Chapter 3 - THE BRIDE WHO DISAPPEARED
Z
By sunrise, I knew three things.
My father had lied about who he was.
My sister had gotten herself tangled up with a criminal family.
And Ethan Callahan was terrifying when he stopped pretending to be patient.
Twenty men moved through the hotel.
Quietly.
No shouting.
No dramatic threats.
That somehow made it worse.
Ethan stood inside Elena’s suite staring at the lipstick message while Declan searched the adjoining bedroom.
I found Elena’s wedding dress hanging from a brass hook.
White silk.
Pearls across the bodice.
A handwritten card sat beside it.
To my forever.
A.
I wanted to rip it apart.
Instead I searched.
“Rachel.”
Ethan’s tone warned me.
“I’m not touching anything.”
“You’re opening drawers.”
“That’s called searching.”
“That’s called contaminating a scene.”
“This isn’t CSI.”
His stare lasted three seconds.
Then, unbelievably, he almost smiled.
I opened another drawer.
Empty.
Another.
Inside the bottom one, beneath hotel stationery, I found a photograph.
Two teenage girls stood beside our father at Navy Pier.
Elena was sixteen.
I was thirteen.
Dad had one arm around each of us.
Someone had circled the medal around his neck.
The Saint Christopher medal.
My breath caught.
“Ethan.”
He crossed the room.
I handed him the photograph.
His expression changed immediately.
“He knew.”
“Who?”
“Adrian.”
“About the medal?”
“Maybe.”
I pulled it from my pocket.
Silver. Scratched. Ordinary.
Ethan took it carefully and turned it over.
“There’s no key.”
“Maybe ‘key’ doesn’t mean a literal key.”
His thumb found a narrow seam along the edge.
I had worn that medal for eleven years.
I had never noticed it.
Ethan pressed his thumbnail into the seam.
The back opened.
Inside was a tiny strip of metal no bigger than a fingernail.
I stared.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Declan stepped closer.
“It’s a data key.”
“What’s on it?”
Ethan looked toward the lipstick message.
“Enough to make somebody desperate.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone froze.
Ethan held out his hand.
I shook my head and answered.
“Hello?”
“Rachel.”
Elena.
I nearly collapsed.
“Elena? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Her voice sounded wrong.
Too controlled.
Like someone was standing beside her.
“Where are you?”
“Listen carefully.”
A man spoke in the background.
I couldn’t understand the words.
Elena inhaled sharply.
“Bring Dad’s key to Saint Augustine’s Church at ten.”
“No.”
Ethan looked at me.
I kept speaking.
“Put Adrian on.”
Silence.
Then a man came onto the line.
“Rachel Morales.”
His voice was smooth.
Educated.
Almost friendly.
“You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble simply by getting on an airplane.”
“Let my sister go.”
“Bring me what belongs to my family.”
“It belonged to my father.”
“Your father stole it.”
Ethan’s face became stone.
“What did he steal?”
Adrian laughed.
“Ask the man standing next to you.”
My eyes snapped toward Ethan.
Adrian continued.
“Yes, Rachel. I know exactly where you are.”
Cold spread through me.
“And I know who you’re with.”
Ethan took the phone.
“Adrian.”
Silence.
Then Adrian said something I couldn’t hear.
Ethan’s expression didn’t move.
“If Elena Morales is harmed,” he said quietly, “your wedding will become the least important funeral your family attends this year.”
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“What did my father steal?”
“Insurance.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“A ledger.”
“You said he kept records.”
“He did.”
“Of what?”
“Payments. Judges. Contractors. Police officers. Dock schedules. Accounts.”
My stomach turned.
“Your family’s?”
“Partly.”
I stepped backward.
“You said Dad worked for your father.”
“He worked around a lot of dangerous men.”
“And he copied everything.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Ethan’s eyes met mine.
“Because he discovered someone inside my family was helping the Marconis kill my father.”
The room went silent.
“My father died of a heart attack.”
“No.”
I stopped breathing.
Ethan continued.
“He was poisoned.”
“What does this have to do with my dad?”
“Javier found proof.”
“And?”
“He planned to give it to me.”
“But he died first.”
“Yes.”
“In the warehouse fire.”
Ethan nodded.
The answer hit me harder than I expected.
“My mother knew.”
“Probably.”
“That’s why she ran.”
“Yes.”
I looked down at the tiny metal key.
For eleven years, I had worn evidence around my neck.
I thought it was sentimental.
It was a death sentence disguised as jewelry.
“We trade it,” I said.
“No.”
I glared at Ethan.
“There’s my favorite word again.”
“If Adrian gets that ledger, Elena dies anyway.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
His gaze hardened.
“Because men like Adrian don’t leave witnesses.”
I hated that I believed him.
We spent the next four hours preparing.
Or rather, Ethan prepared.
I argued.
The plan was simple.
We would go to Saint Augustine’s.
I would carry a fake key.
Ethan’s men would surround the church.
Nobody would fire unless Elena was secured.
“This sounds insane,” I said.
“It is.”
“That’s reassuring.”
At 9:57, I walked toward the old church alone.
Snow had begun falling.
My boots clicked against the stone steps.
Inside, candles burned.
No priest.
No guests.
No wedding.
Then Elena stepped from behind the altar.
Her mascara was smeared.
Her wedding dress was wrinkled.
“Rachel.”
I ran toward her.
A man appeared behind her.
Adrian Marconi.
Tall.
Dark suit.
Handsome enough to belong in one of those wedding magazines Elena used to collect.
He held a gun against her ribs.
“Stop.”
I stopped.
My heartbeat became thunder.
“Give me the key.”
I reached into my pocket.
Adrian smiled.
Then the church doors opened.
Ethan walked inside alone.
“You always did enjoy dramatic entrances,” Adrian said.
Ethan’s hands were empty.
“You have the woman. Take me instead.”
Adrian laughed.
“Do you think this is about Elena?”
He looked at me.
“No.”
Then he said the words that made my blood freeze.
“It’s about the baby.”
I forgot how to breathe.
Ethan did not.
His entire body changed.
“Sophie has nothing to do with this.”
Adrian smiled.
“Doesn’t she?”
My legs almost gave out.
“What are you talking about?”
Adrian looked almost pleased.
“Ask Ethan who Sophie’s father really worked for.”
I turned toward Ethan.
May you like
And for the first time since meeting him, I saw something on his face I had never expected.
Guilt.
