped crying.
Ethan drove around the wall beside the fountain and stopped the vehicle.
He opened the door.
Several shards of broken glass fell to the ground.
—Get out. We're here.
He walked to the rear and opened the door for the two women.
Taylor swung her feet out of the car. As soon as her shoes touched the ground, she discovered that her legs would not respond.
She had no strength.
—I can't move.
She wiped away her tears and lowered her head.
It was not unusual. The body could react in very different ways to extreme fear.
Some people seemed to acquire superhuman strength. Others became completely paralyzed.
—It's all right. I'll help you.
Ethan made no further comment. He slipped one arm beneath Taylor's legs and the other around her back.
He lifted her easily. Taylor immediately felt embarrassed and hid her face against his chest.
—Is this your house?
With her bag hanging from her shoulder, Megan stared in amazement at the enormous residence before her.
The property had to be worth several million dollars.
Very few people could afford something like that. Even Megan, whose income was considerably higher than that of an ordinary detective, would have struggled to purchase such a residence.
—It is.
Ethan climbed the steps with steady strides and placed his finger on the biometric reader.
The lock responded.
—There are dozens of cameras around the perimeter. You can relax here.
It was not just the house. The entire property had been equipped with additional security measures. If anyone unknown entered the grounds, Ethan immediately received a notification on his phone, courtesy of Job.
—Where is your family?
Taylor still had her arms around his neck as she curiously observed the inside of the house.
She had seen far more luxurious residences.
The previous year, she had purchased an oceanfront property in Rhode Island for nearly twenty million dollars.
The luxury was not what surprised her.
It was the contrast.
She had imagined that Ethan lived in a small apartment.
She had never expected anything like this.
—I live alone. I don't have a family.
Ethan set Taylor down on the spacious sofa.
—You can relax now.
—I'm sorry.
Taylor blushed slightly and quickly withdrew her arms.
—Make yourselves at home.
Ethan unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it aside without much care.
Then he walked over to the glass near the television and examined the wound on his ear.
There were no fragments embedded in it.
A good sign.
—I'm sorry.
Taylor looked at the pool and hot tub visible beyond the floor-to-ceiling window.
She smiled somewhat bitterly.
—I used to think you were an asshole.
—Hmm?
Ethan opened the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of Macallan along with three glasses.
He sat down in front of the large marble coffee table.
He winked at her.
—Even if I am a jerk, I don't remember doing anything particularly jerky to you.
—No.
Taylor seemed embarrassed.
—Last night, I thought you were trying to take advantage of the situation to get more money out of me.
—I already told you I'm not short on money.
Ethan shook his head as he poured Macallan into the three glasses.
—A lot of people don't believe me, but I'm actually a pretty straightforward person.
He raised his glass.
—Come on.
He looked at the two women sitting across from him.
—To escaping a situation that brought us fairly close to death.
Taylor and Megan exchanged a glance.
After everything they had just endured, neither of them hesitated for long.
They picked up their glasses.
The glasses clinked together.
All three drank the whisky in one swallow.
The warmth of the alcohol quickly spread through Taylor's body.
Little by little, she began to regain some strength.
She pulled out her phone.
She finally had enough mental clarity to begin dealing with the consequences of what had happened.
Ethan understood that they both had a great deal of work ahead of them.
He picked up the bottle.
—You two take care of what you need to do. If you need anything, call me.
He pointed outside.
—I'll be out there.
He stepped outside.
He turned on the hot tub and the outdoor television.
Shortly afterward, the water began to churn.
Ethan removed his shoes and socks. Then he climbed directly into the hot tub, still fully dressed.