Page 101 of Wretched Lies

I turn my head towards the voice, but I remain glued to Reid as Hunter crouches down, his rifle lowered.

“The stunt you pulled at the coffee shop was downright irresponsible,” he says, although he keeps his tone soft. “But my wife forgives you, and I’m not brave enough to go against her.”

“Are they OK?”

“They’re fine,” he answers. “More than fine. That pair of badasses wanted to offer themselves up as baitto find you.”

“Really?”

I wish I could laugh, but it’s beyond me. I keep a tight grip on Reid’s Kevlar vest while he trails his fingers through my hair, down my back, over my hips and legs, like he’s mapping out every inch of me as proof that I’m real.

“Hey,” Ash says, drawing my gaze up to him. “You didn’t do anything we wouldn’t do for each other. You wanted to find your sister. We get that.”

A sob escapes but catches in my throat, choking me. I can feel that abyss still waiting to claim me, and I cling to Reid. “Blake’s…” How can I say it? How can I make this real? “She’s dead. The person… The voice on the phone…”

I hiccup a breath and Reid kisses the top of my head. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

I sit up straighter, shaking my head. Tears streak my cheeks, but I hold back the sobs. “It was AI,” I tell him. “They made me believe I was getting a second chance to say sorry, but she was already gone. Ilya killed her, and Mikhail buried her somewhere here, in the desert.”

“We’ll do what we can to recover her body,” Ash promises.

I tip my head up to him. Ash has just made it so much harder not to start wailing again. “You’d do that? You really don’t hate me?”

“Hmm, well...”

The voice of dissent comes from Mace, and even Ash scowls at him.

“What?” he asks innocently. “I’m not saying I won’t forgive Quinn for putting Lily in danger. It’s just that, well, I might need some sort of incentive.”

“What kind of incentive?” I croak.

“Make me godfather,” he says, eyes twinkling.

“Fuck that,” says Hunter. “If you get to be godfather, so do I.”

“If we’re talking godfathers, shouldn’t that be me?” comes a voice from the door. A man I haven’t seen before with messy, dark brown hair and even deeper brown eyes, leans against the door frame. I presume from the Irish accent, he’s a McConkey.

“Killian, we don’t like you that much,” says Hunter.

I can see a good-natured argument is about to break out, but now isn’t the time or the place to think of babies and christenings. Or the future. I’m inches away from Ilya’s cooling body, and my sister lies buried in a sandy grave. I don’t have the strength to consider the possibility of a new life just yet.

“We don’t know for sure that I am pregnant,” I say, shutting them all down. I glance at Reid. “Mind games,” I remind him.

“Then we’ll find out for ourselves,” he says. “But first we need to get you out of here.”

As Reid helps me to my feet, Ash takes off his bulletproof vest. “Wear this,” he says. “Just in case there’s anyone left.”

“There isn’t,” says Killian.

“Good, because I’m betting my life on it,” Ash tells him as he goes to join the Irishman. “Are we done here?”

“We’ve found the safe and a stronghold that Jake’s helping us clear as we speak,” Killian replies. “But if there’s anything else your man here wants, now’s the time to speak.” He tips his head to Mace. “I’m ready to blow this place sky high.”

Mace stoops down to inspect Ilya’s body. “Jake’ll know what to take, and this is the only other thing I need,” he says, taking Ilya’s cell phone. He looks to me when he adds, “Idon’t have to go searching for one video now. I’ll take down his whole network of sites that shared footage of the women they abused.”

He doesn’t say it, but that could include videos of my sister. “Thank you.”

“It’s going to keep me pretty busy for a while.” He quirks an eyebrow. “I might have to recruit Strider.”