She Can Kill (She Can Series) (19 page)

Mike shrugged. “Who knows that you’re still alive?”

Cristan shrugged. “Everyone. I was a person of interest at the time. Once the police sorted out the identities of all the victims, they knew I was missing. Luckily, I’d gotten Lucia out of the country before that happened.”

“Did they think you were involved?”

“I was a suspect for a period of time, but charges were never filed. Franco had many enemies. Eventually, the police concluded that the scope of the massacre was too big for one man, and they focused their investigation on Franco’s competitors.”

“So you’re not wanted for murder in Argentina?”

“No,” Cristan said.

“Do you know where Maria Vargas is today?”

“The last time I conducted a discreet query, she was living on
the vineyard in Mendoza. Maria never had any interest in the family
business. To my knowledge, she hasn’t resurrected the enterprise.”

“But this Aline Barba, she is still active?”

“Yes. Very. Her organization absorbed many of Franco’s clients.”

“I’m going to need more information to investigate.”

“I have a dossier on both Maria and Aline, but I only have photos of Maria. Possibly there are pictures of Aline in some government database, but nothing I could hack into without triggering alarms.” Cristan paced. “If you start making legitimate inquiries, the dust trail your investigation kicks up will let everyone know exactly where we are.”

“It seems they already know,” Mike said.

“I can’t take that chance.”

“I’ll make a copy of Maria’s photo, I’ll check the local motels. She must be staying somewhere.” Mike tilted his head. “Also, I have a friend I’ve used for digital inquiries that require discretion. Would you have any objection to pulling him into this?”

“My daughter wishes to stay in this community,” Cristan said. “But if my identity is compromised, I won’t be able to stay here.”

“I’ll do my best,” Mike said. “You’re going to have to trust me. I’m not looking to ruin Lucia’s life.”

“Trusting people isn’t one of my skills.”

“Maybe you can learn from your daughter.” Mike set his coffee in the sink. “I don’t see where you have many options.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Sarah leaned on the door and watched the chestnut mare.

Cristan walked into the barn and stood next to her. “Some mares won’t foal while someone is watching.”

“Rachel’s worried about her.”

He went into the stall and walked a circle around the gentle mare as she chewed her hay. Smiling, he stroked a hand over the horse’s rounded belly. “She seems fine.”

“Where did you learn about horses?”

“My father-in-law bred polo ponies on his ranch.”

“I thought he . . .” Sarah searched for neutral words to say
sold illegal guns.
Lucia was in Snowman’s stall at the other end of the barn. She needed to hear the truth from her father’s lips. She went into the stall and rubbed Lady’s nose.

“Horses were his love. The other was his business,” Cristan said. “Franco was a hard man, and he did some terrible things, but he wasn’t all bad.” He paused, looking away as if afraid to see her response. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “I killed men, Sarah. Granted, none of them were innocent. They were all violent men, but taking a life leaves a stain on a man’s soul.”

“Then why did you do it?” Sarah asked, still trying to wrap her mind around all he’d told her. Try as she might, she couldn’t see the man she knew as cold-blooded. Killing for a very good reason, that she could imagine very clearly. He would fight for a cause or to defend loved ones. Cristan had a warrior’s nature. But she didn’t see him as a murderer.

“I was a boy when I went to live with Franco. What he gave me went beyond food and shelter. For the first time in many years, I belonged. At the time in my life, I would have done anything for that feeling, to not be alone.”

“It sounds like he manipulated you.”

“If Franco recruited mass numbers of orphans and turned them into his soldiers, I would agree with you. But he only took three of us, one at a time, over the years.”

“What happened to the others?” Sarah asked.

“They died in firefights before I joined the family.”

“That’s horrible.”

Cristan shrugged. “Back then, I would have willingly given my life for Franco. Before he took me in, I wasn’t really living.” He paused, his dark eyes meeting hers. “I don’t want to say I didn’t know any better back then because it sounds like an excuse. So I’ll say that I hadn’t yet learned to value life. I was young and very alone. Having people who cared about me felt like everything.”

As different as she and Cristan were, they had that in common. The very human need to love and be loved.

Sarah rested her forehead on the mare’s neck. “I felt the same
way when
I married Troy. My mother was mentally ill. My birth sent
her over the edge. Dad loved her more than he ever loved us. My sister
was five when I was born, and she practically raised me. When my
mother died, dad turned to alcohol. He couldn’t cope. No, he didn’t
want
to cope with my mom’s death. Rachel had left for the European show-jum
ping tour. So, it was me and Dad in that house.” She splayed her fingers on the horse’s neck, absorbing some of the mare’s tranquility. “When Troy said he loved me, I jumped at the chance to marry him. I don’t even think I knew what love was, but I wanted it so badly, I didn’t think. I said yes.”

“Is your father still living?”

“He is, but my mother’s life—and death—destroyed him. He loved her with his whole heart, and she wasn’t capable of loving him back. She took drugs. She cheated on him, and he let her. Over and over again.” Sarah shivered. “I used to stop and check on him twice a week, but this week I told him I couldn’t do it anymore. He can destroy himself, but I can’t watch. I feel relieved I don’t have to witness his daily decline and feel guilty for abandoning him. To make it worse, I feel guilty that I’m relieved.”

“I’m sorry.” He took her hand from the horse’s neck and interlaced their fingers. “Guilt and love shouldn’t go hand in hand, but they often seem to. Do you still love Troy?”

“No.” Sarah lifted her head. Troy had destroyed any feelings she’d had for him, but Cristan’s wife had died. She hadn’t betrayed their love. “Do you still miss your wife?”

“That’s not an easy answer. When Eva died, I was still very much in love with her, but I don’t know if she could have changed her ways or if the man I am now could have lived with her.” He lifted her chin with a finger. “Anyway, it’s time to move forward.”

“Lucia will want to hear all this.”

“And I’ll tell her most of the truth.” He stepped closer, his hand settling on her arm. “How about you? How do you feel about my lies? About my past?”

“I haven’t had much time to process what you said.” She
should
mind, and the fact that she didn’t gave her pause. One thing she did understand was regret. She wasn’t proud of the decisions she’d made when she’d been younger. “And frankly, when I’m with you, I have trouble considering the negatives to whatever is developing between us.”

“What
is
developing between us?”

“I don’t know.” But it was definitely
something
.

“Fair enough.” He dropped his hand.

She closed the gap between them. His news had surprised her. Her rational mind told her to be cautious, but she couldn’t hold his lie against him. “I’ve always sensed you were holding something back, but your revelation wasn’t quite what I’d expected.”

His dark eyes held hers. “I’m sorry.”

She studied his face. “If my girls were in danger, I’d do whatever it took to keep them safe. I don’t blame you for lying.”

“You are too forgiving. Definitely too good for a man like me.” Cristan touched her cheek.

“I’m hardly perfect.”

“I think you’re perfect.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I feel like I could taint you with my touch. I did some things I’m not proud of in my old life, but I don’t think of myself as that man anymore.”

“I understand,” she said. “I feel like an entirely different woman from the girl who married Troy. But I have children to consider. So I’m not making any decisions or promises.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. When he leaned in to kiss her, the brush of his lips to hers was featherlight. Her hand settled on the center of his chest, his heartbeat thudding under her palm. Desire simmered inside her. She knew whatever might happen between them would have to go on the back burner. Too many things were happening too quickly. But she wanted this man.

He pressed his forehead to her temple for two seconds before pulling away. “I wish it could be different. But there’s someone out there who doesn’t care if I’ve changed. Until I’ve dealt with my past, I can’t look forward to a future, and being with me could be dangerous. I won’t allow you or your girls to be caught in the crossfire.”

She nodded, dropping her hand. “The children come first.”

“That we have in common,” he said.

“It’s not all your fault.” She stepped back. “I have enough going on in my life too. I need to settle things with Troy before I can move on.”

His mouth twisted in a feral, almost cruel smile. “I could take care of Troy for you.”

“I want to be independent.”

“And I respect that.” With a nod, Cristan zipped up his jacket. He led the way out of Lady’s stall. Frowning, he stared down the aisle. “Do you think she’ll talk to me yet?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“It’s going to be a long night.” He took Sarah’s hand in his. “I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight. Thank you.”

It was going to be a long night for her as well. Sarah checked her messages. Her in-box was empty. She’d been trying to get Troy to stop calling and messaging her for days, but now that he had, she was even more worried.

Maybe he’d stopped harassing her. No. Troy would never give up so easily. If he hadn’t called her, there was a reason.

The woman removed the earpiece and tossed it on the table. Outside the long window of the rental home, moonlight brightened the river that ran behind the house. They’d missed the perfect opportunity to grab Luciana. The policeman had beaten her driver to the girl by a minute. Damn this small town and its tightknit community.

As if missing Luciana wasn’t enough, the audio transmitter she’d planted in Sarah Mitchell’s purse had picked up a telling discussion between Christopher and the pretty brunette. Christopher had told her everything. He’d trusted her with his secrets. Listening to tonight’s conversation, an icy ball of hate formed beneath her heart.

He thought he could put his past behind him and play house? He was in for a rude awakening. There was no way in hell she would allow Christopher to have a happily ever after. His future was painfully clear. She was going to squeeze an incredible amount of suffering into a short period of time.

Only three days remained until the anniversary. Closing her eyes, she let her predicament percolate, and an idea bubbled to the surface of her mind within minutes. She’d show Christopher that his past wasn’t going away. It was headed straight at him like a battering ram.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Cristan stopped in front of Snowman’s stall. Lucia was running a soft brush over the gelding’s flank.

“We’re not leaving. Not now, anyway,” he said.

She froze for a couple of seconds. Then the brush resumed its long strokes.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

She gave her horse a final pat and turned toward him. Her chin was up but her eyes were hurt as she shook her head. “Not really.”

“Fair enough.” Cristan wished he didn’t have to push the conversation. But it couldn’t wait. The past was hunting them. Lucia needed to know the risk. But how much detail would he give her about Eva? He’d loved his wife, but did their daughter need to know about her late mother’s dark side?

“But I guess we have to.” Lucia leaned on Snowman’s shoulder, her face distrustful. “So, tell me about my mother.”

She deserved to know the whole truth, but would she forgive him when she learned how much he’d been concealing?

Cristan told her the same story he’d given Sarah and Mike, minus the gory details of the carved letter
V
in the corpses and the fact that Eva had killed Aline’s son. Eva was gone. There was no point in tainting her memory further.

“Is there anything else I need to know?” Her question was blunt, but many more lingered in her eyes. Perhaps she couldn’t absorb any more information.

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I honestly didn’t know what else to do.”

“I don’t know how I feel about it.” But the hand holding the brush was clenched tightly enough to blanch her knuckles, and moisture shone from her eyes. She was barely keeping her emotions in check.

Relief eased the tension in Cristan’s chest. She might not have forgiven him, but she was talking to him. For now, that’s all he could expect.

“Wait.” Lucia straightened, as if she was still processing all the information he’d given her. “This means I have an aunt.”

“Yes.”

“Do I have any other family alive?”

“I suppose it’s possible there might be a few cousins floating around who weren’t at the ranch that day,” Cristan said. “If so, they could very well also be in hiding.”

“But the possibility means I might not be completely alone, right?” she asked.

“Right, but looking for them would give away our true identities. That would be a very dangerous proposition. The world you were born into wasn’t like this community.” He waved his hand at the stall door. “There was family love and loyalty, but also greed and violence. Even now, I don’t know if the family was betrayed that day.”

If he didn’t have a child to protect, Cristan wouldn’t be hiding from anyone. But he wouldn’t do anything to risk her life.

“But someday, in the future, we might learn the truth. Then I could look for my family.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But first we have to deal with the current threat. No more leaving the house without me. No more disarming the security system. No more leaving your phone behind.”

“OK.” She nodded, then her gaze leveled on his. “But only if you promise there will be no more lies.”

“No more lies.” He put his hand atop hers. Her return squeeze sent a shiver of guilt through him. He reasoned that the details he’d just kept from her weren’t truly lies, just gory details she didn’t need to know. But his gut said he would someday regret his omissions. But then, he had plenty of experience with regret.

There were defining moments in a man’s life. The last time Cristan saw his wife alive was one of them. Reliving his story over and over reminded him that he never had the chance to kiss her good-bye. Twelve years after her death, he still regretted that they’d fought and parted angry.

He’d been seated at the desk in the study of the Buenos Aires penthouse apartment that afternoon, working on an economics paper, when she’d resurrected their breakfast disagreement.

“Christopher, I’m serious. You need to be at the meeting this afternoon.” Eva sashayed across the room, her body showcased in a red summer dress and matching heels. His gaze drifted down her lush body. Despite the recent distance between them, she tried to wield her curves against him. But the tension between them had been building for eighteen months, and they’d both learned that a physical release was temporary. Once the sex was over, so was their truce. “I have to leave now. Don’t keep my father waiting long.” Her voice tightened. “Please?”

Saying no to Franco wasn’t an option.

“I’ll be along as soon as I finish this paper. It’s nearly complete.” But he would drag it out as long as possible, and she knew it.

Eva stopped behind his chair. Her hands settled on his shoulders. “I can only make excuses for a short time.”

“I know.” He rubbed her hand. “I’m sorry I put you in a difficult position.” He was truly sorry about many things. None of this was her fault. She was exactly the woman he’d married. He was the one who had changed.

“You don’t need a degree to work for my father. You are like a son to him. Papa appreciates your intelligence and versatility.”

Franco valued Christopher’s skill with a weapon even more.

Eva leaned over him and wound her arms around his neck. Her breasts pressed against his back, and her lips grazed his cheek. Her breath tickled his ear as she lowered her voice to a sultry octave. “He has a new horse to show you.”

“Now that is tempting,” he lied and turned back to his work. If they could get a fresh start, then maybe they could mend the rift between them. But at this moment, lust was no cure. “I do this for you and for Luciana.”

“Luciana doesn’t care if her father is educated. She knows that he adores her. That is enough for her.”

“I want her to be proud of her papa.” Someday, when he’d managed to take his family away from this lifestyle, he’d need to be able to support them. He’d tried to explain this to his wife before. She didn’t understand.

“You’re a smart man, Christopher.” Her breath fanned his jaw. “My father would not have brought you into his business if you weren’t. You don’t need a piece of paper to prove your worth.”

It did not take intelligence to ferret men out of their homes and drag them before Franco for their executions.

With a hot burst of anger, Christopher slid out of his wife’s arms, stood, and turned to face her. “What will I tell Luciana when she asks what her papa does for a living?”

“There is no shame in defending the family.” Eva bristled, her spine snapping straight as a ruler. Her red lipstick, seductive just a few minutes before, accentuated the hard line of her mouth. She paced to the window and back, her movements uncharacteristically jerky. “Papa wants us to move back onto the ranch. I don’t want to return to the country. I love living in the city.”

Her willingness to let go of their argument surprised him.

“I don’t want to go back to the ranch either.” Though Christopher missed the horses, moving back onto the Vargas family compound would put him under his father-in-law’s watchful eye and leave Christopher no more excuses—or opportunities. They would never escape.

A small worm of panic slithered through his belly. Eva’s father was a powerful man. On the surface, he bred horses, but the Vargas family had been selling illegal guns for generations.

“You know it’s important to me that
we
raise our daughter, not a nanny.” Christopher could not understand how Eva had returned to the business just a few weeks after giving birth. Did she not feel the pressure build behind her ribs every time she looked upon her child? Did Luciana’s trusting face not demand that Eva be a better person? Did she not desire a safe place to raise their child, far away from guns and violence and love weighted with the burden of familial obligation and oppression? Just because they both had been raised in unhealthy environments didn’t mean they couldn’t do better for their daughter.

“You can’t let being an orphan cloud your judgment.” Eva enunciated her words carefully, but bitterness tainted each one. “All members of the Vargas family must earn their keep.”

Christopher glanced around the four-bedroom Buenos Aires penthouse apartment they occupied. Like everything else in their world, the flat was owned by the Vargas family. Every luxury from the leather furniture to the floor-to-ceiling windows was paid for with Franco’s blood money. Years ago, as a starving youth, Christopher had been easily bought. An empty belly and a strong survival instinct were powerful motivators, and his moral compass had been formed by desperation. His daughter shouldn’t have to pay the price.

He needed more time. Time to plan. Time to convince his wife they needed a new life.

His gaze strayed to a photo on the wall. Two dark-haired young women smiled on horseback. Eva’s little sister, Maria, was a younger version of his wife. “He indulges your sister.”

“Maria is still in school, and we’ll see how long he continues that.” Like Eva, her sister had been sent to the United States to attend college, at the wish of Franco’s late wife, an American expat. But Maria was not as focused as Eva had been in school. The younger Vargas sister showed more interest in the wine and vineyards that surrounded her California college than the family business. “She should have finished her schooling last year. My father values education, but he does not appreciate the waste of his time or money. He tried to bring her home for today’s meeting, but she convinced him to let her finish out the semester.”

So Maria would soon be dragged back into the family web, and once mired, attempting to escape was hazardous.

“Don’t you ever want a different life?” he asked. He thought of the illegal passports he’d purchased. He didn’t dare tell Eva. In fact, he should burn them before their existence destroyed them both. If Franco found out Christopher had gone behind his back, no one would ever find his body. “I want Luciana to have freedom.”

Her spine weakened and her hands fell to curl into deceptively delicate fists at her sides. She lowered her voice, as if her father could hear their discussion from his ranch seventy kilometers outside the city. “Even if Papa agreed, which he would not do, there are other threats to consider. Here, we have Papa’s protection. On our own, we’d have to stay in hiding. It wouldn’t be much of a life. Aline will never stop trying to kill me. Being with me would put you both in danger.”

The bluntness of her statement knocked sense into Christopher. Aline Barba, the head of a rival Brazilian arms dealer, had sworn death to the whole Vargas family, but Eva bore the brunt of her hatred. Eva would never be safe outside the protection of the family compounds.

But still, Christopher wanted more for his child. Luciana deserved choices. She deserved gentleness and beauty. She deserved a life untouched by violence. The Vargas family used loyalty and control interchangeably. Franco would show Christopher’s beautiful baby that a powerful empire required ruthless rule. The thought that Franco would teach her to disregard and even take human life made Christopher’s chest burn until it felt as if his heart would burst into flames.

A baby’s cry drifted from the hallway.

“We’ve woken her.” Christopher walked out of the room. He stepped into the pink-and-white nursery. At the sight of his child, he left his frustration and fear at the door. Luciana stood in her crib, tiny fists clutching the rail, tears streaming down her red cheeks.

“I’m sorry we woke you, my princess.”

“Papa.” On chubby legs, she bounced on the mattress. She would need to move out of her crib soon. Sadness enveloped him as he realized her babyhood was nearly behind her. Tiny arms stretched in his direction. “Up.”

“You are a smart girl.” Lifting her into his arms, he soothed her ragged breaths and hiccups, pressing her to his shoulder and rubbing her back. Once she calmed, he changed her diaper and carried her into the living room.

Eva’s posture softened, and she walked closer to stroke the baby’s cheek. “I will tell my father you were delayed by Luciana. He might not understand your motivations, but he loves his granddaughter.” She leaned in to kiss the baby on the head. “And
abuelo
knows how cranky you can be if you haven’t had your nap, little one.” She turned back to Christopher and gave him a hard nod. “No matter what happens, remember that I have our best interests at heart, and that I love you.”

She turned her back on them and left the apartment. The door closed behind her. He tried to shut off the memory, but the reel continued into a haze of machine-gun fire, screams, and blood. In the center of the carnage, Eva lay on the terra-cotta tiles, her red sundress soaked with blood. He reached for her, his fingers splaying on the Sun of May tattoo in the center of her back, her flesh still warm under his palm.