“Ever since their first visit. The first time I put you and your mother in that safe room.”
“Why? Why would you join them when you’d testified against the mob?” Her panic was rising. Stifling. She could barely grab her next breath. “You did the right thing before. Why turn bad?”
“CT offered me a lucrative deal in exchange for my wormhole into OPAQUE. At the time, Drake’s brother-in-law was head of OPAQUE. Of course, little did we know just how important my connection to Drake would turn out.” He huffed as if in triumph as his grip on her arm seemed to hit all the pressure points. “Through the years I became more valuable to CT. Got them to see the value in using you in later years. Hell, CT even paid for your college.”
The idea that she’d been groomed for years sat in her mouth like the putrid aftertaste of spoiled milk. But that was the past. Now and the future were all that mattered. She needed to escape. Get away. Warn the others.
“You did better than any of us could have hoped. Isn’t that right, Slugger?”
Slugger nodded again, gave her an up-and-down glance. “That’s right, boss. She’s a prize.”
Her dad shot him a disgusted look then cleared his throat. “You’ve made excellent connections in the world of money and politics, Elizabeth. Ones that give you an in on lots of fronts. And you did it all yourself. That is, until your last job.”
How did he know about her last job? What did he know? “I don’t know what you mean.”
“That publishing house you worked for…the big sign-on bonus…the assignments in Arizona…the office in Chicago. That was nothing but a CT front till you got too nosy. That’s when things got messy with that woman.”
His words stopped Liz cold in her fight to free herself. Messy? “You? You killed my informant?”
“Not me personally.” He glanced at Slugger.
She felt sick, like she might throw up. “But you planned all of this?”
“Right down to emptying your bank account. Once I had CT run a DNA test on you and me, I knew for sure you weren’t my daughter. After that, you were just a means to my bank account.”
“A DNA test? How? When?” Witpro. CT. Now DNA. How many more crazy things had happened in her life without her knowledge?
“Remember when you cut your hand peeling potatoes? I grabbed a clean cloth and helped you stop the bleeding?”
“I remember. You bought new knives for the kitchen a couple weeks after my mother died. Said I should peel potatoes for dinner.” The memory rushed back with a vengeance, bringing tears to her eyes. She stared at him in disbelief. “You bumped my arm, and I cut my hand. You helped stop the bleeding.” She glanced at the thin silver scar that still marked the spot. “You did that deliberately?”
“I tossed the cloth into a bag. Your toothbrush into another. Easy as pie, CT got the DNA results for me. Not. Related.” He yanked her close and loomed within an inch of her face. “That worked out even better. You’re gonna make a great addition to the organization.”
He jammed her against the cabinet as he grabbed another beer. Then shoved her away as he released his hold.
Her side slammed against the granite, and pain shot to her spine. She slowly slid to the floor as a frightening realization grabbed hold.
Four—by all that’s holy, she’d told her father the exact number of OPAQUE agents assaulting the boat. Slugger had sent the message. Coercion Ten was waiting to take them out. One by one, the four men would die protecting her.
All the times she’d hidden in the safe room as a child. All the friends she’d never been allowed. All the rules she’d struggled to follow had been nothing in comparison to the anguish she felt now.
Mitch and the rest of them were waging their battle on the boat. Maybe even dying to protect her. Yet never knowing the real fight was here in the house. And she would fight till the end. One thing she’d always had was the strength and perseverance to focus on protecting herself. The past few days had taught her how to stay one step ahead of trouble and search for the life she deserved.
She’d found that life with Mitch. Found her family with the Shades of Leverage team. Shewould notgive that up without a fight.
Bracing her hands on the floor, she pushed to get up. Flinched as a sharp jab of pain hit her palm. Glancing down she saw a jagged piece of broken beer bottle on the floor. Weapon? What had the men said—anything could be a weapon. Slow, careful, and quiet, she brushed her fingers along the floor beneath the overhang of the cabinet, sweeping lumps and shards of glass into a palm-size group. She stood, sliding the small pile of weapons slyly into her pants pocket.
“Now answer my question,” her father shouted. “Who are the men attacking the boat?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, just like she used to when he’d question who she’d been playing with, or stayed after school with, or what had she been doing out so late. She’d learned how to creatively lie by evading his questions.
“They didn’t tell me their names,” she said. “They like to keep things secret.”
“Don’t play games with me, Elizabeth. One is named Mitch. One Josh. Who else?”
The openness of the expansive house—kitchen, breakfast bar, living room, and on out to the deck—left no place for her to hide. No place to make herself small and invisible like she had at their traditional fifties-style, five-room house growing up.
“Who?” he raged at her.
