Page 16 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

She shakes her head. “I don’t have a lead, Penelope.”

My heart sinks, coldness claws into my bones, and familiar hopelessness wraps around my heart, squeezing it so hard I think it might shatter.

God, how could I have been such a fool?

A woman doesn’t just appear out of thin air and claim to have found a lead where so many before her failed, unless she wants something from you.

Like a hunter luring his prey out of the comfort zone to catch it for his wicked desires by dangling irresistible bait in front of its nose.

My earlier relaxation vanishes, and anger replaces it, temporarily soothing the pain crushing me like heavy waves destroying everything in their wake.

My tone, though, stays cold and even, hiding my turmoil from Isla as I get up. “Well, then we’re done here. Congratulations, Isla. You just wasted my time.” With this, I’m ready to dash toward my car, but she grips my wrist, halting my movements.

Tugging on my hand, I grit out through my teeth, “Let go.” I rarely show my Walsh temperament unless provoked.

And people in my family are not known for patience and understanding when it comes to someone who dares to cross us.

She sighs, and a frizzy curl escapes from her bun and lands on her nose. She puffs at it, then says, “I don’t have a lead, because I don’t need it. I found Amalia.”

Everything inside me freezes once again; the outside world ceases to exist, and all sounds are blocked away by the loud ringing in my ears.

Goose bumps travel all over me as happiness mixed with disbelief shake my entire body, and without thinking, I grab her shoulders, my voice trembling when I ask, “Really? You really found my twin?”

After all these years… has someone finally found her among more than seven billion people?

“Yes.”

“Oh my God,” I exclaim, leaning forward and hugging her close to me, tears streaming down my cheeks as laughter slips past my lips. The knowledge of her existence fills the darkness and hollowness created by the lonely years without her. “Oh my God,” I repeat, squeezing Isla tighter. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She pats my back awkwardly, and a strange tension seems to fill her body. Maybe she isn’t used to her clients hugging her.

I let go of her, taking several steps back, which allows her to get up. “Where is she? Please tell me.” She opens her mouth to say something, but I slap my forehead, huffing at my own stupidity. “I’m sorry. I know your services aren’t free. How much do you want for this information? I will pay you any amount. Just name your price.” I’ll use all my trust fund if needed in order to know Amalia’s whereabouts.

Because all the riches in the world don’t matter if my twin is not by my side.

Just a little longer and I will be able to wrap my arms around her and never let go again, and this burning in my chest that hurts me every single day will disappear forever.

Thank you, God, for putting this woman in my path!

“I don’t want your money.”

My brows furrow at her words along with her cold tone as if I insulted her.

And then her statement registers in my ears.

What?

What does she mean she doesn’t want my money?

Thankfully, she elaborates. “You’ll get her file, which includes her address and picture, once you do something for me. If you refuse… I won’t help you.” Her voice wavers on the last part, raising doubt in me about her threat, but the stubborn lift of her chin indicates she has a lot of resolve.

I should have known it wouldn’t be easy, because apparently when you are a Walsh, you have to jump through hoops to get to your relatives.

“And you won’t find her on your own. Trust me—all your connections and wealth will not be enough to uncover it.”

The hell?

Dropping back on the bench, I gape at her in confusion, because what she says makes no sense to me at all. What private investigator demands something in exchange for his services instead of money? A blank check at that!

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