“I will.” She hesitates and adds, “Please be careful, you’re a target, too.”
Putting my hand in the backpack, I feel the reassuring weight of the Glock. “I’ll be fine. Just be ready to go.”
After twenty minutes of running, I’ve twisted my ankle, it’s pitch black and I can only pray I’m heading in the right direction. There are more signs of civilization, more little houses, and a gas station or two. The third one I see boasts gas AND rental cars, according to the luridly glowing sign.
As promised, there’s a car there. A Mini Cooper two-seater. The image of strapping Nate to the bike rack on the bumper makes me giggle a little hysterically, but the keys are under the mat and it takes me a couple of minutes to figure everything out. I’m just grateful everyone drives on the right side of the road here.
The memory of nearly getting clipped by those cars when I ran from Ethan in Glasgow makes my heart hurt. If I’d stayed, if I’d given him a chance, would we have rescued Nate and Carmella sooner? He must hate me right now. Running off after our early morning talk, where he shared something painful with me, Ifinally told someone the truth about what happened to Nate and me. Then, I just ran off.
He might decide I’m just not worth it. And I wouldn’t blame him.
I pull into the wildly opulent Vista Panorámica Resort less than an hour after I left Georges. “This is good,” I murmur, driving past fountains and enormous, colorful gardens, looking for their cabana number. “I talk Nate down, put them in the car and we’re out of here.” My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. It didn’t hit me until now that I don’t know where I’m taking them. Back to Scotland? Will Ethan even want to see me? The thought of never seeing him again is physically painful.
Cabana 22 finally comes into view and I slam the Mini Cooper’s little door, racing up the seashell path. When I knock, I realize the door is ajar. They knew I was coming and probably left it open while they packed. But that’s still dangerous.
“I’m here! And you should never leave the door unlocked.” Turning the corner into the great room, I see Nate and Carmella sitting together on the couch. “Sweetie, you look so grown up!” His color is good again, his unruly black hair sticking out in spikes and his eyes, violet-blue like mine are wide.
And terrified.
“It took you fucking long enough.” Gavin is seated grandly across from them, and standing behind him is motherfucking Tony. Holding a gun.
The front door slams shut behind me and two more men push me into the room.
“Sit down,sweetheart,”Gavin’s grin is like a shark’s, blank and horrible. “Let’s talk.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
In which we discover that Gavin Masters' ability to be an evil bastard is unparalleled.
Sloan…
“Nate!” I run to him, ignoring Gavin’s shouts and grab him. Nate’s arms wrap around me and we’re both crying. “You’re so tall,” I weep, “you’re beautiful.”
“I missed you. You never came,” he said, crying into my shoulder.
“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.” I squeeze him tighter. “But I’m here now and I love you so much.”
A hand fists my hair and pulls me up, shoving me onto the couch and yanking my backpack off my shoulder, dumping it over by Gavin.
“I’m sorry!” Carmella whispers, “I don’t know how they found us. I swear, I was so careful.” Her brown eyes are bright with tears. She’s a strong woman in her late forties, with magnificent silver hair. She used to joke that taking care of Nate turned her hair gray.
There’s fury already cycling in my gut, red sparks of rage smothering my fear and all I can think is this fucking prick- thisbastard- has terrorized my little brother for years. Nate is one ofthe kindest, smartest people I know. And Gavin went afterhim?He poisoned the most vulnerable member of my family. All I can think about is the gun in my backpack and how I’m going to shoot Gavin in the fucking face.
And I willneverregret it, no matter what happens next.
“You’ve wasted a great deal of my time,” Gavin says, looking genuinely put out. “We’re getting this shit wrapped up tonight.”
I’m still scanning the room, trying to figure out how many men he has with him. I guess being married to a mafia assassin has taught me something. There’s douchey Tony, the two guys who dragged me over to the couch. I can hear two guards walking around outside, their footsteps crunching on the seashell path.
Six. Okay, My Glock has a lot of bullets.
Then, my heart sinks as there’s a knock on the door and I hear another two men cocking their weapons before opening it.
“Room service.” The waiter could not sound more bored, so Gavin’s thugs must be hiding their weapons. Her accent is American. “Hey! You gonna frisk me like that, you gotta buy me dinner first.”
I know that voice…
It’s Catriona. My new cousin-in-law is wearing a resort uniform and a look of polite disinterest as she pushes a dining cart into the room. The man standing behind me puts his gun to the back of my head where she can’t see it.
