“Apparently she didn’t carry to term, but I don’t have confirmation of that yet.”
He hums noncommittally. “Has she had a chance to poison your brother with lies?”
“Yes,” I reply, biting my tongue from reminding him that anything she tells him likely wouldn’t be a lie at all.
“That’s a problem.”
“How would you like me to proceed?”
“I’d like to have a little chat with her. Do what you can to recover the girl and bring her back to Miami, but if you must kill her, do so.”
“And Ronan?”
“He’ll get over it. He did the first time, and he will again.”
I press my eyes closed, pushing down the guilt that’s become a living, breathing being inside my chest. I hate lying to him, especially when it comes to Chloe, but nothing I say can change her fate, and arguing will only cause more problems.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“See that you do.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “She could be the key to finding Kingston after all these years.”
I end the call without bothering to reply. We’ve long since moved from a father-son relationship to boss and employee, and although I would like to think that will change when I take his place at the head of the table, it seems unlikely.
The day Mom died, he lost his ability to love, and that’s a reality Ronan and I have spent years coming to terms with.
Leaning my head back against the seat, I refocus on the front gate.
The guards have disappeared out of sight, but the lights inside the guardhouse are still on, telling me there’s likely someone inside.
Breaking in might be possible, but there’s no way I’m getting Chloe out of there without being shot, which means I’ll have to wait until she leaves the estate to pounce.
The next problem is going to be getting Ronan on board with this plan. There’s almost no chance he’s going to go along with kidnapping his childhood sweetheart, but he doesn’t have a choice.
One way or another, Chloe is coming back to Miami with us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHLOE
NOW
The house fell silent hours ago, but with silence comes my too-loud thoughts.
Guards are patrolling the perimeter on random checks, giving anyone watching doubt around the schedule, but that doesn’t make me feel any safer. I don’t think anything will.
Apparently I’m destined to live the rest of my life without knowing a single moment of peace, and that’s probably what I deserve.
The need to flee gets louder with each second that passes, but my constant shadow is making it almost impossible to make a plan, let alone pack and dig out all the cash I have stashed around my room.
A movie has been playing for the last hour, but I couldn’t tell you a single thing that’s happened since the credits rolled.
I’ve been too busy working out the logistics of my escape. If nothing else, I have the benefit of time and resources, luxuries I could have only hoped for back then.
I won’t have to rely on anyone but myself.
The other reason I haven’t been able to pay attention is because Ryker hasn’t stopped touching me.
Every move I make is followed by a soft brush of his fingers or his hand on my leg. At the moment his arm is thrown over the couch behind us, his fingers teasing the pieces of hair that have fallen from my ponytail absentmindedly.
