Forsaken (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #3)(74)

I’ve barely guzzled the thick syrup Amy calls coffee when I glance up to find Gia standing in the doorway, having traded in her pajamas for faded jeans, a pink T-shirt, and sneakers.

“Gia,” I say, standing, fully intent on insisting she go back to bed, but she is already moving toward the table, planting herself in a chair.

“I’m staying. Amy is with Dr. Murphy, and she says I’m fine to move around a bit.” I arch a disbelieving brow, and she says, “Ask her. She’s still here.” She grabs my coffee cup and sips, then crinkles her nose. “That’s horrible.”

“Hey now,” Amy scolds, entering the room. “I made that.”

“I’ll make the next pot,” Gia volunteers.

“Thank you,” Tellar says. “Amy seems to want to please Chad more than the rest of us, and apparently my last pot wasn’t much better.”

“Welcome back, Ms. Hudson,” Liam says. “Have you been feeling the tingles of architectural creations?”

“No, I have not, Mr. Stone. It appears I will not become a brilliant architect but will remain a humble chemist, damn you.”

“A rather brilliant chemist in your own right, from what I understand,” he replies. “You were on Sheridan’s top secret team.”

“I was,” she confirms. “And it felt like an honor. I really thought he wanted to save the world.”

“How do you think Napoleon and Hitler managed to get so many followers?” Liam replies. “We’re just glad he didn’t brainwash you, or Chad might not be here right now.”

“Right,” she says, twisting her fingers together on top of the table a moment before she looks at me. “Still no idea how Sheridan found you?”

“None,” I confirm.

Her teeth worry her bottom lip a moment before she says, “And no one has contacted us to demand or threaten us to get the cylinder that I don’t know about, right?”

“No,” Liam replies. “We’re on radio silence.”

“We’re certain Sheridan is waiting us out,” Tellar says. “Expecting one of us to surface. We just aren’t sure how long that will last before they get impatient, especially since the Chinese are putting pressure on him.”

“Yes,” she murmurs, her gaze going to me. “They know you’re with Amy and Liam now, so I’m sure they’ll call Liam.”

I arch a brow. “That wasn’t a question, so why does it feels like one?”

“Did you tell Jared where the cylinder is, and that’s the reason we aren’t being contacted? Could he have told Rollin, and Rollin is negotiating a sale?”

My gut twists with what she isn’t saying, but it’s in her eyes, and lingering in the room. “Jared didn’t turn on us. He had six years to give me up to Sheridan, and he didn’t. He escaped and went underground, or he’s dead.” She doesn’t reply, but the room seems to wait in irritating unison for my confirmation. “No, I did not tell him where it is. No one knows where the cylinder is but me.”

Collectively, they all seem to sigh. “As it should be,” Liam says. “You have to be the only one who knows.”

“It can’t stay that way,” Amy argues. “There has to be a way the world gets it if it’s ever needed.”

“I don’t disagree,” Liam says, “nor do I believe Chad would, but now is not that time, and the first order of business is making sure it’s forgotten, assumed lost. Rollin remains our best fall guy, but we have to find him.” Liam motions to the piles of paperwork on the table. “Rollin has to be hiding somewhere in this pile of paperwork.”

I grab a file. “Then I say we all have to look again at everything we’ve already looked at.” I glance around the table and everyone nods in unison and grabs a file.




HOURS LATER, COCO has entertained us and whisked Dr. Murphy away to safety, and we are all exhausted, the sun settled low on the horizon. I glance up and realize that Gia and Amy have disappeared. Concerned that I’ve been too absorbed in the file I’m reading to realize Gia is sick, I push myself to my feet and go in search of her. As I pass through the living area, the drapes flutter, the door opens to the heated porch, and Amy’s voice stops me in my tracks.

“What if I’m pregnant again?” Amy asks, touching on the one subject she hasn’t spoken to me about.

“Getting sick once does not make you pregnant,” Gia assures her. “We’re all under a lot of stress and it wasn’t that long ago that you miscarried. Your body is exhausted.”

“Losing my baby was the worst moment of my life aside from the fire,” Amy says, her pain slicing through me, reminding me that knowledge is helping her cope, but the heartache is far from gone. “It was like I’d been given another chance at a family,” she continues, “only to have it ripped away.”

“I know,” Gia says softly. “That’s how I felt, too. I lost my dad. Then I lost the baby and . . . then . . . I lost the chance to try it again with someone who matters.”

Stunned, I grab the couch. Gia lost a baby?

“He really didn’t care that you lost the baby?” Amy asks.

“He was relieved.”

“While you were destroyed,” Amy supplies, her voice heavy with understanding.