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“Brother,” I finished for her, reading that word form on the man’s lips just as Mya said it.
“Right,” Mya said. “That man is Erik Luther. The man standing behind him is part of Brant’s security team.”
I stumbled back, and Jack’s arm hooked around me for support in an instant.
“If Erik was part of Mom’s old heist crew, does that mean so was Brant? Did Mom know them both before she met our dad?” My mind was spinning with possibilities.
“According to a quick web search, Erik is fifty. Never married. No children. Resides in Pasadena, California,” Mya shared as she appeared to be searching in real time. At least the shitty tablet was sufficient for a quick web search.
“Erik’s Mom’s age. Isn’t Brant a lot older than him?” I asked her.
“He’s sixty-five,” Mya answered, looking up from her screen.
“You think Brant was the crew runner back in the day, and your mom and Erik were part of the team?” Gwen tossed out the idea as I continued to wrap my head around everything, including the fact the man I thought was dead was very much alive, and apparently out for revenge.
“It’s possible, I guess,” I murmured in a foggy daze, growing nauseous.
“I’ll have Sydney try and find where Erik and this security guy are now. Once Camila arrives with a better laptop,” Gwen began, “I can help out.” She flicked her finger at the cartel’s laptop. “This one doesn’t have the power I need to hack into anything. Not even enough juice to create a fake impersonator account of a celebrity on Instagram.”
“I, um, can’t make out anything else Erik said,” I shared after trying one more time, doing my best to focus.
“That’s okay.” Jack smoothed his hand up and down my back in comforting motions, and then I turned to see Carter entering the library, phone in hand but not at his ear. Mya quickly updated him, including the fact we now had a name, and how Erik was the one to “let me go” by not shooting me that night eleven years ago. Only to come for me now.
Instead of responding to the news, Carter simply said, “Camila’s insisting she talk to you.” He held out the phone, and I took a deep breath before crossing the room.
I sighed. “I need to take this alone.”
Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and gave me a tight nod.
I shot Lucy an apologetic look, feeling responsible for this mess, even though I knew it wasn’t my fault. And then I waited to get to the sunroom before I brought the phone to my ear.
“Charlotte?”
“Camila,” I whispered back. “It’s me.”
An apology I’d half expected didn’t come. Instead, she cut right to the point. “I have to tell you something very important, and I want to tell you now, so you have time to process.” Her bone-chilling tone made my legs weak, so I sat on the bucket swing, eyes pinned to the mountains as I waited for her to continue. “Something changed. I don’t know why or how, but it did. And I . . . I can only see the outcomes. Two possible outcomes. In one scenario, I can see you alive after this is over. In the other, I can’t see anything.”
I leaned back in the swing and closed my eyes, terrified of the direction this was going. No future meant I’d die. “How do we make the scenario happen where I live?” I murmured, my heart beating wildly.
“There’s only one way I can see that happening, but I know you won’t allow it.” Camila’s accent cut through a bit more that time as emotion caught in her tone. “I’m so sorry I failed you.”
“Just tell me,” I rasped, opening my eyes, blinking back tears.
“If you live, Lucy dies. And possibly the five missing women, too,” she rushed out.
Five? I thought there were six. But wait, what . . .? “You’re saying it’s either me or Lucy and those missing women?” I peered toward the door, ensuring no one was there as I processed the news.
“I’m either going to your funeral or hers. But if I didn’t tell you this, it’d be hers for sure. If I tell the team this, though, you both wind up dying. And maybe the missing women, too. I don’t know more than that,” she said, a tremor shooting through her voice.
“Don’t tell them,” I blurted. “Please.” I sniffled, coming to terms with the reality of the news.
“I wish I could help or do more, but I’m afraid if I try to intervene again—”
“No.” I abruptly stood. “We can’t risk something going wrong and Lucy or those women dying.” I shook my head, refusing to allow that possibility. “This was how it was always supposed to happen I think.”
“But you deserve your life, too. And I don’t know how to give that to you.” Her hoarse voice had me choking up even more.
“It’s not up to you to change fate. It’s meant to be,” I forced out. “But, um, I need you to tell Lucy and Jack something for me after this is over.” I didn’t need Lucy feeling guilty that she lived when I didn’t. I couldn’t handle that. I wanted her to fall in love and marry the man of her dreams. To have the dog barking in the yard with her kids swinging on the playset out back on warm summer days. “I can’t have either of them feeling guilty.” Tears streaked my cheeks, but I refused to ugly cry. I had to keep my shit together. For just a little longer. “I need you to convince them to move on with their lives.” Pictures of my time with Jack flashed to mind, and I held on to them as I whispered, “Tell Jack to never give up on finding the woman of his dreams since I can’t be her.”
