Page 58 of Resurrection

“All the alcohol is here, so she obviously hasn’t been in the room for more than a drop off,” Eric says, and the thump of his foot connecting with something, maybe her suitcase, reverberates around the room.

A glass clatters onto the wooden tabletop, and then liquid splashes into it. “Drink?” Charles asks.

“No. She gets pissed when I start without her.”

“At this point, it’s best to play by her rules, I suppose.” There’s a pause and then a glass thuds onto the table. “Who’d you say told you about the CIA?”

Eric chuckles. “I didn’t.”

The chair in front of me creaks, and my heart kicks in response. I’m concealed by the armoire and curtains, but I’m not naïve enough to believe I can’t be discovered. They could turn me in to the Irish mob or the CIA. Could I kill them to stay alive and out of jail? Yes. Would she ever forgive me? Not a chance in hell.

“I’m concerned you’re fucking up our plan with whatever side deals you’ve been working. Why was my daughter in a PLA bar? Why is Valeriya dead? Nothing should put Carys at risk. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“The answer to the first is Jay’s good at his job. Perhaps too good. We may need to plant false leads to keep him off the scent. She’ll know someone in the organization has been dealing with the PLA either through Jay or, I imagine, the CIA. I suppose that can’t be helped now. The second question, well, that’s more complicated, and you don’t want to know.”

The sound of liquid being poured into a glass echoes through the room again. “When are you going to make your move?” Charles asks.

“Roughly a month. The timing of these things is always vague.”

There’s a quick flapping noise, and I picture Eric flicking his suit jacket open like he did the last time I met him.

Charles grunts. “A month? And she’s holed up with Finn Donaghey? Christ. She’ll either be pregnant or dead by the time your plan comes through. I agreed to this ridiculous plan with the understanding—”

“Her pregnancies don’t tend to stick.” Eric’s smooth, emotionless voice cuts off Charles. My fingers twitch on the gun.“The original miscarriage, wasn’t it? With him? A literal knife to the heart and a figurative one as well.” Eric’s voice hardens. “I don’t think she’s stupid enough to put herself in either situation again.”

My heart slows in my chest. What-the-actual-fuck did he just say? My brain is processing through mud. She was pregnant? Withmychild?

“You didn’t see how broken up she was,” Charles says.

“Doesn’t matter.” The chair creaks again as Eric rises, then he crosses the suite. “I’ve made mistakes—paying for that bitch’s abortion being the biggest—she forgave me every other indiscretion. This time around, she’ll be happy. Once I reveal everything to her, once she knows how serious I am, she won’t want to say no.” His laugh is ominous. “She won’t be able to.”

A glass hits the wooden table. Liquid pours into it.

“Then Carys and I will finally run this company together,” Eric says.

I press my forehead into the armoire and brace my free hand against it as Charles and Eric do a toast to the future of the Van de Berg kingdom. The roaring in my ears almost drowns out the sound of the suite door opening and closing.

“Oh,” Carys says, her voice breathy with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

The tension, coiled tight in my belly, releases in a rush. My heart strains at the music of her voice.She’s okay.

Another frisson of anger chases the comfort away. She shouldn’t be saying those words to them; she should say them to me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Carys

When I realize the lights are on in my suite, I assume it’s Jay. A part of me both hopes and dreads it might be Finn. But he’s not the type of guy who waits in a well-lit room. No, he’d much prefer a dark corner, scaring the shit out of me to prove a point.

When I step into my suite and find my father and Eric toasting each other by the minibar, it causes my heart to sink.

“What are you doing here?” I say.

Eric turns toward me, sliding his tumbler along the polished mahogany table. “Sook called me.”

I frown and cross the room, taking the last glass from the minibar to pour myself a drink. “My lawyer called you, but she didn’t bother to show up?”

“Sook said she could make the calls to get you released without coming. They didn’t have a reason to detain you. Chance and circumstance.” He grimaces. “Harboring a fugitive tends to make you a target for the authorities.”

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