“Great. Wonderful. So you unleashed a bug you can’t stop. That’s terrible, but this involved my sister how?”

“We didn’t unleash the bug. Amanda found proof of an attack plan in the works, and she got in bed with the money trail for us.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t particularly liked the methods her sister used to get to the information she needed, but that was her choice. Amanda was a grown-up. She could bed whoever she wanted, for whatever reason she wanted.

“And the money had her killed when she exposed him?”

“No. He hasn’t been exposed. We think someone in his company had her killed, and then killed everyone who was working the project along with her. We’re still trying to find out who that person might be. In the meantime, Mandy had found a couple of doctors who thought they could reengineer the vaccine. Apparently, they’d been working on it privately, and were close to having a cure.”

“So why would someone want to kill her for it? It sounds like a great thing. She may have found a way to fix a very bad situation.”

“I believe the truth of the matter is they don’t want it fixed. The people behind this are selling the illness to a terrorist organization. Amanda thought we might be attacked in the near future. She got one of her own recruits into the mix, genius kid, to see if he could help.”

“Cattafi?”

“Yes.”

“His buddy Bromley is dead. In case you hadn’t heard.”

Girabaldi collapsed then, from proud face and shoulders to the bottom of her spine. She hunched over the table, put her head in her hands. “Everyone who worked on this is dead. Someone’s trying to clean up their mess.”

“And you’re next?”

Regina nodded.

“Why didn’t you save her, Gina? Why did you let my sister die?”

“I didn’t. I would have done anything within my power to protect her, you know that. She wasn’t like you. She needed me. She’s always needed me.”

Robin felt the familiar flame of jealousy rise up in her, pushed it away. “I needed you, too, Mom. It would have been nice if you’d realized that.”

“Your sister—”

“Your daughter.”

Regina closed her eyes. “You’re my daughter, too. Don’t think this hurts me any less than it hurts you. I’ve already lost one of you. I can’t lose you, too. I’ve done all I could for you. But now I need your help. Please, Robin. Don’t make me beg.”

“Done all you could except be a mother when I needed one. A boss, a mentor, yes. You taught me how to kill, how to hide in the shadows, how to be the woman I am today. But you never could talk yourself into loving me. You reserved all of that for Amanda. And now you want me to be your shield. To protect you. That’s rich, Gina. Really, really rich.”

Girabaldi gritted her teeth, trying to gain control, the upper hand, as she always had. Robin watched the familiar strangeness of her mother’s face as she struggled for composure.

She’d given them up when they were so young, when Robin was only four and Amanda two. Left their father, left their life, to globe-trot for the CIA. Her dad, bless his heart, was crushed, but remarried, giving them a mother figure, a sweet lady who they both called Mom. Regina returned to her maiden name and was referred to—if she ever needed to be—as their distant aunt.

Amanda was too young. She never really knew what had happened. But Robin remembered. She remembered it all. When she was eighteen, she showed up on Regina’s doorstep, wanting answers. Regina turned her into a weapon instead, then came for Amanda when she, too, came of age.

Clouds of purple were billowing around Robin, and she fought through the darkness. Regina had made sure they were both taken care of, put to work in the family business. She took one look at an adult Amanda and nestled her sweetness into her bosom, under her arm, where she could be protected. And one look at Robin—the coldness, the emptiness, the lack of empathy and the potential for destruction—and put a long-range rifle in her hands.

Robin had seen her private CIA induction file once. It read like a clinical wasteland. Emotionless sociopathy. Lack of empathy. Penchant for violence. Ability to compartmentalize. Comfortable with extreme isolation. And then the ultimate stamp of approval. Recommended for field work.

Amanda’s file was different. It had always been different. Warmer. Nicer. Plays well with others and shares with her friends. Shares herself with her friends, it should have read. In more ways than one.

Robin didn’t know what was worse, being completely closed off and frigid, or finding love in the arms of strangers. She knew both their lives were in direct reaction to the abandonment of their mother. The anger boiled up again, threatening to overflow.

“You made us both, Gina. And now you’ve killed one of us. I don’t think I’ll let you kill me, too.” She stood and started toward the sliding glass door, to the darkness, the anonymity that was her world.

Regina spoke softly. “Robin. Please don’t leave. You need to see this.” She nodded at the Secret Service agent. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small tablet.

“This will explain everything.”

She hit Play, and Robin stopped at the door, halted her escape and nearly cracked into pieces.

Amanda.

She listened to her sister’s honey-colored words, wondering what it all meant. Why she had to die for this case. Why she hadn’t pushed for help when she got in too deep.

She wanted to prove herself, Robin. To you, to Gina. You know that. She always did. And she had asked. You abandoned her when she needed you the most. You are no better than your mother.

When the video was finished, she sat down, trying not to lose it. Trying to compartmentalize, as was her forte. Pushing away the horror and loss of her baby sister to a cause that would kill them all, and going into a more operational state. It was too late to save Amanda. It wasn’t yet too late to save the world.

If what Amanda said was true, about the coming attack, this was bigger than all of them and their petty family squabbles. An attack on their soil with a biological weapon delivered in a most innocuous manner would derail the world.

The now-familiar doubt crept in. It had come recently, borne on a piece of shrapnel, sanded with desert muck, into her side, and whispered to her of all her failings.

She couldn’t stop this. They were screwed. Absolutely, one hundred percent screwed.

Robin walked to the small kitchenette and fixed herself a stiff shot of bourbon. Forced all the emotions that had been swirling around her since the accident back into the black hole inside her, found her focus, her bitter cold center, the one place she felt truly herself. She shot the bourbon, then turned and leaned against the hard counter.

“Why me, Regina? You have two agencies at your beck and call.”

Girabaldi’s face creased in relief. Her daughter had acquiesced once again, and she was back on top, calling the shots.

“I don’t trust anyone but you right now, Robin. I need your protection. I need you to find out who killed Amanda, and who is after me. I’ve already had one team member involved in this killed today. I wish I could convince myself he’s the only one involved, but I can’t. Only a handful of people knew about the medicine and vaccine.”

“Who was it?”

“Jason Kruger. I would have never expected him to betray me like this. I’m not sure how deep his betrayal goes, though. And the D.C. police killed him an hour ago.”

“He was onto Amanda. Chasing her.”

“She brought the samples in, and he managed to take them from her. I have no doubt they were—at some point today—in his possession.”

“Did he kill her? Was it Kruger?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know who else it could be, but there could be any number of people working this, Robin. You know how terrorists work.” Girabaldi grew cold then, back into her role. “I want you to hunt them down and eliminate them. You heard your sister. She knew she was in danger and that I am in danger. We will all be affected if there’s an attack.”