She Can Kill (She Can Series) (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

The stuffed kangaroo on the foyer floor nearly brought Sarah to tears. One marble, brown eye stared up at her, forlorn. Threadbare patches and a lumpy body attested to her three-year-old’s attachment. Em dragged that animal everywhere, but she’d refused to take it with her today.

Hoppy might be scared.

Were Em and her five-year-old sister, Alex, as nervous as Sarah? Work had been a welcome distraction. Her job as a sous chef for the Main Street Inn kept her busy, but now that she was home again, she could think of nothing else. Today was her ex-husband’s first court-ordered unsupervised visitation with their two small daughters. They should be home safe any minute. But every Tuesday and Thursday, plus entire alternate weekends, this was her new reality.

Looping the convenience store bag handles over her wrist, she stepped over the threshold and dropped her keys on the hall table. Her little black-and-tan spaniel mix, Bandit, hopped on his back legs, greeting her like a wagging, furry pogo stick. He put his front feet on her thigh and let her stroke his head. When his paws dropped to the floor, she bent and picked up the kangaroo. She held it toward the dog. “Did you bring this down from Em’s room?”

At the sound of Emma’s name, Bandit ran to the storm door and looked out the glass. He glanced back at Sarah and barked.

“Sorry, buddy. The girls aren’t with me.” Pulling off her gloves, Sarah went to the kitchen and stowed the milk in the refrigerator. Out of habit, she plucked the receipt from the bottom of the plastic bag and smoothed it between her fingers. She stopped mid-motion. She no longer had to submit receipts to justify every penny she spent. With a deliberate curl of her fist, she crumpled the slip of paper and dropped it into the garbage can. If the house had a fireplace, she would have burned it in a more symbolic gesture.

She stood in the center of the kitchen, lost. The girls should be here, washing up, helping her make a simple dinner. The kitchen was too small for a table, but Em should be kneeling on her stool at the counter, hugging Hoppy and decompressing from daycare while Alex gave Sarah a detailed rundown of her entire day from drop-off to pickup. The house was too quiet without her oldest’s constant chatter.

The dog cocked his head in question. She scratched behind his ears. “I’m not used to silence, and I’m sure you need to go out. Let’s wait for the girls outside.” Anything was better than sitting inside alone, waiting and worrying. She went back to the door, lifted the leash off the wall hook, and snapped it onto his collar.

Her phone vibrated in her coat pocket. She fished it out and read the display. Troy.

Her heart rattled. Something had happened to the girls. Terrible possibilities reeled through her mind. Fear clamped around her lungs. She pushed the Answer button with a shaky finger. “What’s wrong?”

“Where are you?” Anger radiated through the connection.

She froze, startled by the hostility in his tone. “Is something wrong with the girls, Troy?”

“I want to know where you’ve been.”

Sarah paused, her thoughts racing. Her location wasn’t any of Troy’s business. Their divorce was final, and he’d lost all rights to ask about her whereabouts the night he tossed her down a flight of stairs five months before. But she couldn’t make him angry while he was alone with three-year-old Emma and five-year-old Alex.

She let out a frustrated, frightened breath. Before the judge had ruled in his favor last week, Sarah had refused to answer his calls. But the moment her two little girls had climbed into his truck that morning, she’d unblocked his number. He had control again, and he knew it.

Her words tasted like defeat. “I was at work. Now I’m home.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Bandit growled up at her, as if he could sense the animosity in Troy’s tone.

“You can hear the dog, Troy,” she said in a tired voice.

“You were supposed to be home from work twenty minutes ago.” His voice rose.

Conditioned to make peace, Sarah almost replied. Placating him had become a habit, and she wasn’t hiding anything. She’d stopped for milk. But she couldn’t let him drag her back into his control games. “Are the girls all right?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

“You aren’t supposed to call me unless it’s about the girls, and you’re ten minutes late.”

“Maybe they just wanted to know where their mother is.” He had an answer for everything. He’d gotten clever when he’d sobered up. “Or maybe I wanted to make sure you were home before I drop them off.”

In the silent moment that followed, she heard the faint voices of her daughters in the background. Her lungs expelled the breath she’d been holding. The girls were all right. “I have to take the dog out, Troy. I’ll see you soon.”

Gathering her courage, Sarah pressed End. The phone wasn’t even in her pocket when it buzzed again. She glanced at the display to make sure it was Troy and let the call go to voicemail. Her gaze drifted over the interior of the small house. The 1980s oak and country-blue furnishings were dated, but she didn’t mind. She hadn’t wanted anything from the house she’d shared with Troy. Her sister’s fiancé, the local police chief, let her and the girls live in this little house rent-free. He’d insisted on installing an alarm, but she’d refused to allow him to renovate. He’d done more than enough. Her entire life had changed since she’d moved to this house. She had a job and her independence. Until today, her girls had been happy and safe. This was her haven, her sanctuary. It had taken Troy months of legal finagling to violate it. She’d gotten her swift divorce, but there was no way to sever her ties with him, not when they shared two children.

Easing onto the boot bench by the door, she scooped the dog into her lap. He leaned into her, and she wrapped an arm around his sturdy little body. “What are we going to do?”

She allowed herself two minutes of canine therapy before she set the dog on the floor and stood. “Come on. I’ll take you out to do your business before I call my lawyer.”

She would not—could not—let Troy take control. Her lawyer wasn’t as useful as she’d hoped. Troy knew how to phrase his words so that without hearing his tone, his message could be interpreted innocently. But there was nothing innocent about anything Troy did.

Back in the house, she took off her coat, unleashed the dog, and changed into jeans and a sweater. Then there was nothing to do but wait until Troy’s truck pulled to the curb fifteen minutes later. Standing on the back of the sofa, Bandit went ballistic. She’d wanted a little time with the girls before she had to leave for her self-defense class. No chance of that now. Her babysitter would be here any minute. By the time she settled the girls with Lucia, she’d have to leave. But she refused to show her irritation. A response of any kind would only encourage Troy.

He sat in the truck for a few seconds, glaring at her through the passenger window. Draping his wrists over the steering wheel, he twisted his heavy school ring, the same ring that had made solid contact with her head five months before. Sarah touched the scar on her temple, her fingers tracing the small indentation. Troy’s gaze caught hers, and a smug half smile turned up the corner of his mouth. Sarah tensed as he got out of the pickup.

The girls popped out of the backseat like toast and raced toward her. Pushing the irate dog firmly back into the house, Sarah went out onto the stoop to greet Alex and Em. The girls ran up the driveway, and she crouched to hug them both. Holding their little bodies close, she breathed in the scents of sweat and No More Tangles.
They were OK.
Relief swept through her. “Go on inside. Don’t let the dog out.”

They went into the house. Alex pulled the storm door closed just as Bandit’s feet hit the glass, muffling the dog’s angry barks.

“Did everything go all right?” She’d be pleasant to him if it killed her.

“Fine.” Troy took a step toward her. “But you have to stop spoiling them.”

Sarah didn’t respond, but feigning confidence, she widened her stance and stretched her head toward the sky.
Do not back down.

“I’m serious, Sarah. Alex is defiant, and Emma cries all the freaking time.” Troy stopped. Irritation and indecision flickered in his eyes.

Sarah clamped her molars together. What was she going to say? She doubted he’d be receptive to the truth.
Your children are afraid of you.
“What time will you pick them up on Thursday?”

“Same as today.” Troy scowled, but he turned toward his truck.

“See you then.” Sarah backed toward the house, praying he left before her babysitter—and her hot father—arrived. But she was destined to have the worst luck in the universe. At that very same moment, Cristan Rojas turned down her street and parked behind Troy’s truck.

One more minute and Troy would have been gone.

Lucia leaped from the car and loped across the grass on long legs. “Hi, Sarah.”

“Hi, Lucia,” Sarah said. “You can go on in.”

Cristan climbed out of his Mercedes and leaned on the closed door, his phone pressed to his ear, his eyes following Troy as he got into his pickup. Tension between the men was palpable in the chilly air, which was ridiculous because Sarah wasn’t involved with either of them.

Troy pulled away from the curb. The moment the pickup disappeared around the corner, Cristan started toward Sarah. His athletic body was encased in jeans and a black wool coat that pegged him as foreign in a town where everyone else wore down and flannel. She tamped down the pleasure that sparked inside her as he walked up the driveway.

“Hello, Sarah.” His smile softened otherwise hard features. He was dark and Latin, and the only thing sexier than his lean, chiseled face was his faint, slightly formal, accent. And Sarah realized she was staring. Again. Why did that always happen with him? She blinked and cleared her throat.

“Hello,” she said. “Thanks for waiting. I don’t know what he’d do if he saw you come into the house.” Jealousy, no matter how unfounded, would make Troy even angrier.

“I know you wish to avoid provoking him.” But the flash of anger in Cristan’s eyes said he would welcome a confrontation with Troy. Fortunately, Cristan possessed the self-control of a monk. His voice never rose above a carefully modulated pitch, and he gave both his actions and words careful consideration. But under that steely control, his posture always suggested that he could explode in an instant.

“I just want what’s best for the girls. Their needs have to come first.”

“Of course.” His expression relaxed with understanding and compassion. He was a widower and single father, and she had to admit that the bond between Cristan and his daughter was just as attractive as his dark eyes and broad shoulders.

“Thank you for understanding.”

He acknowledged her comment with a slight incline of his head, but his eyes didn’t break contact with hers. His focus intensified. “But I am at your disposal if you should change your mind. You deserve better. Much better.”

Sarah’s skin flushed. Cristan often appeared aloof and cool, but
at that moment he radiated pure heat. The wind shifted, the damp
chill reminding her that her life was complicated. Troy was already
hostile. If he thought Sarah was flirting with another man, no
amount of court-ordered anger management counseling would help.

It frustrated and depressed her that her ex-husband still controlled
her life. Troy would eventually have to move on, and then maybe she could explore the feelings that bounced between her and Cristan. But for the girls’ sake, for now she would have to make decisions with her head, not her heart.

She blinked, turned away from him, and led the way into the house. Lucia was hugging Alex and Em. The little girls’ voices climbed to a high, excited pitch that soothed Sarah’s doubts. They were worth anything she had to endure.

Sarah picked up a wrapped package on her bookshelf. “I have something for you, Lucia.”

“It’s not my birthday,” Lucia said in a puzzled voice.

Sarah grinned. “I know. This is a just-because present.”

“Just because?” Lucia asked.

“Just because I wanted to give it to you,” Sarah said.

Lucia ripped off the brown paper. “Omigod.” She squealed. “Look, Dad. It’s Snowman and me at the show.”

She turned the gift toward her father. Lucia had ridden her new horse, Snowman, in the indoor horse show at the winter festival. She’d been very excited to win a blue ribbon. When Sarah had seen their picture in the town newspaper, she’d had to frame it for the child. The photographer had captured a perfect image of the pair in midair over a low jump in the indoor arena.

“Thank you.” Lucia grabbed Sarah in a fierce hug.

“You’re welcome. I thought you should commemorate your first win,” Sarah said.

Lucia turned the gift toward her father. Cristan’s face tightened as he leaned closer and read the caption. “Lucia Rojas and Snowman win first place in the novice hunter division.”

“I didn’t know my picture was in the paper.” Lucia beamed and enveloped Sarah in another one-armed hug. “I’m going to hang it in my room.”

“You’re welcome.” Sarah warmed as she watched Lucia nearly skip back to the girls.

“It is a lovely gift.” Cristan’s voice was rigid. He’d shut down. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“It gives me great joy to make her happy.”

“Thank you,” he said. “What time should I pick up Lucia?”

“Is seven o’clock all right?” Confused, Sarah searched his face. Over the past few months, Cristan’s formal demeanor had slowly shifted to friendly, maybe even more than friendly. But it seemed Mr. Uncomfortable had returned today. Why?

“Yes. I’ll be back at seven.” His deep brown eyes shuttered as he backed away.

He seemed to shake off his mood as he turned to the children. As always, his posture and smile relaxed the second he addressed the kids. He was more comfortable with them than her. Other than telling her his wife had died when Lucia was an infant, he was guarded when speaking about his past. Did he still grieve his wife?