Page 133 of Beloved Sacrifice

Weston had always viewed his mother as a weaker third party, someone who was just along for the ride. In his mind, the masterminds behind everything had been Barton and Elroy.

So why did they need to protect Victoria?

Weston’s phone rang. The number was blocked, but Weston answered anyway. Devon was CIA and he was aware of their mission. He was probably checking their progress.

It was a distorted male voice, barely audible.

“Get her off the boat,” the man said.

“What?” Weston asked, his heart racing even as he walked to the door of their yacht.

“Get her off the boat. Now!”

“Who is this?”

“Do it now or she dies too.”

Panic gripped Weston as he took off at a sprint along the pier. Marek was hot on his heels, not bothering to stop him this time. “What is it?”

“We have to get her off the boat,” Weston said loudly over his shoulder. He was racing toward the Eileen as fast as his shitty knee would carry him.

“Who was on the phone?”

“I don’t know. She’s in danger, Marek. We have to get to her. Now!”

“Rose,” Marek said into the phone. “Get off the boat. Get off the boat.”

“Get off the boat.”

Marek’s voice was calm but urgent. Rose frowned. What was going on?

“Rose, you haven’t told anyone, have you?”

“No. I haven’t,” she lied. “I wasn’t sure what Caden found was right.”

They hadn’t said much. Had they really admitted to anything? Would it be enough? She had to keep them talking.

“Get off the boat,” Marek repeated.

“Ask them why they said they’re protecting Victoria.” Weston’s voice came out in two short bursts, and now she realized she could hear him breathing. Was he running?

“Why did you say you were protecting Victoria?” she asked Barton.

Victoria turned to look out over the water. “My mother was the sole survivor of a maritime disaster. Her name was Eileen Mayweather. Her sister and brother didn’t survive. She only barely remembered it. And didn’t remember her life before.”

Eileen Mayweather. Why was that name familiar?

Elroy snorted, apparently deciding her silence meant she didn’t know anything. “She doesn’t know anything.”

She’d seen that name somewhere. Recently.

On a birth certificate.

“On my God,” she breathed. “Your mother was one of the children on the Esperanza.”

“What did you say?” Barton snapped.

The shock their expressions displayed when she said the name of the ship was nothing compared to the horror on their faces now.

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