The dress in the bag was white and floor-length, with just enough fabric in the skirt to swish. Silver beading formed a wide band around the waist and accented the neckline, which cut across my collarbone. A single white strap crossed my back, leaving the rest bare.

“You look beautiful.”

I turned to scowl at Ivy.

She held up her hands. “I come in peace.”

“Tell me again why I have to go to this thing?”

Ivy came to stand behind me in the mirror. Wordlessly, she zipped the dress up just past the small of my back. I couldn’t help looking for similarities in our reflections. Ivy’s hair was light brown and dancing on the border of blond. Mine was darker, but just as thick. Her hair was straight; mine had a natural wave. Our faces had the same general shape to them, the same cheekbones, the same lips, but I had my father’s eyes.

“The event you’re going to is a fund-raiser.” Ivy stepped back from the mirror and answered my question. “For an organization that provides emotional and financial support to veterans and the families of those killed in combat.”

Abruptly, she turned and busied herself with my dresser, picking up stray ponytail holders and pins. Killed in combat. I knew who Ivy was thinking of when she said those words.

“Bodie said that Adam asked you to let me go,” I commented, trying not to think too hard or too long about Tommy Keyes.

Ivy turned back to me. “Adam doesn’t ask me for much.” She turned me back toward the mirror and began working her fingers through my hair.

Don’t. A voice inside me objected—an unwanted reflex. Don’t touch me. Don’t pretend like this is something we do.

That was a knee-jerk reaction. No matter how far Ivy and I had come, I could never quiet the part of me that had wanted her in my life so badly for so long, without even knowing that she was my mother. I couldn’t shut myself off from the Tess who’d grown up on the ranch with Gramps, the one who would have given anything to hear from Ivy more than three times a year.

That part of me had been disappointed again and again.

Ivy pulled two chunks of hair out of my face and into a twist at the nape of my neck and then stepped back. She’d noticed the way I’d stiffened at her touch.

I didn’t enjoy hurting Ivy, any more than she enjoyed hurting me.

“You’re not going tonight?” I asked, trying to pretend that neither one of us had the power to hurt the other.

“No,” Ivy replied, clipping the word. “I have work to do.”

Work. I spent three seconds wishing that Bodie had been able to promise me that Ivy wasn’t looking into Senza Nome and another three wondering what she’d already found.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Ivy and I turned in unison. Adam stood in the door to my room, dressed in his most formal uniform. Silver buttons gleamed against his dark blue jacket. His bowtie was Air Force blue; an assortment of medals and insignia decorated his lapel.

“You’re right on time,” Ivy told him.

“May I?” Adam asked, tearing his eyes from Ivy and approaching me. My gaze went to a box in his hand. Jewelry. He withdrew a pair of pearls.

“Knock yourself out,” I told him, unsure why the words felt so heavy in my throat.

He fastened the pearls around my neck. “They were my mother’s.”

My grandmother’s.

“Ivy!” Bodie’s voice broke into my thoughts. “You’re going to want to get down here!”

Adam and Ivy shared a split-second gaze before making a break for the stairs. I followed, cursing the dress for slowing me down. By the time I made it downstairs, Adam and Ivy were staring at an electronic tablet. I approached with caution, ready to be rebuffed.

Neither one of them pushed me away.

Craning my head, I took in the website that held their attention. My brain couldn’t process the words on the page, because it was focused wholly and entirely on the picture.

Daniela Nicolae.

She was wearing a gray jumpsuit. Her hands were cuffed in front of her body. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her head was held high. Her stomach bulged against the fabric of the jumpsuit.

My mouth fell open as I processed that bulge.

The terrorist—the woman Walker Nolan had approached Ivy about, the one I suspected he might be involved with—was pregnant.

CHAPTER 20

This is coming out. As I stepped out of Adam’s car, Ivy’s words from earlier that week came back to me. My job is to make sure it doesn’t come out until after the polls close next Tuesday.