When Maddoc blinks and looks at me again, I realize the shit is about to hit the proverbial fan. I finally cracked the mobster mask, and now I can clearly see the man Liam described. Mercurial. A lunatic. Slippery as an eel and smart as a fox. And from the look in his eyes, I add another: cold-blooded killer.

I really hope this is what Liam intended—it’s not like we got a chance to hash out a plan. I’m banking on knowing him well enough to understand what he meant by Clover, along with the faith that he knows what it means to me.

Power in surrender. The power to stop, control, and alter my circumstances. We’re probably fucked either way, but I trust Liam. So I surrendered. When Maddoc asked, I told him everything. Every detail. He didn’t believe me, not until now. Apparently Chris has a longstanding calling card for torture. If I’d known, I would have opened with that little gem.

Since I’m still surrendering, I take it one step further. I beg.

“Please, let us go. Please. We won’t ever bother you again. The money is yours. We’ll disappear. Please.”

Maddoc regards me for a long moment, then shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Eden. It doesn’t work that way. Elizabeth stole from me, and Rourke is a loose cannon.”

My stomach freefalls. I look wildly around the room, as if I can squeeze an idea from dust motes dancing in shafts of sunlight. Maybe I can, because an idea comes. It makes me want to scream, but it’s all I’ve got. Everything. My final play to get Liam and Elizabeth to safety.

“If you let them go, I’ll stay with you. I’m a doctor. I can work for you. For free. I’ll swear fealty, or whatever you want. The jaundice in your eyes and the spider angiomas on your nose are indicative of liver problems. You might have cirrhosis. It can’t be cured, but it can be halted. I’ll help you get healthy again…”

I trail off, panting from my tirade, when I realize Maddoc isn’t remotely swayed. Pain signals break through my hysteria, and I look down to see blood welling on my thighs where my fingernails broke the skin.

“I admire your loyalty, I do,” says Maddoc flatly, “but you’ll be staying regardless of what happens to the others.” He stands up, opening the desk drawer and removing a huge revolver. “Stay here.”

Liam.

I lurch to my feet as he stalks toward the door. “Wait, no!”

I grab his arm as he’s reaching for the doorknob. He shakes me off, slanting me a venomous glare. “Calm down. Rourke is safe for the time being. It’s Christopher I have business with.”

I stumble gracelessly backward until my hip connects with the corner of the desk. The pain is a distant buzz. I’m frozen to the spot, my mind blank of everything but the knowledge that I just signed Chris’s death warrant.

Maddoc tears open the door and disappears. I hear his muffled voice, tight with anger and Alexis’s name. Her response is indistinct, but her vicious tone matches his.

Then Maddoc roars, “Fucking tell me! Is it true? My own flesh and blood betrayed me? Went behind my back with my men? Shot up a goddamn hospital and killed twelve people on orders from my fucking daughter?”

Ah, I think dimly, so that’s what he’s pissed about. Liam was right, after all. Maddoc’s only weakness is his daughter.

Chris pleads, “Maddoc, listen, please—”

Alexis screams, “Yes! It’s true! You’re nothing—a worthless, impotent has-been. It needed to be done, so I did it!”

More voices. Some raised in agreement, some in disbelief.

Chris yells, “No, Alexis! What are you thinking? Put down the fecking gun.”

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck

A set of footsteps pound down the hallway. A man flies past the open office door toward the living room.

“Alexis!” yells Chris. “Please, this isn’t the way!”

Maddoc hollers, “Drop that gun, you stupid cun—”

A gunshot splits the world. Momentarily shatters the voices in the living room. Two more shots follow. So unbelievably loud. Copper fills my mouth as I bite through my lip.

Then, as the buzz in my ears fades, I hear screaming. Everyone is yelling and screaming.

My brain restarts, adrenaline flooding my limbs with purpose.

Liam.

I run for the door. When I reach the threshold, I grab the doorframe and swing my body to the right. Away from the living room. Don’t notice me. Don’t notice me.

I run smack into a thick body. Hard fingers grip my shoulders. “What the fuck?” snarls the guard from the truck.

My training takes over. I don’t think or feel—just move. Jab to the eyes. Punch to the nose. Duck and block. Kick to the groin. Elbow to exposed neck. It takes seconds to put him on the ground. Another to disarm him, another to clock him in the temple with the butt of his own handgun.

A shrill note fills my ears, my vision pulsing in time with my heart. Behind me, the yelling continues.

Scrambling to my feet, I see two doors ahead of me. One of them is slightly ajar. I leap over the unconscious man and dive into the room, shutting the door behind me and locking it. Small bed, window, single nightstand, narrow closet. Empty.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

As I turn back to the door, I hear a thump behind me. Then another. My gaze veers to the closet. I lurch forward, yanking it open.

Liam grins around his gag, showing no sign of pain despite the angry, seeping wound in his shoulder. Crammed into the space beside him is Elizabeth. She blinks up at me, tears falling across her cheeks.

I make quick work of their gags. Elizabeth gasps, “Eden, thank God.”

The first words from Liam are an order. “Get my phone. Drawer in nightstand.”

“What?” I bark, yanking ineffectually at the zip ties on his ankles. Motherfucking zip ties.

No more gunshots have sounded, and to my growing panic, the noise from the living room is tapering off.

“Do you still trust me?” murmurs Liam.

I make a sound—somewhere between a whine and a sob—then I jump to my feet and race to the nightstand. Yanking out his phone, I turn around.

“Now what?” I whisper.

“Dial this number.” He rattles off an international phone number and makes me repeat it back as I type.

I hold the phone to my ear, my hand shaking as I listen to the ringing and imagine armed men bursting into the room any second.

Then the line picks up. Through crackling static, a man says, “Hernandez. Are we a go?”

I blink dumbly. “Uh—”

Liam hisses, “Green.”

My numb lips obey the command my brain doesn’t really register. “Green.”

There’s a pause. “Copy that.”

The line goes dead. I lower the phone and stare at Liam. “Now what?”

He smiles slightly. “Now we wait. Come here. Nice and cozy already, but there’s room for one more.”

Liam shifts around, stretching his legs over Elizabeth’s feet to make room for me on his lap. I walk forward and gingerly find my footing to lower myself. When I’m inside the closet, braced against his uninjured shoulder and my legs tucked into the space between their bodies, Liam nods to the sliding door.

Before I pull it closed, I glance at Elizabeth. She looks as stunned as I feel.

“Who was that?” she whispers.

“A friend,” replies Liam.

The lines between my mental dots are fuzzy, but growing more distinct each moment. Hernandez. Hernandez. There’s only one man by that name who comes to mind.

But I can’t fathom what it means. How it’s possible.

Liam’s breath teases my ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, love. I couldn’t risk the information.”

The thought lines grow taut and clear. But I only have one question. “How?”

“You left his card at my house. I hung on to it on the off-chance I’d need it someday.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” pleads Elizabeth.

Neither of us answer, because at that moment we hear a heavy crack of splitting wood and new, loud voices shouting.

“Police!”

“Drop your weapons!”

“Get on the floor!”

“Hands behind your heads!”

The walls are thin. There are muttered expletives from the living room. Thuds as guns and knees hit the floor. Grunts and more cursing.

“Alexis Sharpe, drop the fucking gun. You’re under arrest for drug trafficking, money laundering, and murder.”

I recognize the final man’s voice. Not that I actually needed confirmation that FBI Special Agent David Hernandez is here to save the day.

There’s a beat of silence before I hear my sister’s voice. Like she’s sitting beside me instead of several rooms away, her words ricochet in my ears and down my body.

“Not a fucking chance, pig.”

—BANG—

The solitary gunshot convulses every muscle in my body. I jerk against Liam and hold my breath, listening, listening…

…but there’s only silence.