“What did he do to her?”
She wrapped her arms around her knees. She didn’t want to be the one to deliver the horrific truth, but Rayan had a right to know. And maybe, just maybe, he could fight to have her death investigated. Cameron deserved to be in prison.
“H-he shot her.” She lowered her gaze to her hands so she didn’t have to see the torture on the man’s face. “I saw. I-I think he did it to send me a message. I know he accused her of adultery, but that’s all I could hear.”
Rayan exhaled. “I knew he was a sick bastard. I didn’t want her to marry him.” He shook his head and heaved a raggedy breath.
“I’m sorry he did this to you. He called me from London and asked me to accompany him to the US. Said it was a serious matter but stayed vague. When we got here, he told me you’d kidnapped Emmy.”
A little seed of hope blossomed in her belly, she looked up, studying him, searching for signs of deception. His eyes were just like Fatima’s.
Rayan might just be her way out.
She swallowed and chose her words carefully. “He’s going to kill me, Rayan. He threatened to make Emmy watch.”
Rayan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hell, I don’t know what to do. Amir is upstairs and he’s a light sleeper.” He lowered his hand. “I won’t let him hurt you—either of you.”
It was too late for that. Emmy would never fully recover from all the damage. But maybe Rayan could help them escape before Cameron could inflict any more of it.
“Cameron set a trap with his phone. He’s luring my friend here.”
Rayan nodded. “I know. He’s got men in the woods.”
“How many?” she whispered, her gaze darting behind his shoulder. If Cameron caught them scheming, he’d kill Rayan too.
Rayan sighed. “I’m not sure. I know he called in a favor through a business associate. With the people he knows, I’m gonna bet the men are ex-military.”
A shudder racked her shoulders. Roarke would be outnumbered. “Can I use your phone? Please,” she added, desperation clawing its way from the pit of her stomach.
Rayan glanced behind him, hesitation scrawled on his face. He turned back with his brow pinched over his nose. “I hope tohell you’ve got someone with friends. Cameron isn’t going to let you leave here quietly. Not in one piece if he can help it.”
Her lip trembled. “I know.”
He fished his phone from his pocket, then unlocked the screen and handed it to her. “Talk quietly. I’ll be back in a minute. I don’t want Amir or Cameron to notice I came down.”
“Thank you.”
Her fingers trembled as she punched in Roarke’s number, grateful he’d never changed it and she could dial it without thought.
She pressed the phone to her ear and the line rang, the sound piercing and surreal in the otherwise silent space.
Please pick up. Please pick up.
The memory of calling him terrified and desperate from Saif and Aisha’s bathroom kicked her into last week. Her stomach wrenched with each passing second.
“Hello?” The deep, rumbly voice held barely veiled rage.
“Roarke?” she whispered.
A second clipped by. Her pulse thundered against her temples.
“Laine? Jesus, where are you?”
The sound of his voice, a stable mountain in a chaotic terrain, made her weak. She leaned back against the radiator, struggling for a breath. Everything came rushing back. She wanted to tell him about the vile things Cameron had said and done, how terrified Emmy had been ... how she’d done everything Roarke had told her to and had still failed.
“Baby, are you hurt?” The sharp concern in his tone made her sniff back the self-pity.
“No,” she lied. “Not really. He’s got us at some house in the country. I wish I could tell you more, I?—”
