Forsaken (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #3)(37)

“Oh.” She pauses a moment, and adds, “This doesn’t mean he’s dead. It doesn’t mean your sister isn’t safe, either. It doesn’t.”

While her words are meant to offer comfort, I reject what will only make me weak and soft. “The only thing we know for certain is that you and I are alive, right here and now. Everything else is a question. And I do mean everything.”





NINE



GIA AND I are two hours from Denver when I start grilling her, wanting to take advantage of anything she might have learned about Sheridan after a year of working for him. I have her describe every visitor, every employee, every interaction she had with anyone and everyone. I ask a ton of questions about anyone who might resemble Meg, but get no answer that makes me believe that Meg has visited Sheridan or communicated with him, when I know damn well that she did. Sheridan is too smart to make many mistakes, but too human not to make any.

By the time we hit the Denver city limits, I’ve stopped at a store to buy a phone and spent a good portion of time focusing my thoughts on a person of interest. A fortysomething, attractive blond woman who, per Gia’s claims, started visiting Sheridan a month ago.

“They were intimate?” I ask. “You’re sure?”

“Oh yes. Very sure.”

“You saw them showing affection?”

“No. It was a vibe when they were together. A way that they looked at each other. The length of time they were behind closed doors together, often for hours.”

“And you never knew who she worked for?”

“No, and I could never get to the sign-in register to find out who she was.”

I arch a brow. “Why would you try?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. There was just something about her that seemed odd.”

“Odd. Okay. Did anyone else ever join their meetings?”

“Never. This isn’t much help, is it?”

“It helps.”

“But we don’t know who she is.”

“I’ll find out.”

We reach the exit that leads to Cherry Creek, the fast-developing area where I bought a number of investment properties years before—and the location where I’ve hidden Amy—and I tell myself to pass it by. I’ll be looked for here, but I can’t seem to care. I exit and stare at the road, completely still and focused, but adrenaline pulses through me, my heartbeat pounding in my temples.

“Chad,” Gia prods gently. “What’s wrong?”

That she can read me so easily is a sign that she’s slipped beneath the walls I’ve erected around myself. “Aside from the present delay,” I say, stopping at a light, “who said anything is wrong?”

“Your mood. The exit. What am I sensing? Are we close to your sister?”

I cut her a look. “If my sister is where she’s supposed to be, yes.” The light changes and I turn to the left and down the street leading to what should be Amy’s new apartment, but I keep going, passing it and the hotel directly across from it. I want to stop, but I have another destination in mind. “Stuff your hair in your jacket again,” I order, grabbing the baseball cap and putting it on before taking another left.

“If you were betrayed, Chad, Sheridan could know where Amy is. Please tell me your plan isn’t just to barge in and grab her. They could be waiting to grab you and her together.”

“If Sheridan knew she was here, he’d already have her.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe she was a backup plan. We’re both too tired to think through this clearly.”

“There is no ‘we.’?”

“There is a ‘we.’ I’m here, and believe it or not, I put my life on the line for all of this.”

I pull up in front of the Inn at Cherry Creek. “If he hasn’t found her yet, I’m not wasting a moment that might let him. Grab your bag.” I pop the door open and the doorman greets me, as does one on Gia’s side. I give the man a nod, snag my duffel, and unzip it, palming him a large bill as I quietly say, “Keep my vehicle at the side of the building with the keys inside.” He gives the tip a glance and his agreement is adamant and instant.

Gia rounds the hood of the vehicle and I lace my fingers with hers, leading her forward. “Chad—” she begins urgently.

“Kevin, while we’re here,” I tell her softly. “And you’re Ashley, but I’d prefer you just not speak.”

I don’t have to turn to look at her as we enter the elegant boutique hotel’s lobby to feel her glower. She steps in front of me, her palm flattening on my chest, and damn it, my skin burns beneath her touch. “What about a trap?”

I cover her hand with mine. “You’re asking for attention we don’t need. We’ll talk upstairs.”

Her expression tightens, but she steps to my side and we walk to the high marble counter.

“Good evening,” the sixtysomething, gray-haired attendant offers.

Giving the man a nod, I pull my wallet from my jeans pocket, sliding a credit card and a fake ID onto the counter. “We’ll be staying two nights.”

“All we have available is the executive suite.”

“Fine.”

“The cost—”