“In the b-bathroom.”
“Good. Don’t worry, I’m getting in the car now.” The sound of a vehicle door slamming didn’t offer much reassurance. It’d taken twenty minutes to get from the airport to their rental that morning.
Bang!
The slam of a body against the bedroom door reverberated through the bathroom. She pulled Emmy tightly to her side, her throat raw with fear. “Roarke, someone’s trying to get into the bedroom.”
He cursed. “Striker wouldn’t do that. He’d know it’d scare you. Fuck. Wraith, fucking drive!”
Roarke’s breath was heavy in her ear. “I’m coming for you, babe.”
“I know.” Her voice wobbled. She kept the weapon in her palm, pressed to her leg and as far away from Emmy as possible. “The banging stopped. Maybe?—”
Crash!
Glass shattered in the bedroom. A scream caught in Laine’s throat. She held the weapon in front of her, her arms trembling like wet noodles.
“What happened?” Roarke demanded.
She motioned for Emmy to climb into the bathtub.
Emmy took Big Bun and clambered over the edge. Laine closed the shower curtain, then peeked inside. “Be quiet baby, okay? No matter what. Be quiet.”
“Laine,” Roarke growled.
“I think someone broke the window,” she said, her voice choked. “They might be in the bedroom.” She sent a worried glance toward Emmy.
“Christ.” Roarke’s deep, rattling fury emanated through the phone.
Tears rolled over Emmy’s cheeks but she lay down inside the tub, hugging her stuffy to her chest.
Hiding her was almost useless. But she had to try. And if whoever had broken in through the window started firing bullets, she had to do something to shield Emmy.
Glass crunched outside the bathroom door. All the moisture left her mouth. Cool air circulated through the bathroom, chilling her bare feet. Sharp, immobilizing fear shot through her.
Where’s Striker?
God, please let him be unharmed.
“Lainie, talk to me.”
She gripped the phone with her head, making her neck ache. He spoke with unwavering strength. She could almost imagine him on the battlefield, calm and collected and giving orders.
Crunch,crunch,crunch
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Sweat mingled with tears. She sucked back a sob. There was no hope now. If Emmy stayed hidden until Roarke returned, at least her baby would be safe. But she’d grow up without her mother.
Cameron would make Laine suffer. All she could do was pray he wouldn’t make Emmy watch.
She would never hear Roarke’s voice again. Never feel his comfort or protection. Never see Emmy’s face light up.
Her heart beat frantically against her ribs. Terror coated her skin in its cold, tacky solution. She drew her knees closer to her chest, her neck screaming from holding the phone.
She was going to have to put it down ... say goodbye.
Forever.
