“I’m here as long as you need me. Josh is on standby.”
Hell. I’m not a man of many emotions, but a few of them flood my veins. I’ve been alone for so long, facing the world and fighting everyone in it. There was nothing to live for before Holly. Now I have a family waiting to help.
I stop walking and face my brother. “I’m worried about Adam Bisset. He kidnapped Holly from the airport. In broad daylight. That fucker has no fear.”
A nod which shows my brother has heard of Adam Bisset. “Why?”
“Why does a man usually kidnap a beautiful woman?”
“Occam’s razor. The simplest answer is usually the correct one.”
“There’s something about the timing that bothers me. He’s here in France selling information and weapons to a terrorist cell. The biggest deal of his whole goddamn life, and for some reason he gets on a plane and flies to the United States. Only to fly right back.”
“I’ve heard he’s a crazy son of a bitch.”
“He is, but it makes me wonder—especially with her sister gone missing.”
That earns me a sharp glance. This is the man that the US military was so reluctant to relinquish a few years ago. This is the man that world leaders hire to head up their protection details. “You think the sister’s tied up in this somehow?”
“Apparently she’s some hotshot travel influencer.”
“Seems like someone could walk through a lot of borders like that.”
“I don’t want to tell Holly until I know something more specific. She’ll lose her shit.”
“In other words, she’ll stop letting you fuck her.”
My hands pull into fists. “Don’t talk about her like that again.”
Liam lets out a quiet laugh. “Just wanted to know where we stand.”
“That’s where we stand.”
“Well, the sister disappeared off the map two weeks ago. Looks like Holly made some noise calling the embassy, but no one knew anything. Whether she was involved or not, it looks like she might have met a bad end.”
“I hope not,” I say, my voice grim. For Holly’s sake, I hope her sister is alive. And I hope she’s not tangled up in some sinister terrorist plot. I don’t think her sister is inherently evil. I remember a mischievous smile on a blonde girl from years ago. But she might have agreed to move messages for money. Any number of small tasks that would have embedded her in a dark organization. Adam Bisset doesn’t care about causes, which makes him the most dangerous kind of criminal. He only likes money—and chaos.
“We can go to the embassy,” Liam says. “Or I have a safe house in Nantes.”
“What kind of a safe house?”
“Off the grid completely.”
“There are locks?”
An incredulous glance. “There’s a state-of-the-art security system.”
“I mean, there are locks from the outside?”
He freezes. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re planning on kidnapping her.”
“I walked out on my mission, walked out on my job, walked out on my whole fucking life so that woman in there wouldn’t be raped. You think I’m going to stop now that we’ve had some fresh baked bread? I’m keeping her safe no matter what it takes.”
“You do this, she might end up hating you.”
“In every outcome she ends up hating me. I don’t give a shit about that,” I lie. “As long as she’s alive. As long as she’s safe. Understand? That’s what you’re signing up for if you help me. I don’t give a fuck what happens to me. This woman lives.”
My brother turns his face into the sun. “I wasn’t there for you when I should have been. Don’t know what happened after I left, but I’m guessing it was no fucking picnic.”
“This isn’t about the past.”
He faces me with those familiar green eyes, the same ones our father had. “The hell it isn’t.”
For a second I think he knows about the museum, the Louvre, the diamond. That was my first undercover mission. It was a test to see if I could blend in with criminals well enough to survive. In the end the US government didn’t care much about the Regent Diamond. They liked the French being in their debt. What I saved for them, what I recovered, wasn’t usually diamonds. I was tasked with saving lives. How many people will die because I chose Holly?
“The past doesn’t matter,” I say, more firmly this time.
“I read the coroner’s report, you know.”
“A heart attack.” That was the official cause of death for our father. The coroner was too busy fucking his secretary to notice the petechial bleeding. Or maybe he was distracted by the way my father’s mangled body had become bloated in the lake.
“Convenient,” my brother says.
“Convenient?”
“That it happened right before you left for basic training.”
“Right. So I could attend the funeral.”
“Of course, that’s what I meant.”
In this conversation my brother accuses me of killing our father. And he forgives me for it. If anyone would understand the causes, it’s him. Even so, he would think I was fighting back after my father was in one of his rages. The truth is my father was stone-cold calm when I approached him. I wanted him fully sober and aware when I beat the life from him. I wanted him to know I was doing it for my mother. Something happens when you kill a man in cold blood, even a murderer, even someone who deserves it. You lose a little piece of your soul.
My brother’s green eyes are knowing. And hell, he would know. Rumor has it the man was an assassin for the US government. He knows all about killing people in cold blood.
“A nice family reunion,” I say, my voice dry.
“Very nice. You’re probably going to get dishonorably discharged.”
“If I’m lucky. They might send one of you after me.”
“Anyone touches you, they answer to me.” My brother claps me on the back. “Once the military kicks you out on your ass, you should come join the family business.”
“That a job offer?”
“We have safe houses in every major country. With locks on the outside. Consider them a perk.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Holly
Liam didn’t come alone. There’s a driver wearing a black T-shirt and cargo pants, who I suspect is as dangerous as either brother. I take a deep breath in the backseat, finally feeling safe from the kidnapping. It’s only been a few days, a week, of captivity, but I feel fundamentally changed. I’m some other being now. Not fully human. More animal.
I don’t admire the sweeping hills of lavender. I’m too grateful for the comfort of leather seats and air-conditioning. How quickly I learned not to take them for granted.
Elijah and I are both sitting in the back seat, but there’s a new distance between us. Even in the farmhouse, with the strangers who owned it, we felt close.
Now the real world has intruded.
“You must be eager to get back to the church,” I say, hoping he’ll open up to me. Maybe it doesn’t matter to him, what we shared. Maybe he has sex with a woman on every mission, but it matters to me. It feels like we’re going to say goodbye.