by Anna Zaires
“Yes, I know.” I press the knife against his stomach. “And that means you’re useless to me now.”
“I’m not!” he begins yelling. “You can ransom me! I’m Jimmy Sullivan, Patrick Sullivan’s nephew, and he’ll pay to have me back! He will, I swear—”
“Oh, I’m sure he will.” I let the knife’s tip dig in, enjoying the sight of blood welling up around the blade. Tearing my eyes away from it, I meet the young man’s petrified gaze. “It’s too bad for you that his money is the last thing I need.”
And as he lets out a terrified scream, I slice him open, watching the blood spill out in a dark, beautiful river of red.
* * *
After I wipe my hands on the towel someone thoughtfully left in the van, I open the door and jump out. Lucas is waiting for me, so I tell him to dispose of the body and head back into the house.
It’s strange, but I don’t feel much better. The kill should’ve relieved some of the pressure, eased the burning need for violence, but instead, it seems to have only added to it, the emptiness inside me growing and darkening with every moment.
I want Nora. I need her more than ever. But when I enter the house, the first thing I do is head into the shower. I’m covered in blood and gore, and I don’t want her to see me like this.
Like the savage murderer her parents accused me of being.
When I emerge, the first thing I do is check the tracking app for Nora’s location. To my intense disappointment, she’s still in Rosa’s room. I contemplate going there to retrieve her, but I decide to give her a few more minutes and catch up on some work in the meantime.
When I open my laptop, I see that my inbox is filled with the usual messages. Russians, Ukrainians, the Islamic State, supplier contract changes, a security leak at one of the Indonesian factories . . . I scan it all with disinterest until I come upon an email from Frank, my CIA contact.
Opening it, I read it swiftly—and my insides grow cold.
Chapter 31
Nora
“Hey there.” Balancing a tray with tea and sandwiches in my hands, I push open the door to Rosa’s bedroom and approach her bed.
She’s lying on her side, facing away from the door, a blanket wrapped tightly around her. Setting the tray down on the nightstand, I sit down on the edge of her bed and gently touch her shoulder. “Rosa? Are you okay?”
She rolls over to face me, and I almost flinch at the bruising on her face.
“Pretty bad, huh?” she asks, noticing my reaction. Her voice sounds a little scratchy, but she looks remarkably calm, her eyes dry in her swollen face.
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s good,” I say carefully. “How are you feeling?”
“Possibly better than you,” she says quietly, looking at me. “I’m so sorry about the baby, Nora. I can’t even imagine what you and Julian must be going through.”
I nod, trying to ignore the stab of agony in my chest. “Thank you.” I force a smile to my lips. “Now, are you hungry? I brought you something to eat.”
Wincing, she sits up and glances dubiously at the tray. “You made this?”
“Of course. You know I’m capable of boiling water and putting cheese on bread, right? I used to do it all the time before Julian kidnapped me and made me live in luxury.”
A ghost of a smile flits across Rosa’s battered lips. “Ah, yes. Those dark times in the past when you had to fend for yourself.”
“Exactly.” I reach for a steaming cup of tea and carefully hand it to Rosa. “Here you go. Chamomile with honey. Should cure all ills, according to Ana.”
Rosa takes a small sip and raises an eyebrow at me. “Impressive. Almost as good as Ana’s.”
“Hey now.” I give her an exaggerated frown. “Almost? And here I thought I had this tea-making thing down.”
Her smile is a shade brighter this time. “You’re very close, I promise. Now let me try one of those sandwiches. I have to say, they look appetizing.”
I give her a plate and watch as she eats her sandwich. “You’re not joining me?” she asks halfway, and I shake my head.
“No, I grabbed a little something in the kitchen earlier,” I explain.
“I shouldn’t be hungry either,” Rosa says after she polishes off most of her sandwich. “Lucas brought me an omelet earlier this morning.”
“He did?” I blink at her in surprise. “I didn’t know he can cook.”
“I didn’t know either.” She takes the last few bites and hands the plate back to me. “That was really good, Nora, thank you.”
“Of course.” I stand up, ignoring the painful stiffness in my back. “Can I get anything else for you? Maybe a book to read?”
“No, that’s okay.” Wincing again, she pushes the blanket off, revealing a long T-shirt, and swings her feet to the floor. “I’m going to get up. I can’t stay in bed all day.”
I frown at her. “Of course you can. You should rest today, take it easy.”
“Like you’re resting?” She gives me a sardonic look and walks over to the dresser on the other side of the room. “I’m done lounging in bed. I want to talk to Lucas and find out what’s being done about the fuckers who attacked us.”
I look at her. “Rosa . . .” I hesitate, uncertain whether to proceed.
“You want to know what happened last night with those guys, right?” She pulls on a pair of jeans and stops to look at me, her eyes glittering. “You want to know what they did to me before you got there.”
“Only if you want to tell me,” I say quickly. “If you don’t feel comfortable—”
She holds up her hand, silencing me mid-sentence. Then she takes a deep breath and says, “They followed me to the bathroom.” There’s only a hint of brittleness in her voice. “When I came out, they were there, both of them, and the older one, Sean, said there’s a VIP room in the back that they want to show me. You know, like they sometimes have in the movies?”
I nod, feeling a growing lump in my throat.
“Well, idiot that I am, I believed them.” She turns away, reaching into the dresser. I watch in silence as she pulls off her T-shirt and puts on a bra, followed by a black, long-sleeved shirt. There are scratches and bruises on her smooth skin, some in the shape of finger marks, and I have to hide my reaction as she turns back to face me and says, “I told them earlier that this was my first visit to this country, so I thought they wanted to show me a good time.”
“Oh, Rosa . . .” I step toward her, my chest aching, but she holds up her hand.
“Don’t.” She swallows. “Just let me finish.”
I stop a couple of feet from her, and she continues after a moment. “As soon as we got past the bathrooms, out of sight of the people standing in line, the younger one, Brian, jumped me and dragged me into that room. There was this teenage guy too, and he watched the whole thing before Sean told him to go stand out in the hallway and make sure no one came in. I think they were going to”—she stops to compose herself for a second—“going to give him a turn after they were both done.”
As she speaks, the rage I felt in the club returns. It had gotten subsumed beneath the weight of grief, pushed aside by the agony of my own loss, but now I’m aware of it again. Sharp and burning hot, the anger fills me until I’m all but shaking with it, my hands clenching and unclenching by my sides.
“I think you know the rest of the story,” Rosa continues, her voice growing more brittle by the second. “You came in just as I was trying to fight off Sean. If it hadn’t been for you . . .” Her face crumples, and this time I can’t hang back.
Closing the distance between us, I embrace her, holding her as she begins to shake. Underneath my anger, I feel helpless, utterly inadequate to the task at hand. What happened to Rosa is every woman’s worst nightmare, and I have no idea how to console her. To an outsider, what Julian did to me on the island might seem the same, but even during that traumatic first time, he had given me some semblance of tenderness. I’d felt violated, but also cherished, as incongruous
as that combination might be.
I’ve never felt the way Rosa must be feeling now.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, stroking her hair. “I’m so sorry. Those bastards will pay. We’ll make them pay.”
She sniffles and pulls away, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Yes.” Her voice is choked as she steps back. “I want them to, Nora. I want it more than anything.”
“Me too,” I whisper, staring at her. I want Rosa’s attackers dead. I want them eliminated in the most brutal way possible. It’s wrong, it’s sick, but I don’t care. Images of the man Julian killed last night float through my mind, bringing with them a peculiar sense of satisfaction. I want the other one—Sean—to pay the same way.
I want to unleash Julian on him and watch my husband work his savage magic.
A knock on the door startles us both.
“Come in,” Rosa calls out, using her sleeve to wipe the tears from her face.
To my surprise, Julian enters the room, his expression tense and oddly worried. He’s changed clothes since this morning, and his hair looks wet, as though he just took a shower.
“What’s wrong?” I ask immediately, my heart rate spiking. “Did something happen?”
“No,” Julian says, crossing the room. “Not yet. But we may need to expedite your departure.” He stops in front of me. “I just learned that an artist’s sketch of the three of us is being circulated in the local FBI’s office. The brother who got away must have a good memory for faces. The Sullivans are looking for us, and if they’re as well connected as we think, we don’t have much time.”
Fear wraps like barbed wire around my chest. “Do you think they already know about my parents?”
“I have no idea, but it’s not entirely out of the question. Call them now, and tell them to pack what they can. We’ll pick them up in an hour, and I’ll bring all of you to the airport.”
“Wait a minute.” I stare at Julian. “All of us? What about you?”
“I need to deal with the Sullivan threat. Lucas and I will remain behind along with most of the guards.”
“What?” I find it hard to breathe all of a sudden. “What do you mean, you’ll remain behind?”
“I need to clean up this mess,” Julian says impatiently. “Now, are we going to waste time talking about this, or are you calling your parents?”
I swallow the bitter objections rising in my throat. “I’m going to call them now,” I say tightly, reaching for my phone.
Julian is right; now is not the time to argue about this. However, if he thinks I’m going to meekly go along with this, he’s deeply mistaken.
I will do whatever it takes not to lose him again.
Chapter 32
Julian
The drive to Nora’s parents’ house passes in tense silence. I’m busy coordinating the security logistics with my team, and Nora is furiously texting with her parents, who seem to be bombarding her with questions about the sudden change of plans. Rosa watches us both quietly, the black-and-blue swelling on her face hiding her expression.
As soon as we arrive, Nora hurries into the house, and I follow her in, not wanting to leave her alone for even a half hour. Rosa remains in the car with Lucas, explaining that she doesn’t want to be in the way.
When I walk in, I see that Rosa was right to stay outside.
Inside, the Lestons’ place is a madhouse. Gabriela is rushing around, trying to stuff as many items as possible into a huge suitcase, and her husband is speaking loudly on the phone, explaining to someone that yes, he has to leave the country now, and no, he’s sorry he couldn’t give more notice.
“They’re going to fire me,” he mutters darkly as he hangs up, and I resist the urge to say that no job is worth his life.
“If they fire you, I’ll help you find another position, Tony,” I say instead, sitting down at the kitchen table. Nora’s father shoots me an angry glare in response, but I ignore him, focusing on the dozens of emails that managed to pile up in my inbox in the last few hours.
Forty minutes later, Nora finally gets the Lestons to stop packing.
“We have to go, Mom,” she insists as her mother remembers yet another thing she forgot to take. “We have bug spray at the compound, I promise. And whatever else you need, we’ll order and have it delivered for you. We don’t live in a complete wilderness, you know.”
Gabriela seems mollified by that, so I help her close the huge suitcase and haul it out to the car. The thing weighs at least two-hundred-and-fifty pounds, and I grunt with effort as I lift it into the trunk of the limo.
In the meantime, Nora’s father brings out a second, smaller suitcase.
“I’ll take it,” I say, reaching for it, but he jerks it away.
“I’ve got it,” he says sharply, so I step away to let him handle it on his own. If he wants to continue stewing, that’s his business.
Once everything is loaded, Nora’s parents climb into the car, and Rosa goes to sit in the front next to Lucas. “To give the four of you more room,” she explains, as though the back of the limo can’t easily accommodate ten people.
“Do all these cars need to be here?” Nora’s mother asks as I take a seat next to Nora. “I mean, is it really that unsafe?”
“Probably not, but I don’t want to risk it,” I say as we pull out of the driveway. In addition to the twenty-three guards split between seven SUVs—all of which are currently idling on this quiet block—I also have a stash of weapons under our seat. It’s overkill for a peaceful trip to Chicago, but now that there’s trouble, I’m worried that it’s not enough. I should’ve brought more men, more weapons, but I didn’t want Frank and company thinking I was here to do a deal.
“This is insane,” Tony mutters, looking out the back window at the procession of cars following us. “I can’t even imagine what our neighbors are thinking.”
“They’re thinking you’re a VIP, Dad,” Nora says with forced cheerfulness. “Haven’t you ever wondered what it must be like for the President, always traveling with the Secret Service?”
“No, I can’t say I have.” Nora’s father turns back to face us, his expression softening as he looks at his daughter. “How are you feeling, honey?” he asks her. “You should probably be resting instead of dealing with this craziness.”
“I’m fine, Dad.” Nora’s face tightens. “And I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, honey,” her mother says, blinking rapidly—I presume to stop herself from crying. “Whatever you wish, my love.”
Nora attempts to give her mother a smile, but fails miserably. Unable to resist, I reach out and drape my arm over her shoulders, pulling her against me. “Relax, baby,” I murmur into her hair as she nestles against my side. “We’ll be there soon, and you can sleep on the plane, okay?”
Nora lets out a sigh and mumbles into my shoulder, “Sounds good.” She seems tired, so I stroke her hair, enjoying its silky softness. I could sit like this forever, feeling the warmth of her small body, smelling her sweet, delicate scent. For the first time since the miscarriage, some of the heaviness in my chest lifts, the dark, bitter grief easing slightly. The violence still pulses in my veins, but the awful emptiness is filled for the moment, the painful void no longer expanding within.
I don’t know how long we sit like this, but when I glance across the limo aisle, I see Nora’s parents watching us strangely. Gabriela, especially, seems fascinated. I frown at them and position Nora more comfortably at my side. I don’t like that they’re witnessing this. I don’t want them to know how much I depend on my pet, how desperately I need her.
At my glare, they both look away, and I resume stroking Nora’s hair as we get off the interstate onto a two-lane highway.
“How much longer until we get there?” Nora’s father asks a couple of minutes later. “We’re going to a private airport, right?”
“Right,” I confirm. “We’re not too far now, I believe. There’s no traffic, so we’ll be there in about tw
enty minutes. One of my men has gone ahead to prepare the plane, so as soon as we get there, we’ll be able to take off.”
“And we can depart like this? Without going through customs?” Nora’s mother asks. She still seems to be unusually interested in the way I’m embracing Nora. “Nobody will prevent us from re-entering the country or anything?”
“No,” I say. “I have a special arrangement with—” Before I can finish explaining, the car picks up speed. The acceleration is so sharp and sudden that I barely manage to remain upright and hold on to Nora, who gasps and clutches at my waist. Her parents aren’t so lucky; they fall onto their sides, nearly flying off the long limo seat.
The panel separating us from the driver rolls down, revealing Lucas’s grim face in the rearview mirror.
“We have a tail,” he says tersely. “They’re onto us, and they’re coming with everything they’ve got.”
Chapter 33
Nora
My heart stops beating for a second; then adrenaline explodes in my veins.
Before I have a chance to react, Julian is already in motion. Unbuckling my seatbelt, he grabs my arm and drags me off the seat onto the limo floor.
“Stay there,” he barks, and I watch in shock as he lifts the seat, revealing an enormous stash of weapons.
“What—” my mom gasps, but at that moment, the limo swerves, knocking me against the side of the stuffed leather seat. My parents cry out, clutching desperately at each other, and Julian grabs the edge of the raised seat to prevent himself from falling.
And then I hear it.
The rat-tat-tat of automatic gunfire.
Somebody is shooting at us.
“Gabriela!” My dad’s face is stark white. “Hold on to me!”
The limo swerves again, causing my mom to let out a frightened scream. Somehow Julian remains upright, bending over the stash as the limo accelerates even more. From my position on the floor, all I can see through the windows are the tree tops flashing by. We must be flying down this highway at breakneck speed.