Chapter Twenty-Three

The Reys were in custody for only a week, and already they’d dropped countless names, dates, and evidence. As promised, Julian was helping with their legal team, and in return, the Reys offered him an exclusive once the FBI gave them permission to take their explosive revelations public. So far, they were rapidly dealing their way toward a country-club prison with a tennis court and conjugal visits, which should make Marcus happy. But I wouldn’t know, because he’d stopped speaking to me. Then I stopped speaking to everyone else.

It got worse when Regina scheduled a TV interview.

Julian heard the news from a rival producer. Regina had an audio recording of her encounter with my parents in that Boston SUV. She never told us, but supposedly you could hear my parents threatening her entire family down to her little brother. Additionally, there were rumblings that she planned to discuss, on-air, accusations of a murder in Rio de Janeiro. She somehow knew about Cross’s death, and she was so blinded by the need for revenge, she wasn’t comprehending the danger she was putting herself and her family in. Marcus’s parents, two confessed criminals, accused my parents of “being on a rampage,” of “threatening world leaders.” What would they do to a tiny teenage girl who knew too much?

But we couldn’t find Regina. We couldn’t warn her. With every lead that resulted in a black pit, I sank further. It now took energy to rise out of bed and sit in the study while Julian and Charlotte talked. And talked, and talked.

“It’s been days, and I still have no idea where this interview is taking place!” Julian slammed down his mobile phone, and I jolted. The noise was too loud. “Everyone’s so afraid of what the Phoenixes might do that even the producers aren’t being told the location until the day-of. How is that possible?”

“They have to, they’re dealing with terrorists,” Charlotte said. Her fingers made a clickety-clack on her keyboard; it had become the white noise in the background of my life. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” She looked at me.

I wasn’t offended. I was beyond feeling much of anything lately, which Charlotte realized. Every morning I slept a little later than her liking, she gave Julian a look, one that said they had doctors on standby. She feared the funk was making an evil return, and maybe it was, just a little. But I was treading water, I was keeping my head up. I have my sister. I repeated the mantra. I have my sister. It was enough to keep me from sinking under the surface all together.

And I had Marcus to care about, even if he didn’t care about me. I needed to know he was okay, despite everything. As long as he and Keira were safe in this house, I wouldn’t succumb. I promised myself that. I promised her that.

“Sophia is behind this. I know it.” Julian plopped down on the leather couch beside his girlfriend.

“Obviously.” Charlotte agreed. “She knows Department D is going down, so she’s using Regina to save herself.” She’d taken to shouting Regina’s name, as if to pierce my brain and remind me we still had someone left to fight for. She was right. I couldn’t live with Regina’s death on my hands. I couldn’t go on if I took her from her family, but right now we were no closer to finding her than we had been weeks ago. Unless Sophia and Regina wanted to be found (like they did in Krakow), I didn’t see what hope we had.

“Sophia’s smart,” Julian stated. “She knows how to manipulate, and if she thinks Regina’s interview can lead to the incarceration of your parents, then she’s banking that will be enough—bad guys caught. She’ll claim to be the innocent child in it all.”

“She sort of is,” Keira said, as she entered the room, looking solely at me. “She was born into this, just like us. Who knows which one of us would have been turned into a spy if our parents stayed alive.”

Actually, we did know. My sister was pushed into medicine. Our parents guided and pressured her daily into an honorable field. Where would they have pushed me?

I closed my eyes, surprised my sister was even here. She and Ridge were still dating, if that’s what you wanted to call it. Honestly, I’d stopped asking questions. Her alter ego as a mindless party girl no longer seemed that unreasonable—she got to live outside of this world. Maybe that wasn’t so bad? Maybe that was what kept her from slipping into the funk herself?

“Sophia is not innocent, I don’t care how she was raised,” Charlotte grumbled, her hatred of the girl clearly magnified by her past with Julian. There were a lot of reasons to hate Sophia. We needed a spreadsheet.

“You used to date her.” I looked at Julian. “You really have no idea who’d she go to for help with an interview?” My voice was skeptical.

They all stared, seemingly shocked (and happy) that I spoke.

I blinked back, and Julian cleared his throat. “Uh, yes, but that was a long time ago and the news is a global business. I’ve tried every connection I have. No one knows anything.”

Abruptly, Keira shoved off the doorway. “No,” she blurted, her hazel eyes wide. “You tried every legitimate connection you have. You didn’t try Department D connections, and we know she works there.”

“Of course she does.” Julian agreed. “But we don’t exactly have a Department D rolodex.”

“Maybe not, but we do have a guy in our basement,” Keira replied.

Charlotte and Julian popped off the sofa in unison. “I can’t believe we didn’t think of this!” Charlotte shrieked, grasping Keira’s shoulders and shaking her.

Then they looked my way, as if waiting, so I slowly rose from the couch and followed them.

The cellar reeked of mold and human waste, so much so it was a shock to my senses. I grimaced, eyeing the porta potty in the corner, with our prisoner sprawled in front, lounging on a sunny yellow sleeping bag reading the latest copy of Julian’s tabloid. Keira scoffed at the sight.

“What?” Julian shrugged. “He kept talking to the guards. They were getting annoyed. So I offered an alternative.”

“Keira, cupcake!” Craig lifted the tabloid, a lazy smile on his face. “I see you and Ridge are getting hot and heavy.” He tapped at a photo. “Tell me, when you get it on, does he look at you or is he too busy staring at his abs?”

“Shut up,” Keira groaned, shaking her head and staring anywhere but at his face. I didn’t want to look at him, either.

“I bet Ridge has a mirror on his ceiling, doesn’t he?” Craig rasped, rising to meet us. His knee popped. (The one I dislocated. The sound actually made me crack a smile.) “I bet he takes selfies while you’re doing it.” Craig pouted his lips in a duck face.

“I swear I’m going to kill him,” Keira said under her breath. “Can we just get this over with?”

Hear, hear, I agreed. The smell of the room alone had me inching back to the door.

Julian stepped toward him, hands clasped like a host greeting a guest. “Mr. Bernard, we have a few questions you might be able to assist us with.”

“Oh, do tell, Mr. Stone. I just love assisting.” Craig’s eyes lit like he was enjoying his vacation—in a moldy cellar, with his hands in cable ties, and armed guards at the door.

“I believe you used to work with Sophia Urban, did you not?” Julian asked.

“I did. And I believe you used to sleep with Sophia Urban, did you not?” Craig looked directly at Charlotte with a grin and I watched her shoulders slump.

I was tired of the people around me getting hurt.

“My prior relationships are irrelevant,” Julian said, brushing off the comment. “We believe Sophia is manipulating a close friend to give a televised interview about the elder Phoenixes.”

“She’s going to talk about your parents?” Craig looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and I nodded reluctantly. Then he whistled, a high-pitched inhale, and clapped his hands once. “They are sooo gonna kill her…” he singsonged. “Actually, they won’t do it themselves, they’ll put out a hit. Too bad I’m busy, I could really use the cash…”

I swore somewhere, in an alternate universe, Craig Bernard languished in a pit where women repeatedly jumped on his crotch all day like a trampoline. I believed that in my heart.

“What is wrong with you?” I hissed, my voice dry from disuse. “Are you the worst human being in the world?”

“Honey, I’m not even the worst human being in your inner circle,” Craig replied.

“You are not in my circle.” I shook my head.

“Oh, I’m in your circle.” He gestured to the four of us, literally huddled beside him in a rounded formation. Keira and I stepped back, and he chuckled at the reaction. “Go team!” he mouthed.

Why did we come down here? He’s not going to tell us anything. This is a waste of our time…

“You worked with Sophia, so tell us, who are her closest media contacts?” Charlotte steered the conversation back.

“You mean other than your boyfriend, who she used to bang?” Craig pumped his hips, then laughed, tossing back his head, his greasy dark blond hair falling past his shoulders. It was longer than Charlotte’s, and without a shower, he was looking a lot more like the Nirvana-loving grunge fan I met at our Mother’s Day party. I was wondering if Keira noticed it, too.

“You’re such an asshole.” Keira’s jaw tightened. “The only reason you’re here is because I’m letting you stay. But I can call the CIA right now if you don’t want to be helpful.”

“Like you did to her lover boy’s parents?” He glared at me, the scar on his lip curled up. “Tell me, where is Marcus? I don’t see him down here.”

His eyes smiled, like he somehow knew Marcus and I were having issues, like he enjoyed the fact that his intel might have had something to do with it. The Reys sent this man to us. They worked with this horrible creature, which was proof enough that Marcus’s parents weren’t as innocent as he wanted to believe. Not that I could tell him that, not that I could tell him anything, because he wouldn’t speak to me.

When we got back from Germany, I’d knocked on his door, I’d tried to fix things, but he didn’t respond. It reminded me of my last conversation with my parents before their car exploded, except this time, I was standing on the other side. And that memory was all I needed, it sent me wisps of the funk, it let me sleep a little later and pull the covers a bit tighter.

I hadn’t knocked on his door since.

What are we doing?

I tugged at my tense neck. We were standing in a dingy basement with my sister’s kidnapper pleading for help. We were never going to find Regina like this. We might never find her period. So why not hand Bernard over to the cops now? He’d done what he’d come here to do—he led us to Marcus’s parents like they’d asked. So why were we still giving him shelter?

Only, before I voiced this opinion, the door flew open behind us.

“Por favor, don’t stop on our account,” said a familiar voice.

My chest lifted.

It was Marcus.

And he was followed by Antonio.