“I’ve got you,” Emily whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
The nanny stood frozen in the street, pale as a ghost. People rushed over. Someone called 911.
Emily slowly sat up, wincing. Her elbow was bleeding. Her shoulder throbbed. But the little girl? Not a scratch.
Within minutes, black SUVs pulled up like something out of a movie.
Men in suits stepped out.
And then he arrived.
Tall. Gray suit. Calm but terrifying presence.
Michael Reynolds.
Owner of half the buildings downtown. Investor. Millionaire. The kind of man people lowered their voices around.
He rushed past everyone and dropped to his knees in front of the child.
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