Page 34
“No.” She gave me a tight smile. “But I’m scared of what comes next.”
I glanced toward the small bag near the entry. “Is that everything?”
Her gaze followed mine.
“It’s all I could fit in one bag. Enough clothes for two days, my passport and some cash. And a photo of my parents.” She swallowed. “Which is stupid, because after tonight they’re basically dead to me, aren’t they?”
I didn’t answer right away.
There was no gentle way to say yes.
“If this works,” I said, “you don’t call them. You don’t write. You don’t check their social media from some hotel computer because you miss your mother on a bad night. You disappear, Isabella. All the way.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “You sound very good at telling people how to lose everything.”
“I’ve had practice.”
That slipped out before I could stop it.
Her gaze stayed on mine. “Then you know what you’re asking me to do.”
“I do know.”
I didn’t have an answer that would make that hurt less.
She walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. I followed, keeping a little distance between us while she paced in front of the old sofa.
“So this is it,” she said, stopping in front of me. “My parents spend the rest of their lives wondering what happened to me, and I don’t even get to know if they’re okay.”
“If Delgado can use them to find you, he will. Then he’ll kill all of you.”
“I know that.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she pressed her lips together until the tremor passed. “That doesn’t make it easier to hear.”
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket, drew the security pattern over the grid, and typed a quick message. Her gaze dropped to my thumb for half a second before she looked away.
Inside. She’s scared. Give me a minute.
Rory answered.
Copy.
I put the phone away.
Isabella shook her head. “Your men are out there?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Enough.”
She let out a quick breath that might have been a laugh if it had any humor in it. “Of course.”
“They’re not here to hurt you.”
“They’re still men with guns.”
