Is it his confidence? His masculine beauty? His strength? John Holsten possesses all those traits, and it did nothing for me when we met.
I don’t understand what’s happening between Lorne and me, but I feel protective of it. The thought of never seeing him again fills my gut with ravenous protests.
Maybe it’s all the talk about weddings.
Maybe it’s the comfort of being included in such a tight family.
Maybe it’s just… Him.
The automatic flusher erupts as I finish. I swing open the door of the stall, head down, my fingers zipping and buttoning my shorts.
Something moves in my periphery. A sound near the last stall and…
The closet door is opening. Only it’s not a closet. A dimly lit, linoleum-lined corridor stretches out from the man bursting in.
White Stetson, dark scowl, and brown eyes I know horrifyingly well—all of it slams into me so fast I don’t have time to react.
John’s palm covers my mouth. His body pins me against the wall, and his other hand holds up a phone with something paused on the screen.
My pulse explodes as I rear back a fist to drive it into his upper lip.
“Your sister’s alive.” He presses his mouth against my ear. “Make a sound, and that will change.”
My heart stops. My insides ice over, and everything shuts down as an excruciating cry reaches for my throat. The gag of his hand presses harder, as if to trap my pain, but I’m already swallowing it down, hanging on his words, and pleading with my eyes.
She’s alive? Is it true? What about the death records? Were they fake?
He holds the screen of the phone to my face and starts a video of Tiana’s tiny body curled up in a hospital bed. A doctor walks into the camera view, and Tiana lifts her head, blinking huge brown eyes. Tubes snake around her. Sickness pales her skin, and long black hair clings to her three-year-old shoulders.
Four.
She would be four now.
He stops the video and pockets the phone. “When your mother drugged herself to the eyeballs, I moved Tiana to a safe place in Texas. She needs you.”
Another sob tries to burst free, and I gulp, and gulp again, fighting to keep silent.
His arm slithers around my back, tugging me against him as he holds my mouth.
“Not a sound,” he whispers. “We’re going to walk out of here without drawing attention. Through the kitchen. Right out the back door. I told Tiana you’re coming. Don’t disappoint her.”
My heart howls for her. My precious, innocent baby sister. It’s been so long since I’ve held her, kissed her, and smelled her sweet scent.
“If you fight me,” he breathes in my ear, “I’ll kill her for good this time.”
Defense techniques play on a reel in my head. Any one of the maneuvers would knock his hand from my mouth. My scream would alert Lorne and…
Tiana will die.
I blink up at John, at the handsome features that look so much like his sons. Very few lines crease his face, his eyes chillingly cold and lips curled back to bare the clench of his teeth.
The door he came through is shut. Twenty feet away, Lorne stands behind the other door. If I delay much longer, he’ll storm in to check on me.
Has John been watching me this whole time? Did he follow us from Sandbank and hang out in the service hall, waiting on a chance that I would enter the bathroom alone?
If Tiana’s alive, why did he tell me she was dead? Why remove the only leverage he held over me?
Because he didn’t need that leverage. Not when he could hold me in chains and torture me with lies.
My stomach turns with horror and hope. I can’t risk her life.
But what about Lorne? If I slip away quietly, he won’t believe I ran. He’ll know it was John, and he’ll blame himself for not protecting me.
“Ready to be a good girl and see your sister?” Fingers dig into my cheek as the other hand grips my breast and squeezes. “Fuck, Raina. You have no idea how much I missed you.”
Nausea threatens, watering my eyes. I shut out the memories and give him my gaze, shaking and breathless, heart in my mouth, begging for kindness. I need him to tell me Tiana’s okay, even if it’s just words. I need him to promise.
Except his promises are filth. He vowed to take care of her, swore she would receive a transplant and the best medical treatment.
I surrendered our lives for lies, cruel intentions, and manipulations.
As much as my entire being clings to the hope that she’s alive, I can’t be blinded by it. I can’t let him win.
Tears burn in the back of my throat as I nod.
“You’ll be quiet.” The hand against my mouth clenches and shoves, slamming my head against the tile wall. “Or she’s dead.”