“Then she’s part of our family,” Mason said.
I wasn’t sure why that meant even more to me than Reid’s words, but it did. A few moments ago, Mason had considered Madeline an enemy, a member of a rival organization. His change of heart, even about Ruby, was a big step, one I wasn’t certain her mother deserved, but one nonetheless.
“I’m going to find Garrett,” I said.
Sparrow nodded. “One last thing, just a minor piece of this fucking puzzle.”
We all waited.
“We’re at war and that needs to be our number-one priority.”
“Maybe Madeline can help?” I wasn’t sure what I was offering.
“Or she could bring us all down in flames,” Sparrow replied.
I stood taller. “I love her.” Damn, that was hard to say. “I still do. I didn’t want to. When I saw her Thursday night, I fucking wanted to hate her. My feelings aren’t about Ruby. I knew I loved Madeline...” I took a deep breath. “...when I first spoke to her again. I also don’t know her. A long time ago, I trusted her. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I also fucking love this girl, this teenager I’ve never met. I know that sounds ridiculous and soft, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t have answers, but I also don’t want rash decisions that can’t be undone. I need answers first.”
“I do too,” Sparrow said.
“You can take her to Montana,” Mason offered.
“I’m not hiding from this war.”
“It’s not hiding if you’re protecting an asset.”
“Can I still count on you?” Sparrow asked.
I didn’t hesitate. “With my life.” I started to walk toward the door and stopped. “Sparrow, it’s not that you’re not my priority. It’s that, whether this is Ivanov’s doing or not, I now have multiple priorities. I don’t want to let any of you down.”
His jaw clenched as his dark stare was my only answer.
With a deep breath I turned toward the door.
Reid’s declaration was the last thing I heard as I turned the doorknob. “We’ve got your back.”
Madeline
There was no way to measure time. The man standing guard outside Veronica’s office disconnected the computer and telephone within, taking the cords with him before leaving me alone. My phone was confiscated earlier and I wasn’t wearing a watch. The office where they were holding me was without windows, not that darkness in the middle of the night would be revealing. Nevertheless, I couldn’t be sure if I’d been in here twenty minutes or two hours.
With the way my anxiety over Ruby was building, each minute was like an hour. And each hour uncertain of her fate was a lifetime. I peered around at the office, the one that only a day ago had seemed nice. The walls were closing in and there was nothing I could do.
Trapped like a caged animal, I did what the captured lioness would do. I paced.
My heels clicked upon the tile floor as I walked the length of the office and then the width. The large tile squares gave me an estimation of the size of my confinement. If I searched Ms. Standish’s desk, I might be able to find a ruler or another actual unit of measurement and make an assessment. The truth was that I didn’t care.
Ten by twelve.
Twelve by twenty.
It was irrelevant.
A cell was a cell.
My mind filled with my daughter. The puffiness of my eyes was the remaining evidence of the tears I’d shed. That was past tense. As I continued pacing, my eyes were no longer moist.
The men with Patrick obviously had their preconceived ideas about me.
They were correct in assuming that I was a part of the Ivanov bratva. I had been for nearly seventeen years. That didn’t mean I held any loyalty to them or their ways. It meant that as much as I was a captive in this office, I had been captive within the Ivanov world. Andros didn’t need locked doors or guards; his bindings were more restrictive while conveniently less visible.
He had Ruby.
Letting out a breath, I sat at the small table, the place I’d sat talking to Veronica only a few days ago. With my elbows on the surface, I held my head and closed my eyes. My chest ached with the visions I created in my mind.
My daughter’s face appeared.
In the last few years she’d matured, losing her cherubic childish appearance to that of a young woman. Slim yet fit, much to my chagrin, she had developed, her body morphing budding ladylike curves. Her breasts were no longer contained in the likes of a training bra as her hips widened. Even her facial features had changed. The round cheeks of the little girl she once had been were slimming as her face elongated.
At sixteen she was too beautiful. I worried that others would see her, not as the child they knew, but as the woman she was becoming. Her long dark hair was similar to mine. When left unattended, it cascaded in waves and soft curls over her shoulders. When her hair was styled, it lay smooth and shiny or fell in long ringlets.
For the first time in too long, I could honestly reflect upon her father’s influence in her appearance. Where my eyes were green, Ruby’s were a vibrant blue, much like Patrick’s. There were other parts of Patrick in Ruby, parts I stubbornly refused to acknowledge as anything other than environment.
But now, seeing him again, I knew those qualities were more than the way I’d raised her. Ruby had Patrick’s determination, his inquisitive nature, and his ability to see the good in people. She even saw good where it didn’t exist and most certainly wasn’t deserved.
Andros Ivanov.
She saw him as the man who helped and provided.
I was complicit in her assumption. I’d hidden the monster from her.
Little girls had nightmares about monsters under their beds. I couldn’t tell my daughter that what she should fear most wasn’t hiding in the shadows but visible in the light. In retrospect, I supposed I hadn’t wanted her to live with the alarm that racked me day and night or to ever know the price I’d paid to stay by her side.
If she fell into Andros’s hands—into his bed—it was my fault.
At the sound of rattling, I spun toward the door as the knob turned. My breath caught in my throat and eyes widened as I waited. The door moved inward.
As soon as I saw him, I pushed the chair away from the table and stood. My gaze searched his as Patrick shut the door behind him, closing us in. Within his grasp were clothes. They were folded, yet I was certain they were for me.
“Patrick,” I said, his name both a statement and a question, for I was certain that my fate lay in his hands.
Patrick’s head shook as he handed me a piece of paper.
Reaching for it, I opened the page with trembling hands.
Don’t speak.
Come with me.
I wanted to argue, to ask about Andros, and remind him about Ruby. There were so many words vying to be uttered, yet I kept them all at bay, instead, closing and opening my eyes in resignation.
At least now Patrick was with me.
Taking a step forward, Patrick opened the door.
“Sir,” a tall man said as the door opened.
He wasn’t the same one who had been guarding me before. This one seemed to emit more power. I believed he’d been present upstairs. There were too many new faces to keep them all straight.