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A chill runs down my spine. If it hasn’t already happened.
I’m about ready to jump out of my skin when I reach Zé. “Has Lexie left?”
He told me earlier that she was gone, and I was happy to hear it. At least that’s what I told myself. Now I’m hoping against hope that he was mistaken. I’m grasping at straws. But I don’t know what else to do.
“She left some time ago. Probably in the air by now.”
Probably isn’t good enough. I need to know where she is with certainty. Even then it might not be enough to calm my gut.
“I can’t reach her or her father. Neither are answering their phones or responding to messages. Are we sure she’s on her way to London?”
“As sure as anyone can be about anything with her.”
“Cut the fucking shit, Zé,” I shout. “Francesca Russo was murdered tonight, and I don’t have the patience for your little digs about Lexie.”
“She was murdered?” he asks, just above a whisper.
“Along with an experienced guard, not far from where the Russos live. She was meeting the same boyfriend she was supposed to meet in Porto.”
“It’s those bastards,” he replies, his voice barely controlled.
No doubt in my mind. “We need to warn Will and Lexie. She’s in danger.” A fuck-ton of danger. “Can you activate the tracker in her phone and the one in the anklet?”
“Give me a minute.”
I won’t be happy unless that signal shows her safely locked in a room inside her parents’ house with no way to escape.
“I’m getting nothing from the phone.”
Goddamn it. I knew she’d find the damn thing and disable it. “What about the jewelry?”
“The signal from the tracker in the anklet has her upstairs in your apartment. She must have left it.”
“Go upstairs and look around. Maybe she’s not gone.”
“Giana put her in the car,” he replies softly.
“Fucking humor me, Zé.”
“I’m on my way up, but listen. You’re a target too.”
“I’m on a damn plane forty-one thousand feet over the Atlantic Ocean. If it’s been sabotaged, it’s a little late now to do anything about it.”
Zé’s quiet on the other end. Plane disappears over the Atlantic—a plane I should have been on, but fate intervened. He’s heard this story before—it doesn’t have a happy ending.
We’ve been friends for more than twenty-five years, like brothers, but this isn’t just about me. Tamar’s on this plane too.
“I won’t take any risks with Tamar. You have my word.”
“I know you won’t,” he barks. “That’s why I was pissed you were taking her and not me. You can never remember that you’re the protectee, Rafael. She’s a soldier.”
She’s a soldier. Right. Tamar’s highly trained, but she’s more than just a soldier. She’s his woman.
I hear a door slam through the phone. “She’s not here,” he says quietly. Zé’s not a fan of Lexie, but there’s great empathy in his voice.
He knew how much I wanted her to be there. How much I needed her to be there.
“The anklet is on the nightstand.”
