Page 86 of Delta Force Defender

No one and nothing but her, which was what she’d planned.

But that didn’t make it feel any better now that it was happening.

“I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” her brother said, and it was weird and creepy to hear his voice come out of the wrong face. Like a horrific puppet show.

Caradine had always hated puppet shows.

“I don’t want to hear it again,” Jimmy warned her. “Jimmy Sheeran died with the rest of his family, including you, ten years ago. Best you let him lie.” He smirked. “Caradine.”

She wanted to claw that name out of his mouth.Instead, she concentrated on the pain in her face and kept herself from reacting.

It helped that he clearly wanted her reaction.

“What name do you use these days?” she asked him, as if he hadn’t threatened her.

“Brian,” he said, with that malicious edge to his voice that made everything inside her curdle. “Brian Jones.”

“How creative,” she said, and got another smack for it.

This time she tasted copper, but she was glad. It helped her focus.

“There are supposed to be two of you,” Jimmy said. “You think I don’t know you’ve been traveling together?”

“Lindsay’s dead,” Caradine said flatly.

Because that was the most important part of this. That was the gift she could give her sister, and it was why she’d left Alaska Force behind, because she knew Isaac would never have okayed this. And no matter what else happened, if Jimmy believed Lindsay was dead, he would stop looking for her. Luana would be safe. This madness would stop here.

Caradine was not her mother. She had no intention of sacrificing herself needlessly the way Donna had always liked to do. But if it had to happen, this was as good a reason as she could come up with.

A thought that made her stomach cramp, but she ignored it.

“Bullshit,” Jimmy snarled.

Caradine glared at him. “What’s the matter? You don’t think bad things can happen unless you do them yourself?”

She’d expected him to hit her again, but it still hurt. A hit was a hit. The force of it took her by surprise, but she rolled with it as best she could. She let the tears spring into her eyes, and did nothing to wipe them away when she looked back at him.

“Lindsay picked up some bad habits over the past ten years,” she said, and let the tears spill over. “It was horrible. She kept saying she would quit, but she never did.”

She’d spent a lot of time on the plane ride crafting the appropriate death for Lindsay. She figured linking it to Phoenix was her best bet. Whoever was responsible for what had happened there would have known that the people he’d killed—or had ordered killed—were junkies and dealers. It made sense to loop it in now and tie it all up in a bow.

“She overdosed,” Caradine said flatly. “It was awful.”

Jimmy didn’t react to the news of his sister’s death. He studied Caradine instead, until she couldn’t tell if her skin crawled from the pain or that look in his eyes. “You don’t look like a junkie, Jules. Just the same dumb bitch.”

“I’m tired of running,” she told him, still letting the tears drip down her cheeks. “I don’t know how you found me, but it felt like a sign.”

“The freaking Internet,” Jimmy told her with entirely too much satisfaction. “There was a picture of someone who looked like you in a restaurant in the middle of nowhere, thanks to some old friends of Mom’s on a stupid cruise. It got around and it eventually got to me. Figured I’d light it up and see what came out, just to be sure. And here you are.”

Caradine had always hated social media on principle and this didn’t help. But she tried to look tremulous and hopeful, not revolted. “I want to come home.”

“Home.” Jimmy hooted. “What home do you think there is to come back to? You’re a ghost. You died a decade ago and you should have stayed dead.”

“Come on,” Caradine whined. Actually whined, which made her want to hit herself in the face a few times. She would never know how she didn’t make a fist. “You don’t know what it’s like. Always looking over your shoulder. Always waiting for something to burstinto flames like it did. It was almost a relief, if I’m honest, that you found me. I always knew you would.”

She thought that was laying it on a little thick, but then again, it wasn’t entirely untrue. Having her past catch up to her after all this time was like tearing off a scab. It hurt, but there was a relief in it, because it justified all that running.

And if she remembered her brother right, it would please him to imagine she’d spent ten years scared he, personally, would find her.

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