Rose looked as shocked as Caitlyn. “Caity?” she whispered, brown eyes wide. “How did you find me?”
“I didn’t.” All the searching she’d done since Rose had gone undercover nearlyfour months ago to help bring down a human trafficking ring, and her sister had been right here. Maybe the whole time. “I’m working. We came inside because—”
“Rose!” A gravelly female voice came from another room, sharp as broken glass. “What was that?”
Rose’s eyes widened even more, eyebrows pinched in fear. All the color leached from beneath her warm, brown skin. “No,” she mouthed to Caitlynas she opened a pantry door. “A broken mug, ma’am. I’m cleaning it up now.”
Dark bruises were visible on Rose’s upper arms, and she’d corralled the tight curls of her rust-colored hair into a sleek bun at the back of her neck, revealing more bruising on her left jaw.
Oh, God. What had they done to her? Caitlyn glanced around, her stomach hollow. There had to be a way to get Rose out of herebefore she suffered another blow from whatever bastard had caused such pain.
“Mrs. Lambert is—” A wide-hipped black woman with short graying curls entered the kitchen and stopped at the sight of Caitlyn. “Oh. I didn’t realize we had a visitor. I’m Reini, head housekeeper.”
“Caitlyn Brevard,” she managed without sounding too odd.
“Were you taking part in the target practice?”
Target practice?That would explain why neither of them was freaking out from the sounds of gunfire.
“Um, no. I’m Mr. Lambert’s pilot. He needed a minute and offered me coffee.” Caitlyn made a face somewhere between a smile and a grimace and tried to control her trembling limbs. Too much had happened in too little time for her to process. She pointed to the Pollock-like disaster of ceramic shards and coffee thatRose had already begun to sweep up. “I’m afraid I made a mess.”
The older woman’s gaze took in the scene, her nose twitching at the sight of Rockley, who was only refraining from licking the coffee because Caitlyn held his collar. If the woman had spared any thought to Caitlyn and Rose both having red hair and freckles, she didn’t seem to understand the significance.
And why should Reini suspectanything? Beyond those typical redhead traits, the half-sisters looked nothing alike, their physical differences going far beyond skin tone. Rose’s dad must have shared the recessive gene for red hair, but John Weekes was a short, wiry black man from Barbados, whereas Caitlyn’s father was a tall, big-boned white guy from Chicago.
The only “type” their mother had, when it came to men, was theleaving kind.
Reini’s pinched expression smoothed. “No problem, ma’am. We’ll take care of it.” She stepped around the spill to the far side of the island. “Would you like another cup of coffee?”
“No, thank you. I’m leaving in a minute.”
“What’s this?” Lambert’s deep voice filled the room, shrinking the room to claustrophobic proportions.
“Just a mishap,” Reini said. “We’ll take care of it,sir.”
Caitlyn’s mind raced. She couldn’t abandon Rose.
As if sensing her thoughts, her sister glanced up and gave a small shake of her head.
Fear etched Caitlyn’s chest like acid, but she couldn’t see a way to get Rose out of this place without them both getting shot. As much as it pained her, she had to retreat and return with a plan.
At least now she knew Rose was alive and where to findher. Not necessarily safe, but her situation could be much worse.
I’ll come back for you.
Turning to face Lambert, she said, “Sorry. I dropped my mug.”
“A few jitters are to be expected,” he said, ever the gracious one. Except now she knew him for the heartless bastard he really was. “Are you sure you’re good to fly?”
She gave a brisk nod and followed him out of the room, not allowing herselfto look back. “Of course.”
“Good.” He smiled. “I’m running late for my meeting.”
Her mind and body were numb with loss. Every leaden step took her further away from Rose. And her bruises. And whoever had delivered them. Caitlyn would like to return the favor.
God,Rose. Caitlyn forced herself to unclench her hands and breathe slowly.
Focus.
