Page 123 of Freeing Lark

“I’m here.”

Wren’s eyes opened wider. For several seconds she looked confused. Then she saw the restraints. Her breathing became rapid. “Oh, my God.”

“Hey.” Lark kept her voice as calm as she could. “Look at me.”

“What happened?”

“We were taken from the bathroom.”

Wren’s face crumpled. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” That was a lie. Lark had a pretty good idea. She just didn’t know how much she could safely say.

Wren started crying. “I don’t understand.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to get out of here, right?”

Lark forced herself to nod. “That’s the plan.” It wasn’t much of a plan. But it was something.

Footsteps sounded outside the garage. Lark’s entire body went rigid. The door opened. The two men entered. The one she’d recognized from the island walked in first. Her blood ran cold. He looked at her and smiled. Then slapped her, hard, across the face. Her head whipped to the side, and she tasted blood in her mouth.

“You,” he spat.

Lark stared back. “You again.”

His smile vanished. “You have no idea how much trouble you’ve caused me.”

“Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

He stepped closer. “You cost me good men.”

Lark’s stomach tightened. “What?”

“Four men dead.” His expression hardened. “Because of you.”

Lark stared at him. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You didn’t have to.” Wren whimpered beside her. The man ignored her. “You just had to be there.”

Lark pulled against the restraints. “What do you want?”

“Unfortunately, that’s not my decision.”

“Then whose is it?”

His eyes narrowed. “The bosses.”

Before Lark could ask who the bosses were, the garage door opened again. Two men walked inside. Bradley Whitmore. And Grant Calloway.

Wren’s entire expression changed. Hope flooded her face. “Bradley!” He looked at her. “Please.” Wren’s voice cracked. “You have to help us.”

Bradley stopped. Lark watched him carefully. Wren didn’t know. She didn’t know what Lark had learned. She didn’t know the connections that had been forming piece by piece until it had become impossible to ignore.

“Bradley,” Wren pleaded again. “Please untie us.”

Bradley looked at her for a long moment. Then he glanced toward Lark. Something in his expression made Lark’s blood turn colder. Not concern. Not surprise. Resignation. As though he’d been expecting her to figure things out eventually and he’d be responsible for tying up loose ends.