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She would have to be ready.
Because there would be hell to pay.
San Francisco, California
Now
“I don’t know what you want from me, Ian,” Marilyn said, her mouth pulled into a tight knot of disapproval. Lucy’s sister was standing in the foyer of her townhouse, a wrought-iron security door firmly between them, the wind and rain pummeling the porch where Ian stood.
“I want to know where my wife—where Lucy is.”
“Even if I did know, why would I tell you? And remember—she’s not your wife anymore.” The look she sent him was scathing. Tall and curvy, with her blond hair tied away from her face, her arms folded defensively under her breasts, Marilyn waited. She, unlike his wife, favored their mother, with full breasts, a nipped-in waist, Kewpie-doll lips, and wide, blue eyes. She’d been named after Marilyn Monroe. And the name fit. Usually. Not so glamorous today, though, as she stood without makeup in pajamas and a bathrobe.
“I’m worried,” he said.
“Too little, too late.” Her lips pursed decisively. She’d determined she was judge and jury all rolled into one.
“Does Clark know?”
Marilyn rolled her eyes and let out a dismissive breath. “Does my brother ever know anything? Come on, Ian.”
“I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit. Wasn’t he Special Ops in the army or intelligence or something?”
“Or something.”
“So he knows a lot.”
“Not about Lucy.” She wasn’t budging.
“She has Renee with her.”
Marilyn’s eyes slid to the side, as if she were considering.
“This isn’t like her,” Ian said. “We have our differences, yeah, I know, but when it comes to Renee, we’re pretty much on the same page. Something’s wrong.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But you do,” he charged, seeing the hesitation in her eyes.
“Look, all I know is that she’s needed to get away for some time. She was having those nightmares again. She told me that much. And that she was starting to remember.”
“Remember?”
“What happened the night Ray Watkins attacked Mom. But who knows? It’s been a lifetime ago, she was just a kid, so is she really recalling new details? Or is it all fantasy, you know, in her mind? But that’s it. She didn’t tell me anything else.”
Nope. She was lying. The little twitch at the corner of her lips gave her away.
“Is she safe?”
“How would l know?”
“If she’s in danger—if she’s risking my daughter’s—”
“They’re not in danger! They’re safe. I—I’m sure of it,” she said, though she didn’t sound certain of any damned thing. Then, before he could argue, she added, “Don’t put me in this position, Ian. It’s not fair.”
“Nothing’s fair in this world.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a fucking asshole, Ian.”
