He leaned in and unbuckled the seat belt before pulling me to the street. “You’re coming with us.”
“I can’t.” I turned back to the car. I tried to protest through the coughs. “I have to help—”
My knees gave out as a man in a hooded sweatshirt pointed a pistol into the front driver’s side window. “No.”
Two loud shots reverberated through the air taking away my plea.
Liam held me upright as I wavered. “Oh my God, Ian.”
“Get her in the car, now,” Liam ordered as a second car came forward.
Another man in a hooded sweatshirt reached for my arm.
“Ian.” Tears filled my eyes as I fought the grip. My heels bore down on the pavement. Despite the growing crowd, no one stepped forward. It didn’t take long to realize that I was no match for the man pushing me into the back seat of the newly arriving car.
Alarm.
Panic.
Worry.
My body was racked with coughs from inhaling the smoke and powder, and my hands and legs trembled to the point of convulsion. Gasping for breath, I fought to breathe as I unsuccessfully tried to open the door from the inside.
The car was already moving.
“Calm down, Emma. You’re going to be all right.”
I turned to the voice, a woman’s voice.
My chaotic state of mind had blinded me from my surroundings. I hadn’t noticed the woman seated only a small distance from me. If I had, I might reason I was peering through a mirror, one with the technology of fast forwarding through time.
As I unsuccessfully fought the terror-induced tears and worked to breathe, I recalled what Rett had mentioned about danger and asked the question to which I already knew the answer, “Jezebel?”
“You can call me Mom.”
Emma
Mom.
I held tight to my own trembling hands as I twisted back, craning my neck to see what was left of the SUV and of Ian and Noah. My stomach knotted as the scenes outside the windows sped by too quickly. All that I could see of the crash was a plume of smoke rising above a growing crowd. And then we turned and the scene was gone.
My black slacks were covered in the white powder from the air bags.
“Is Ian okay?” I asked.
“He isn’t my concern nor yours, Emma.” The woman reached over and ignoring the powder all over my slacks, placed her hand on my thigh as she smiled. Rings with large colorful gemstones glistened on each finger.
When I turned, her blue eyes—the same shade as mine—stared back. The shape of her face and even her petite stature were as if I’d been created not by the union of a man and woman but from a copy machine.
My pulse thumped as my mind reeled. Images of the crash infiltrated my thoughts.
“He is my concern,” I replied. “He’s my...friend.”
“He’s your bodyguard, Emma. Nothing more. You can get another.”
I shook my head as I recalled the last six weeks. “He was both.”
“You chose a life with money and power. People are expendable. It’s a lesson that is never too early to learn.”