Page 41 of Ghost
Ghost blew out a low breath and tore his gaze from the image.He brought the phone back to his ear.“Jesus Christ.”
Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, but the huge picture was still murky as hell.He propped his elbow on the table and pinched his brow.
What kind of sick sonofabitch?
What had happened after the kidnapping?Anger rushed through him so fast he pushed himself to his feet, unable to sit.He paced a line in the kitchen, Rami’s silence allowing space for his fury to heighten.“Who’s responsible?”
He’d kill them.
Plain and simple.Disgust and rage made his vision flicker.Had she been assaulted?Was that why she’d turned to assassination?
“If I knew that, I’d be working for missing persons units all over the world.”
“Well, maybe we’re going to change businesses.I want a name.”
A beat passed.“Maybe you should ask her.”
The stairs creaked.His heart launched into his throat and he tightened his hold on the phone.Rami was right, of course.She was an adult now.Surely she had some idea of who’d taken her.Even if she’d escaped at a young age, she might still be able to describe her abductors.Give him a name.He’d run with whatever she had.
“All right.I’ll talk to you after.”Ghost clicked off without waiting for Rami’s response.
He dropped his phone into his pocket as Mila entered the room.She smiled, her eyes bright and rested.Hell, almost happy.
She wore black leggings and an oversized peach-colored sweatshirt.Cabin socks hugged her ankles, making her look cute and cozy.“Everything okay?”
He pressed his tongue to the backs of his teeth.Goddammit, he didn’t want to do this.Didn’t want to say anything that’d dim the light in her eyes or force trauma to surface.
But he couldn’t bite his tongue.
He moved closer, and she didn’t retreat as he reached her.She tilted her head back.
“Ghost, what’s wrong?”
He clasped her elbows, afraid that if he didn’t anchor her, she’d slip through his fingers.“There’s something I need to ask you.”
She blinked twice.“Okay.”
“And I want you to be honest with me.”
She slid her tongue over her lips.“You’re freaking me out.”
He inhaled deeply through his nose.This wasn’t about him or about how the idea of someone hurting her affected him.He had to control the rush of his blood, the anger fighting to get on top.Because while he’d been through a lot of messy, fucked-up shit, she’d endured more.
“Before you told me your name,” he said slowly, “I had my friend look for you using facial recognition.Everything stateside brought up Anna Yorke, but I knew that wasn’t really you.”
Her eyes stayed on his, unwavering but clearly not following where he was going with this.
“I had him search your image in Europe.He just told me what he found.”
Her head angled to the side.“I don’t under...”She inhaled a shuddering breath and her face went pale.Her eyes turned glassy.Her lip trembled.
But he needed to finish.To be absolutely certain she understood.Or maybe for his own clarity.“He discovered you were kidnapped in 2005.In Moscow.”
She bent her head forward.Her hair fell over her face.Her shoulders shook.
“Mila, talk to me.Do you remember what happened?”
She sniffed, wiping her cheeks.Finally, she nodded.Her eyes slammed into him, and their depths were so tortured and haunted his heart spasmed.
