She Can Kill (She Can Series) (25 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Sarah stared at the four armed people pointing guns at them. A bleached blond in her late forties stepped forward.

Were those machine guns? She’d never seen one up close. And who was this woman?

“Isn’t this cozy?” the blond woman said in a thick accent. She grinned at them, then her gaze shifted to Eva, who had managed to bring her legs through her arms and stand. Her hands were still bound, but now they were tied in front of her body.

“Thank you, Eva. You’ve made my job so much easier,” the blond said.

“Aline,” Eva breathed. “How did
you
find him?”

Aline? The Brazilian arms dealer? She was here too?

“I wasn’t looking for
him
.” Aline nodded at Cristan. “I followed you.
You
found Christopher for me.” She squinted at Lucia. “I know who you are.” Her smile widened. “I can’t believe how perfectly this day has turned out.”

“But I was dead,” Eva said.

Aline dipped her chin. “Oh, please. You’ll do anything to survive, and you’re too mean to die that easily. I was there that day. I wanted to see you die. You killed my son. I was going to spit on your dead body. I saw you leave in the helicopter. Though, you did a fine job of faking your death.”

Inch by inch, Cristan shifted his position until his body blocked Sarah and Lucia.

“Christopher, stop moving,” Aline said without moving her eyes. “Get the child,” she ordered her men. One walked forward and grabbed Lucia’s arm.

“No,” Lucia cried. The girl sagged, resisting with her body weight. Sarah and Cristan both reached for her.

“Ah ah ah.” Aline shifted her aim to Lucia. “No one else moves.”

Sarah froze. Inside her still body, her heart raced as she scrambled for a plan.

Next to her, Cristan’s body trembled with rage. The tendons in his neck bulged.

“Grab him,” Aline ordered.

The remaining two men took Cristan’s arms, heaved him to his feet, and dragged him backward to the other side of the room and held him between them by his biceps.

The third man shoved Lucia in front of Aline. The teen fell to her knees. Her face lifted. Tears streaked her cheeks, and terror widened her eyes until they were completely rimmed in white. Her breaths came in short pants.

“I knew if I followed you long enough, you’d lead me to your child. I can’t think of a more appropriate punishment than to take your only child from you the same way you took mine.”

“You killed my whole family. Isn’t that enough?” Eva cried.

“No.” Aline pursed her lips. “Tell me? How does it feel to be betrayed by the one who is supposed to have your back?”

From across the room, Eva’s body trembled.

Aline pointed the gun at Lucia’s chest. “Isn’t this how you shot my son? Two bullets dead center in his chest. Isn’t that your calling card, Eva?”

Fear accelerated Sarah’s pulse. This woman was going to shoot Lucia. Her eyes glowed with the hungry desire to kill.

“I have waited a long time to avenge my son’s death.” She settled the weapon on her shoulder. Her finger curled around the trigger. “He was barely a man. He had his whole life ahead of him.”

Raising her bound fists overhead like a club, Eva dove at Aline.

Sarah launched her body at Lucia, tackling the child to the floor as the gunshot rang in the room. She covered the teen’s head with one arm. The other refused to move. A burning sensation exploded in her shoulder.

“
No!” Cristan simultaneously back-fisted each man in the groin. Bending forward in pain, they released his upper arms. He grabbed a machine gun and struck its owner in the head with the butt, then swung around to shoot the other man in the chest. Backing up, he fired a three-shot burst into the second man’s chest, and continued his spin to kill the last man.

The door stood open. Eva and Aline were both gone.

Terror clutched Cristan’s heart as he knelt next to Sarah and Lucia. Sarah was on top, her body shielding his daughter. A dark-red stain spread across her back and arm. He slid her off of Lucia. His daughter’s eyes were glassy, her breathing quick and shallow.

He pressed a hand to her throat. Her pulse beat a rapid tattoo against his fingertips. He ran his hands over her body. “Are you shot?”

She shook her head and swallowed. “Sarah.”

At the sound of her name, Sarah stirred. She rolled to her side. “Ow.”

“It’s OK.” He searched Sarah’s body for more wounds but found none. He snatched his knife from the floor and used it to slit her sweatshirt down the back. A single shot had struck her high on the shoulder. He tore her T-shirt, and she flinched. The bullet had grazed her deltoid muscle. He staunched the bleeding with a piece of the torn shirt.

Lucia knelt next to him. “How badly is she hurt?”

Sarah’s eyes dimmed with pain.

“It’s bleeding heavily, but the wound is shallow. She should be all right.” Cristan leaned closer. “This is going to hurt.”

Her eyes closed and her mouth tightened. Cristan applied pressure to the wound, and she groaned. Her wound didn’t appear life threatening, but he would rather take a bullet in his own body than listen to her sounds of pain.

“We need to call for help,” he said to Lucia. “My phone had no service. Can you see if the landline works?”

“No need. The calvary is here.” Sean jogged through the open door.

“You’re a little late,” Cristan said, relief sweeping through him.

“The directions sucked.” Sean checked each of the downed men then dropped to a knee beside Sarah. “Ambulance is on the way.” He checked Lucia’s eyes. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, leaning on Cristan’s shoulder.

“Where’s Mike?” Cristan asked.

Sean removed his jacket and wrapped it around Lucia’s shoulders. “Outside. He caught some crazy-ass blond chick with a machine gun running toward the woods.”

“You caught Aline,” Cristan said.

“If that’s her name. Mike’s got the bitch outside.” Sean glanced at Lucia. “Sorry.”

“Was there another woman? One with long, dark hair?” Lucia asked.

Sean tilted his head. “No. Should there be?”

Eva had escaped.

It was morning before Cristan could bring Sarah and Lucia home from the ER. Sarah leaned on him as he half carried her to the guest bedroom of his house.

“I can only stay tonight,” she said. “The girls will need me tomorrow.”

“Mm.” Cristan made a noncommittal noise. He would keep her here as long as he could. Her girls were welcome too. “Do you need a pill?”

“Yes.” Sarah eased onto the bed. “Normally, I don’t like pain medications. But I have no desire to be stoic right now.”

“Nor should you be.” He crouched and removed her socks.

A shiver ripped through her. Her feet were freezing. He rubbed them between his palms and wrapped his hand around her toes. Dry clothes and warm blankets in the ER clearly hadn’t been enough. “Let’s get you under the covers.”

She curled on her side. Rachel had brought yoga pants and a sweater to the hospital. Sarah’s shoulder had been stitched. She and Lucia had been treated for hypothermia and released. Cristan had even submitted to a dozen stitches in his side where Nicolas’s knife had landed.

“Do you need anything, Sarah?” Lucia said from the doorway. She’d changed into pink, plaid flannel pajamas that made her seem younger than thirteen. His heart and stomach somersaulted. If it hadn’t been for Sarah, he might have lost his child last night. He wanted to gather them both close and never let them go.

“Would you fetch her a glass of water?” Cristan asked. With a nod, Lucia left.

“I meant it when I said I was going home tomorrow.” Sarah nestled into the pillow. Her face relaxed as he tucked her in.

“We’ll talk about that tomorrow.” Cristan planted a kiss on her forehead. “I almost lost you last night. I won’t let that happen again. Eva is still out there. I won’t take my eyes off you or Lucia again until she’s caught.”

“Do you really think she’ll be back?”

“She doesn’t like to leave business unfinished.” He tugged the comforter up over her shoulder. “If she comes back, I’ll be waiting for her.” He couldn’t imagine she’d still be in the area any more than he could picture the authorities finding her. Eva was a most resourceful woman. “But I doubt she’d come back with all the police presence.” There was a patrol car parked in the driveway. Eva had waited twelve years. She was obviously very patient. If the police didn’t catch her, and Cristan wasn’t hopeful, he might have to reconsider the promise he’d made Mike earlier.

“You’re not tempted to go after her?”

“I admit I thought about it.” He grimaced. “Mike and Sean talked me out of it.” The pair had something planned. He was sure of it. But there was a statewide manhunt in progress. The FBI had been called in, plus other agencies with equally impressive acronyms. Cristan couldn’t add anything of value to that amount of manpower. And he might trust Mike not to betray him, but he didn’t trust anyone to protect the ones he loved. If Eva did show up, Cristan would be here to deal with her.

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

“I believe Mike has something up his sleeve.”

“You can trust Mike.”

“I hope so.” Cristan had placed all his bets with the cop, something he couldn’t have done a week ago. This week had been full of firsts. He smoothed a hair off Sarah’s forehead.

The police had found a GPS device hidden in the fender of Cristan’s Mercedes. The device had allowed Eva to track his movements without taking the risk of being seen.

He still couldn’t believe that Eva thought he’d betrayed her. He would never have left her unless he thought she was dead, and the fact that she’d so easily been convinced he was a traitor was a fresh wound as painful as the row of stitches across his ribs.

Lucia returned with a glass of water. “It’s room temperature. I didn’t think you’d want it to be cold.”

“Good thinking. Thank you.” Sarah lifted her torso and swallowed two pain pills.

“Do you need anything else?” Lucia asked. Her eyes were haunted and her face pale. Despite the youth in her features, her eyes looked as if she’d become an adult in the course of one night.

“Would you mind sleeping in here with me?” Sarah asked. “I don’t think I want to be alone.”

She knew exactly how Lucia felt. Could he find a better woman? No. Not in this lifetime.

“Me either.” Lucia smiled as she rounded the bed and got in on the other side.

“Don’t worry.” Cristan carried an upholstered chair into the room and set it by the nightstand. “I’m not leaving either one of you alone.”

“Troy is out there too,” Sarah mumbled in a sleepy voice.

Cristan knew exactly how he’d deal with her ex if he dared show up anywhere near Sarah.

Troy was still on the loose, and Eva had escaped. But they’d deal with that tomorrow. They were all alive, and that’s all that mattered.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Late the next night, Cristan nursed a cup of coffee. Sarah and Lucia slept upstairs. He’d talked Sarah out of leaving just yet. Though he had taken her to see her girls at Sean’s house. Hugging her kids and pretending to be fine had taken its toll. When they’d returned, she’d taken a pill and gone directly to bed. Lucia went with her. His daughter couldn’t sleep unless she was with one of them.

He rubbed his aching eyelids. Not sleeping was taking its toll on him as well. He could only survive on coffee for a short period of time. Sean had come to the house that morning and kept watch so he could get a few hours of sleep. Mike was tied up trying to find Troy and Eva.

A sound out back roused him. He jumped to his feet and went to the window, peering around the frame. A figure stood ten feet from the patio door.

Eva.

She held her hands at shoulder height, palms facing him, in a traditional pose of surrender. Meeting his gaze through the glass, she slowly lowered her hands and removed her jacket. Tossing it over a patio chair, she lifted the hem of her fitted T-shirt and pivoted in a slow circle. Then she raised each pant leg of her jeans. No weapons.

Shocked, but also curious, Cristan pulled a Glock from the wine rack. Covering her, he opened the door. A quick visual sweep revealed an empty patio and yard. Below, the river flowed in a black ribbon. No moonlight tonight to brighten its surface.

He closed the door behind him. “What do you want?”

“To say good-bye.”

“I could call the policeman sitting out front.”

“You could,” she said.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Cristan searched his heart for any sign of the love he once felt for this woman but found none. She was a stranger.

“No.”

“Good,” Cristan said. “He’s a good man. Now why are you here? And why shouldn’t I kill you right now?”

She tilted her head, as if unable to make sense of his statement. “I wanted to set things right between us before I left. To tell you what happened that day.”

“I’m listening.”

With a leaden heart, Eva tucked her purse under her arm and left the apartment. Closing the door felt final. She leaned against the corridor wall for a moment. Though she’d be seeing Christopher and Luciana again shortly, it would be for their last meeting for an unforeseen length of time. If her plan came to fruition, she’d never return to the apartment. Christopher would think her dead, and she didn’t know how long it would be before it would be safe for her to contact him.

Her plan had to work. She was losing him. He was slipping away from her. She felt his absence in the pit of her belly. Luciana’s birth had changed everything. Eva knew with absolute certainty that he loved her, but there had always been an aloofness about him, a part of him she could never touch. The only time she’d seen him truly engaged was with his child. When Luciana had taken her first breath, Christopher had come to life. And he wanted to make a new one—far away from the danger that hovered over the Vargas family every moment of every day.

For him, the decision was simple. They should disappear. As an orphan, Christopher’s only blood relative was the child.

But for Eva . . .

How could she turn her back on her family?

The thought of leaving everything behind and starting new was both exciting and terrifying. She couldn’t simply ask to be released from her obligations. It wasn’t possible for a Vargas to walk away. Her father would see her wish to exit the family as a betrayal. The Vargas business had provided for her since the moment of her birth. Franco had always been an attentive father, but losing her mother to violence had hardened him, made him even more determined to best their number one enemy, Aline Barba. Any softness her father had possessed had died with his wife’s kidnapping and murder. Although he lacked proof, he was sure Aline had been behind the crime. The desire for revenge had darkened his soul.

Eva took the elevator to the parking garage.

Climbing into her Mercedes, she tossed her purse on the passenger seat. Before Luciana was born, she and Christopher always made the drive out to the ranch together. But no more. Now they did everything separately. Pulling out into the crush of Buenos Aires traffic, she turned her attention to her task. Driving in the city required aggressive maneuvering and complete focus. Stoplights and road signs were mere suggestions to most Buenos Aires drivers. Once she’d left the city behind, she relaxed. For the next thirty minutes, she could pretend her life wasn’t about to change forever.

That she hadn’t made a life-altering decision.

All that was left was prayer.
Christopher, forgive me
. Would he understand? Sharing the plan with him wasn’t an option. He’d never agree to the risk she was going to take. But there was only one way to escape the Vargas family: death.

Everyone, including Christopher, must think hers was real.

The drive ended too soon. She turned onto the long driveway, her tires grating as she left pavement for dirt. She stopped the car just inside the gates. The guards checked her vehicle’s interior. She opened the trunk and they looked inside.

The family had experienced many acts of violence. Since her mother’s abduction and murder, care was taken to ensure the ranch was safe. Large family gatherings were arranged with little lead time to give enemies less opportunity to plan an attack.

Perspiration gathered beneath her dress. She parked in front of the
estancia
and, ignoring the armed guard, went through the mahogany door.

“Papa.” She greeted her father with a kiss and embrace, trying not to think that this would be the last time she’d see him.

His face glowed. “Eva.”

He was a big man with an imposing frame. Even at sixty, his black
hair held little gray and his shoulders refused to stoop. Guilt weighted Eva’s steps. After today, grief would once again crease his features. But that couldn’t be helped. It was Papa’s own fault. He held the reins on his daughter too tightly. He was making her choose between him and the man she loved. Christopher would be devastated too. But she
could not share her scheme with him either. He must play the grieving widower. As soon as possible, she’d contact him. Franco would allow him space to grieve. There would be no pressure to rejoin the business
for a while. Franco would not object if Christopher wanted to take her child away to heal, and then they could vanish.

“Am I the last to arrive?” she asked in Spanish.

“But you are the most important. The others can wait.” He looked over her shoulder. Disappointment and irritation tightened his jaw. “Where is Christopher?”

Eva smiled. “He will be late. Luciana was napping.”

Her father frowned. “Luciana should have a nanny.”

“I’m working on it, Papa. Christopher is enamored with his child. Surely, you can understand?”

Franco sighed. “And if I say no, you take offense?”

“Exactly, Papa.” She patted his arm. “Have no worry. Christopher will be here soo
n. I made sure to tell him your new horse was coming today.”

“You were always a clever one. I want to finish up the business discussion so I can give the beast a try.” The prospect of a new polo mount brightened his mood and put a bounce in his step. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the dining room. She nodded to the burly man who stood guard at the entrance. Nicolas was her father’s most trusted man. He’d been employed by the Vargas family since before Eva was born. He’d been her ally her entire life.

Now he was her only confidant.

As usual, Eva was the only female in the room, but that did not worry her. Denied sons, Franco had responded in a practical manner. Instead of allowing a male cousin to take over the Vargas enterprises, he’d groomed his daughters for the role. Eva took the chair at his right. The chair to Papa’s left was empty, to remind all that the seat was not for them to fill. Her younger sister, Maria, would take that place when the time came.

Maria would sit at this table sooner than she expected—or wanted, thought Eva. Guilt flickered. Her sister wanted no part of the business.

Eva sat, the high-backed chair hard under her thighs. Resting her forearms on the rustic table, she waited for the meeting to begin. Franco sent Nicolas to the cellar to retrieve a sample of their latest ammunition delivery. The family discussed the details of several impending deals. Eva grew restless. Just a few more hours before her world turned upside down. Before she took a step from which there was no retreating.

The ceiling exploded. Debris rained onto the table. The double doors burst open. Four men steamed in. Machine guns barked over the screams of men and the scraping of chairs as they tried to flee. But there was no escape.

Shock rooted Eva in her seat. What was happening? This was not part of her plan.

Her father dove off his chair. His arm caught Eva around the middle, forcing her to the ground beneath his larger body. But he hadn’t moved fast enough. A bullet cut across Eva’s midsection. Another seared across her neck, spearing her with agony. She hit the floor. Her head smacked the tile. Blood filled her throat, choking her. Gunshots and screaming became muffled. Franco landed partially on top of her. The weight of his body knocked the air from her lungs. His eyes blinked in shock and pain. Blood spread across his crisp white shirt. She felt her own life draining out onto the cold tile. Their mingled blood soaked her dress.

“I’m sorry,” Papa mouthed before he died.

Eva’s vision dimmed. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling fan, spinning in a lazy circle above her. Her only regret was that she hadn’t said good-bye to her child or husband. A life built on violence ends in a bloody death. Christopher was right. They should have run long ago. Her heart weakened. Her breaths faltered.

“It is done.” A man spoke in Portuguese.

Aline Barba was behind this. Retribution, no doubt, for the death of her son. This was Eva’s fault. She’d been too eager to pull the trigger that day. And now she would pay.

Eva could barely draw air to inflate her lungs. Shallow breathing dimmed her vision.

The men left the room. Eva scanned the room. Dead. All dead.

She wheezed. Minutes later, a shoe scraped in the hallway. Her father’s body blocked her view and pinned her upper torso and arms to the floor. He was too heavy and she was too weak to push him off of her. Unable to move, she waited for death, her breath rattling in her chest. Blood pooled on the tile around her and soaked her dress.

“Eva,” a man’s voice called.

Christopher?

She opened her eyes. Disappointment welled. Not Christopher.

Nicolas pushed Franco off of her and scanned her from head to foot. She remembered that he’d been in the cellar. The knees of his slacks were dark with blood, as if he’d crawled through a puddle of it to reach her.

“Shh.” He rolled her onto her side and gave her a cursory examination. “It’s not as bad as it looks. One shot. Straight through the shoulder. The neck wound is a graze. You’ve lost blood, though.”

He folded two cloth napkins and bound them to the front and back of her shoulder with his belt. He placed another on her neck, moving her own hand to hold it in place. Then he righted a chair, picked her up, and placed her in it. “Put pressure on this. I’ll be right back.” He stood and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“We might as well proceed with the plan. Aline wants you dead. Let’s let her think you are. Did you plant the toothbrush and hairbrush in the apartment?”

She nodded.

Nicolas disappeared through the doorway. Ten minutes later, he returned carrying an unconscious woman. She wore the same red dress and shoes as Eva. Her long hair fell over Nicolas’s arm in a dark wave. When he positioned her on the floor, Eva could see the Sun of May tattoo between her shoulder blades. Nicolas picked up a machine gun from the floor. Stepping back, he fired a burst of bullets from her waist to her face. The blood that sprayed from her body blended with the existing carnage. After testing for her pulse, he rolled Franco on top of the woman’s body.

The body’s DNA would match the DNA Eva had planted in her apartment. Eva Vargas would be pronounced dead.

Nicolas carried her to the helipad and placed her inside the copter.

“I saw Christopher,” Nicolas yelled over the sound of the rotors.

Eva pressed her nose to the window. “Where?”

“Running away like a coward.” His mouth tightened. “He did this.”