She Can Kill Page 25

  Sarah walked forward. The frigid water closed over her ankles and soaked her pajama bottoms from the knee down as she splashed to the boat and climbed in. The boat rocked as the woman jumped aboard. Still pointing the gun at Lucia, the woman moved to the back of the boat. She lifted the throttle, started the motor, and turned out onto the river. The boat shifted under Sarah’s feet. She grabbed Lucia and pushed her down to keep her from falling overboard. The river water in March was cold enough to kill.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “Lucia! Sarah!” Cristan yelled. No one answered. There was no sign of his daughter or Sarah on the lawn, but he knew he’d heard Sarah outside calling for Lucia. Fear fueled his steps as he raced for the side of the house. Turning the corner, he saw three figures on the riverbank: Lucia, Sarah, and a third slim figure climbed into a boat that bobbed on the water.

  “Stop!” Cristan raced toward the river as the boat sped away. The glow of the white hull faded into the dark. Lungs heaving, he stopped on the bank. The third person had forced Sarah into the boat, but it had appeared as if Lucia had gotten in on her own. Spying a cell phone on the grass, he picked it up, tucked it into his pocket, and raced toward the boathouse.

  As he threw open the door, he dialed Mike on his own cell phone. “Sarah and Lucia were taken away by boat.”

  “What? How?”

  “I don’t know.” Cristan leaped up the steps into the small building. “The house wasn’t broken into. Lucia must have turned off the alarm and gone outside.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Cristan turned on the hydraulic lift. The boat lowered onto the water. The process only took a few minutes, but it felt much longer. Cristan needed to move. Tomorrow was the anniversary of the massacre, and his instincts screamed that the date was a countdown.

  “I’ll get the marine police and sheriff boats out looking for them,” Mike said. “Can you describe the boat?”

  “Outboard. Open hull. Approximately fifteen to twenty feet in length.” Cristan hadn’t seen many details in the darkness. “The exterior was light colored, probably fiberglass, and it appeared to be fairly new.”

  “Got it. Let me call the sheriff now.”

  “Thank you.” Cristan climbed into his boat. He pressed the button to raise the door onto the river and primed the engine. Thanks to a recent pre-spring tune-up, the outboard revved to life. He’d lost valuable time. If the skiff kept straight on the river, his larger, faster boat should be able to catch up.

  “Is that an engine? What are you doing?” Mike asked.

  “I’m going after them on the water.”

  Mike paused. “I’ll call you back.”

  “Thanks.” Cristan piloted his boat out of the building. He pulled Lucia’s cell phone out of his pocket. He punched in the passcode and opened her last messages. His lungs shut down as he viewed the photo. Even as he stared at the woman’s face, his mind claimed the image was impossible. Eva.

  It couldn’t be.

  He blinked hard and focused again. No question. It was Eva. His heart stuttered. How? He’d touched her dead body. He’d read the death certificate. The medical examiner had verified her identity with DNA tests. But the ultimate evidence was right in front of him.

  His wife was alive. Relief and joy and fear raced through him in rapid succession.

  The phone vibrated. Mike. “Does Sarah have her phone? I’ll trace the GPS.”

  “I don’t know,” Cristan said. “But I know who has Lucia. My dead wife.” And he knew where they were going. “Call Sean,” he shouted over the sound of the engine. “Tell him it’s the riverfront property.”

  He turned the boat onto the open water and eased the throttle forward. The bow lifted as the craft accelerated, then the nose dropped as the boat planed out. The rumble of the engine drowned out any possible response from Mike. But all that mattered now was catching up with Eva.

  Cristan’s mind reeled with questions that went far beyond wondering how his wife could possibly be alive when he’d seen her dead body. Where had she been for twelve years, and why was she here? And more importantly, why had she kidnapped Lucia and Sarah?

  The boat flew across the whitecap-dotted river. The hull slapped on the chop, each return to the surface a bone-charring jolt. Cristan gripped the wheel and spread his feet for balance. He had to catch them. With no jacket, the wind should have been cold, but Cristan was numb. His dead wife was alive. His child had been taken.

  He’d been worried about a confrontation with Maria, but now his concern had exploded exponentially. Eva was a different level of antagonist. She wouldn’t intentionally hurt her own child, but Eva was impulsive, and she had no attachment to Sarah. He had no idea where she’d been all this time or what had happened to her. Too many questions and not enough answers.

  He knew only one thing for certain. His wife was a killer. She hadn’t contacted him to see Lucia. Eva had hired men to kill him. Both Lucia and Sarah were in grave danger. He rounded a bend in the river. Ahead, he could see the faint glow of a light hull. The boat arced to the right. He eased the throttle back to slow the boat. Had she seen him?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The sound of an engine floated across the water. Holding the wheel, Eva glanced over her shoulder. Moonlight danced on the V-shaped wake of her boat, but she couldn’t see far enough to get a visual on the boat following them. Sound carried farther over the water than on land. Whoever it was had his running lights off. Like she did. It must be Christopher. How close was he?

  She pushed the throttle forward. She wanted to reach the dock before Christopher saw where she stopped.

  “Does he have a boat?” she shouted to her daughter, but the girl didn’t answer. Instead, the child shivered on the bottom of the boat with that other woman. What had Christopher done to the child to make her so weak? Likely, he’d pampered and coddled her like he had when she was an infant. Eva reached behind her and grasped the girl’s arm, hauling her closer. Christopher’s young plaything, Sarah Mitchell, reached for Luciana, and Eva kicked her away. Her boot struck Sarah in the shoulder. She spun around and fell to the decking on her hands and knees, an appropriate position for an inferior.

  Eva yelled into Luciana’s ear. But the girl recoiled in fear and tried to push Eva away. Christopher must have poisoned the child against her own mother.

  The bastard.

  Why should that have surprised her? He’d betrayed her entire family. Twenty-seven members of the Vargas clan were dead because of Christopher’s traitorous act all those years ago. She’d kindled her hatred for more than a decade, and it flared to life as Eva looked at the woman kneeling in the stern, the whore who was sleeping with her husband. The whore was used to being beaten. Eva had heard the altercation between Sarah and her ex-husband. Sarah knew to stay down when she’d been put there.

  I’ll get even with him—and her.

  Soon. Very soon, Christopher would get what was coming to him.

  Looking for the right dock, Eva slowed the boat. She spotted the swaying lantern her lieutenant was waving at the end of the pier.

  The boat bobbled on a wave, and Luciana grabbed a handrail to stay on her feet. The wind whipped her dark hair around her face. Pride surged as Eva noted the Vargas cheekbones and long, lean body. Whatever failings Christopher had ingrained into the child could be corrected. She was still young, still malleable. A few years with Eva would teach her what it meant to be a Vargas.

  “Where are we?” Luciana asked, looking behind them. Except for a silver ribbon of moonlight, the water stretched endless and black behind their boat. There was no sign of their pursuer, but the engine behind them sounded closer.

  Straightening the wheel, Eva took her chin in her hand. “Don’t worry. He won’t take you from me again. I’ll see to it.”

  “What are you going to do to him?” Luciana shouted.

/>   Eva pulled back on the throttle. The boat slowed. The wet rumble of the engine lessened. “What he deserves.”

  “You can’t hurt him,” the child said.

  “I will do what I must, and you will do what you are told.” Eva steered the boat toward Nicolas.

  “Promise me you won’t hurt my dad.” Luciana crossed her arm. “And Sarah too. I won’t go with you if you don’t promise.”

  The cold air chilled Eva’s teeth as she smiled. “It is not up to you.”

  Luciana turned to the dock. Her eyes widened as she saw her lieutenant standing on the edge. The lantern lighted him from below, making him seem larger and more intimidating. The child lunged forward, turned the wheel sharply, and shoved the throttle. The boat accelerated in a tight half circle and ran up against its own wake. The world swayed sideways as the craft banked hard. Eva went to her knees, sliding on the tilted deck. Scrambling for the console, she grabbed the wheel with both hands and fought to keep the boat from capsizing. A swell hit the boat on its starboard side, nearly flipping it over. Water sloshed over the gunwale. Eva turned into the wave. The bow rose into the air, topped the crest, then dove for the river nose first. She pulled the throttle back, and the craft leveled.

  Panic scrambled in her throat as she scanned the deck. “Luciana,” she called, her voice breaking with fear.

  Sarah clung to a handrail. Staggering and sliding to her feet on the wet fiberglass, she lurched to the side of the boat. Raising an arm, she pointed out over the water. “There!”

  Eva grabbed a flashlight from the deck box and played the beam out over the river, but Luciana had disappeared.

  The flashlight illuminated a trail of bubbles. Sarah didn’t think. Taking two running steps, she grabbed a life vest from a net strung along the stern, put a foot on the side of the boat, and jumped overboard. The icy water closed over her head in a shocking wave of cold that threatened to stop her heart.

  How long could she remain conscious?

  She floundered with numb limbs toward the bubble trail. Ducking under the water, she felt hair and grabbed a handful. Pulling hard, she brought Lucia’s head above the surface. The light cast a white sheen onto the girl’s face. Was she breathing? Her eyes opened and she coughed. Relief almost made Sarah giddy. Lightheaded, she rolled onto her back and hugged Lucia and the life vest. The shoreline was closer than the boat. She kicked toward the man standing on the dock. Getting Lucia out of the water trumped any fears for their safety. She prayed that Eva didn’t want to harm her own child. Lucia clung to Sarah and gagged. Sarah rolled her onto her side. Water spewed from her mouth.

  The man leaned down and hauled Lucia from the water onto the dock. Sarah hugged a piling, unable to climb the wooden rungs with half-frozen limbs. Tossing his coat over Lucia, the man reached down, grasped Sarah’s hand, and plucked her from the water as if she were a drowning kitten. He dropped her on the dock and turned back to the child. Lucia’s body was wracked with violent shivers.

  Something smacked against the dock. Eva jumped from the boat and fastened lines to cleats on the bow and stern. She dropped to her knees on the other side of Lucia. A stream of rapid Spanish flowed from her lips. Sarah didn’t understand the words, but the anger in them was clear. Sarah’s body shook so violently, it seemed as if it didn’t fully belong to her. Surely, her bones would rattle loose of her skeleton.

  Eva issued a command in Spanish. The man got to his feet with Lucia in his arms and carried her toward a house. Eva grabbed Sarah by the elbow and pulled her to her feet. “Move.”

  Sarah stumbled behind them, tripping over hands and feet she couldn’t feel. She was beyond feeling cold. Exhaustion slid over her like a blanket. She wanted to lie down on the ground, curl into a ball, and go to sleep.

  “Hurry!” Eva commanded, half dragging Sarah.

  The back of a large house loomed dark over the yard. Unable to walk another step, she fell onto her hands and knees on the damp grass. She curled onto her side and shivered. “Where is Lucia?” Her words shook so hard they were barely intelligible.

  “Her name is Luciana,” Eva whirled. “And she is mine. Not yours.”

  Sarah’s teeth chattered too hard to form the words on the tip of her tongue. Then why didn’t you jump into the water to save her?

  Eva leaned closer. She grabbed Sarah’s wet hair and yanked her face off the ground. “I know what you’re thinking. You pulled Luciana out of the water. Therefore, I should owe you.” She laughed. “That’s not the way I think. Moral debts are for fools. I could kill you as easily as I might stomp on a spider. The only reason you’re still alive is in case I need to use you for leverage. Unlike me, Christopher has always been weak, and I am willing to use his code of ethics against him.” She said the word ethics with disgust.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Cristan’s heartbeat froze as he watched Sarah tow Lucia to the dock. A burly man hauled them both out of the water. Cristan recognized him from across fifty feet of river in the dark: Nicolas.

  Franco’s right-hand man. How had he escaped the massacre? Cristan thought back to that afternoon. He hadn’t seen Nicolas at the house. He’d assumed Franco’s head of security had been present. Obviously, he’d been wrong. But Eva . . .

  How could she be alive? He’d touched her lifeless body. Her injuries had been too severe for anyone to survive. There was no way he’d imagined that. Not even in a state of shock would he have conjured up an image of his wife’s bullet-ridden body.

  “Stop!” Lucia’s voice carried over the water, bringing him out of his thoughts.

  He cruised his boat to the dock. With a quick leap, he landed on the boards, abandoning the vessel. He raced across the grass, gun in hand. Sarah was on the ground, pale, soaking wet and shivering. Eva held her by the hair.

  Cristan aimed his gun at his wife. “Eva!”

  She released Sarah and stood tall. Disdain creased her face. “You can’t shoot me.”

  Cristan stared at her. She was right. This close, the light on the back of the house illuminated the strong line of her jaw, and snug winter apparel highlighted the lush body he’d made love to a thousand times. He stared, unable to process the sight of her in front of him. “How? I touched you. I saw you. You were dead.”

  “Disappointed?” Eva asked.

  “God. No. I don’t understand.” Confusion filled him.

  She pulled a gun from her jacket and pointed it at Sarah. “You killed my family. I should take away someone that you care about. Drop the gun or I will shoot her right now.” Her eyes went ice-cold in the space of a heartbeat. Her face and body weren’t the only things that hadn’t changed much about his wife. She was still very much a killer, and he had no doubt she would pull that trigger.

  His eyes locked with Sarah’s. He couldn’t risk her life.

  “I did nothing. The Vargases were like my own family.” The weapon slipped from Cristan’s grip and hit the grass. In the corner of his eye, he saw Nicolas turn to face him. Lucia was in his arms, wrapped in what appeared to be his coat.

  “Liar,” Eva spat.

  “Me a liar? What about you? You let me believe you were dead for twelve years!” Fury and frustration curled Cristan’s hands into fists. The truth suddenly dawned on him. If Eva was alive, then someone else had died, because Cristan had not imagined that scene in the ranch dining room. “Who is the woman who died in the explosion, Eva? How did she look exactly like you?”

  And what else had Eva been hiding all those years ago?

  Ahead of them, Nicolas turned. “The child is cold. Let’s take this discussion inside.” He went into the house.

  Pressing the gun against Sarah’s temple, Eva grabbed her elbow and hauled her upright. She nodded toward the door. Cristan led the way through a tile-floored mudroom into a two-story great room decorated in leather and hardwoods. Nicolas set Lucia on a couch perpendicular to the firepla
ce. With a remote control, he ignited the gas jets and covered the child in a heavy comforter. Cristan had to get his daughter away from Eva, but at the moment, his greatest fear was for Sarah. Lucia was the only person on Earth that Eva wouldn’t harm.

  Behind him, Eva dragged Sarah across the room and dropped her next to the couch. Sarah sagged. Sopping wet, her heavy sweatshirt weighed her down. The overhead lamp highlighted her cold-blue lips and fingertips.

  “She needs to get out of those wet clothes,” Cristan said.

  “Don’t worry about her.” Eva gestured. “She’s not going to need anything soon.”

  Eva and Nicolas were alive. They’d hidden for twelve years only to risk exposure to kill him. What had he done except save Lucia?

  “Why do you think I killed your family? I loved them all. They were the only family I had. There were children there, Eva. I would never harm a child. You know that.”

  Doubt softened Eva’s features for two seconds, then her mouth tightened again. “You wanted out of the business. You were conveniently late to the meeting. You stole money. You ran. That’s enough evidence for me.”

  “I took the money to take our child to a safe place.” He had to convince her. “It wasn’t planned. I didn’t know what else to do. If the situation had been reversed, I would have wanted you to save Lucia at all costs.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Eva moved the gun to point at the center of Sarah’s chest.

  “No!” Lucia launched her body from under the quilt, hitting Eva’s arm and knocking the gun from her grip. Eva fell backward, her head struck the edge of the coffee table, and she went still.

  Nicolas charged. He hit Cristan in the midsection, his heavy body taking them both to the floor. Cristan landed on the bottom, pinned. He trapped an ankle with his own foot and bridged over his shoulder, flipping Nicolas onto his back. The older man scrambled to his feet with surprising speed and agility. He drew a knife from a sheath on his belt.