Laine closed her eyes. Her heart lurched to her throat, and her tongue burned to tell Emmy that even Roarke might not be able to accomplish that. The last thing she wanted was for Emmy to believe Roarke hadn’t come. That he’d forgotten about them or didn’t care.
She also wanted to warn her that the phone might not work, but Cameron breezed back into the room, his face pinched.
“Bed. Now.” He clamped his hand on Emmy’s bicep, yanking her to her feet.
Anger slapped Laine’s cheeks, but she blew a kiss to her daughter, forcing a smile. “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Cameron’s glare scorched her face as he towed Emmy out of the room.
The second he shut the door, her face fell almost as fast as the tears. Pain split her chest in two, and she wheezed out a cry. The lock clicked into place, but she barely registered the sound.
My baby.
She drank a few deep breaths. Fierce determination hit her bloodstream. She wouldn’t let Cameron take Emmy away from her. Wouldn’t let him win.
The phone’s hard case dug into her hip. She scanned the room with new eyes, searching for a camera. From what she could see, nothing watched her. Would he have had time to set up a camera? She thought back to when they’d gotten close to the house—more like a rundown shack—in the country. Cameron and his men had had trouble finding it. Perhaps that meant they’d never been here before.
With that thought firmly in her mind, she took out the phone. Huddling close to the wall, she kept the device low next to her leg, just in case. The familiar case, faux wood, confirmed this was the phone he’d used in Iraq. He’d used a phone only minutes ago, so he must have picked up a new one when he’d arrived in the US. She held down the power button.
Come on, come on.
If the phone didn’t turn on, they were screwed.
The screen brightened. Laine choked out a chuckle of disbelief. Anticipation rushed through her. All she had to do was?—
Two words filled the screen.
Enter passcode
No.
The device slid to the cement floor. Laine covered her mouth with her fingers. Pressure expanded against her sinuses. Their only chance had just gone up in smoke.
Worst of all, Emmy had tried so hard.
She’d been so brave in her attempt to save them. When she found out Laine was dead, she’d think she’d failed.
Laine inhaled deeply and tipped back her head to stare at the ceiling, as if she could send her love overhead.
She needed a miracle. Strength. And hope.
No. I need a weapon.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Roarke paced the office, where Wraith had set up his computer. They’d already given their statements to the police, but since the two of them hadn’t been at the house during the attack, they weren’t much help.
The paramedics had wheeled a still-unconscious Striker into the ambulance on a gurney. Roarke hated not being there for his friend, especially knowing he might not make it, but there was a woman and a little girl in danger, and Striker had nearly died trying to protect them.
Viper was minutes away.
Minutes away, and Emmy and Laine had already been gone a good forty.
“Hello?” Viper’s voice boomed from the front entrance.
Roarke had left the door unlocked. “Back here,” he yelled.
