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How did they know I was ordering a fertility doctor? How did they know where to find us when I was deliberately careful not to leave a trace? And how would they know exactly when to strike?
They had to have been here all along, just waiting for the perfect moment to get her alone. People enter the house. I can hear them in the distance as I force the door open and step into the cold room.
Fifteen security footage stare back at me. I slam my palm over the mouse, clicking from one screen to the next seeking a shot of Siân.
“Christian,” Tony’s hushed voice calls out from the doorway.
I tilt my head in his direction for a brief second, only to focus on the screens again. I catch movement on the camera on the top right.
“There.” I point at the screen when I see Siân draped lifelessly over a dark figure's shoulder.
He’s dressed in all black and seems to know the property intimately. He tucks his head, using Siân’s body to hide his face from the camera.
“Christian,” Tony calls out. “He was pretending to be one of the workers.”
I peer at the discarded vest that’s bunched in his hand.
I draw back, then jam my fist into the closest screen. It sputters, then fizzles to black.
“Who the fuck is he?” I demand to know. “How the fuck did he get past security?”
“We’ll find her,” he promises, already punching numbers into his phone.
As he puts the receiver to his ear, I remember my own phone and the tracker I had embedded into her engagement ring. I told her not to take it off for a reason. Initially, it was to keep her from getting away, but now it’s probably going to help me save her life.
I dig my cell from my inside jacket pocket and unsteadily scroll through my phone until I locate the tracking app I installed when I got the ring. It loads painfully slowly, every millisecond feeling like an eternity. The bright screen screams at me, and a second later, the page fills with a map. I zone in on the blinking red dot, my heart shattering into a million pieces as I watch it rapidly move across the screen.
23
SIN
For the second time in months, I wake up wondering what the hell happened to me. And once again, my head throbs when I so much as flinch.
It's a different kind of pain this time. Sharper, more intense, radiating from one central point. And unlike last time, I don't have to think hard once the fog of unconsciousness begins to clear.
He's Christian, but he's not Christian. A twin? He never mentioned having a brother, much less a twin brother. How could he have kept that from me? Was I never going to find out? If he had been honest, I would have known I was dealing with a stranger in that bathroom. How stupid was I, worrying about cleaning the tear stains off my cheeks while he stood there, ready to do this?
I'm sitting in a wooden chair with my hands tied behind my back. Whatever he used to bind me, he did a solid job. Thanks to how tightly I'm bound, my fingers are starting to go numb. It's the same for my feet, which he also tied tight. My neck aches, and I wonder how long I've been sitting with my head hanging forward.
When I try to raise it, there's no helping a groan of agony. I might even have a concussion. He hit me so hard. Every beat of my heart is a throb at my temple, sending ripples of pain radiating through my entire head.
I open my eyes slowly, gingerly, and at first, I'm horrified by how difficult it is to lift my eyelids. Did he tape them shut? No, the reality is more gruesome than that. Blood must have run into them when my head hung forward. I can hardly see, and I can't wipe anything away because I can't use my hands.
I need to think. Panicking isn't going to help anything, especially when any change in my heart rate means increased pain in my head. I'm not going to get through this if I panic. How would Christian handle a situation like this? How far have I fallen that I'm now looking to him as an example of how to conduct myself?
First, where am I? Second, where is he? I don't even know who he is. I don't have a name to use when I'm thinking about him. Am I alone? Is he waiting somewhere, ready to jump out and threaten me some more?
I close my eyes again, deciding the first thing to do is calm myself down. I tried meditation in the past, back when Kyla decided we needed to become healthier and more Zen. Maybe one day, I'll be able to think about her without experiencing searing pain in my heart, but I can't worry about that right now. Right now, I'm trying to save my own life. And that means calling on every trick at my disposal.
