down?” she panted.
Tate pointed to a black scuff on the upper stair. “That way.”
Both of them were breathing hard as they careened upward, finally coming to a door marked Roof.
“Wait,” Tate called to her. “You don’t know what’s on the other side.”
She didn’t wait. She couldn’t. Her father’s life was on the line. She hurtled through and found herself on a flat rooftop, engulfed in a monstrous storm of noise. Wind whipped at her face and threw grit into her eyes.
She forced her head up anyway and saw a helicopter, rotors whirling.
The pilot in the cockpit gave her a startled look. In the back she could just make out a flash of silver hair—Wyatt Gage—and a familiar pale face beside him, an irritated Joshua Bittman.
The helicopter’s engine whined, and it began to lift off.
“You can’t take him!” she screamed over the roar. She took off running for the nearest landing skid.
“Steph!” Tate yelled. “No.”
He made a grab for her, but she was too fast.
She increased speed and prepared to jump at the skid, which was now lifting off the ground.
Tate’s fingers grazed her ankle and she lost her balance, rolling onto the cement roof, banging onto the hard surface, seeing in fleeting glances the helicopter well into the blue sky.
Getting to her feet, she ran to the edge of the roof, watching her father disappear. She whirled on Tate, tears streaming down her face. “You had no right.”
“Would have gotten yourself killed,” Tate said. His gray eyes were soft. “Your father wouldn’t want you to risk it.”
Fury, terror and grief rolled around inside, and she funneled them at Tate. “You shouldn’t have done it!” she screamed. “You are not a part of my life anymore, Tate.”
He flinched, but did not step back. “I know that.”
She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from shrieking, eyes drawn to her watch. Three fifty-nine. Thirty seconds until Bittman was supposed to have called. She’d blown it by coming here. She’d let her father down, let Victor down. She should have told Luca, let the cops know.
She struggled to breathe.
The door to the rooftop slammed open. The panting security guard stood there, gun drawn.
Tate raised his own hands and positioned himself in front of Stephanie. His face was hard, and she knew he’d lost, too—lost the chance to find his sister, if Bittman really was involved in her disappearance.
The man with the gun drew closer and she looked into the barrel, just as the phone in her pocket rang.
* * *
Tate watched the guard as indecision crept across his face.
“No phones,” he barked. “Get inside.”
Stephanie nodded obediently and started toward the roof access.
Obedient? Stephanie? He tried and failed to recall a time when Stephanie genially obeyed a directive. Something was up, and he didn’t have to wait long to see what she had in mind. She stopped suddenly, sucking in a breath. Pressing a hand to her side, she cried out, swaying until she went down on one knee.
The guard let down his gun arm as he reflexively moved toward her. Bingo. Tate dived, catching the guy in the solar plexus, tossing him backward onto the cement where he banged his head and blacked out. The gun spiraled out of his hand, and Stephanie kicked it to the corner. She was on her feet again in a moment, sprinting through the door and down the stairs.
“Wait, Steph,” he called, to no effect.
Tate took a moment to remove the man’s belt and use it to secure his hands behind him before he ran after her.
“What’s the plan?”
“I’m going to the hospital, and then I’ll find my father.”
Tate saw the manic determination on her face. “The hospital? Tell me what’s going on.”
She didn’t look at him, swiping her sheaf of dark hair behind her ears. “Bittman wants something from me.” She turned her face to his, and he saw for the first time the gleam of tears there. “He drove Victor off the road and took Dad. We don’t know if Victor’s going to make it.”
“I’m sorry.” Her brothers, though they held nothing but animosity toward him, were her entire world. For one crazy moment, he wanted to wrap her up in an embrace. “How does it fit together? What is Bittman after?”
“I can’t tell you any more.”
He folded his arms. “We’ve been through this already so cut out the dramatics. I want to know what’s going on, and you’re going to tell me.”
Her eyes glittered. “I wasn’t supposed to get anyone involved or he’ll kill my father.”
“Too late. I’m involved.”
Her eyes grew cold. “No, you’re not, Tate.” With that she pushed by him, leaving a tantalizing whiff of the cinnamon fragrance she always wore.
He followed behind her as she exited the mansion, got into the pristine Mustang and roared out of the driveway. When the dust settled, he made his way back to the motorcycle, still hidden in the trees.
Why, he wondered, could he pass through his day without remembering so much as what he had for lunch, but he could minutely recall Stephanie’s face after seeing her, even only briefly, for the first time in four years? It was so unfair, especially when every detail—the full lips, the electric brown eyes, the determined set to her chin—reminded him of his greatest failure. Pain rippled through him again.
You are the worst thing that ever happened to Stephanie Gage.
He shook away the thoughts. He’d come to find Maria, and instead he’d fallen into Stephanie’s life and that of the man he despised above all others, Joshua Bittman. They’d met enough times years before when Stephanie started consulting for him. Tate pegged him as an arrogant, condescending egomaniac with more than a casual interest in Stephanie. It might have been coincidence that, after a heated encounter with Bittman, whom he’d thought was trying to win Stephanie’s affections, his business contacts had dried up. Fuego Demolition suddenly had regular clients canceling contracts without notice. He’d never been able to prove it was Bittman, but it gave him even more reason to find his sister and make sure Bittman hadn’t done something to her.
He flipped open his cell and punched in Gilly’s number. Gilly was an eccentric computer whiz he’d known since the sixth grade. “Need a favor. Can you find out which hospital Victor Gage was transported to? Car accident.”
“What’s going down?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”
Gilly provided
