Page 29 of Barinov

“You heard me,” Nate cuts him off. “Help us get her back and your books are yours.”

“That’ll tank everything we built! Everything he—”

“If it gets her back,” Nate interrupts him again, “then it’s worth it.”

He glances around the table, locking eyes with some of the world’s most dangerous people one by one. “If it gets them back,” he adds quietly. “We’ll find another way to save kids. We always do.”

Sabine, Laing, Khoza, O’Malley, and Briggs all look between each other. They all seem to be having silent conversations with only pointed stares and nods.

It’s creepy.

Sabine rises with a slow and measured grace that draws every eye in the room. “We shall take you up on your offer, Nathaniel. But do not mistake this for coercion. Bella is ours too. Blood or not.”

She turns slowly, addressing each face at the table. “Whether Laing and the others care to admit it, that girl has bound us together with pain, with purpose. And with fire.”

Laing huffs in his seat.

“And if you had offered us nothing. No books or leverage. Not one single promise,” she continues, giving a nasty side-eye to Laing. “We all would have been there anyway.”

She glides closer, black and burgundy silk whispering across the floor with each step. She stops in front of me and places a hand flat against my chest, right over my heart.

“We’ll help you because that’s what family does. Not because of some paper and ink.” Her dark eyes stare deep into my soul. She smiles faintly. “So go on, l’ombre. Tell us the plan.”

“Um.” I clear my throat.

Twice.

“Costa Rica,” I continue. “Cade’s first trial. We don’t know what it is, so I want to be prepared for the worst. Sabine, I want you with us in case for some miracle she’s there and we need to get the collar off of her in a hurry.”

She nods. “Of course.”

“The rest of—”

DING-DONG.

Every head in the room turns.

“Well hell,” Tex snorts. “Maybe Marisol finally decided to show her face.”

My eyes find his. “Okay, who the fuck is Marisol?”

Laing barks out a low laugh. “Zeke’s ex. Trust me, you really don’t want to know, man.”

I grunt as I take a step away from the table. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

When I get to the door, I reach for the handle and yank it open. The room behind me goes deadly silent. For a half a second, my brain refuses to catch up.

Roman Russo is leaning against the doorframe, ghostly pale. And from the looks of it… extremely pissed.

“Jesus Christ,” August breathes from the couch.

“Roman,” I say, my voice rough as gravel. “Shouldn’t you still be in the fucking hospital?”

“I wasn’t about to sit in bed while my daughter’s missing.” Roman tries to step past me, his gait stiff. He’s got his left arm tucked tightly against his ribs just to keep his chest from splitting open.

“So.” Roman stops and braces himself against the kitchen counter, knuckles white on the granite. “Where the—” He’s cut off by a deep, rattling cough that shakes his entire frame. He hunches over, breathing hard and trembling just trying to stay upright.

“Where the hell is my daughter?” he rasps, steel eyes burning.