The Alliance (32 page)

 

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins
Publishers

....................................

Chapter
88

I am in a new place, with stricter rules. I have lost my baby because of my husband's actions and for the first time feel truly defeated.

—­The diary of Megan Jean

The van came to a halt. Mia had stopped crying, but she couldn't look away from her mother's body. Corinna leaned her head against Mia's shoulder. She still held their mother's lifeless hand. Someone touched Mia's back, but she didn't look away.

“We're here,” Alex said.

The back of the van opened. The front two doors of the van opened too. Frank and Riley exited. Mia heard Rod's bed being wheeled out.

“It's time to get out of the van,” Riley said.

“I'm staying here,” Mia said.

“Me too,” Corinna said.

“That's not a good idea,” Riley said. “I am so sorry about your mother, girls.”

“
I am not leaving her!
” Mia yelled.

Corinna lifted her head off of Mia's shoulder and went to speak with Riley. In a few seconds Corinna was back. She sat on the other side of their mother.

“This is my fault,” Mia said. “I should have made her stay at the ranch.”

“You didn't have a say in that,” Corinna said. “She would have held on to the bumper and made you drag her here.”

“I'm toxic,” Mia said.

“That couldn't be more false,” Corinna said.

“She is the third person I love who I have gotten killed,” Mia said.

“It isn't your fault,” Corinna said. “If she hadn't jumped out of the van you would be dead.”

“She didn't even know,” Mia said. “All Mom wanted was to hug me.”

“No,” Corinna said. “She wanted to protect you. The danger wasn't gone yet; Laur—­Mom knew that.”

Mia looked away from their mother and up at Corinna. Her sister had a soft smile on her face and tears pooling in her eyes.

“That is what a true mother does,” Corinna said. “She is more than willing to sacrifice herself for her child.”

Corinna reached out and wiped a tear from Mia's eye.

“You're not toxic,” Corinna said. “You are involved in a dangerous line of work.”

“What about Father?” Mia asked.

“Like Mom told you,” Corinna said. “Don't shed a tear over him. What died in that fire was a shell of the man he once was. Father left us a long time ago.”

“And Flo?” Mia asked. “Whitney? Rex? They all died helping me.”

“It could have as easily been you,” Corinna said.

Mia had thought she was near death several times, but someone always managed to save her. If she gave up now, all those lost lives would have been for nothing.

“This isn't over,” Mia said. “I have to finish the fight.”

“You will,” Corinna said. “And I will stand right beside you to the very end. But for now let's try to get some sleep.”

Mia looked down at her mother's body. She choked back another round of tears.

“I am so sorry,” Mia said. “It's not fair we didn't get to say good-­bye. But I want you to know something. I am thankful, now and every day for the rest of my life, that I have you as a mother.”

Corinna picked up Mia's hand and slowly turned her away from their mother's body. They stepped outside of the van into a large garage. Mia didn't care where they were at the moment. She wanted a bed where she could cry herself to sleep.

 

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins
Publishers

....................................

Chapter
89

I have intimate details on the new families living in my area. They are happy and, as the grand commander predicted, do not object much to turning over their sons. I believe it is because they are so thrilled to keep their daughters.

—­The journal of Isaac Ryland

Andrew drove as fast as he could down from the hills and the deceased RAG agents they'd left in the road.

“How much time do we have?” Andrew asked.

“An area like this?” Trent said. “Twenty-­minute head start, easy. Cross your fingers we don't run into any other official vehicles.”

“Can we stop and steal another pair of plates?”

“We are half an hour away from our contact,” Zack said. “He lives on the outskirts of the capital. We might get lucky and not pass a single other car. I don't want to waste time going into a city. Did you send Mia there?”

“Yes,” Andrew said.

“You don't sound thrilled,” Carter said.

“Something went wrong,” Andrew said.

“What?”

“I don't know,” Andrew said.

“Mia is a strong person,” Zack said. “You'll see her soon.”

Nobody moved. Andrew pressed the accelerator down harder.

“Let's not forget the important thing. I'm part of the team now,” Trent said.

“No,” all three men said in unison.

The house was large. It stood on top of a hill. Andrew did not slow down when he drove toward the attached garage. As Zack had been notified it would, the door to the structure started to rise. Andrew saw a beat-­up white van parked on one side. Andrew slowed down and parked his SUV next to it. He recognized the vehicle as belonging to Frank and Alex.

“Let me do the talking,” Zack said.

Andrew didn't wait for anyone. He unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of the SUV. He made his way toward the van. The back door was open. He saw a giant red stain on the carpeting.

“I didn't realize you would be coming in two groups,” a voice said.

Andrew looked toward the sound. Standing at what must have been the entrance to the home was a man. He wore a white bathrobe tied over red pajamas. His dark hair was cut short on the sides and left long on the top. He was about Andrew's height but had an extra twenty pounds to him. Andrew ran toward him.

“Where's Mia?” Andrew asked. “Is she all right?”

“The pretty one with the bob?” he asked.

Andrew did not know what that meant.

“All of your friends are inside,” he said.

“You're Greg Finnegan,” Carter said.

“The one and only,” he said.

“The most trusted man in America is working for the rebels,” Trent said. “I never would have guessed.”

“What happened to letting me do the talking?” Zack asked. “My name is Zack.”

“I know all about you,” Greg said. “But my contact did not mention you would be so . . . attractive.”

Andrew didn't have time for the small talk. He started toward Greg, ready to push him to the side and search every inch of his home for Mia.

“They beat you here by almost an hour,” Greg said. “Two of the girls are sleeping. I didn't expect a comatose man but did my best to make him comfortable.”

“Comatose man?” Zack asked.

“I need to see Mia,” Andrew said.

Greg moved to the side and motioned for the four of them to enter his home. Andrew walked inside first. There was a small hallway with several closed doors. It ended at a larger hallway.

“Go left,” Greg said.

Andrew walked several feet until they were in a kitchen. The guests at the table rose. Andrew recognized Frank and Alex. A redheaded woman was with them. All three looked dirty. Alex had puffy red eyes while Frank's looked glassed over.

“Andrew,” Frank said.

“Where is Mia?” Andrew asked.

“She's asleep,” Alex said. “Greg was kind enough to give her some medication.”

“Trust me when I say an earthquake won't wake that girl up,” Greg said.

“What happened?” Andrew asked.

“We rescued Rod,” the redhead said. “Her mother died in the process.”

“My dad is here?” Carter asked.

“Did you two know about this?” Zack asked. His voice was fueled with anger. “This is irresponsible. You risked our entire operation. Who are you ­people anyway?”

The redhead turned toward Zack. She was shorter than him, but her build and demeanor were intimidating. She took a step toward him and dragged her other leg behind her. Andrew saw a white bandage wrapped around her calf.

“My name is Riley,” she said. “I am a strategist for the Irish government. These are Frank and Alex; they risked their lives to save one of your group members. Before throwing a temper tantrum, why not take the time to say thank you?”

“Where's my dad?” Carter asked. “He's in a coma?”

“It looks like an induced coma,” Riley said. “Depending on how long the medication takes to get out of his system he'll wake up sometime in the next twelve hours.”

“Where is Mia?” Andrew asked.

“Upstairs,” Greg said. “Second bedroom on the right.”

Andrew spun around toward the hallway they had come down. He saw the stairs near the front door and started toward them.

“She's asleep,” Riley said. “You can't do much for her now.”

The words went right past Andrew's ears and he ignored them. He rounded the stairs and took them two at a time until he reached the top. He spotted the second door and swung it open. There was a bed in the middle of the room and Andrew saw a figure under the blankets.

“It really is you,” a female voice said.

Andrew felt like he was seeing a ghost. Sitting in a chair with her legs curled underneath her was Corinna, Mia's older sister. He hadn't seen her in two years, and even then they had not been familiar with each other.

“She kept trying to explain which farmhand Andrew was,” Corinna said. “But you all blended together for me.”

“I thought you were dead,” Andrew said.

“I know it's not me you're here to see,” Corinna said. She uncurled her legs and stood up from the chair. “I was sitting with her, but I'm guessing you can relieve me now.”

She walked past Andrew and put a hand on his shoulder in the process.

“You look like you could use some sleep now too,” Corinna said.

Her hand fell off his shoulder and he heard the door close behind her. Andrew walked over to the bed and sat down. There was Mia. He brushed the hair away from her face and she didn't stir. Andrew had never felt such relief in his life. He didn't even bother to take off his shoes before lying down next to her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

 

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins
Publishers

....................................

Chapter
90

I have found an occupation to keep my wife busy and out of my hair. She is assisting with the male offspring of our area and I am surprised by her natural maternal instincts.

—­The journal of Isaac Ryland

The makeup smelled like flour as the young man patted another layer on Grant's face.

“Normally you don't need so much,” he said. “Your skin tone is so even.”

Grant felt like a woman, sitting in the chair having his bruised face hidden under the pancake. Greg Finnegan's crew had arrived and they'd made one of Grant's studies a prep room. They were not wasting time getting Grant prepped for his final interview as a single man. Even though Grant was running on next to no sleep, he smirked. Now that his wife was really dead this was actually his first interview with Mr. Finnegan as a single man.

“Was it nerves?” the man asked.

“Excuse me?”

“That made you fall?” he asked. “I've been married for two years now and I was a little nervous before the wedding.”

“It wasn't nerves,” Grant said. He would never take marriage advice from someone who had a minor job on a television program.

“Greg pays us nicely,” the man said. It was like he could read Grant's thoughts. “I only had to work for two years before I had enough money saved to buy a decent wife. Of course she wasn't the daughter of our supreme leader.”

“What happened to you?” Ian asked.

Grant looked away from the makeup artist to see Ian walking into the room.

“I want to look good on camera,” Grant said.

“You've always turned down the makeup,” Ian said. “I'm glad to see you're starting to take these things with more seriously.”

“All finished,” the makeup man said.

Grant stood up from his chair. He held out his hand and met Ian's grip. The old man was wearing a pair of white pants and a navy blue polo with navy shoes. The outfit looked like it could have come from Grant's closet.

Grant reexamined his own attire. He wore a pair of gray pants with a pink cashmere sweater. Ian's outfit was a bit too summery and Grant was pleased he was the better-­dressed man.

“I didn't expect you so early,” Grant said.

“My morning plans canceled so I thought I would show up early and watch the taping,” Ian said.

He took a seat in the makeup chair and the other man started to pat his face.

“Planning on making an on-­air appearance?” Grant asked.

“I'm not ready to rule it out,” Ian said.

The door to the study opened again and Greg Finnegan himself walked inside. Grant tried his best not to roll his eyes at the man. He noticed Greg's wardrobe. He was in a pair of light blue pants and a lime green striped button-­up. His outfit was also something Grant expected to find in his own closet. This was not the usual attire of the television host.

“Ian, Grant, a pleasure as always,” Greg said.

“I hope you don't mind that I'm using your man here,” Ian said.

“Not at all,” Greg said. “Take your time and then he can do me.”

“Are you two mocking me?” Grant asked.

All three men stared at him.

“With the clothes?” Grant asked.

Greg Finnegan started to laugh. Grant felt his ire rise.

“Not at all,” Greg said. “Look around.”

The makeup artist was in jeans, something Grant would never consider wearing, but his shirt was a light purple and white checkered print. The material was cheap, but the design was something Grant found appealing.

“You've started a fashion trend,” Greg said. “All men across the country are starting to dress like you, or at least try.”

Grant gave a pressed-­lipped smile. He was an original and wanted to keep it that way.

“Just another demonstration of how much the ­people love you,” Ian said.

Love and adoration were not things Grant was concerned with. He couldn't wait until today was over with. In fact, he couldn't wait until Ian's life was over with and Grant no longer had to deal with these tedious appointments. Once Grant was grand commander he would never make another television appearance on
The Greg Finnegan Show
again.