Page 45 of Truth or Lie

Fairbanks threw the man’s hand off. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere until I know my wife and daughter are safe!”

Beckett stepped between the two groups with a hand raised toward me in silent warning. “There should be a staging area set up somewhere in the complex to coordinate medical care for the injured, and hopefully act as a central hub for information surrounding the attack.”

Nikolayev joined him cautiously, eying the twitchy security surrounding the prime minister. “We need to determine if the gas constituted the full extent of the attack, or if there are enemy operatives active in the area.”

“Chairman Nikolayev,” Fairbanks said, sounding calmer, but equally cautious. “Yes, that makes sense.”

“Your transportation could be useful,” Nikolayev continued. “Particularly if it’s bulletproof transportation—just in case. It would be quicker and safer to drive until we find a checkpoint with radio communication to the venue’s security center, rather than to trying to reach them on foot.”

Fairbanks hesitated for only an instant, and then gave a single, decisive nod. “Right. Join me, please, Chairman. We’ll track down someone who can get us answers.” He turned his gaze on the bodyguards. “Keep trying to contact Jennifer’s guards. Radio my driver the moment you learn something.”

Beckett and Nikolayev exchanged a brief look that contained an entire conversation.

“There’s not enough room for the rest of us,” Beckett said aloud. “We’ll hunker down here for now. Send a couple of cars for us as soon as you know where we need to go.”

Nikolayev gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement and followed Fairbanks into the back seat of the middle vehicle. The bodyguards gave us a final mistrustful look and piled into the other two cars. Seconds later, the three black sedans drove off. Beckett let out an audible sigh and scrubbed a hand down the length of his face.

Just like that... there were no more distractions. The enormity of what had happened inside hit me anew, and all the strength left my legs. I would have crumpled to the concrete in a heap beneath the void of Kam’s absence, if not for Jax’s arms around me.

“Leona, see to Alex, please.” Beckett’s tone carried the weight of an order, woven through with empathy. “Jax, Flynn—with me. We need to keep a sharp eye out for any further trouble.”

Jax supported me over to the glass wall where Alex sat slumped like a broken marionette and eased me down next to her. I was drowning, and so was she. It was all I could do to clutch at the solidity Jax and Flynn were offering us through the mating bond, knowing it was only their need to support us that was keeping them from going under as well.

“We’re here for you,” Jax murmured against my temple. He reached across and clasped his fingers around Alex’s slumped shoulder. After a moment, he straightened and took up a watchful stance in front of us with Flynn and Beckett.

Alex stared into nothing, a terrible expression twisting her drawn features. I knew exactly what she was thinking.Irina and Kam, both left behind. If losing Kam was my personal nightmare, this was hers. We were both poised above a great, dark, empty space—suspended for the moment by uncertainty, but fully expecting to fall.

I turned into her, with no idea of how she was likely to react to the contact. The space she occupied in the pack bond was almost as much of a void as the space Kam should have occupied. And,oh... was that blank space where I wanted Kam more of a cruelty or a mercy? Outside of my heats, he was absent from our psychic link. If he’d been present like the others, we’d know if he was dead or alive—if he’d suffered and if so, how badly.

The thought was too much. My chest hitched with fresh sobs, my shoulders jerking as I buried my face against Alex’s shoulder. Her left hand crossed her body to grab a fistful of my tailored suit jacket, and she turned her head until her cheek was pressed against my hair. A low, terrible noise wrenched free of her throat. Not tears; but rather, the sound of an animal in mortal pain. That sound reached into my very soul, finding its twin inside me.

I fisted handfuls of her clothing with the same awful desperation as she was holding onto mine, and we clung together while the others kept watch around us.

* * *

Time felt meaningless, but the angle of the shadows beneath the portico had shifted noticeably by the time a pair of dark gray Mercedes pulled up to us and stopped. Dully, I recognized them as two of the official state vehicles Fouchet had provided us as a courtesy.

Beckett, Jax, and Flynn didn’t immediately let their guard down. Alex barely reacted. The driver of the front car got out and exchanged words with Beckett before passing over a folded square of paper. Beckett unfolded it and scanned it quickly before giving a terse nod.

“There’s a staging and triage area in the south concourse,” he said. “Get in. We’ll meet Nikolayev there. No news about our missing people yet—it sounds like things are still chaotic.”

“No chance it’s a trap?” Jax asked, eyeing the driver.

Beckett shook his head. “I recognize Kostya’s appalling handwriting, and more importantly, there’s a code phrase. Come on, let’s move.”

I wasn’t sure if knowing Kam and Irina’s fates would be better or worse than this all-encompassing uncertain dread, but there wasn’t really much choice. We couldn’t exactly stay here forever, huddling under an overhang. Jax took my hand and helped me stagger to my feet, swaying on rubbery legs like a newborn colt. To my surprise, it was Beckett who reached down and drew Alex up. Flynn was hanging back, both in my mind and physically. When I tried to catch his gaze, he looked away.

I ended up in the back seat of one car, with Alex in the middle and Beckett squeezed in on her other side. Jax and Flynn rode in the other car. The concourse was on the far side of the complex from the Palais de la Cour de Justice, but it was still only a couple of minutes’ drive. We had to stop outside of the parking area, which was packed with ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks.

Covering the final distance on foot was complicated by the fact that I couldn’t seem to feel my extremities. I was icy cold despite the perfectly pleasant late afternoon temperature, and it felt like there was a distinct lag time between ordering my muscles to move and getting a response from my body.

Beckett paused, his eyes playing over the chaos. He glanced back at us and jerked his chin, heading toward a large tent or awning that had been erected in one corner of the open area. I followed, clinging to Alex’s arm, with Jax and Flynn walking shoulder to shoulder a step behind us.

Nikolayev was waiting for us, standing at the edge of a knot of uniformed police and military officers. Several of them were in animated conversation with Prime Minister Fairbanks, who was still surrounded by his cadre of bodyguards as he railed at them. Nikolayev gestured us to an out-of-the-way corner, where we wouldn’t be blocking the flow of official traffic in and out of the tent.

“News?” Beckett asked, in lieu of a greeting.

“There are casualties,” Nikolayev replied grimly. “People trampled in the crowd, in addition to several presumed killed by the gas. No names have been released yet, although there has been a report that one of the Icelandic contingent is in critical condition with neurological damage.”

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