Forsaken (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #3)(83)

“I love you too, sis,” I say, and my gaze connects with Gia’s over Amy’s shoulder, and in her eyes I see understanding. She knows where my head is and what I intend. I didn’t make a promise I can’t be sure I can keep. I love Amy, and I love Gia. I will fight for them with my life, but I am still no hero. I set up this meeting with Rollin for a reason. I believe he set that fire in my house, and that he killed Gia’s father. I plan to find out the truth. And if I’m right, I will be his Grim Reaper.





TWENTY-ONE



TWO DAYS LATER, and only two hours before my meeting with Rollin, Chen has rejected the meeting site I picked, saying it’s too open and impossible for a sneak attack, but I’ve convinced him I have a plan. One I can’t share with Gia without putting her in danger. In the meantime, I pull the new black Jag Gia helped me pick out the day before up to the door of the Jasmine Heights restaurant that had once been my house. Leaving my coat behind, my black short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans are my only protection from the near freezing temperature and light, cold drizzle. It doesn’t stop me from rounding the hood of the car. But I am not seeking a way to hide from the heartache that is this place for me. I simply want to feel and remember every last second of this moment.

I open the door for Gia and she pulls the hood of her parka up as she stands and steps into the wet chill of a gloomy evening, frowning at the sign above the restaurant. “Red Heaven? What a strange name.”

“Sheridan owns it. This is where my house burned down.”

“Oh, God.” Her hand comes down on my chest. “Chad. I’m sorry. The name. It’s—”

“Fire and blood and death.”

Her fingers curl in my now damp shirt. “Why are we here?”

“Back where it began, sweetheart. A place to say I’m sorry. To say good-bye.”

“You want . . . to go inside and eat?”

“No. I don’t.” A black sedan pulls up beside us. “That’s Coco. You’re going to get in the car and stay with her until this is over.”

“What? No. I deserve to see him die.”

My hands go down on her arms. “You do. I know. But as I stand here, where my parents were burned alive, I am begging you to do this for me. Her expression crumbles. “How am I supposed to not worry and wonder what’s happening? You could end up dead.”

Coco walks toward us, dressed for battle in cargo pants and a black jacket, which I have no doubt hides a number of weapons. Good. I want her armed. I want Gia safe.

Gia follows my gaze and whirls on Coco. “I’m not going with you. I heard you helped save my life, and thank you, but not today.”

Coco just looks at me and hands me a package. “That’s a wire,” she says. “We’ll be able to hear everything going on.”

“That’s not good enough,” Gia argues, turning to me, her parka hood falling down. “I want to be there.”

My hands go to her face. “You’re going to park a mile away from the meeting spot and wait for me on a private jet that’s waiting to take us to Dallas. The pilot is a friend of Tellar’s and Coco’s. Coco is my backup. If she hears a problem, you’ll stay with the pilot and you’ll be on that plane.”

“What about Dr. Murphy?” she demands as I lead her to the passenger side of the sedan.

“We got her a bodyguard,” I assure her.

“You planned this and didn’t tell me. You’re such an *, Chad.”

I wrap her in my arms, cupping her face. “An * who loves you, Gia. I need you to know that. I love you.”

Tears pool in her blue eyes. “I love you, too. Asshole.”

I smile and kiss her. “Now go. I want you out of here.” I open the door to Coco’s sedan and have to force her inside. She stares up at me, willing me to let her out. I hold the door shut while Coco joins her and quickly revs the engine, backing the car out of the parking spot.

I watch her until they’re gone, and then return to the Jag to grab a black jacket, sliding it over my shoulders. My gaze lingers on the “Red Heaven” sign once more before I start walking. Entering the building, I stop at the hostess station, aware of the rows of booths and the long wooden bar with televisions overhead, but in my mind I see my home. I see walls and couches and the kitchen table where Amy and I talked on the night of the fire. I see stairs where there are none, and flames.

I walk to the bathroom and put on the wire, exiting to claim a booth. I go so far as to order a burger and fries, buying time for my presence here to be the bait for the enemy I’m seeking.

And just that easily, faster than expected, even, I hook my fish. Rollin sits down in front of me, thinking he’s throwing me off my game, when this is my game.

He arches an arrogant dark brow. “Imagine meeting you here, like this.”

“Imagine,” I say, my tone sardonic, my fingers twitching to be around his throat. I want to kill him.

“Needed a walk down memory lane before the big meeting?” he asks, sounding amused, his voice a bit raspier now. His skin is more tanned. The wrinkles around his black, soulless eyes are deeper.

I mentally talk myself down, sticking to my plan when I walked in this door. “Nice suit, Rollin,” I say, noting the expensive fabric. “Guess you aren’t out of that money I gave you quite yet. You were disinherited, and needed the cash.”