Heart of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #3)(26)

My tears, which I thought were dried up, pour out like a tidal wave.

“Shh . . . shh . . . it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay,” she murmurs, soothing me in a way that I never let her as a prickly and wary teenager.

“How can it ever be okay? My sister isn’t my sister!” My voice breaks on the last word, and I meet Alanna’s gaze. She reaches out to smooth my wild hair away from my face before her expression turns authoritative.

“Don’t you ever say that about Summer. I don’t give a damn if there’s not a single drop of blood shared between you, because that’s not what matters. I may not have carried you in my womb, or given birth to either of you, but you’re my daughters all the same. Family doesn’t just mean blood, Indy. Family is much more than that.”

“But—”

She shakes her head. “No buts. You raised Summer from the day she was born. You protected her. Fed her. Clothed her. Love her more than life itself. Does that mean nothing to you?”

A tear in my soul mends together at her words.

“It means everything,” I whisper.

Alanna’s lips pinch together. “Damn right it does, and don’t you ever forget that. Summer will always be your sister.”

I lean against her shoulder, soaking up her comforting presence as I let her words sink in and wrap around me.

Summer will always be my sister. No matter what.

“You’re right. I just . . .” I look past her to the closed shades, trying to find the words I want to say.

She squeezes my knee. “You’ve been hit with the equivalent of a dump-truck load of information and no time to process it. At least, that’s how it looks from where I’m sitting.”

“Yeah. Something like that,” I say, dragging my gaze back to hers.

“What about Mr. Forge?” she asks, her tone hesitant.

I bite down on my lip as my vision turns blurry. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.”

Alanna pats my knee. “Then you won’t talk about it yet. But we do need to talk about the man in a suit at the door of your building who’s acting like a bulldog and checking the ID of everyone who enters. And then there’s the one who watches from a black sedan in the same place they parked before.”

Spiderman and Superman.

I swipe at my tears. “They need to leave.”

Her gaze locks on mine. “Are you in danger, Indy? Is there more going on that we need to know about?”

I can’t help but picture Bates and Donnigan’s bodies in the hallway of the hotel in Prague, and I utter a silent prayer for them. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t know anything at all anymore.”





23





Forge





I toss the rest of my shit in the duffel, zip it up, and throw it over my shoulder as I leave the bedroom. There’s no reason for me to stay.

Dorsey waits in the hallway, another duffel in hand. One that I don’t want to look at or acknowledge.

Inside, I’ve iced over like the Chesapeake used to do in the winters of my childhood. It’s better to feel nothing.

The hole in my chest might still gape, but I’m pretending it’s not there.

“You’re in charge of the island.”

“Yes, sir. When will you be back?”

I shrug because I don’t have an answer for her.

Maybe never.

Isla del Cielo was never meant to be a lifeless, soulless, loveless place. But that’s exactly what I’ve made it. Isaac wouldn’t be proud. Not even a little fucking bit.

“Take care, Dorsey.”

I stalk out of the house and head for the chopper.





24





India





“She has to talk to us eventually.”

Summer’s voice travels all the way to my bedroom because she’s never known how to whisper. I’ve always called it her whisper-yell instead.

“She will when she’s ready, dear. Just give her time.”

Pots clang, and the scent of garlic wafts down the hall. Alanna’s cooking.

“Should I quit my job?” Summer asks. “I feel like I should because Forge got it for me. I’m essentially working for the enemy, aren’t I?”

“Keep going like you have been. Get as much out of it as possible, and then you can decide.”

With a groan, I roll facedown on the soft sheets of my bed. I’ve lost track of the days. Alanna has hovered over me like I’m a terminal patient, instead of just brokenhearted because I was stupid enough to fall in love with the wrong man.

Love is for idiots. That’s the only thing I know for sure now.

I trudge to the bathroom, and the vision in the mirror is terrifying enough to scare the boogeyman. My hair is a rat’s nest, and my eyes are puffy and bloodshot like I’ve gone on a three-day bender.

My mouth tastes like a litter box. I reach for my toothbrush, because at least that’s one problem I can fix. I try to smooth out my hair the best I can, but it’s a lost cause, and there’s nothing I can do about my face.

I square my shoulders and walk into the living room like I didn’t just wake up as an extra in Night of the Living Dead.