Chapter Twenty-Two

River felt an icy calm settle on him as the police and his security team told him what had happened. “Where are they now?”

“Heading out of state, we think. We’re checking CCTV and the police helicopter is trying to track them down. They can’t have got far.”

“I need to be involved,” he said, “You have to let me come with you.”

“Sir …”

“It’s my daughter and my …” he got choked up. “My Sunday. My girls. If you don’t let me come with you, I’ll hire my own helicopter pilot.”

Eventually he persuaded him to let him ride in the helicopter. An hour later, they got the news there had been a sighting along the I-70. “We think they’re in a black SUV. He’s driving very carefully, under the speed limit, trying not to be seen.”

River tried not to let his panic show. He just cursed himself that he hadn’t seen Scanlan for who he was. What kind of coincidence would lead both of their tormentors to join forces? Had Angelina known who Scanlan was when she came to Colorado? River would bet on it. Not that it had done her any good—she was now in custody, charged with abduction and assault with a deadly weapon.

Angelina was refusing to talk, however, but River suspected that would change when she was threatened with a life sentence. As he traveled with the police, he was frustrated that they didn’t seem to be trying to stop the car, however.

“Mr. Giotto, it’s a hostage situation. We can’t risk him driving the car off the road or hurting one of them in an effort to escape. We know he’s armed. Let’s figure out where they are going. As soon as he runs out of gas, we’ll have him.”

It seemed hours before they told him. “We’ve located them. We think they’re going to Vegas.”

Sunday sat holding Berry, who had finally fallen asleep in her arms. Sunday felt belligerent, ignoring Scanlan when he tried to talk to her. He simply shrugged and they drove in silence for hours. She had heard the helicopters flying overhead and knew they were being tracked and it gave her hope. She ran through every situation where she could attack him, and had she been alone with him, she would have tried, but she could not risk Berry’s life. The whole kidnapping seemed shoddily planned—had he been forced into rushing it by Angelina? And how? He could have just killed her. None of it made sense.

All that mattered now was making sure Berry was safe. She pressed her lips to the sleeping girl’s forehead and knew that even if Berry was her own child, she could not love her more. “I won’t let him hurt you, BerBer.”

Scanlan met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Do what I say and the girl will be safe. The moment you say I do, Sunday, I’ll let her go.”

Sunday said nothing. She guessed why the police were hanging back but wondered how Scanlan would imagine they would let him get away with her. Maybe he was counting on her telling them she had gone with him voluntarily. He was insane.

Of course, he’s insane, stupid, she told herself. For one thing, he waited for years. Insane and delusional. Capable of anything.

“Were you the one who shot Cory? Shot me?”

Scanlan shook his head. “No. He was only supposed to take Cory out of the equation.”

Sunday’s eyes filled with tears. “Bastard. Cory was a million times the man you are.”

“You have yet to learn who I am,” he said calmly. “When you do, you will understand.”

“That you’re delusional? I think I got that.” She couldn’t help snapping at him, but again, he maintained an icy calm.

“Sunday … our life together will be a happy one. I can promise you that. You will work to make me happy, or I will end your life. It’s that simple. When we are married, I will have us flown to our new home. At any point, if you disobey me, I will add a few more bullets to the one lodged in your spine.”

Sunday was rocked by this. “How do you know about the bullet in my spine?”

“I was there, at the hospital. I held your hand.”

For Sunday, the knowledge that he had been there while she was in a coma was too much to bear. He really had intruded on every part of her life. “Why me?” she whispered desperately. “I’m nothing special. Why me?”

“You are a goddess.” Finally, he sounded angry, passionate. “You, Sunday, are everything. Everything.”

Sunday wondered how he could make such pretty words sound so terrifying. She met his gaze again and saw he madness in his blue eyes. Obsession.

Oh, God, River … I don’t think I’m going to make it … I love you.

I love you.

Hours later, they drove into Vegas. Sunday’s eyes were scratchy from exhaustion and the silent tears she had shed. Berry was awake but scared into dead silence. She looked at Sunday with huge, terrified eyes and Sunday held her tightly.

The car stopped and Scanlan made them get out. The Little White Chapel. It was tacky beyond belief and had she been there with River, they would have been laughing and joking around.

But the gun pressed to her side was no laughing matter. She saw unmarked cars pull up and a fleet of police offers get out but Scanlan merely grinned at them and forced Sunday and Berry inside.

Inside, the receptionist stood up in alarm when she saw the gun. “Hello,” Scanlan said in a friendly voice. “One marriage please. Right now.”

They were hurried into the chapel, another couple looking annoyed to be shoved quickly away. They were less annoyed when they saw the gun, more terrified as Scanlan asked them, with mock politeness to be their witnesses. They both nodded, never taking their eyes off the gun. Scanlan told the clerk to hurry.

“We seem to have some unwanted company, so if we could make this quick?”

River burst into the room, followed by a bunch of cops who had obviously been trying to stop him. “I object,” he snarled.

Scanlan laughed. “We haven’t gotten to that bit yet, asshole.”

He reached for Berry but Sunday was too quick for him. She stamped on his instep then shoved Berry as hard as she could at the nearest adult. “Go!”

Scanlan grabbed her, pressing the gun to her again as River, grabbing his daughter, passed her to a police officer and turned back to face Scanlan. The gun’s muzzle was hard against Sunday’s ribs—if it went off now, her heart would be shredded in a second. River’s eyes never left the gun.

“Scanlan, it’s over. Let her go.”

Brian’s lips were pressed to Sunday’s temple. “Not a chance, Giotto. I kind of knew it would come to this, but you being here to see her die just makes it all the better.”

Sunday wasn’t about to die quietly. She struggled with him, ramming her elbow into the center of his body again and again. Every police weapon was trained at Scanlan, trying to get a clear shot—if she could just …

With one last try, Sunday used her body weight to try and throw him off, bending double with the effort. Shots rang out, deafening her and she felt herself being propelled through the air. There was pain. The breath in her lungs was pushed out of her.

Then River’s arms were around her and as she opened her eyes, she saw Scanlan falling and felt only relief. She laughed, mostly from shock, and gazed up at River. “Hey, baby.”

River’s eyes were almost crazed. “Sweetie, hang on, we’ve got you … hang on …”

Why was he telling her to hang on? She was safe; she was free. “River, I’m okay.”

He shook his head and she saw the blood. “No, baby …”

As the adrenaline seeped away, she began to feel the pain—a very familiar pain. Oh, damn it, damn it … not again … not this … her chest hurt …

River’s voice began to sound as if it were coming from inside a tomb, or from the end of a very long tunnel. “Please, help us, she’s been shot … she’s been shot …”

The last thing she remembered was his beautiful green eyes, full of tears, and his voice, begging her to live.