Page 3 of Forgotten Promise

“No. I mean we were near the rare books room. They were planning to go down to headquarters, but I was staying up top because I was meeting with Colum.”

At that, everyone looked at the Irishman, whose eyes widened slightly. He leaned back, as if putting space between him and Lachlan would lessen the danger he only now realized he was in.

“We were in a little side room on the second floor, near the connecting hall. You know, the connecting hall where the travel books are?”

Rose nodded, though she did not, in fact, know what Franco was talking about.

“They have a good travel section. The library, I mean. I don’t know why they put it in the hall. They should have it somewhere more central. Travel books are both inspirational and aspirational.”

Lachlan nodded at Franco and without looking away, said, “What did you give him?”

Rose knew Lachlan was speaking to her. “Anxiety medication.”

“Okay.” Lachlan cleared his throat. “Franco. I want you to tell me what happened when they took Juliette and Devon.”

Franco’s face started to crumple.

“Tell it like a story,” Colum said, in his lilting Irish accent. “Not that it happened to you. Only but it’s a story you’re telling.”

Franco nodded. “Right. I can do that. I’m on drugs after all. Good drugs. Thanks, Rose.”

Rose could feel Sebastian staring at her, but she ignored him.

Franco took a breath. “Some people came down the hall, I think they were in the Washington Room, or maybe just came from that direction. They wore masks, medical masks, not bank robber masks.”

The tension was thick in the room, Franco’s measured words an improvement over the frantic repetition of “they’re gone,” but still frustratingly slow.

“We weren’t talking about trinity stuff, so we didn’t have to stop talking. Devon was discussing something with the remodeling—we’re not done with the house yet. I was looking at the travel books because, well…books.”

Colum shrugged. “What else would ye be doing?”

“Right?” Franco turned to him. “They had a few books from this new—”

Lachlan cleared his throat and Rose took a steadying breath, the tight bodice of her formal gown digging into her ribs. Franco’s attention shifted back to Lachlan, and he nodded slowly, almost bobbing his head.

“What did the men do?” Lachlan asked.

“They walked right up to Devon and…and they shot him.”

The silence that followed that statement was broken only by the heavy sound of Franco’s breathing.

“I heard the pop. It was loud. Juliette screamed, and they grabbed her. One pressed a gun to her head. She looked at me, and I thought I was about to see someone blow my wife’s brains out.”

Rose’s heart broke for him. Franco’s unnatural calm, thanks to the anxiety medication, somehow made the words worse than if he’d been sobbing or raging as he said them.

“But they didn’t. One of them put a needle in her neck, and then a bag over her head. It was so fast. I ran toward them, but someone hit me. I tried to fight.” Franco stopped, shook his head. “No. I fought. I did. I fought.” His expression didn’t change, but a tear slid down his face. “It wasn’t enough. I tried to get to Devon. They had him on the ground, and I think they were…helping him? I grabbed him, tried to drag him away, but they stopped me. I think they hit me again. I was on the floor watching as they put them, both of them, into carts. Big laundry carts.”

There was silence when he finished.

“Check his head,” Lachlan said to no one in particular.

Rose leaned forward, but it was Colum who got up on one knee on the couch and started gently ruffling through Franco’s hair.

“He’s got a fecking big knot on the back of his head.”

“If he has a concussion, the drugs probably weren’t a good idea,” Sebastian said.

“How about you get him some ice?” Rose countered.

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