Gianna winced, remembering the skinny burned body in the morgue. Her father had had no muscle mass or strength left.

“But he was stubborn. So fucking stubborn. He admitted he had the documentation but wouldn’t tell us what he’d done with the thumb drive. It only makes sense that he passed it to you or put it somewhere for you to find. Where is it?”

“I don’t know!” she shouted at the phone.

“Your daughter looks just like you,” the voice whispered. “I took a few things from your closet, planning to see you in them one day. But maybe your—”

“She’s a child!” Bile heaved in her stomach. Chris looked ready to explode, but Gianna knew he would stay silent, letting the asshole believe only she could hear him.

“She doesn’t look like a child. Bring me the thumb drive and we’ll talk.”

She exchanged a glance with Chris. “Where are you?”

He laughed. “Think about where your father had gone.”

“He was an old man,” she whispered. “You killed him too soon and now you’re scrambling to save your own ass.”

“Didn’t matter. I had my orders. Killing him was a mistake, but he made me angry! I need that thumb drive!”

“You knew he was alive all these years?” she whispered.

“Hell no. Shocked us all when Leo said Richard showed up at his house. We might have let it go, but the information Richard claimed he had could destroy my father’s life work. We won’t let one man take us down.”

Gianna closed her eyes. Her father’s pursuit of justice had gotten him killed. Whatever was on this thumb drive clearly threatened the South African investor. “Maybe it doesn’t exist,” she whispered. “Maybe my father made up the information. No one has seen this drive you’re looking for!”

The killer was silent for a moment. “Richard knew things. He told Leo facts that only my father knows. He has the information hidden somewhere! I told my father I’d already collected it!”

“You fucked up!” Gianna shouted at the phone. “What if there is no thumb drive?”

“It exists! I will have it!”

“Hurting my daughter won’t make it show up!”

“We’ll see. I’ll give you fifteen minutes.” He ended the call.

“Fifteen minutes until what?” Empty air filled her ears.

She wanted to shove Chris out of the driver’s seat and slam the accelerator into the floor.

They were still forty minutes away.

Violet’s leg burned.

The tall blond man had pulled off the highway and climbed into the backseat with her, saying he had to make a phone call and that she was to be silent or he’d slash her throat. She’d eyed the blade in his hand and obeyed.

Until he’d jammed it into her thigh and twisted.

His eyes had lit up as he held his cell phone forward to catch her screams. Then he’d yanked the blade out and she’d collapsed. No one had ever purposefully hurt her before. The shock of the abrupt attack burned as much as the pain. She couldn’t focus on his phone call, but knew he was talking to her mother. He’d stepped out of the vehicle, keeping his side of the conversation from her hearing, and let her bleed on the seat.

He ended the call and returned, grinding his palm into the place on her leg. She shrieked.

“Where’s the thumb drive?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What thumb drive?” Violet spit out. He’d asked her the same question four times but didn’t answer any of hers. He’d simply glared when she said her school thumb drive was in her backpack. If he wanted her reports and project for school, he could have them. “You seem to think I have something that I don’t have.”

“The one from your grandfather.”

Finally. A clarification.

“My grandfather’s never given me one.” She gasped, trying to ignore the pain and think of presents that Saul had given her over the years. “He gave me an iPod a few years ago, but you can only save music and movies on it.”

Now the man looked confused. “He’s been with you for years?”

His accent puzzled her. She didn’t think he was British or Australian. His eyes were a piercing blue, and he looked as if he could have been a body double for Arnold Schwarzenegger in the first Terminator movie. He was one of the biggest men she’d ever seen and he’d tossed her into his SUV as if she were a doll. His bulk filled the backseat.

Violet hated him.

She eyed the gun in his shoulder holster. If she was blessed with the chance, she wouldn’t hesitate to use it on him. She’d frozen when he’d shot Jamie and leaped to obey when he’d turned the weapon on her and barked orders at her to move and drive. By the time she’d lost some of her terror and been ready to drive the car into a building, he’d ordered her to stop, and they’d changed vehicles. It felt like they’d driven for hours with her in the backseat of the SUV, but she had no concept of time. She’d slept briefly at one point and woken up stunned that she could sleep when she was terrified out of her mind.

Did Jamie die?

Bitter cold had greeted her when he opened the door to climb into the backseat. She’d stared in surprise at snowy fir trees and scrambled to sit up, scanning outside the vehicle. They were back in the woods. He gave a final blow to her thigh and moved back to the driver’s seat as she curled up in pain. She didn’t care where he was taking her. A few minutes later he stopped and she looked out at the narrow driveway where she’d spent that horrible night in their Suburban, terrified her mother would never stop vomiting. The vehicle was gone, towed by the police, and the road to the cabin was plowed, completely clear of snow and ice.