Forsaken (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #3)(80)

“He’s the only one who knew where I was in order to insert Meg into my life, and yet Sheridan is the one who kidnapped me.”

“But he showed Amy a picture of Rollin with Meg,” Tellar argues.

“To gain my trust,” Amy says, her voice strained. “That picture and Chad’s voice mail convinced me to trust Jared, and to share things Chad meant for my eyes only.”

“He’s a master manipulator,” I say, a low growl of anger permeating my tone at just how deep and long his betrayal runs.

“Someone tried to grab me in Denver,” Gia says. “Jared knew I was there. He must have told Rollin, and Rollin thought I knew something that might help him win the race against his father.”

“Exactly,” I say. “And he left Jared with me, trying to get my secret.”

“And if he couldn’t,” Gia says, finishing my thought, “he figured he’d trap you and Amy together and use her to make you talk.”

Amy pales. “If we make this deal, do I dare believe this is over? That we’ll be safe?”

My eyes meet Liam’s and we share a look of torment. We both want to say yes, but neither of us is willing to build her up and risk tearing her down again.

“It means we have hope,” Gia says, taking her hand, “and that’s more than we had yesterday.” She glances around the room. “Let’s call China.”





TWENTY



WE AGREE THAT I’M the only one to be identified to the Chinese, for everyone’s safety. With this in mind, Liam makes phone calls to his contacts in China and cautiously puts out feelers with people he trusts, who he knows will limit his involvement. Once he’s made the calls, though, we can do nothing but hole up in the safe house and wait. And wait, we do. For three long days we are all climbing the walls, but finally Liam’s contacts pay off. We are given the contact information for a high-ranking, English-speaking leader in a powerful radical opposition group. Finally, it’s time to put our plan into play, and the ball is in my court.

We gather in the War Room, with me at the head of the table, Liam at the opposite end, and Gia, Amy, and Tellar present as well. A piece of paper sits before me with the name and number of the contact we need, written in Liam’s neat, controlled handwriting. Phone in hand, I hesitate and do not dial, but it’s not about doubt or regret. Instead I simply inhale on a moment that is about these people around me, the tension in their faces, the nervous energy emanating from them. And what I feel—the unity, the support—is something I have not felt since I sat at a table with Amy and my parents. I trust these people. Really trust them, and it makes me realize that no matter how I craved having a confidant, a friend, in Jared, it was more about not being alone than it was about trust. Alone isn’t better. I knew that even then.

Resolved to carry this through to the bittersweet moment of what some call justice, and what I call revenge, I punch in the number. There are three rings before a man with a heavy accent answers and I introduce myself.

“I’ve been expecting you, Chad,” he says and laughs, quite amused, as he adds, “I am Chen, but I am sure you know this already. Explain what it is that makes you reach across the world.”

I share our situation, explaining how Sheridan and Rollin Scott are working on the cylinder with a Chinese diplomat we already know from Liam’s sources this man despises. “I have the schematic for the most recent prototype, and the notes from the scientist who created them.”

“Where is this scientist?” Chen asks.

“Dead. Sheridan and Rollin didn’t want to share the profits.”

“And you have these things how?”

“I’m in love with his daughter, who Sheridan and Rollin just tried to kill as well.”

“Why kill the daughter?”

“To convince me to hand over the information she did not want released.”

“But she is willing now?”

“She almost died. She wants this over.”

He is silent a moment. “Why are you offering this to me?”

“Revenge. Sheridan and Rollin Scott want this. They can’t have it, and neither can anyone supporting them.”

He is silent a moment. “How much?”

“The complete destruction of Sheridan Scott, Rollin Scott, and the consortium supporting Sheridan’s operation.”

“No money?”

“I have money.”

“Hmmmm, yes. Revenge and blood, these are the riches of many a man. Send me the items. If am pleased, I will give you your revenge.”

“I’ll give you half the journal and half the schematic up front. The rest after you deliver your part of the deal.”

He pauses—one beat, two. “Transfer the documents to me electronically. If I am pleased we will make our deal.” He gives me an e-mail address. “I’ll be in contact if I am interested.”

“Wait,” I say when it’s clear he’s about to hang up. “Seventy-two hours, or I give it to someone else.”

“Ninety-six hours.”

“Fine,” I agree.

The line goes dead and I set the phone down, wasting no time keying my computer to life, but feeling the expectant stares of everyone around me. “He wants the documents electronically transferred,” I announce, glancing up. “He’ll be in contact if he’s interested.”