Page 49 of Wicked Auction

“Come here,” I tell her when she’s dressed. “Sit next to me.” I pat the couch beside me.

She obeys without question this time.

Good. She's learning.

I take the tablet from my laptop bag and turn it on. This was a plan I hatched with Cavin before I got here. Show her the pictures, he said. You may eventually need to persuade her that we aren't her enemies.

“I want to show you a few things,” I tell her. “It's very important that you understand my family is the McCarthys, and that we had nothing to do with your kidnapping or the auction… except for buying you.”

“Right,” she says, nodding, with just enough sarcasm to let me know she hasn't entirely surrendered the point.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she's going to end up back over my lap before the day's through.

“This is my mother.” I turn the tablet and show her the first picture.

“She's lovely,” she says. “I like her already.”

Pride swells in my chest. “We all do.” I swipe to the next. “This is my father, Keenan. My brothers, Seamus and Cavin. And here, my sisters, Bronwyn and Kyla.” I look at her face. “Do these people look familiar to you?”

She shakes her head no.

“That's because you've never met them, Valentina.”

I show her my cousins next. My uncles and aunts. She shakes her head, over and over, studying each face carefully, then shakes her head again. “These are the McCarthys who live in Ireland.”

I scroll to the next folder. “Now, you may have seen this man.” I point my finger at Declan's photo. “He was supposed to be your husband.”

She smirks and rolls her eyes. “He looks a lot nicer than you.”

“He is,” I say with a shrug. “So. We're going to deal with your father eventually, but we aren't convinced yet that he wasn't involved. Not fully.”

“I told you he didn't do that.”

“I know that's what you said. But I need to prove it to myself, just the same way you need to prove that we weren't the ones who took you, which is what I'm trying to do right now.” My patience is starting to fray at the edges, and I let a little of that into my voice. “I'm going to show you a couple more pictures, and I want you to tell me if you recognize any of these men. Got it?”

She nods.

“It makes no difference to me whether you believe me or not, but if we're on the same team, we’ll be a lot more effective together. Understood?”

“Be more specific,” she says. “What do you want from me?”

“Help identifying these men. And before you ask, no, I'm not expecting you to go out and bring them down yourself. But I'll need you to help us find where you were being held, even if it takes us a while to narrow it down. Any other information you can give us that would lead to their headquarters would help. Right?”

She nods.

“Wherever they kept you wasn't their main headquarters.”

“I should hope not,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It was a gross cell.”

A cell. In Boston. Interesting.

I pull up the next image. “This is Shannon O'Brien.” I watch her face. “She pretended to be you. You were supposed to come to marry Declan, but you were taken and held while Shannon here stepped into your place.” I tap her photo.

“She doesn't look a thing like me,” Valentina says.

“Oh no?” I take out the next picture—Shannon in a wig, full makeup, the resemblance close enough to make your stomach turn. I slide it across toward her.

“Well, damn,” she says. “That's fucking scary.”