Chapter 2 - The Twin Fallon Left Behind
Patrick arrived before midnight.
He placed a thin folder on Ronan’s desk.
“She’s telling the truth.”
Fiona stood near the fireplace.
Ronan opened the folder.
Employment photograph.
Tax records.
Apartment lease.
College records.
Everything belonged to Fiona Mercer.
Patrick continued.
“Twenty-nine years old. Bookkeeper. No criminal record. Same employer four years. Before that, two restaurant jobs.”
Ronan turned another page.
“Family?”
“Mother died six years ago.”
Fiona looked away.
Patrick hesitated.
“Twin sister, Fallon Mercer. No verified employment after the mother’s death.”
Ronan closed the folder.
Patrick stared at Fiona.
“So we kidnapped the wrong woman.”
“You kidnapped the wrong woman,” Fiona corrected.
Patrick almost smiled.
Ronan didn’t.
“Leave us.”
When the door closed, Fiona faced him.
“Untie me permanently. Give me my phone. Take me home.”
“I can’t.”
Her disbelief turned into anger.
“You can’t?”
“If Fallon used you as part of her escape, other people may know you exist.”
“That is your problem.”
“It became yours when my men grabbed you.”
“Then fix it.”
Ronan studied her.
“You sound like her.”
“Apparently that’s not a compliment.”
For the first time, something almost human appeared in his expression.
“No. It isn’t.”
Fiona moved closer.
“Why did my sister marry you?”
Ronan poured himself a drink.
“Power.”
“Whose?”
“Both of ours.”
“That isn’t a marriage.”
“We never pretended otherwise.”
He handed her a photograph.
Fiona nearly dropped it.
Fallon.
Same face.
Same brown eyes.
Same mouth.
But everything else felt different.
Fallon wore a crimson dress beside Ronan at a formal event.
Her smile was cold.
Confident.
Dangerous.
Fiona touched the photograph.
“I haven’t seen her since Mom died.”
“Why?”
“She left after the funeral.”
“No explanation?”
“One.”
Fiona remembered the note.
“Don’t look for me.”
Ronan drank.
“That sounds like Fallon.”
“You loved her?”
He looked at Fiona.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Fiona raised an eyebrow.
Ronan set down his glass.
“My marriage to Fallon was an alliance. She gained my protection. I gained access to people who trusted her.”
“Until she stole from you.”
“Money wasn’t the worst part.”
“What was?”
Ronan opened a safe behind a painting.
He removed a black ledger.
“Fallon copied this.”
“What is it?”
“A list of financial accounts, legitimate businesses, political favors, and people who owe my organization money.”
Fiona stepped backward.
“I don’t want to see that.”
“You already know too much.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Mine.”
The admission surprised her.
Ronan placed the ledger away.
“Fallon didn’t steal three million because she needed money. She stole it to make everyone believe money was the reason she ran.”
“So what did she really take?”
“Information.”
“About you?”
“About everyone.”
A knock interrupted them.
Patrick entered.
His face had changed.
“We have trouble.”
Ronan straightened.
“What?”
“Someone searched Fiona’s apartment yesterday.”
Fiona went pale.
“What?”
“Nothing stolen. Whoever did it was looking for something.”
Ronan’s jaw tightened.
“Fallon.”
Patrick nodded.
“Maybe.”
Fiona grabbed the edge of the desk.
“My sister hasn’t spoken to me in six years.”
Ronan looked at her.
“That doesn’t mean she hasn’t been watching you.”
Patrick placed another item on the desk.
A photograph.
Fiona outside Henderson & Pike.
Taken from across the street.
A date was printed in the corner.
Three weeks earlier.
On the back, someone had written two words.
PLAN B.
Fiona’s face drained.
Ronan stared at the handwriting.
“I know that writing.”
“Fallon?”
“Yes.”
Fiona looked from the photograph to him.
“What does Plan B mean?”
Ronan’s expression darkened.
May you like
“I think it means you.”
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