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“I’m cold,” she whispered, as she heard her father screaming, heard Raeg barking commands and her doctor’s steady voice. “So cold.…”
How had Dr. Brennan gotten there?
“You promised to keep me warm…,” she whispered. “You promised.…”
*
Sebastian came awake with a suddenness he’d only experienced once in his life before.
This time, the difference wasn’t the excruciating physical and mental pain he’d sworn Alyssa was feeling.
This time, it was her death.
I’m cold.… You promised to keep me warm.… You promised.…
They had made so many promises to her, only to have to break each one.
Shane wasn’t the only one who had felt that connection snap back into place, felt her, the bond so fragile, almost non-existent now.
As he jerked his boots on he was aware of the light switching on in the sitting room and knew Shane was hurriedly dressing as well.
They had to hurry. God help him, they had to get to her.
“I’m calling the pilot!” Shane yelled out, panic edging his tone, his certainty that they were losing Alyssa.
Sebastian ran through the connecting door. “Call him on the way.”
They’d been certain she was safe.
Gregory Santiago, the neighbor who had once lived beneath Alyssa in Barcelona, had been killed in the raid on his apartment where they’d found the original videos he’d taken while Alyssa was at Landra’s apartment six years before.
He’d finally moved to transfer the blackmail payments that had been made over the years by the De Loren family. Their CIA contacts had instantly traced the transfer, pinpointed Santiago, then with Shane and Sebastian rushed his Barcelona apartment.
The cousins hadn’t trusted him six years before, but Sebastian had never suspected he was involved with the blackmail. They should have, he knew. Not many people had known they were more or less living with Alyssa there. Gregory had known, though. He’d known, just as he’d known their reputations.
All the videos and digital files had been recovered, even the one addressed to a U.S. gossip rag, and left with his lawyer in Madrid.
The operation had finished the day before. Would fate be so cruel as to take her from them now?
Running from the house, Shane shouted directions to the pilot as well as the flight plan. He had twenty minutes to get prepared to take off.
They were racing for the airport, that fragile, so very fragile connection they felt to Alyssa dimming by the second.
“Don’t you die on me, siren!” Sebastian screamed as he pushed the little sports car as fast as it would travel on the winding roads. “Don’t you fucking die on me. We’re coming, baby. We’re coming.…”
As fast as they could get to her. God, why hadn’t they left the day before? Why had they allowed their brothers to convince them to wait, to sleep first so they could go with them? They should have left for her immediately.
They’d failed her again. And God help them, they might have failed her one time too many.
*
Ice formed in Margot’s veins. It chilled rage and froze out fury. It left only the steely determination and cold, hard vengeance cementing inside her.
“Why didn’t you call nine-one-one?” she demanded as Davis and Dr. Brennan rushed through the foyer, following Raeg, and Davis’ bodyguard, Crane, as they carried Alyssa to the downstairs guest room rather than up the stairs to her room.
The gurney they used was no more than a flat slat with handholds, and blood dripped from it, running from her daughter’s body in a long, slow rivulet.
“Davis.” She grabbed his arm imperatively as he went to pass her. “She needs a hospital.”
