Forsaken

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Blood pumping fiercely, I release Gia, scrambling for my pants, cursing myself for leaving my phone unattended. Relieved and scared shitless of what I’m about to hear, I dig it out of my pocket and hit the Answer button in time to hear, “I’m calling you back, motherfucker.”

  TEN

  AT THE SOUND of Jared’s voice, the tension in my spine eases only a fraction. “Tell me my sister’s alive.”

  “She is. And she’s safe. For now. But we need to talk.”

  “Define ‘safe.’ ”

  “No imminent threat.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Do you really want to do this on the phone?”

  “How likely is it that anyone else saw me go to that apartment?”

  “The apartment itself, zero. I have it wired with cameras and a silent alarm. You were the first mouse in my trap, but I reset it to see who else might come calling.”

  I open my mouth to ask if he means Meg, but glance at Gia, who’s naked and hugging herself, and I hesitate to bring Jared here for reasons I can’t explain. “1732 Wazee Street in half an hour.” I end the call and Gia is already getting dressed. “The contact I’ve been trying to reach left me a number at my sister’s apartment. We need to go and meet him.”

  “We?”

  “I have a safe house near here where we’ll stay until we decide what comes next.”

  “Then why come here at all?”

  “I knew the maid service would rescue you if I didn’t come back from that apartment.”

  She tugs her shirt over her head. “I don’t know if I should thank you or tell you you’re crazy.”

  “Neither.” I sit down and start putting on my boots.

  Gia sits and does the same with her tennis shoes. “So your sister’s alive?”

  “He says she is.”

  “You don’t believe him?”

  I stand up and grab the duffel. “I need to see her with my own eyes.”

  She nods and pushes herself to her feet, sliding her bag over her shoulder. “I would, too. Chad. How much do you trust this person we’re meeting?”

  “I trusted him with my sister’s life.”

  “Right. Of course.”

  I narrow my gaze. “Why?”

  “Because greed is a terrifying thing. What you have, or what people think you have, represents the kind of power that changes people.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “We all know it in our core. It’s humanity.” She draws in a breath. “You said you’d sell me if the price was right. What would this man do if the price is right?”

  My gut clenches and I grab her and pull her to me. “I was trying to make sure you don’t trust anyone. I was trying to keep you alive.”

  “I got the message. You’re a treasure hunter. I’m just lucky enough to be worth nothing to anyone—unless Sheridan simply wants to punish me for betraying him. But your sister is another story. She means everything to you, and Sheridan knows that. This man we’re about to meet knows that. Meg knew that. Even I know that. Listen to your own advice. Trust no one. Not even this person we’re going to meet now.”

  “He protected my sister.”

  “Who is the best way to get to you.”

  “He doesn’t even know what Sheridan is after.”

  “If he’s good enough and smart enough to be worthy of protecting your sister, do you really think he didn’t dig in and find out?”

  “Sheridan hasn’t exactly made this public.”

  “You think that he couldn’t have found out, Chad? Trust no one.”

  “Including you, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not asking for your trust. I’m demanding your brains. Use them. Now.”

  “Why does this matter to you?” My fingers dig into her arms and I give her a shake. “Why?”

  “Because,” she hisses without any hesitation, “if you really have the cylinder, and if it really works, it could save our world as easily as it could destroy it, and that’s all in your hands. And mine, too, if I can influence you to protect it.”

  “And if I have it? What do you want to do with it? Whose interest are you servicing?”

  “Not yours, if you want to sell it to the highest bidder. It can’t be sold. It can’t be given to anyone who will abuse it. I don’t know what the hell to do with it—but I know you can’t sell it like you said you’d sell me.”

  “I’m not selling you or it.”

  “You have it. Tell me.”

  “Trust no one, baby. No one.”

  Her fingers curl on my shirt. “Convince all of them, whoever they are, that you don’t have it—or else they will never stop coming.”

  “You think they’re going to believe that?”

  “Make them believe it.”

  She’s shaking. Her lips, her hands. Her entire body. I stare down at her, this woman who has managed to spell out the backup plan I’ve worked on for six years and never perfected, any more than I’ve figured out what the hell to do with the cylinder.

  “Right. I’ll just tell them it’s all been a big mistake, and we’ll all go our own sweet ways. If that was possible, don’t you think I would have done it before now?”

  “They thought you were dead,” she argues. “You didn’t have to tell them anything before now.”

  “Obviously they didn’t think I was dead, or they wouldn’t have kept looking for me.”

  “All the more reason to convince them you don’t have it. Including whoever we’re going to see now. It won’t be easy, but there has to be a way.”

  I glare back at her. “What’s your story?”

  “It’s not my story that matters. It’s yours.”

  I study her another moment, like I’ll see some answer in her face I don’t find. Shoving my hair back under my baseball hat, I say, “Let’s go,” and dig cash out of my bag, stuffing it into my pocket for easy access. I also stick the gun in my waistband, instead of my ankle holster.

  Gia notices this gesture, eyeing the gun a moment before she tugs the hoodie over her head and tucks her long dark brown hair underneath without me telling her to. We stare at each other again and I don’t fucking know why, any more than I know why I’m not walking. We just are. We’re staring and standing and not moving. And then I’m moving.

  With a low growl, I cave to the ever-present need to hold onto her, lacing her fingers with mine, and leading her to the door. We step into the elevator and still I keep her close. Exiting the elevator, I’m on alert, on edge, and I blame Gia. Granted, I’m always there to some degree, but she has me ready to drop and roll with my gun drawn.

  I fork over a big tip to the doorman and when he offers to escort us to the side of the hotel where the Escalade still waits, I wave him off. My instincts are buzzing, and this time it’s not about Gia and her warnings. This is a sense of awareness I’ve lived with even before Sheridan, when I first started walking the line as a treasure hunter. The same instinct that made me damn good then, and even now, at getting away with things others cannot. I have a sense that a wrong move now will be lethal, like there are eyes all around me, and Jared’s claim no one else saw me at that apartment isn’t true. It was a risk, one I could have made more calculated had I not been fucking emotionally coming apart at the edges over my sister’s well-being. I’d been in the moment, not the big picture.

  Following Gia to the passenger’s-side door of the Escalade, I hold it open and ensure she’s safely inside before quickly moving to the driver’s-side door. Climbing inside the vehicle, I lock the doors and start the engine. Every nerve ending in my body is jumping.

  “Chad—”

  “Later. When I know we’re safe.”

  I pull onto the road and my sense of unease increases. I veer into the neighborhood behind the hotel and start weaving through the streets. When I see no signs of trouble following me, I turn onto a main highway and head the few miles downtown. Still, I’m cautious, and travel down another residential street—and notice the dark sedan from two s
treets back. Abruptly, I put us in reverse and back toward the vehicle. It starts backing up and I shove us into Park and draw my gun.

  “Chad!” Gia calls out.

  “Lock the door,” I order, exiting the Escalade and shutting her inside.

  The sedan stops moving, idling, and I rush at it, closing the distance between it and me, but the hair on the back of my neck stands up at the same moment I hear the sound of fast approaching motorcycle engines revving. I glance over my shoulder as the glass shatters on the passenger’s side of the Escalade. Gia. Forgetting the sedan, I turn and start running, rounding the vehicle as Gia’s scream pierces the air. A man, or I think it’s a man, in leather and a helmet is leaning into the Escalade while another waits on a motorcycle nearby, holding a gun in my direction.

  Fuck him—if he kills me he can’t get the cylinder, and I don’t back down. I shoot at his tires and miss. He revs his engine and comes at me. About that time, Gia is hauled out of the truck and I tackle the man holding her. We go down on the ground, and I curse as I land on the bottom, my head hitting the pavement, along with my gun, which bounces away. A fist comes down on my face, followed by another.

  “Chad!” Gia shouts, and I’m terrified that the other man will get to her before I can.

  “The gun!” I shout, grabbing the jacket of my attacker at the same moment I ram my knee into his groin.

  The sound of a gunshot splits the air, and the man on top of me rolls off. As tempting as it is to go after him, I roll in the opposite direction, coming to my feet to find Gia holding the gun. I take it from her as both of the men mount their bikes and speed off.

  “Inside,” I order urgently, ushering her toward the Escalade.

  She hesitates at the edge of the glass-covered seat and I grab her, all but tossing her across the seats. She yelps, no doubt from the glass that also digs into my jeans-clad leg, but I’ll take ‘alive and with me’ over ‘dead or with someone else’ any day.

  I throw us into Reverse, finding the black sedan nowhere in sight, hearing the sound of sirens in the not-so-far distance.

  “Why the fuck were they after you, Gia? Sheridan doesn’t want revenge on you badly enough to ignore me.”

  “I don’t know. And who says they were ignoring you?”

  “They were after you, Gia,” I say, putting us in Drive and accelerating. “And now our damn license plates are going to be hot all over again.”

  “They weren’t after me,” she insists. “That makes no sense.”

  “No. It doesn’t. Does it? Trust no one? Nailed that one.” I glance down to find her hand bleeding. “Fuck.”

  She curls her fingers into her palm. “I reopened my cut. I’m fine, but your eye is swelling again.”

  I rip my shirt over my head and toss it to her. “Wrap it. And you’re not fine. Nothing is fine.” She’s right. My eye is swelling again. Fuck me, and fuck all this shit. I round a corner and pull onto a main downtown street, then take two more turns. Finally I pull into the driveway of what was once a brewery and is now a six-thousand-foot apartment building with a tech center. I key in a code and the garage doors open. We enter the two-deep, four-car garage and a white pickup truck follows us inside.

  “Who is that?” Gia asks urgently. “Is that your friend? Please tell me it’s your friend.”

  “We’re about to find out,” I say, lowering the garage door and exiting the Escalade with my gun drawn. Rounding the hood, I target the driver’s door, watching as it pops open. But even before I see the man’s face, his light brown hair tied at the nape and the orange UT Longhorns T-shirt is a dead giveaway.

  “Nicest greeting you’ve ever given me.” Jared laughs, shutting his door and settling his hands on his jeans-clad hips. “Should I remind you that I got an invitation, and I wasn’t the guy that uglied up that pretty face of yours or stole your damn shirt?”

  “We were attacked a mile back,” I say, and I can’t seem to contain the accusation in my voice as I add, “You were the only one who knew we were here, and where we were going.”

  “There’s no way anyone found you through me. No one saw me. No one saw you at the apartment. I’m sure of it. And who the hell is ‘we,’ and do you trust that person?”

  Something is off. Really off, and I don’t know what, but it can’t be Jared. I’ve known him for eight years, and he’s never failed me. That only leaves Gia. “I haven’t decided,” I say, holstering my weapon and moving to open Gia’s door. She twists around to face me, her legs dangling from the glass-covered seat. I stand in front of her, an unmoving wall, and tell her, “We need to talk.”

  “Right. I was almost kidnapped or killed or whatever that was, and now I’m sensing I’m the enemy again. Why don’t you just tie me up and torture me, the way Sheridan did you?”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  My hands come down on her waist and I lift her over the glass, setting her on the ground. Her bloodied hand comes down on my chest. “Where’s the shirt?”

  “I dropped it.”

  I reach around her, retrieving it and wrapping it around her hand in a knot. “That talk,” I say when I’m done, “is going to be free of bullshit.”

  “Yeah, like you’re capable of that.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  She throws a look toward Jared and then back to me. “Alone,” she says. “We have that no-bullshit talk alone.”

  My lips thin. “Alone it is, sweetheart, but get ready to tell all, because we both know you haven’t.” I grip her elbow and lead her toward the door. Jared is leaning against the wall, one booted ankle crossed over the other, his gaze sweeping over the blood on my chest before he arches a brow. “Talk about liking it rough.”

  “You aren’t funny, asshole,” I growl, and for some unexplainable reason, I pull Gia in front of me, putting myself between her and Jared, like he’s the problem, not her. Keying another code in to the panel on the wall, I still feel safer with Gia in front of me than behind. I urge her forward and follow her through a laundry area that leads to a kitchen with a low-hanging stainless-steel ventilation hood dangling over a stone counter. Still holding Gia’s arm, I scan the furnished living area to the right and the dining area to the left, finding nothing but two years of dust gathered since my last visit.

  Motioning to the winding black metal stairs in front of us, I lean into Gia and say, “The master bedroom is to the left. There’s a first aid kit under the bathroom sink. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She doesn’t move. She turns and faces Jared as he joins us in the kitchen. He scowls. “Something you want to say to me?”

  A second passes. Two. Three. “Nothing,” she finally replies, turning and running up the stairs.

  Jared whistles. “What was that, and who the hell is she?”

  Trust no one. The words play in my head. The sense of unease I am feeling with Jared is like removing the last piece of security I had left in this world, and it’s pissing me off. I march past him and enter the laundry area, keying in a code that will put this place on lockdown if anyone tries to come or go without another matching sequence of numbers.

  Returning to the kitchen, I find myself confronted by Jared, who gives me a big hug. “I thought you were dead, man.”

  I return the embrace, relief seeping into my bones. He’s a friend. A real friend. Gia might stir unfamiliar emotions in me, but I share a history with Jared. “They can’t kill me,” I tell him.

  He breaks away and stares at me. “What is it you have that they want so badly?”

  I step back from him, and we both lean on the counter, facing each other, him arching a brow. “You aren’t answering. Talk to me, man. What are they after?”

  “More importantly, where’s my sister?”

  “Back in New York and safe, I promise.”

  “New York isn’t safe.”

  “Denver wasn’t safe. Not with Meg here, working damn hard to get close to her. And let me show you just how big a problem that was.” He reaches in
his pocket and pulls out his phone, flipping it around to show me a picture that has me grabbing the cell from his hand.

  “Rollin,” I growl. “That bastard is supposed to be dead.”

  “That’s what we all thought. The question now becomes, does Daddy Dearest know he’s alive? He hasn’t shown up on Sheridan’s radar at all.”

  “What about Meg? Has she? Where is she now?”

  “Gone. She followed Amy to New York, wreaked a little more havoc on her life, and then disappeared. I’ve tried to find her.”

  “At least tell me you got the clue I left for Amy and gave it to her.”

  “That I can confirm. I gave her the clue, and she found the letter you left for her, and the list of Sheridan’s business partners and their many sins. She went to Sheridan and promised to turn him and his partners in to the authorities if they didn’t leave her alone. And her new fiancé went one step further. He hired a hit man and promised Sheridan that everyone on that list would be dead if anything happened to Amy or anyone close to her.”

  “Fiancé? What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been gone long enough for her to have a damn fiancé, let alone one she trusts enough to involve him in this.”

  “Long enough for her to fall in love and get pregnant.”

  “Pregnant? Amy’s fucking pregnant?”

  He gives a grim shake of his head. “No. She miscarried, and she didn’t handle it well.”

  And I wasn’t there for her. The idea that she has been alone, and turned to some stranger out of desperation, shreds me. “Explain how and why she ended up back in New York?”

  “That’s where her billionaire fiancé, Liam Stone, lives.”

  “Billionaire? She got pregnant by a man she just happened to meet the night she was on the run, and he just happens to be a billionaire?”

  “I agree, it’s hard to swallow. But Liam Stone claims he loves her, and he’s pretty damn convincing. And his résumé, if you want to call it that, is impressive. Protégé of a famous architect and famous as one himself. He not only makes a fortune from his own work, he inherited a fortune from his adopted father, who was also his mentor.”