Chapter 49
“Who are you?” I ask, and once the initial shock passes, I take a step back. “My brother is dead!”
Of course, my mind has to be playing tricks on me. This stranger could never be Martin. His appearance is completely different. Martin was a male version of me. Handsome but not stunning. The man standing in front of me is flawless, with that kind of photographic-model beauty.
“I survived the crash. I was rescued and taken to a small island, where I stayed for about seven years,” he says, and automatically I do the math, realizing the dates match up with the plane crash that killed my brother.
“I had no memory until recently. Two months ago, to be exact. I didn’t remember anything. ”
“You don’t look like him,” I say, fear giving way to recognition now that I listen to his voice more calmly.
“I had to undergo surgeries to rebuild my face. I think they changed my appearance. In the end, I guess it was a good thing because whoever wanted me dead will try again if they find out I survived.”
“What do you mean ‘whoever wanted you dead’? Are you telling me the plane crash wasn’t an accident?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
My mind spins with the information. I try to piece it together, and slowly, it starts to make sense. “Prove to me you’re him.”
“How?”
“Tell me something from my childhood.”
“Alston women never cry. They’re tough, Jackie,” he says, the exact words he used to repeat to me over and over while I was growing up.
My heart bleeds, overflows, but distrust is in my DNA. I’m still not satisfied. “I want more facts,” I say.
“Our mother died when you were nineteen. The first cancer hit when you were still a child, and then she had several metastases. On the day of her funeral, I took you under a tree, and we stayed there hugging, talking about the past and—”
I don’t let him finish, throwing myself into his arms.
“My God, I missed you so much!” he says, holding me tight against his body.
I kiss him and cling to him, terrified he might disappear again. “I can’t believe it’s you, Martin!” I cry, not caring if he thinks I’m weak.
“Yes, it’s me, and now we’ll be together forever. There will be no more separations. But today, I can’t stay long. I need to leave, or I’ll end up dead.”
“Why?”
“They’re after me. The same person who tried to kill me. A client I worked for in the past. I don’t want to put you or our brother in danger. I was so happy when I found out you and Lucifer are together.”
I stare at him, stunned. “You’re not angry about that?”
“No. Why would I be? It was destiny all along. I found out by accident today when I saw his bodyguards in the hospital hallway.”
We hear the bathroom doorknob turn. Quickly, Martin steps into a stall, I think to hide, and I follow him. If a woman sees a man here, she’ll cause a scene.
“Come with me. Lucifer can protect you. Whoever’s after you won’t get past him.”
“I don’t believe that, Jackie. If I stay with you, I’ll put you both in danger.”
Hearing him, I almost correct him—”all three of us”—because now I carry a life inside me. But I hold back. Lucifer should be the first to know. I only told Taylor because I was too emotional earlier today.
“I really have to go, Jackie.”
“Please don’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“When will we see each other again?”
“I don’t know, Jackie.”
I look at the man with the perfect features. Even if he looks completely different from how I remembered, every drop of blood in me tells me he is the brother I thought I had lost, and I silently pray, thanking God for this new chance to have him back.
“I can’t lose you again, Martin. Please, I’m begging you. Come stay with us. Lucifer has so much power now. Whoever’s after you, he’ll hunt them down. I’m sure of it.”
“You’re too innocent, Jackie. Whoever tried to kill me might go after you and Lucifer too, because you’re the two most important people to me.”
My blood turns cold.
A common enemy? The same man who wants Lucifer dead?
He kisses my forehead. “I’ll be in touch.”
Martin tries to leave, but I grab his arm. “Don’t go. I’m begging you.”
“If we stay here, we’ll draw attention, and that’s the last thing I can afford.”
“Then where? Name a place and I’ll meet you.”
“For now, nowhere is safe, Jackie. At least walk me to the car? We’ll have a few minutes to talk.”
“Fine, but the bodyguards . . . I need to tell them.”
“They can’t follow us. They’ll draw attention. I barely survived last time. My enemies won’t let me escape again.”
“They’ll see us if we leave.”
“There’s a fire escape just two doors down from where your redhead friend is.”
He leaves the bathroom before me, and indeed, when I follow, I see the stairwell. But I also notice the bodyguards apparently looking for me, and guilt pricks at me. Still, I tell myself I’ll be back in five minutes.
We hurry down the five flights of stairs, and he leads me to an outside parking lot, a bit deserted at this hour, behind the hospital, not the main entrance. I came early because I wanted to visit Taylor before anyone else was here.
My brother doesn’t say a word as we walk. He seems in a rush, and when I stumble from the pace, the grip he uses to steady me is brutal.
I don’t know the exact moment I sense something’s wrong, but the feeling coils in the pit of my stomach, and I stop walking.
“Faster,” he says, as if desperate to reach the car.
I already see the vehicle he’s referring to. A black pickup truck.
Not a sedan, a voice in my head whispers, and I wonder why I just now remembered the car the woman who tried to abduct me used to escape, according to what Lucifer told me when I asked about the investigation into that incident.
I take a few more steps and finally realize what’s been bothering me. “How did you know who I came to visit?”
“What?”
“You said you only got your memory back two months ago. I haven’t seen Taylor in much longer than that. We only talked on the phone. So how did you know I came to see my redhead friend?” I ask, repeating the way he referred to her.
The smile he gives me sends my heart to my throat.
We’re already beside his vehicle.
Martin shakes his head. “You’re so clever, Jackie,” he says, his friendly tone vanishing into something sinister. “I underestimated you. I could’ve used you in my business someday. Made you my right hand. But you betrayed me. Actually, you betrayed us by marrying our father’s killer.”
“What?”
A sting in my shoulder. My legs go weak.
Moments later, I hear tires screeching nearby, and two men jump out of a van. But Martin seems focused on me and continues, “Shame you have to die.”
One of the men from the other vehicle, now close to us, says to my brother, “Don’t mourn yet, you pedophile son of a bitch. At least, not yet. But I promise, you will.”