She Can Kill (She Can Series) (6 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

A breaking news report played on the flat-screen television. She uncurled her legs and planted her feet flat on the floor as the newswoman stood in front of a convenience store. Police vehicles crowded the parking area.

“Two men who robbed a convenience store today were surprised when a customer fought back.” The newswoman went on to describe an event, which was nothing like it should have been.

Disgust and fury tumbled through her. “Find out where they are.”

“Of course.” Her lieutenant whipped out his cell phone and pressed a button. He held the phone to his ear. “No answer.”

“Cowards.” She turned off the television and stood. “I don’t like to be ignored. We need to find them.” She lifted another remote from the coffee table and turned off the gas fireplace.

“Of course.” He swiped a finger across his phone screen. “It appears they are headed to the warehouse where we had our first meeting.”

“They’ll try to run.”

“Yes,” he said.

“We have to get there before they leave. I don’t want to have to chase them down.” Her boots echoed on the glossy wood floor as she crossed the great room. The rental house was set up to accommodate families who enjoyed outdoor activities. A large utility room held coat hooks and cubbies. She’d used the convenient space to house some weapons, spare ammunition, and surveillance equipment. She grabbed her coat.

Outside, they climbed into the ugly minivan and drove fifteen minutes toward Westbury. Before they reached the actual town, he turned into the dark dirt lot of an abandoned warehouse. The sun was just dipping below the trees. A blue van was parked in the long shadows that stretched across the cold ground. The rear door of the vehicle was open. Two men stood behind the vehicle. Bags and boxes were piled around their feet.

The minivan came to a stop, and they got out. She rounded the front fender, hands loose and relaxed at her sides. “Rodney, you aren’t answering your phone.”

Rodney’s nose was swollen. His shirt was stained dark red. “We’re in a rush. We were going to call you back.”

Sure they were
. She gave their pile of belongings a pointed glance. “Going somewhere?”

Jerome clutched his arm to his chest. “We need to lay low for a few weeks.”

“You didn’t do the job for which you were paid,” she said.

“You didn’t mention we were supposed to kidnap fucking Jason Bourne.” Rodney touched his nose and winced.

“It seems Christopher hasn’t lost his edge,” her lieutenant said without taking his eyes off Jerome and Rodney.

She took a step forward, the heels of her boots scraping the frozen ground. She walked closer to stand next to the man. “I gave you explicit instructions. You took the money and didn’t hold up your end of the arrangement.”

“Hey, we did what you said. You weren’t straight with us.” Jerome said, fear quivering in his voice.

“Did you attempt to use a woman or child to force him to comply?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Rodney licked his lips. “That didn’t pan out.”

“What happened to the money we fronted you?” she asked.

“We deserve something.” Jerome took a step back. “You lied to us.”

No doubt they’d spent the money. They glanced at each other. From the wild-eyed expression that passed between them, she knew they suspected punishment was coming.

“Do not worry,” she said. “You’ll get what is coming to you.”

She pulled a gun from her pocket and fired twice. Jerome flinched. The bullet struck him in the chest, the impact buckling his knees. He looked down, as if surprised to see a spreading patch of red on his jacket. He hadn’t even had time to consider drawing the gun she could see bulging at his waistband.

“What the fuck?” Rodney said, looking down at the blood welling from his chest.

“Incompetent idiots.” She felt nothing but annoyance as they crumpled to the dirt. These men were the dregs of society. No one would miss them. She walked closer and liberated their weapons: two handguns and a knife. She stared down at the bodies. One of the men groaned. His feet twitched. She aimed her gun and fired a second shot into each man’s chest. The groaning man stilled. “You really need to start carrying a gun,” she said to her lieutenant.

He raised a disdainful brow. “No skill is required.”

“Killing isn’t about ego. It’s about getting the job done.” She pocketed her weapon. “Put them in the van.” The warehouse might be abandoned, but she preferred to leave scenes clean.

“I’m old-fashioned. A man should take pride in his work.” With a grunt, he dragged the bodies, one by one, to the back of the van. Stooping, he hoisted a body into the vehicle. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He kept his body strong, but he was no longer a young man. He lifted the second robber into the cargo area and tossed a blanket over both bodies. “I will find a place to dump them tomorrow.”

“Just park the van behind the house for now. It’ll be out of sight. It’s probably not a good idea to drive it around in case the police are looking for it.” There was no reason for anyone to come to the rental house. She’d paid for the entire month. Her mind shifted to more important matters. Her thoughts had been spinning since she’d confirmed the child was Luciana Navarro. This initial plan had been a long shot, but she was just getting warmed up. An idea was forming in her head. One that could destroy Christopher, body
and
soul.

Her lieutenant closed the rear door of the vehicle. “It’s a good thing we rented a property without close neighbors.”

“That was not an accident.” She liked to be prepared for all possibilities. The basement of the house would be the perfect place to hold an
interrogation
session.

He peeled the latex gloves from his hands, turned them inside out to contain the blood, and stuffed them into his pocket.

“You have blood on your coat.” She pointed to his shoulder. “Dispose of it.”

With a nod, he stripped it off. “Christopher will be a hard man to take.”

“I’m sure he has lost some of his skills. Living here and raising a child must have softened him.”

His head inclined toward the van. “Obviously, he hasn’t gone too soft.”

“Besting these two criminals wasn’t all that difficult.” She glanced into the rear window of the van at the still lumps under the blanket. Blood was seeping through the cloth in dark, wet patches. “Yes, I know you predicted these two would fail.”

He lifted a shoulder. “No harm was done. The event appeared random, as was your plan.”

“This is true,” she agreed. “It should have been a simple job. How hard is it to threaten a woman or child? Christopher has weaknesses. One must use them as leverage. With a man like him, the mind is as formidable a weapon as the body.” Christopher’s chivalry was the chink in his armor.

“Why don’t we just kill him?”

Because for years, her dream had been to mark the anniversary of the massacre by looking him in the eyes as he realized she’d won. He couldn’t outrun her. There was no escape.

“I still have a week. I’m not ready to settle.”

“Now who’s being inefficient?”

“This is different.” This was her life.

“What do we do now?” Her driver bent next to the robber’s cargo van. He reached underneath the vehicle and pulled a black box loose. He tossed it to her, then opened the driver’s door. His face creased with disgust as he surveyed the interior.

She caught the black GPS box in two hands. Technology had come so far in the last twelve years. “Fear not. My plan is evolving. First, you drive that,” she pointed to the robbers’ van, “to the house and park it out back. Then we’ll decide what to do next.”

She slid behind the wheel of the minivan and closed the door. Her mind strayed to Christopher. Soon, he would be as silent as the cargo in the back of the van. And he would stay that way. Forever.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Could this get any worse?

Cristan shifted his weight in the hard-backed chair in the Westbury Police Station. He twisted off the cap from a bottle of water and drank. The police had been apologetic, but the attention and legal scrutiny were still nightmarish for a man who wished to remain unknown.

“Can I get you some coffee? How about a sandwich? It’s been hours. You have to be hungry.” Officer Ethan Hale had typed Cristan’s statement and questioned him. Ethan had also provided Cristan with the athletic pants and shirt he was currently wearing. The robbers had worn gloves, but the police were hoping to use DNA from the blood on Cristan’s clothes to identify at least one of them.

“No, but thank you.” Plans formed in Cristan’s mind. He needed to get home. He needed to pick up Lucia at Sarah’s house. His daughter had acted calm when he told her about the robbery, but he knew she would be upset. Events and repercussions had to be analyzed. Decisions had to be made.

The chief of police, Mike O’Connell, opened his office door. “Cristan, come on in.”

Cristan crossed the room, water bottle in hand. He had known the police chief for five months. He and Lucia boarded their horses at a farm owned by Mike’s fiancée, who was also Sarah’s sister. Everyone in this small town was connected to everyone else.

In his early forties, the redheaded police chief was an inch or so shorter than him, but Mike’s bulkier body carried a thirty-pound weight advantage, all of it muscle. He’d been a wrestler at one time and would make a formidable opponent. But the police chief was honest and honorable, two traits Cristan did not claim as his own. Being orphaned and living on the streets of Argentina had given him hard-scrabble survival instincts. Honor could be a handicap in a street fight.

He followed Mike into his office. Another man occupied the room. Cristan recognized the tall blond man perched on the credenza behind Mike’s desk as the police chief’s friend. He also recognized the lethal expression buried in the man’s eyes. This man would not be burdened by scruples.

Mike waved him toward a leather guest chair, then rounded the desk, and sat behind it. “Do you remember Sean Wilson?”

Cristan nodded and reached over to shake hands. Sean acknowledged him with a nod that said they understood each other very well. Like all animals, predators knew their own kind. Cristan eased into the chair, exhaustion loosening his muscles. Adrenaline provided necessary quick energy for action, but the aftereffects drained him. And sleep had been an elusive adversary this past week.

“Sean is a security expert. He’s helping me clean up the surveillance video from the Quickie-Mart.” Mike spun his computer monitor so Cristan could see the screen. Mike pressed a button on his keyboard. The entire grainy clip took only moments to run. It had seemed much longer at the time.

The answer to Cristan’s earlier question was yes. The situation was about to get much worse.

“You handled yourself pretty well in there,” Mike prompted.

Sean leaned back. “I was impressed.”

Cristan waited. Only fools volunteered information.

Sean scratched his chin. “Were you in the military in Argentina?”

“No,” Cristan said, though Franco’s men were trained as well as any legal army.

“How did you learn to fight?” Sean asked.

“I grew up in a very poor neighborhood. There were many gangs.” Technically, this was true, but his vague answer felt hollow.

Mike’s brow descended, and Sean folded his arms across his body. Clearly, they thought his answer thin as well. But deception was easier to pull off if one kept one’s lies simple and as close to the truth as possible. Elaboration was the downfall of an amateur.

The police chief leaned back in his chair, the springs squeaking. Shrewd—and kind—blue eyes studied Cristan. Just because Mike was an honest man did not make him any less dangerous. “I have a few additional questions. Some I might have asked before. I apologize if this feels repetitive.”

Again, Cristan waited.

Mike opened a file on his desk and donned a pair of reading glasses. “Are you married?”

“My wife died when Lucia was an infant.” After all these years, that simple statement still stabbed him through the heart.

“How did she die?”

“She was in an auto accident.”

“I’m sorry.” Mike met his gaze with a brief look of sincere compassion before continuing. “You’re the CEO of Rojas Corp. What exactly does Rojas Corporation do?”

“Primarily the conglomerate invests in commercial real estate and coffee,” Cristan said. He understood that a small police force had few bodies to conduct an investigation, and following procedure would take time. Cristan had been patient and helpful, but his tolerance was wearing thin. He wanted to go home.

“Coffee?” Sean asked.

“The company owns an organic coffee plantation in Hawaii,” Cristan clarified. “I’ve given a statement and answered all your questions. I’d really like to see my daughter.”

“I understand.” Mike paused. “But we’d really like to find those men before they hurt anyone else.”

“That would be for the best.” But Cristan was more concerned about Lucia. “But I don’t see how interrogating me about my background will aid in your search for two local criminals. It was simply luck that put me at the scene. My skills are irrelevant.”

“I’m just trying to get the whole picture,” Mike said. “We’re sending your clothes to the lab for a possible DNA match. We need more information to catch these guys.”

“I understand, but I’ve already told you everything I know. And you have the video, which is much more accurate than my observations. Videos don’t err.”

“I’ll probably need to ask you more questions,” Mike added.

“You have my contact information.”

Mike dropped his pen. “I appreciate what you did today. That little girl might be dead if you hadn’t jumped in, but I really want to catch these guys. Is there anything you noticed about them, anything they said that might help us find them?”

“Jumping in, as you say it, was the last thing I wished to do.” Cristan spoke carefully. “And I don’t know how else I can be of assistance. You have my account of the incident and my description of the men. I’ve never seen either of them before. Surely, you have other avenues of investigation.”

“I have a feeling your observation skills are as good as your hand-to-hand.” Mike tilted his head. “Most civilians avoid confrontation. Yet you were able to disarm and overpower two men.”

“They did not see it coming. Surprise is a formidable advantage.” Cristan shrugged.

Sean’s eyes called him a liar.

“True.” Mike scratched his chin. He sighed, as if he was giving up. “The mayor called. He’d like to say thank you. Also, the woman with the little girl in the store wants to express her gratitude. Face it, you’re a hero.”

Cristan shifted his position. “I was hoping the incident could be kept low profile.”

Mike sighed. “I doubt that’s possible. Once that video gets out, the media will be looking for you.”

“Is there any way to keep that from happening?” Cristan asked.

“Most people would be thrilled to get the attention.” Mike dropped his glasses on his desk.

“I only wish for my daughter and me to live a quiet life,” Cristan said. Was that too much to ask? Anger heated his blood. The fallout from today’s robbery would threaten his daughter’s happiness. Lucia would be devastated if he told her they had to move. But if the video went live . . .

Mike sighed. “I can try, but I suspect the state police will want to broadcast the video and set up a hotline in case these men are spotted by a citizen.”

Mike’s answer added to the argument for leaving town.

Cristan’s muscles crawled with the need for movement. Frustration filled him with restless energy like an animal in a cage. “I should pick Lucia up. I’d like to shower and change before I do so, but I’m willing to answer more questions tomorrow.”

“Fair enough,” Mike said. The cell phone on his blotter buzzed. He picked it up and read the text display. “Sarah wants to know if you’re OK.”

Cristan dropped his head into his hand.

Mike tapped on his phone screen. “I’ll tell her you’re fine, but you might want to call her. It sounds like she’s worried about you.”

“I’m sure she’s wondering when I’ll be picking up Lucia.”

“I doubt that’s the only reason she’s asking.” Mike set the phone on his desk.

What did he mean by that comment?
Sarah did not so much as flirt with him. She was sweet and friendly and went out of her way to be kind to Lucia. His daughter adored her. But there was nothing between him and Sarah except a bit of longing on his part. As much as he enjoyed her company, he had nothing to offer her.

Mike straightened. “Thanks for cooperating, but I have to say, your hand-to-hand skills are impressive and a little shocking. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Cristan lifted his head. Mike was a good man. He’d proved himself honorable and courageous several times over the past five months. But honesty could be a problem. He hadn’t broken any laws today, but what Cristan had done in the past was illegal. Mike might feel obligated to turn him over to the proper authorities if he learned the truth. “I’ve taken Krav Maga for years. I suppose the training works.”

Cristan stood. “I should be leaving. You’ll let me know if you’re able to identify the man from the blood on my clothes?”

Mike nodded. “No guarantees of getting your clothes back.”

“Thank you, but I have no wish to have them back,” Cristan said.

Mike stood and offered a hand. “I appreciate what you did today.
You could have ducked and simply saved yourself. Instead, you risked your life to save a woman and a little girl.”

Cristan accepted the handshake. In hindsight, his heroic actions had been foolish. Lucia didn’t deserve to lose another parent. Plus, that video put their very existence at risk. Lucia would not be recognized as the infant he’d smuggled out of Argentina. He had changed as well, but there was no doubt in his mind that he could be recognized if the right people were watching.

He was hiding something.

Standing at the door to his office, Mike watched the Argentinean walk out of the police sta
tion. He closed his door. Sean was sitting in his chair behind the desk watching the video again. The former army ranger wasn’t just a local security expert, he’d been Mike’s best friend since grade school.

“Is the DNA really all you have?” Sean asked.

Mike slid his reading glasses onto his face to review his notes. “We have a witness who saw a blue van with a rusted rear bumper leaving the parking lot. She thinks the first letter on the license plate was
D
. Both men are injured. Looked to me like Rojas broke a nose and a wrist.”

“Broken wrist will need to be set,” Sean said.

“Right. We put out a BOLO on the van, and I have an officer calling hospitals.” Mike leaned on the credenza. “What do you think of Rojas?”

“The ice scraper move was fucking brilliant,” Sean said. “If I knew he was clean, I’d offer him a job.”

“Why don’t you think he’s clean?”

“Remember when we had all that trouble in town last fall? I tried to find dirt on him and came up empty.” Sean replayed the video. “Rojas has no record.”

“Isn’t that good?” Mike was torn. On one hand, Rojas’s secretive nature put him on edge. On the other, his actions today were nothing short of heroic, and his skills damned impressive. Mike had watched the Argentinean interact with his teenage daughter. He seemed to be a caring if not occasionally frustrated single parent.

“I also found no record of his existence prior to ten years ago,” Sean added.

“He wasn’t in the States then.”

“True.” Sean gestured toward the computer monitor. “But his response is that of a well-trained fighter. He did not get lucky and take those guys by surprise. He reacted like a soldier or a cop. No amount of training in a gym produces that effective of a reaction. There was no hesitation. This was not the first time Rojas had a gun pointed in his face, that’s for sure. The average Joe would have pissed his pants, but Rojas improvised with a handy weapon and disarmed two criminals like they were kindergarteners, and he walked away without a scratch.”

Mike scrubbed a hand down his face. “I know.”

“Let’s analyze. Rojas kept his cool until the mom and kid were in danger. Then he kicked major-league ass.” With a wife and two young daughters of his own, Sean took threats to women and children personally.

“But he seems to regret having to do it,” Mike added.

“All in all, I like him. I would have done the same thing today,” Sean said. “But, since Sarah is all hung up on him, the fact that he’s a ghost that fights like a professional bugs me.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on that,” Mike said. “Sarah’s had enough trouble with Troy. I don’t want to see her hurt again.” Sarah and her two little girls deserved happiness and peace.

“I told you we should have killed Troy.”

“Be serious.” Mike rolled his eyes. But he suspected Sean’s statement was only part jest.