She rummaged around in the cabinets but didn’t find anything that resembled antacid. She did find some ibuprofen, so she shook out a few of the pills and poured a glass of milk from the fridge.

She returned to the living room and handed Frank the glass of milk.

“No antacid, but isn’t milk supposed to help? I got you some pain stuff. Maybe that’ll work.”

Frank smiled and took the medicine from her outstretched palm. “Thank you, Rusty. I’m sure this will do the trick.”

She shrugged and headed back to the couch to sit next to Marlene.

Family sitcoms were the worst. Watching dysfunctional people trying to be funny while appearing all happy happy was worse than watching paint dry. She knew all about dysfunction, and it didn’t go hand in hand with happy or funny.

She sighed and tuned out the laughs of the studio audience and wondered how long it took to save the world. A few days? Weeks? She’d ask Marlene how long, but it would only earn her another one of those motherly looks that made her cringe.

She turned when she heard Frank move. He sat forward in his chair, holding his arm. He looked pale and strained and he huffed for breath.

Alarmed, she glanced at Marlene, to see her staring at Frank as well.

“Frank,” Marlene said sharply. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Marlene. I just need to get up and move around. Feels like a damn elephant is sitting on my chest.”

He struggled to his feet and for a moment stood stock-still before he swayed. With a groan, he pitched forward and hit the floor with a thud.

Panic hit Rusty like a ton of bricks. She surged to her feet and screamed for Rio and Donovan at the top of her lungs.

Marlene threw herself onto the floor beside Frank at the same time Rusty scrambled over the coffee table to kneel beside him.

“Is he breathing?” Rusty asked fearfully. “Oh my God, is he dead?”

Before Marlene could respond, Rusty leaned her ear down to his chest, feeling for any movement. She reached a hand up to his neck. You were supposed to feel for a pulse, right?

He wasn’t moving. God, he wasn’t breathing. She didn’t think his chest was moving at all. She couldn’t feel a pulse, but her hands were shaking so bad that she doubted she could have felt one anyway.

Rio and Donovan burst into the room, one of the other men tailing them. They all had their guns up, but when they saw Frank on the floor and the two women surrounding him, they tossed the guns aside and rushed over.

Donovan shoved Rusty out of the way and immediately checked for breathing and a pulse. Rio bent next to him and tore open Frank’s shirt at the chest.

“He’s n-not breathing,” Rusty said.

Rio’s gaze found hers for just a moment, and she saw steady reassurance there. Then he doubled his hands and positioned them over Frank’s heart. Face drawn and pale, Donovan tilted Frank’s neck back, then leaned down and began mouth-to-mouth.

Marlene was on her knees, her face so white that it scared Rusty. She looked like she was in shock, and worse, there was such fear in her eyes that it hit Rusty in the gut like a punch.

“Marlene. Marlene!” Rio added the last more forcefully.

Marlene snapped to awareness and looked at Rio.

“Call 911. We have to get him to a hospital.”

Rusty started to shake. There wasn’t a part of her body that wasn’t trembling violently. Oh God, not Frank. No, no, no. Tears welled in her eyes and she wrapped both arms around herself in an effort to gain control.

Rio’s expression was grim as he and Donovan continued CPR. Donovan wouldn’t look in her or Marlene’s direction. His steadfast focus was on forcing air in and out of his father’s lungs. Marlene raced to the phone, and Rusty could dimly hear her relaying the situation to the dispatcher.

Only seconds later, Marlene returned and stood anxiously over the men. “They said an ambulance would be here in ten minutes.”

Donovan didn’t acknowledge her. He kept on with the breaths.

The wait was the worst Rusty had ever endured in her life. It was like a bad video that was stuck in a replay loop. It didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be real. This wasn’t happening. She couldn’t lose Frank. He believed in her. No one else believed in her.

When the paramedics finally arrived, they had to force Donovan away. It was a blur. There was a tube and needles. Lines and a machine. When they paused in CPR to check for a rhythm and the thin, red, flat line streamed across the monitor, Rusty lost it.

“No!”

She threw herself forward and shoved the paramedic out of the way. She hugged Frank to her, sobbing, her heart breaking.

“No,” she cried hysterically. “You can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. You can’t die.”

Rio plucked her off, and she kicked and fought him until he wrapped both arms around her and held her immobile. The medics quickly wheeled Frank out of the room to the waiting ambulance, and when Marlene would have followed Donovan, Rio’s man gently reined her in.

“Listen to me, Rusty,” Rio said in a low voice next to her ear. “He’s not gone. Not yet. They can save him. You have to believe that. You can’t give up on him. He’ll know.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. She’d never felt so lost in her life. Not when her stupid mother ran out on her. Not when her asshole stepfather made her life miserable. Not when she’d tried to turn tricks just to find a way out of her life.

“Rio, why can’t I go with him?” Marlene asked in a stricken voice. “Where are they taking him? I need to be with him. I need to be with Donovan.”

Rio gently set Rusty down on the couch and took the seat beside her. He cupped her cheek even as tears splashed over the back of his hand. He glanced over at Marlene.

“My job is to keep you safe. All of you. I’ll take you to the hospital. But we’ll do this right. You go with me. You don’t go anywhere without me. Understood?”

Marlene nodded numbly, her eyes glazed with fear and grief. Then she crossed the room and sat down next to Rusty, pulling her into her arms.

Rusty hugged her fiercely and buried her face against her breast. All moms needed to smell like Marlene. Warm and comforting. Rusty’s only experience with mothers’ smells was one of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke.

“Shhh,” Marlene said as she rocked Rusty back and forth. “He’s a fighter, Rusty. All the Kellys are. It’ll take more than a heart attack to put Frank down. He’s survived worse.”

Rusty choked back another sob and clung desperately to those words. She knew Marlene was putting up a brave front for her, and she appreciated it—loved Marlene for doing it—but she felt Marlene’s betraying tremble and the fear that was laced into those words of comfort.

Rio put a hand on Rusty’s back and then slid it up to squeeze her shoulder. “If you two will come with me, we’ll get you to the hospital.”

CHAPTER 20

SOPHIE woke to an empty bed and the sun streaming through a crack in the blinds. She turned from the glare, reached for Sam’s pillow and hugged it to her, inhaling his scent.

She was deliciously tired and sore from their love-making, and for the first time she didn’t dread telling Sam everything. She’d confide in him about the key and trust him to do the right thing with the information. He was a good man, and she didn’t think for a minute he’d betray her trust.

Smiling, she got out of bed and pulled on one of the pairs of elastic-waisted jeans she’d found waiting for her. She’d been ridiculously touched that there had been actual maternity clothes in her size along with all the accoutrements, including a bra that fit and underwear.

With a satisfied sigh, she went in search of Sam. She didn’t want to put off the inevitable any longer. She’d tell him, get it over with, and then hopefully she could put the past behind her.

The murmur of voices from the living room grew louder as she ventured down the hall. When she rounded the corner, she was surprised to see someone standing with Sam and Garrett. She knew Garrett was supposed to arrive today, but Sam hadn’t said what he’d been doing.

All three men turned when they heard her, and now, subject to their scrutiny, she wished she’d just stayed in bed.

“If I’m interrupting, I can just go back ...”

She started to turn, but Sam strode over, his expression indecipherable. He took her hand, but tension radiated from him, and she glanced nervously over at the new guy again.

“Sophie, I want you to meet Adam Resnick. He’s here to speak to you.”

She blinked in surprise, and her gaze rapidly went from man to man. Garrett as usual stood there looking like you could break a rock on his face. The Resnick guy looked . . . eager, for lack of a better word. Sam looked . . . worried.

“To me?”

Her heart pounded harder. She broke out in a sweat, and she swallowed in vain at the knot in her throat. How would this man—whoever he was—know anything about her? Why would he want to talk to her?

Resnick stepped forward. “Sophie. Can I call you Sophie?”

She nodded stiffly and waited, her dread increasing with each second.

“I’m with . . . Well let’s just say I represent the interests of the United States government, and I’d like to talk to you about your father.”

She sucked in her breath, and her shocked gaze went to Sam. He’d sold her out. He’d actually sold her out! Sam frowned and reached out for her, but she flinched away, putting half the room between them.

For a long moment she stood, fists clenched, facing away from the occupants of the room. When she turned, she refused to look at Sam. She directed her gaze at Resnick and asked in a cold voice, “What do you want to know?”

Resnick moved toward her, and she took a quick step back. Her chin went up, and she forced calm she didn’t feel.

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

“Okay, where is he likely to be? If you’d give us information on his holdings we can match it to what we know of him. Maybe we’re missing something.”

“I don’t know.”

Resnick made a sound of frustration. “What can you tell us, Sophie? If you cooperate fully, we’ll make allowances for you.”

A chill went down her spine.

“Resnick,” Sam growled.

Sophie ignored Sam and stared straight at Resnick. “Allowances? What sort of allowances should I expect? What is it you’re threatening me with?”

Resnick held up his hands. “I’m not threatening you. I’m merely pointing out that we can do more to help you if you cooperate with us.”

“Oh nice,” she said bitterly. “What you’re saying is I’m on my own unless I play nice with the FBI or CIA or whoever the hell you are. You know what? I’m fine with that. I never should have relied on anyone but myself anyway.”

“Sophie,” Sam cut in, his voice hard enough to direct her gaze toward him. “He doesn’t speak for me.”

“You’re wrong, Sam.” She pressed her hands to the sides of her legs to keep them from shaking. She stared at him unflinchingly as she delivered her judgment. “The moment you brought him here, he spoke for you.”

“Sophie, damn it.”

She looked away again, anger vibrating in her throat. She wasn’t getting into this with him in front of others—or anytime.

“I’m asking you to help me,” Resnick said. “He’s hurt a lot of people. As his daughter you know this. We think he’s trying to put together technology to build a nuclear weapon and auctioning it to the highest bidder. He has to be stopped.”

“He never—that is he doesn’t—confide in me. I’m not privy to the details of his business dealings,” she said stiffly.

“Okay, yes, I understand that,” he said in a placating tone. “But there are things you can tell us about him, small details that you might not think will help.”

“Tomas is who you should be looking for.”

Resnick blinked in surprise and then looked at the others, as if gauging their reaction to her statement.

“Why is that? We were led to believe that Tomas had no power whatsoever.”

She stared coolly at him, her hands still tight against her sides. “You asked, I told you. He wants me dead, but maybe you don’t care about that.”

Resnick stared intently at her. “Is he dead, Sophie? Did Tomas kill Alex in an attempt to seize power? Is that why he’s after you now, because you’re Alex’s heir? Or do you have something he wants?”

The blood left Sophie’s face. She willed herself to keep it together. Her stomach revolted, and now her skin felt hot and clammy.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”

She bolted, ignoring Sam’s worried question as to whether she was okay. Okay? How could she be okay when she’d been played for the biggest fool ever?

God, when was she going to stop being so damn trusting?