I blink, centering my thoughts back onto the moment. Rising slowly, I send out my awareness, trying to sense into the rooms that line the hall. There are three. The door of the bedroom where we left Murphy bound is ajar.
As I step forward to follow Petra, the labored breathing behind me stops. I turn back. Murphy’s eyes are still open, but he’s gone very still. I swallow, staring into those unseeing orbs, a wave of nausea and guilt washing over me, a gentle lapping of the sea, not the rough surf of an angry ocean.
He deserved this fate. The world is better off without him.
Petra makes a noise, small, subtle…surprised. I whirl around. She stumbles, her black coat absorbing the light, making her skin look terribly pale as she hits the wall, her gun still up.
Petra fires, the bullet thunking into the frame of the bedroom door. There is no one there. Her hands shake, the gun loosening then falling from her grasp as she slips down the wall. The gun hits the floor first, and I fight my instinct to catch her, instead keeping my weapon up, trained on the empty doorway.
Michael must be in there.
I move forward slowly. When I am next to Petra, I glance down at her. A tranquilizer dart protrudes from her jacket. But it shouldn’t be able to penetrate that thick coat.
Her breath is coming easily, steadily. Fear races down my spine. She’s faking it.
Petra’s hands lay limp, pale against the dark softness of her long coat. Her face is relaxed, all the lines smoothed out of it. I return my attention to the bedroom entryway but keep Petra in my peripheral vision.
A movement on the floor beyond the doorway catches my eye, and the sharp sting of a needle hits my leg. He lay on the ground and shot me. Fuck.
I put out a hand, thumping into the wall, my vision blurring. Michael steps into the hall, a satisfied smile on his face. The edge of my vision darkens. I hold onto the wall, but it’s tipping sideways. I try to fire, but I’ve dropped my gun; my hands have gone numb.
Michael advances, slow and confident. I’m going to sleep and never wake.
My mother’s voice whispers in my ear… “I love you, my sweet boy.”
I failed her.
I slide down the wall, slumping against it in a pile of numb limbs. The weight of my eyelids bears down on me. Michael looms above, grinning, his face blurring from the tears pooling in my eyes.
The bang of a shot jolts me, and Michael stumbles back. Petra leaps after him, a blur of loose hair and flapping overcoat. A caged animal released.
My breath comes easily, my eyes drift almost shut. I can’t fight it.
Petra’s face, blood drops sprayed across her cheek, appears in front of me. She’s grabbing my shoulder, lowering me to the ground.
“Sleep, sweet Lenox,” she says. “I will take care of you.”
My eyes shut, my brain descends into darkness. But one last thought…a warning bubbles up from the depths of my mind...
She will betray you.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sydney
I should have gotten my period a week ago.
Buying the pregnancy test reminds me of my youth…of pregnancy scares with boyfriends. Of the flitter in my heart at the idea of becoming a mother before I was ready.
But this—this lack of ready—is nothing I could’ve imagined.
Mulberry is the father. I have no idea how to reach him. He will find me.
The pharmacy is bright and cold, the air-conditioning blasting as I step through the sliding glass doors. It’s hot in Miami today. Blue, Nila, and Frank follow me in, leashless as always. The woman behind the check-out counter widens her eyes but does not comment.
Dan
It only takes me a few moments to hack into the CVS camera. By then Sydney is moving down an aisle, her dogs in her wake. In blurry grayscale, their progress looks jerky, but I know if I was actually there in that CVS, I’d see how smooth Sydney’s movements are…how her dogs almost glide behind her.
She stops and turns to a display. I squint my eyes. What is she buying?
She picks up a box and reads it. On another screen, I pull up a layout of the store. Family planning. Is she buying condoms. But for who?
Sydney puts the box down and picks up another. She looks down the aisle, checking in both directions. No one coming. She turns the box, and that’s when I see it…a pregnancy test.
My heart starts to hammer and sweat breaks out on my palms. Holy shit.
Sydney turns to check out. Who the hell is the possible father?
Sydney
I pay with cash and accept the bag the cashier gives me. It’s so light. Stepping back out into the warm night, I turn toward the hotel. I couldn’t be anywhere near Robert’s house with this. Up in my room, I drop the key on the bed and pull the box out of the bag.
No time like the present.
In the bathroom, I read the directions. Hold the stick under my pee for five seconds. I do as instructed. If there is a plus sign in the first results window and a vertical line in the second, I’m pregnant.
Liquid seeps across the first window, and a horizontal blue line appears. In the second window a vertical line materializes. No plus sign.
I put the stick down on the countertop and glance up at my reflection then quickly back down to the test…where a second line has emerged in the first window. A cross.
An image of my mother’s face flashes before my eyes.
I’m pregnant.
I cover my mouth with a hand to stifle the sob welling up. My heart is thundering in my chest. I might be sick again. My eyes jump to my reflection. Is this joy? Am I happy? Terrified.
I have not felt fear like this since my brother died. I have not had this much to lose since then. My God. I’m pregnant.
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Sneak Peek
Savage Grace, Sydney Rye Mystery Book 12
Sydney
Gripping the pregnancy test in my hand, I can’t stop staring at the blue cross in the window.
I’m pregnant.
Tears start to roll, hot and slow, down my cheeks. I crouch, my knees cracking as I huddle in a low ball, emotion bowing me. My dog, Blue, whines and presses against my side, his warm tongue laving my cheek, his musky scent enveloping me. A familiar comfort.
Will my child love Blue as I do?
My phone vibrates on the bathroom counter, and I hiccup a sob. Squeezing my eyes shut, pressing more tears free, I hold my breath. Blood rushes in my ears, and my heart throbs in my chest…a tidal wave is washing me away. I can’t do this.
The soft ping of a voicemail brings my eyes open. I’m staring at the cross again.
Blue shifts closer, leaning his warm weight against me. As tall as a Great Dane, with the elegant snout of a collie, the markings of a wolf, and mismatched eyes—one blue the other brown—Blue means the world to me.
My heart will have to make room for more.
But everyone I love dies.
Fear slices through me, adrenaline flooding my veins and bringing another soft whine from Blue. Standing quickly, the adrenaline demanding action, I glance at my phone.
Robert Maxim.
He can’t know. My eyes trace to the trash can of the hotel bathroom. Wrap up the test and put it in there.
But my hand won’t follow the advice. My fingers grip tighter, refusing to release the small wand of plastic. The proof. The truth.
Grabbing my phone off the counter, I step back into the hotel room. Blue stays close to my hip, his nose tapping my waist once, a gentle reminder he is there.
I shove the plastic wand into my bag, pushing it into a zipper interior pocket and closing it up. Locking it away.
Just throw it out.
I can�
��t.
My hand strays to my stomach, and Blue’s nose swipes against my fingers. Vision blurred with tears, I stand in the center of that hotel room, my mind reeling. Lightning sizzles across my vision, and thunder ricochets inside my mind.
Oh fuck me.
Robert
Sydney is not picking up.
My hold on the phone tightens. I close my eyes and take in a slow, deep breath, relaxing my shoulders and consciously unclenching my hand. The news anchor on the television sounds gleeful as he predicts the devastation of the coming storm.
South Florida has never seen floods like this before.
Sydney picked a hell of a week to take some alone time. The mansion on Star Island—an enclave for the richest of the rich in Miami—is hollow without her. Dammit. I never needed company before.
My three marriages made this house feel overly full—full of clothing and shoes and purses and jewelry. Full of expectations and conversations. They all wanted so much from me.
I’m not a good husband. I don’t love and cherish; I procure and protect. Each wife understood the deal before the wedding, yet inevitably found me lacking. Cold, inhuman, cruel even.
My pampered wives never knew cruelty. But they must have understood my capacity for it.
Sydney isn’t my wife, but she knows me. Really knows me.
Blue’s puppies, Nila and Frank, whom Sydney left with me because one giant dog is enough hassle for most hotels, shift at the sound of footsteps approaching my office. Nila’s low growl wakes Frank, who rolls over and promptly passes out again. A guard dog he is not.
A light knock. Must be José, my chef. “Come in.”
A Cuban immigrant with a head of hair Elvis would envy steps into my home office. “Can I get you anything?” he asks.
I have no appetite for food but a smile turns my lips. José cares about me—worries like a mother hen. “Some toast, please.” José nods and turns to leave. “Brock told you the evacuation plans?”
“Yes,” José nods. “I’ll go with the rest of the staff. Is Sydney back yet?”
My sour mood floods back. “No, I can’t get ahold of her.”
“You’ll reach her, sir.”
I wave a hand of dismissal, staring at my computer screen. Glancing at my watch—a gold Rolex I bought back in ’98 when I made my first million—I note the time. If I don’t hear from her in ten, I’ll hunt her down.
A man can only take so much.
Sydney
“A storm is coming,” Robert’s voice is calm, but his words bolt terror through me. He knows. “Miami is under an evacuation order. Traffic will be hell. We’ll take the helicopter. Where are you? I’ll send someone to pick you up.” I don’t respond. “Funny—” He pauses, and I can hear the TV in the background. “They named the hurricane Joy.” My birth name.
My mother’s face flashes across my mind's eye—thin from her recent injuries, her eyes the same startling gray as mine, lit with a similar fervor.
Robert sighs. “I’m not trying to cut your solo time short, Sydney. I can’t control the weather.” He sounds disappointed in himself for the shortcoming, and that brings a smile to my lips.
All-powerful Robert Maxim can’t control the weather. And he hasn’t read my mind. My secret is zipped into a pocket of my purse. The storm is not a metaphor but an actual hurricane bearing down on Florida.
“I’m at the Jubilee Hotel,” My throat is still raw from the crying I did earlier, and my voice comes out gritty. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that; you’re usually such a stalker control freak.”
Robert huffs out a laugh. “I’m working on those tendencies.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, and Blue leans against my leg. “Thanks for calling.” I clear my throat, emotion roughening my voice. “For looking out for me.”
I’ve never thanked him. Probably because he’s tried to kill me almost as many times as he’s saved me. But still… in his own way Robert Maxim cares. We’ve taken a long and twisted road marred by potholes, fallen trees, and loose electric wires but the journey has cemented a close friendship. We understand each other.
“You’re welcome.” There is a note of surprise in his voice. He didn’t expect my gratitude. I’m not good at thank you's, or goodbyes… or any of that normal, healthy emotional stuff. “Brock will be there soon.” Robert references his head of home security.
My next call is Dan. As the phone rings cross the thousands of miles between us I play with one of Blue’s velvety years.
“Hey,” Dan’s voice is thick with sleep. “Everything okay?”
No! "Sure, sorry if I woke you." I glance at the clock on the side table. It's 2 p.m. here, which means it's 4 a.m. where Dan is, on an island in the middle of the Pacific. It serves as the headquarters for Joyful Justice—the vigilante organization we founded together.
"No worries." He’s sounding more awake now. Dan is a computer hacker/genius and often keeps strange hours. If he gets sucked into a project, Dan stays up for days at a time.
“I wanted to check in and see if you had a line on Mulberry…” My voice drifts off into nothingness. Mulberry is another founding member of Joyful Justice, and the father of my child. Holy shit.
Mulberry is avoiding me for some valid reasons—after almost dying while searching for me in ISIS-controlled territory, Mulberry lost part of his leg and a lot of his memories. He didn’t remember me or any of the trauma we’d experienced together. Mulberry reunited with his ex-wife, and I let him. I didn’t fight for him. I should have told him the truth. That I loved him… and he loved me.
Instead, I tried to let him have a safe and “normal” life. A laugh gurgles in my chest at how ridiculous that sounds even as a thought in my head, let alone as a sentence spoken out loud. When Mulberry’s memories came flooding back, so did a tidal wave of anger…at me. So, yes, he has valid reasons to avoid my calls, but now I’ve got a life-altering bomb to drop on him.
“He’s still in the wind,” Dan says. “He knows I’m looking for him. Took out a bunch of cash and either isn’t using a phone or has a burner.”
I chew on my lip, staring at Blue. His eyes are closed, his dark lashes fanned over his white fur, as he luxuriates in the ear petting. “Okay, thanks.”
“Don’t worry,” Dan says. I hear him shifting in bed, his voice lowering to calm and comfort me. “He’ll turn up.”
The last time Mulberry and I saw each other. When… my gaze shifts from Blue to my stomach… Mulberry told me he wanted to be a part of Joyful Justice again. But then he ghosted us. And that is difficult to do. “I need to talk to him. Please Dan, find him.”
“I’ll keep looking.” Dan promises.
“Thank you.” We hang up, and I watch Blue for another beat before picking myself up. Brock will be here soon. Eventually, I will tell Dan and the rest of the Joyful Justice council that I’m pregnant. But for now I’ve got a city to escape, and a secret to keep.
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Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for continuing the adventure with Sydney Rye! I know that’s a hell of an ending. You might hate me a little right now—maybe a lot. But the thing is, I don’t have much of a say on how these things go. I’m along for the ride as much as all of you.
When I started this series, I only knew a couple of things for sure—Sydney would be a killer and, at some point, become a mother. When James died in the first book, I cried like a baby. I didn't see it coming at all, but it gave Sydney the conviction to kill and began the process for how she evolves through the entire series. And I have no idea what’s going to happen with the next book. I’ll find out when I start writing it.
But explaining my writing process is not the real reason I’m including this note. It’s actually to talk about Ketamine. Maybe some of you raved your problems away with it in the 90’s, but for those of you who don't
know about Ketamine, it’s a powerful drug that is now being used to treat depression and other mental health issues. Research is still being done about how and why it helps, but a couple of people very close to me have recently been treated with Ketamine and found it relieved their debilitating depression. It’s kind of a miracle, actually. It is even being administered in some Emergency Rooms for suicidal thoughts with great results.
Like I said, I don’t have a say in how Sydney Rye’s story goes, but we all have a say in our own stories. So, if you or someone you love is suffering from depression or other mood disorders, please look into Ketamine. There are clinics all over the United States and a lot of compelling research that it helps people.
It doesn’t work for everyone, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying. Even just trying to fight depression can help defeat it.
Be brave,
* * *
Emily
About the Author
Emily Kimelman not only writes adventure, she lives it every day. Embodying the true meaning of wanderlust, she's written her Sydney Rye mysteries from all over the world. From the jungles of Costa Rica to the mountains of Spain, she finds inspiration for her stories in her own life.
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Betray the Lie (A Sydney Rye Mystery, #11) Page 22