Sixty-Eight

The room Reyes’s guards led her to was hardly a dungeon. With its huge four-poster canopy bed and coffered ceilings, it looked like the executive suite at a five-star hotel.

But Sabrina recognized a prison when she saw one.

Standing in the middle of the room, she counted eight surveillance cameras that were activated by motion sensors. Every move she made was being monitored … which would make retrieving her weapons nearly impossible.

What was she going to do? How in the hell was she supposed to save the Senator’s grandson when she was just as much a prisoner as he was?

The answer was simple: she couldn’t.

What did Shaw expect her to do? She was a cop, not some highly-trained operative. Stealth was hardly one of her strong suits.

Sabrina sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully took in her surroundings as she wondered if Leo Maddox was being kept in a similar fashion. Was he locked away in some posh room somewhere close by, or was he being held captive in a cage like Alex Kotko had been?

A knock sounded at the door and she stood seconds before the door was opened. A young girl of about twelve or thirteen stood in the doorway, her hair pulled back into a tight tail at the nape her neck, the wild, dark curling mass of it falling nearly to her waist. She was slender, bordering on scrawny, all limbs and big eyes.

“The cameras are visual only. No audio,” the girl said without preamble, cruising the room with an air of familiarity. “And the man assigned to watch them is lazy. As long as you appear to behave, my father will never know otherwise.”

My father …

“Christina.” Hope jittered inside her chest, too stupid to know better. “Christina Reyes?”

The girl went still, a wary expression on her face. “Yes. How do you know me?”

“Michael speaks very highly of you.”

No response.

“Christina?”

“He talks about me?” the girl said. “I’d begun to think … I thought my father killed him.”

Sabrina shook her head. “No. Michael’s alive.”

An understanding she was too young to harbor settled into Christina’s face. “That’s why my father brought you … to lure him back to the island.”

She looked up and over, eyes trained instantly on the security camera perched in the corner above the girl’s shoulder. “I don’t think you should be here. You father made it clear that there would be consequences if I broke the rules.” What would happen now that Alberto Reyes’s daughter had introduced herself to her father’s kidnapping victim? It wasn’t something she was eager to find out.

Christina took a slow turn around the room, ignoring her protests. “This was my mother’s room for a while,” she said softly, as if any loud voice would disturb the ghost that lived with in these walls. She wandered over to the vanity to trail a finger along the gleaming line of a silver-plated brush, turning it over. Something rattled softly inside the handle. “Her things are still here. Sometimes I think she is too.”

The mention of her mother snapped Sabrina out of whatever insane plan she’d been harboring. She couldn’t get this girl involved. Not after what Reyes had done to her mother. “Christina, please, there’s no time. You need to leave.”

“I was sent by my father to invite you to dinner,” the girl said calmly, turning to look at her. “I would—we would—very much like your company.”

Sabrina looked at the porcelain clock perched on the mantel. It was eight o’clock. Food was the last thing she wanted, but this was a chance to get out. To get a look at the layout of the house. To see if she could figure out where Reyes was holding the Maddox boy.

“Okay,” Sabrina said, heading toward the bathroom. “Just give me a moment to freshen up.”

In the bathroom, a cursory glance revealed a camera mounted in the corner, facing the toilet. She’d be willing to bet money there was one in the shower as well. No possible way she’d be able to retrieve her weapons in here either.

Sabrina used the restroom while staring into the camera before washing her hands. She splashed cold water onto her face and dried them both on a thick white towel. Her jaw was tender from where it’d connected with Reyes’s hand. The corner of her mouth was cut, and the blood leaking from it stained the towel she used. Sabrina dropped the towel on the floor and exited the bathroom without giving the camera another glance.

Christina was sitting on the rose-colored settee, hands folded into her lap. She looked up, a faint smile on her lips. She looked nothing like her father—her eyes were wide and expressive, so dark her iris and pupil blended almost seamlessly.

“I’m ready,” she said, and Christina stood, nodding.

The young woman crossed the room to the door and, producing a key, she unlocked it. “Follow me,” Christina said quietly as she pulled the door shut.

“Thank you,” Sabrina said, unsure of what else to say. Unsure if she was reading the girl correctly.

“Many things changed after my mother’s death. My father has become very paranoid.”

Christina led her down a wide, dimly lit hallway, turning here and there, leading her deeper and deeper into the house. “He trusts no one. All guards and household staff are shuttled off the island after dinner and living quarters are equipped with timed locks. They are engaged at nine p.m. and released at six a.m. If you’re caught outside your room between those times, you’ll be shot.”

“What about you? If you’re caught sneaking around, will you be shot too?”

The girl looked up at her, her expression carefully drawn blank. “There’s no exceptions.”

“If there are no guards at night, then who’s going to stop me?” she said, unable to curb the insolent tone that crept into her voice.

The girl didn’t look at her, instead choosing to stare straight ahead as she walked. “There are cameras everywhere except for my father’s study and his living quarters. No matter where you are, you are always watched. If you’re caught wandering, someone will kill you.”

Sabrina followed along quietly, so many questions begging to be answered that, for a moment, she found herself unable to ask any at all. Finally, she spoke. “Your father blames Michael for your mother’s death. Do you? Blame him?” The question seemed ridiculous when there were a million other, more relevant ones she could be asking, but she had to know if this girl could be trusted if and when the time came to defy her father.

“The person I blame is beyond my reach,” Christina said, casting her a glance. “No matter what face he shows you, my father is very dangerous. Do not forget and do not defy him.” She stopped in front of a set of heavy double doors and pushed them open.

Sitting at a long dining room table, laden with china and crystal, was Alberto Reyes. He’d changed into a pair of creamy white linen pants and a silk button-down, casually open at the throat. “Sabrina,” he said warmly, standing as she came into the room. “I am so glad you agreed to join us.” He beamed at her, but it, like his tone, was nothing more than pretend. The smile, the solicitous cadence of his voice—it was all a lie.

Before she could say a word, he continued, holding his hand out to someone behind a large centerpiece in the center of the table. “Come, say hello to our guest.”

A small blond head peeked around the polished silver urn that held the flowers. Leo Maddox looked at her, his green eyes flat and hollow. “Hello,” he said quietly. “Are you here to take me home?”