Disclaimer: The characters belonging to Janet Evanovich are used strictly for entertainment purposes.

A/N:

…

Chapter 15

Walker said, "We've talked about this, Stephanie. I said no. You know how I feel about it."

"But what about how I feel about it. Ranger told me you took special cases, helped people who were missing chunks of time. I have a hard time believing you've never used any of these other methods." I stared him down.

"Stephanie…"

"You have used other methods before, I know it. There's a way to do this faster."

He leaned toward me and said in an annoyed tone, his blue eyes now cobalt, "Not for you, there isn't."

I sighed and lowered my head, trying to get a grip. He just didn't get it. I looked back up, fighting tears. "Ranger and I have a … baby. Almost four months old. His name is Giancarlo and he's real. We know it from the pictures. He looks like Ranger—" I broke off and shook my head. It was hard to wrap my head around the fact that I had a child. "That bastard has him, Walker. He did everything he could to control me. He took the baby away from me, controlled my days, and forced me into a sort of slavery. He was hateful enough to hurt me. And he hated Carlo."

He didn't respond and I jumped up to grab the front of his shirt, giving him a shake. "An innocent baby. I can't just sit around and talk about my feelings, la di da, and sigh over the tragedy. I have to do something. I'm a doer, Walker. I react, I jump in, I fight. I need you to help me fight, please, just think—"

"Shh." Walker reached up and grabbed my shoulders to set me back so he could stand. I pushed myself to my feet and crossed my arms, waiting for him to make up his mind. He studied me, hands in his pockets, silent, for several minutes. Then he said, "I have a few technically non-existent drugs I have used in the past when we needed information quickly. They work, but getting the dose right is tricky."

I nodded and waited for him to explain.

He looked me directly in the eyes with grave sincerity. "Remember when I said it could produce no new leads?" I nodded. "Well, the drugs can make things worse, much worse. We could end up not getting the memories at all and losing you in the process. You might get lost somewhere between the two personalities. I've seen both successes and failures first-hand using these drugs. It's a huge risk."

It was a scary prospect, but I knew I had to take the chance. "I'm not afraid. I know I'll make it and I'm ready to try."

His face grew stern. "I want Ranger involved with this decision. He has a stake in this, too."

Part of me wanted to keep him out of it, but I knew I'd hate it if he'd done that to me. I had to agree that Walker was right. Damn him. "Fine. I'll get him."

We brought Ranger in and explained what we—I—wanted to do. He stared at me with what would have been his blank look, if it weren't for the fear in his eyes.

"Absolutely not."

"Ranger! We don't have time to pussyfoot around this thing. I want to do it."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "I said no." He turned his cold stare to Walker. "And I mean no."

White hot anger flashed through me. "And I say you can't stop me."

"No."

"Yes!"

"Let Walker—"

"What? Work his EMDR voodoo and hope that it works? We don't have time for this. Think about it."

He took a step closer to me. The man wasn't much taller than me, but in that moment, he seemed to tower over me, his irate posture making him larger than life. "Stephanie, I am thinking about it. You heard him. It could destroy you. You're asking me to choose between a child I've never met or losing you. I will not lose you again."

"I don't even know what to do with that response. Are you saying I should sacrifice him for myself? What would that make me?"

"No. I'm saying the risk is too high to take a chance with no promises or guarantees that it will help." Ranger folded his arms across his chest and stood even straighter.

Defiance reared its ugly head and took over my mouth. "I will do this! I didn't want to lie to you about it, I could have, but I didn't."

If I were to describe expression on his face, I'd say he winced. It's hard to tell with Ranger, but his eyes flickered and his head made a minuscule motion to the side. He turned around and left the room; his slamming of the door resounded like the boom of a large firework through my body. He'd left. Again.

I took a step to follow him and Walker put a hand on my arm. "Don't. Stephanie, this isn't worth it. I'm not sure he can handle this or that you're even ready for it."

I whirled on him. "Don't you dare back out now, Walker. You agreed."

"I said Ranger had to be on board."

Jaw clenched, I took several breaths through my nose. I could feel my nostrils flare with each one. "Tell me, how long does this other technique usually take?"

He slid his hands into his pockets and looked a little uncomfortable. "It depends."

"How long?"

"If you're receptive to the treatment, it could take a few sessions to see any real results, so in your case, maybe a week."

I crossed my arms and dropped my head back, staring at the ceiling. When I lowered my gaze to him, I looked straight into his eyes. "And if not?"

His voice so quiet I almost didn't hear him, he said, "Months."

"Months." I paced to the bathroom door and back. "Fuck no."

Walker looked at the door Ranger had exited through. I could almost hear his brain ticking through the ifs, ands, and buts. Slowly, he turned his head back to me with a look of resignation on his face. "I'll talk to him."

"You'll do the treatment I want."

He sighed. "Against my better judgment, yes. With a child's welfare at stake, I feel compelled to agree. But we're starting slow."

I looked at the door now. Ranger was going to have to be okay with it. I hated that it scared him, but I had more than just him or myself to consider now. Maybe I had that mothering instinct after all because I was willing to risk everything for this kid.

…

When we rejoined the guys in the living area, Ranger was gone and Tank and Lester were angry. I didn't ask in case Ranger filled them in on my decision. I had no desire to defend my position to two more people. What's done was done. Or would be done soon.

Tank sat on the couch and leaned back, head tilted to rest on top of the cushions. "Our flight for Rome leaves in four hours. Better pack."

"When did all this happen?"

Lester spoke up from where he leaned against the armchair. "Sorry, Blue. We knew we needed to head to Rome this evening, but with all the activity we didn't have a chance to tell you. Ranger's contact, Spitz, has more information than just those surveillance shots, but will only talk to us in person. Meeting's arranged for tomorrow morning."

"That's the guy that sent the photos?"

Tank nodded. "Ranger's known him a long time. One of the first people he called when you disappeared last year. We called him after you started asking for Marotta, he's currently undercover in Marotta's organization."

I absorbed this information and then put my hands on my hips. "So, he's in Rome?" They both nodded. "And he sent pictures of me?" More nods. "So, if he's working for Marotta, he would know who Camila is."

"That's what we're going to find out, Sweetness."

"Ranger's a helluva lot pissed off about it, too," Lester said.

'Among other things,' I thought. "Okay. Guess I should pack."

I went to the bedroom and stood beside the bed, staring at it for almost five minutes. It held me in a trance. Ranger's rejection of the treatment, and ultimately removing his support, haunted me. I had to believe we'd get through it, but also knew it'd take some time. It was difficult to believe we'd woken in that bed only yesterday, happy and connected. I'd ruined it.

But I wouldn't back down. Not when it was so important.

…

Four hours later, I thought it was ironic that I was finally leaving France, but Stephanie Plum still couldn't go anywhere. Because Stephanie Plum was still dead.

The name on my passport held my attention. My mouth quirked at the name twist. Ranger knew I wouldn't miss the significance and that knowledge gave me a small dose of happy. His daughter, Julie, didn't bear his last name, but in some small way, Ranger had just given it to her. Officially, I would be Giuliana Ramoso for travel purposes in Europe and for our return flight to the US, whenever that happened. I wondered if I could ever be the real 'me' again.

My gaze flicked to the man standing still as granite across the room, staring out the window while he talked on his phone, lips barely moving. He had been cold since our disagreement over my treatment. I got that it scared him, but why couldn't he get that I had to do it this way? The only interaction we'd had since then was when he gave me the passport. He told me not to lose it and then walked away. I really felt like beaning him in the back of the head with it, but I tucked it into my brand new purse.

Sometime between the argument and leaving for the airport, Ranger had changed clothes and now looked more like the man I knew in Trenton. Second skin black t-shirt, black cargos, black boots, black sunglasses … blank look. I'd known it before, but had never really connected it in my brain that the blank expression was part of his badass uniform. When he had to be in control and focused, he shed emotion and became an impenetrable fortress. Until this week, he hadn't customarily directed it at me and almost never wore it in private since we started dating. Even if he had, it quickly fell away. Now, it seemed like a frequent visitor.

Lester's elbow nudged me, intermittently snapping me out of my thoughts. He was playing some military war game on a PSP. Sometimes his nudges were hard and I thought there was a bruise forming on my ribs, so I decided to get a cup of coffee for a short reprieve. I didn't need any more bruises today, emotional or otherwise.

"Les, I'm going to get a cup of coffee."

He hit a button and looked at me. "Okay, let's go."

I smiled. "Don't worry about it. Look, the café is right there." I pointed across the aisle and down a little ways. It was in plain sight from our seats. "You can watch me. Besides, you have some bad guys to shoot." His eyes flicked toward Ranger, a dark look on his face. "That's not a bad guy." He snorted and I placed my hand on his forearm. "Five minutes. One cup of coffee. A to-go cup. Play your game, I'll be fine."

A devious spark flared up in his eyes. "Go ahead, Blue Eyes. I'll cover for you, but I'm watching you. Not even a bathroom stop."

The defiant look in his eye bothered me, but I stood anyway. "Got it. Thanks."

I scanned the gate's seating area and saw Tank still talking to the Gate Agent, his forehead wrinkled in frustration. Walker was in a secluded corner speaking in a hushed tone with his phone to his ear. He didn't look happy and I wondered what Ranger had torn him away from to bring him here for me. I wondered why he'd come.

Ranger's back was to me, so I hurriedly left while the coast was clear. No doubt if Walker or Tank saw me leaving, they'd say something, too. I wanted five minutes without a babysitter holding my hand, without the tension of Ranger's standoff, and to pretend that my world was happy and carefree. Okay, so that wasn't really possible. There was no way I could pretend anything was happy and carefree, but at least I could act normal.

While standing in line at the little café, an alarm went off on one of the grills and a flame shot up. The beep seemed to settle into my bones and I couldn't shake it off. As soon as I heard it, a brutal headache exploded behind my eyes and I pressed the heels of my hands to them, taking slow, deep breaths. The pain began to dissipate as quickly as it came on, but at the same time, I felt a shroud come over me, as if my very being had just been coated with a thick layer of tar.

I turned back toward Lester, but panicked when I couldn't see anything but blurry colors all mashed together. Someone stopped to put a hand on my arm, speaking in soft tones I couldn't understand. I jumped away from the contact because the touch burned me as if the person was electrified. The oppressive veil acted as a conductor for this energy and I physically felt the shockwaves inside me now. They advanced from the base of my brain, through my head and all the way out to my fingers and toes, lighting up every nerve path.

When the sensation passed, I felt numb. My energy was gone and I crumpled down to my knees and then to my side on the rough, navy industrial carpet. So much for acting normal. I was nothing but a shell, a useless weight … a burden. Another jolt shot through me then, so strong, so potent, that I gasped and shivered. Where it came from, I didn't know and I was too consumed by the sensation to analyze it. The last thing I saw was the flame, unfocused, dancing in my line of vision.

…

Adriano arrived home this morning in a surprisingly good mood. "Good afternoon, my wife."

I shuddered inwardly and smiled at him. He'd taken to calling me that lately, as if to remind me who I belonged to. I didn't need another reminder. I had reminders all over my body.

"Good afternoon, husband." Better to play along. Adriano had gone above and beyond simple name calling and criticism this week. The physical violence I'd endured had left me marked up and sore. I knew he resented me, but the hatred he'd shown made me afraid and I didn't want to do anything to set him off. My continued visits with Carlo depended on his happiness.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes."

We left for our run and I kept pace with Adriano despite the fact that he was running faster than normal. "You're doing excellent today, Camila," he huffed. He'd been pushing us for the last two kilometers and it wasn't surprising that he was out of breath. I knew he was trying to make me fall behind or fail in some way. More and more, he did whatever he could to make sure he got to harm me. It sickened me the way it made him so happy and almost … alive in some way.

"Thank you," I said on an exhale.

My heartbeat picked up when I realized we were only a couple of turns away from Carlo's home. I fought off trying to run ahead because Adriano would get angry and I now hoped he would allow me to see my son on this trip.

As if he sensed my thoughts, Adriano pointed ahead and asked, "Do you want to stop in at the house?"

"Yes, I think that would be fine," I said calmly. Fine was an understatement. I hadn't seen Carlo in two days, which had only been the second time I'd seen him since Adriano had moved him last week. Adriano's mood swings were unpredictable, at best. I did whatever I could to keep him calm and rational, but sometimes there was no method to his madness.

We'd been married for nearly six months and no two days were the same. I never knew if something would make him happy one day and then angry the next. If I'd known what type of man he was, if I'd taken more time to get to know him, I never would have married him. One month wasn't long enough to know someone and I knew now the grave mistake I'd made. Perhaps, if I'd just been firmer with Seppe about the wedding date, I would have had the chance to choose Luca instead.

The affair with Luca hadn't been planned, it had just happened. We'd started out as friends, but became fonder of each other as each week passed. He listened to me when I talked and held me when I cried. He'd been the only person I could be myself with and, when our hugs turned into kisses and our kisses turned into undeniable passion, the only person who could bring out the woman I was inside. That I loved him was an understatement. He'd become my lifeline. I needed him.

That night, I'd become so lost in how good it felt to have someone holding me, loving me that I hadn't stopped to let myself think of what could happen if Adriano found out. It didn't surprise me that he reacted badly. I was his wife and I had no right breaking my vows. Now that it was done, I couldn't focus on any regrets. If I could go back and change my actions, no matter how much I loved Luca, I'd never jeopardize time with my child to be with him. The memory only served as a bitter reminder of all I'd lost.

Even worse, he had not attempted to contact me even once since that night. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd only wanted to have that one night with me and if he'd planned to walk away after. Bile rose up to my throat until I wanted to spit. He'd gotten what he wanted and left me to pick up the ruins of my life after.

I shook my head and concentrated on the road. We were almost there. Almost there. Almost there. The words pounded through my head in rhythm with my feet on the road. As we rounded the last corner, I kept my lips together and worked to maintain a neutral expression. I didn't want Adriano to see how much this meant to me. The house was in view and I took slow, even breaths to contain my excitement. It was so good to be here, so good to think of holding my baby.

The thought froze in my mind when I heard the boom. I was confused about where it came from until the house burst into flames. From top to bottom, it was instantly engulfed.

"No!" The word ripped from my throat through my disbelief. I must be dreaming, this couldn't be real. But the house was on fire, everything in sight had hissing orange flames dancing and destroying. I lurched forward, desperate to grab Carlo from the inferno. "Please, God, no!" I screamed.

Adriano grabbed me around the waist. "You can't do anything, Camila. What are you going to do, run inside and burn to death?"

Yes. That's exactly what I'd rather do than spend even a second knowing I'd watched that house burn with my child, the only person left in my world who loved me unconditionally, inside it.

He kept his arm around my waist and pulled out his mobile phone, calling emergency services. I sank to my knees to break his hold and then started crawling toward the house, trying to claw my way forward when Adriano grabbed my arm and wouldn't let me advance. Rage, fierce and potent, consumed me and I turned on him, getting to my feet, and swinging wildly at him.

"You! This is your doing!"

Annoyed, he held my wrists in his hands so I couldn't hit him and stared at the house, an angry expression on his face. He could fool many people, but not me. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

In a maneuver that came from somewhere inside me, I broke his grip and ripped my hands free, grabbing the front of his t-shirt. I wanted to tear him apart. "You hated him, from the moment he was born. You did this. It wasn't enough for you to steal everything from me. You had to take him away, too. He's a child, for God's sake, Adriano!"

"Watch your mouth, whore," he said and smacked my hands away as if they were nothing more than pesky flies.

I couldn't explain the feeling that came over me in that moment, but all hell broke loose. I launched myself at him, clawing at his face, growling. I sounded more like an angry animal than a woman. "I hate you. I hate you! I married you so my son would have a father, but you couldn't even do that one thing right! And Luca? He's twice the man you could ever hope to be. Of course I love him, why wouldn't I when no one else owned my heart?"

A punch, swift and strong, connected with my jaw and knocked me a few feet back from him, landing me on my back. When I opened my eyes, Adriano stood over me with hatred and murder in his eyes. "Don't. EVER. talk to me that way."

He pulled me to my feet by my hair. I was too angry, too enraged to feel it. The pain was easier than the despair. I had to focus on hurting Adriano, getting away from him so I could help my son. If I gave up now, it would destroy me and I couldn't let him win. "Let go of me!"

Instead, he dragged me the few feet up to the driveway to where Maria's car still sat, unscathed, the dancing flames from the house mirrored on the polished hood. Carlo's infant carrier was still buckled into the back seat. Oh my God, my baby … my baby. I was alone, I didn't want to be alone. There was no one left for me, no one who cared what happened to me. Not Luca, not even Seppe.

Adriano reached under the wheel well and pulled out a magnetic box with a key inside. He unlocked the car and shoved me in the back. I tried to open the doors, but the child safety locks had been engaged and the doors wouldn't open. Before I could jump to the front, Adriano climbed in and started the car.

"You'll never see the light of day again, Camila."

His words should have made me fight harder, but they left me numb. Maybe he'd really kill me and the struggle, the pain, would be over. I should have been worried that I'd lost my will to try to survive, but I knew deep in my heart that Carlo had been the only reason I hadn't given up hope. Without him, I was trapped in hell.

The drive back to our house was short and quiet. I watched the scenery whip by the window and counted the trees, trying not to think of how my child suffered at this moment. How I couldn't go to him or help him. I didn't want to think or feel. I was empty and would never be full again. It no longer mattered what Adriano did, I was already dead.

Once we reached the house, he yanked me from the car and shoved me inside, dragging me to the bedroom by the arm and throwing me onto the bed. "Strip!" he yelled. I just laid there. His hands grabbed me, yanking me off the bed. He ripped the clothes from my body and shoved me back onto it facedown. Then he walked away for a minute and I heard dresser drawers being opened wildly. Suddenly he was securing me to the four corners of the bed with my own stockings. He left the room after that and I heard the front door slam.

Morning turned to afternoon and afternoon turned to evening. I slept brokenly all night, afraid he'd show up when I wasn't prepared. Early the next morning, the rising sun woke me up. Not long after that, I heard the front door bang shut. He'd returned.

I struggled against panic as his footsteps clicked closer and closer to the room, then he was here. He dropped something onto the bed at my feet. It landed with a soft thud and I wondered what it could be. "I knew I'd have to use this on you one day, Camila," he said. Was it a gun? A really big object he could use to bash in my skull? A sword? The possibilities were endless when it came to Adriano.

I heard it right before I felt it. A whip. The telltale 'whippow' rent through the air like the sound of trumpets to me and I froze, and then cried out when I felt the leather sear my skin.

Time had no meaning for me, but was measured in strokes of pain. My face was soaked with sweat and tears. I was exhausted with barely the energy it took to drag air into my lungs.

The stockings Adriano had grabbed from my wardrobe were tied tightly enough to bite into my wrists and ankles, making my hands and feet go numb. He got down on one knee next to the edge of the bed. His clothes were soaked with sweat from exertion. He lowered himself until his eyes were level with mine. "Tell me that you don't hate me."

"I don't hate you," I whispered. "To hate you, I'd have to care."

He snarled and stood up again. I struggled against the restraints on my wrists and ankles, but couldn't go anywhere to escape what was coming. I heard the whip fly back and then slice through the air before he hit his target and I screamed.

…

"Easy, I think she's coming out of it," Walker said in a quiet tone. I felt cool fingers grip my wrist in the standard pulse check position and then the relief of a cool cloth against my face, patting away the moisture on my forehead and down my neck. I hated that the dreams made me pass out, but at least I didn't wake up thinking I was Camila anymore.

I swallowed against the fire in my throat and gave a mental head shake. My throat hadn't hurt before the dream, had I screamed in my sleep? My eyes fluttered open cautiously. There were no windows near me and it was relatively dark and peaceful.

Walker was seated on the edge of the low cot where I'd been placed, checking me over. His hands had administered the cool cloth to my heated skin; he still held it in one of them, gently dabbing at my neck. Yuck, I'd really been sweating, too.

I tried to groan, but only a squeak came out from my raw throat. I swallowed again and croaked, "Water."

Walker looked up at someone behind me and said, "Help her sit up." Strong, warm arms slid beneath my shoulders and tilted me upward, then a firm body sank onto the cot behind me and provided a support for me to lean against. Ranger. The Bvlgari wafted to my nostrils and I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against his chest. Walker produced a Styrofoam cup with a lid and straw. "Here. Small sips."

The straw was against my lips now. I took a minuscule swallow and my parched throat eagerly accepted the cool liquid. Greedily, I took a big gulp and looked around. We were in a small room. The cot was against a wall with a small metal stand beside it. There was a short walkway between it and a painted metal door with a window in it. There were curtains mounted on metal frames at the head and foot of the bed but it wasn't a hospital.

"Careful, Stephanie. We want to make sure you won't be sick."

I waved him off and took another swallow. I needed the water. My throat burned and felt as if I swallowed glass shards, causing me to cough and sputter. The cup fell out of my hands onto the floor and the lid popped off, spilling the water across the smooth linoleum.

Ranger patted my back and Walker stood. "I'll get some more water and a towel."

I swiveled around to face Ranger and saw the concern in his eyes. "This was a bad one," he said.

The dream! Emotion rushed up with the force of a volcano and I curved my lips inward, pressing them tightly together with my teeth, and lowered my eyes so he wouldn't see the tears fill them. I breathed in through my nose and when I was sure I could speak, I said, "Adriano wasn't the biggest problem." Though, I now knew why he'd resorted to using a whip on me, that was something to file away to think about later.

His hand tightened on mine and he tugged gently, a simple request for me to look up. When I did, I saw tenderness and something more, something deeper, in his eyes. "Tell me."

I lost the battle to the grief then, and tears flooded out, streaming down my cheeks. I lowered my head and pressed my hand over my mouth, fighting for control again. The knowledge that Carlo was real had finally bypassed my denial sometime when I wasn't paying attention. Somehow, I'd come to accept who he was, and I'd become protective and determined. Maybe it was the connection I felt with the woman I'd been back then, I couldn't be certain, but the grief was as real to me as it had been to her.

Bitter pain over the loss consumed me. "He's gone," I choked out over a sob I was trying to restrain.

Ranger let go of my hand and closed both of his over my shoulders. Strength. He always had so much strength. Body, will, mind. None of it could help me right now. None of it could save our son. "Gone? Who?"

I took a deep breath in through my nose and held it, swallowing a few times. Then I raised my head and said, "Carlo."

"What do you mean?"

"His house, I mean, the house where Adriano kept him with his nanny. We went for a run and decided to stop by and see him." Ranger's fingers tightened and he looked wary.

I gulped and blinked a few times, focusing on the current problem. "When we got there, it exploded. He's gone, Ranger."

I was undone. Telling him made it all too real and I lowered my head. He pulled me against his chest and I pressed my face to it, feeling his heart hammering beneath my cheek, his arms like metal bands around my torso, and his body trembling. From rage or sadness, I couldn't tell. I was crushed by the horror of losing a child before ever meeting him, whether or not I'd wanted one.