“No.” The startled silence on the other end of the line is the first clue this woman doesn’t get interrupted often. “I mean—it’s an urgent call.”
“Mr. North receives many urgent calls in the course of business. If you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll pass along a message.” She’s already started typing again, fast and loud.
“I need to speak with him.” For some reason, for some stupid reason, I thought this part of the phone call would be the easy part. “Right now. There’s a security problem. A bad one.” Very smooth, Holly. Very believable. I can hear my heartbeat thudding like a hammer on concrete. “I need to hire North Security for a private security job.”
“Again, miss, you’re welcome to leave a message with—”
“It’s about his brother,” I say flatly. “Elijah.”
“One moment, please.”
Apparently Elijah’s name was the magic word. There’s a brief pause. The phone doesn’t have a chance to ring before Elijah’s brother is on the line. “I wasn’t expecting a call from you, Holly.” His voice is so like Elijah’s that it crushes my heart and makes it hard to breathe.
“How did you know it was me?”
“We have caller ID.”
A manic laugh bursts from me. “Oh. Of course. Yes. Not because you’re fancy security people. Even though you are. The article in Vanity was really impressive.”
“Tell me what happened.”
So I tell Liam North what happened. I tell him about the meeting with my editor from a thousand years ago, missed because of Elijah. I tell him about the church hideout and Adam. About the colonel. About the gun. About getting shot. He says less and less after this until finally he’s dead silent while I tell him about the raid and my subsequent release and the horrible absence in my life since then, and how I am looking for his brother, and how I need his help.
The silence stretches on until I can’t take it anymore. I already feel wrung out from telling the story in the first place and the worry that’s held me in its grip since the church.
“Did we get disconnected?”
“No.”
“You’re going to help him, right?”
There’s a soft shuffling in the background, as if he’s rifling through papers. “Don’t get involved in this, Holly. Forget Elijah. Pretend you’ve never met him.”
The words register first. Then the shock. Then a clean, hot fury. “How dare you. He loves you.” I leap up from the couch and pace through my living room, trying and failing to work out the urge to reach through the phone and strangle Liam.
He’s turning his back on his brother, and why? Why?
“You can’t save him.”
“The hell I can’t.”
He sighs. “The things you’re talking about, they’re above your pay grade. They’re above my pay grade. If Elijah made an enemy of a dirty colonel then there’s going to be a lot of people interested in his death. Not only the government, but whoever he had illegal ties to. You can’t protect him against that, Holly. Leave it alone.”
There’s a click. He’s hung up.
It’s not until I’ve thrown the phone into a couch cushion that I discover the tears slipping down my cheeks. The takeout container seems like a cruel joke now. How am I supposed to sit here and eat when Elijah was real, he could be alive, and even his brothers won’t help me? Bile rises in my throat. Forget the food. Forget everything.
I reach for the phone to send a text to London. It’s something to do, even if it won’t solve the problem, and I can’t be here alone with this. Not completely.
My fingers freeze over the keyboard.
I’m not thinking.
It’s not because I was about to text London for comfort, either. My brain has been in a fog since yesterday because of what she told me. Because she told me that she’s seeing Adam.
And I sat on that information for a full day, then put all my hopes in Liam North’s basket.
My winter jacket feels enormous on my frame but I zip myself into it, put on a hat, and leave my apartment for the first time in weeks.
It takes fifteen minutes in an Uber to get to London’s apartment, and then it’s three floors up. I’m burning up inside the jacket by the time I’m pounding my fist against the door.
“London. I need your help.”
It’s insane that we haven’t talked about this. Sure, yes, it would be hypocritical to fight with her about the fact that she’s with my original kidnapper, but a good sister would at least ask. A good sister would press for the details before she leverages that man for everything he’s worth.
The deadbolt disengages on the other side and the door opens.
I’m not surprised to see Adam on the other side. I knew he was with her in some capacity, but to see him standing here sends a wave of indignation tearing through me. That, and the fact that he’s in a pair of low-slung sweatpants and nothing else. “Are you living here?”
“For the moment.” Adam ushers me inside and it is irritating, it is infuriating, how easily he does it. He looks completely at home in the cluttered, bohemian apartment.
“Where’s my sister?”
“I’m right here.” London steps out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and leggings with a towel around her hair, looking wide-eyed and wary. “Are you okay?”
“Are you okay?” I cross my arms over my chest and stare at her. “You told me you were seeing him. You didn’t say you shacked up with him. He kidnapped me.”
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry about that,” Adam puts in.
London holds up both her hands. “It didn’t seem like the best time to mention—”
“That this man is living in your apartment? Living here, London, not just dating you, not just hooking up with you, living here. What were you thinking?” London and Adam exchange a glance, which pisses me off even more. “Oh, so it wasn’t you. It was Adam’s idea.”
“There were extenuating circumstances,” he says.
I stab a finger in his general direction, cutting off whatever pointless explanation he’s about to give me. “Elijah is in danger. He’s going to be tried for treason—or worse.”
“Why should I care?” He puts a hand to his side and drops it. “Last time I saw him, he shot me.”
“Because you deserved it. And also he let you leave.”
Adam sighs. “Look. It’s complicated. The colonel has too much power for one man. I know that more than anyone, but that doesn’t change the reality. He’s too strong to beat.”
The colonel, the colonel. If I never have to hear another word about the colonel it will be too soon. “Not exactly. He’s dead.”
I’ve never seen Adam look so surprised. I wasn’t sure he was even capable of this expression. He looks…stunned. “What? No. What the fuck did you just say? He’s not dead.”
“Oh yes.” I give him a sharp nod. “He’s really dead. I shot him myself.”
Adam sits down heavily on the couch, his hands folded under his chin, and without his shirt he looks somehow like a lost little boy despite the large muscles and three days of scruff. “That changes everything. Jesus Christ. The colonel. Dead. Shot by a civilian.”