“Perhaps,” Rhys said.
They arrived at Maggie’s suite, and Rhys took the key to open the door.
He aimed a wry smile at her. “Let us hope that Glory and F. F. had a better day than we did.”
She appreciated his attempt at levity. “I’m certain we’ll hear all about it.”
He opened the door—and the gaping darkness filled her with instant fear.
“Why are the lights off?” she said in a rush.
Rhys held her back. “Newton, guard the ladies.”
With those terse words, he withdrew his pistol and entered the darkness.
Newton prevented her from following. “You’ll only distract him, Mrs. Foley. I’m sure everything is fine, and there’s a perfectly good explanation. Perhaps Bertha and the guards took Miss Glory downstairs for supper—”
Unable to stand it any longer, Maggie pushed past Newton, who tried in vain to stop her. She stumbled through the dark sitting room, toward the faint light coming from her bedchamber. In the doorway, she stopped short, frozen by the terrifying tableau.
By the bed, Bertha and three guards lay trussed and gagged on the ground. A lit lamp on the floor beside him, Rhys was crouched next to their unmoving forms, trying to rouse them.
“Where is Glory?” Maggie asked through suffocating panic.
He turned to her; in the glow of the lamp, his expression was grimmer than she’d ever seen it.
Her heart lodged in her throat because she knew. She already knew.
Stark anguish blazed in his eyes. “She’s been taken.”
34
An hour later,Rhys went to find Maggie in her bedchamber.
She was on the settee by the hearth, staring into the flames. She’d changed into an old flannel robe; Hypatia must have helped her undress. God knew Bertha had been in no shape to do so. When Rhys had managed to rouse the lady’s maid and three guards from their drugged state, the last thing they remembered was having tea with Glory. Then…nothing.
Given that the fourth guard, Victor, had disappeared and Bertha tearfully recalled that he’d been the one to wheel in the tea cart, it wasn’t difficult to figure out that he’d taken Glory. The ransom note had spelled out who was ultimately behind the kidnapping and why.
Your daughter for the treasure. You have two days. Tell anyone and she dies…painfully.
J. Erasmus Sweeney
A vortex of helpless fear and fury spun in Rhys. Sweeney had had a man on the inside the entire time; the cutthroat knew about Glory and the treasure…knew everything.
Now Rhys had two days to come up with the jewels, or his girl would pay the ultimate price.
His throat closed.Two days…and all I’ve got is a dead end.
As if sensing his arrival, Maggie whipped her head in his direction. He’d have rather taken a bullet than be responsible for the agonized panic in her eyes.
I did this to her—toour little girl. I knew this would happen. I knew I would hurt them, fail them…yet I went ahead and loved them anyway.
Darkness welled. It was the color of his father’s rage, his mama’s bruises, Bailey’s blood. It came for him just like the bullies always did. The darkness spread through him like pitch, coating his throat, until he thought he might drown in it.
“Did you find out anything from the hotel staff?” Maggie asked anxiously.
The numbness that set in felt both familiar and foreign. Familiar because that cool, disconnected feeling had been his companion for most of his life. Foreign because the weeks with Maggie, the warmth and vitality of her love, had made him forget how he’d existed before her.
But now his detachment was back, and he was grateful for it. Grateful because it pushed aside the darkness and cleared his head. He knew what he had to do—had known it from the moment he’d found the ransom letter.
