A Kiss of Revenge (Entangled Ignite)

by Natalie Damschroder

  Chapter Ten

  Reese turned down her street a couple of hours later, craving her bed and blessed oblivion from the decisions she faced. But half a block from home she slammed on the brakes and stared at the light blazing out her windows. Someone was in her house.

  She reached for her phone to dial 911 before she remembered it was dead. That limited her options. She could use Armen’s phone—no fucking way—or go to a neighbor’s to call the police. But it could be Griffin in there. All the lights might be overcompensation for the total darkness last time he’d shown up.

  And if it wasn’t Griff, whoever it was wasn’t hiding. So they weren’t lying in wait for her. Which meant…what? What were they doing?

  Her stupidity back on the boat sprang to mind, along with its consequences. She’d told Armen his boss tried to kill her and her husband. He would have told Big K by now, who no doubt knew exactly who she was. If he still had people in town or nearby, they could easily have beaten her here. Her meltdown on the side of the road had given them even more time.

  But not enough. Whatever they were doing, she could stop them. She wouldn’t have to go off half-cocked and be an idiot again. For goodness sake, she’d been breaking and entering for months. She could sneak into her own house without tipping the intruders off. Right? Then she could call the police from inside.

  It took only moments to run through her neighbor’s side yard and squeeze through the shrubbery separating the properties. The shadeless window on the side of her house showed only an empty room. She moved on, her fatigue falling away as energy hummed through her. But it was personal energy. Her body had been so drained physically and emotionally that there was no war, no chaos. She sensed the electricity blazing throughout her house, reaching for her, and she felt her body’s readiness to draw it in, but somehow, everything remained at readiness, not rushing into her. She had control.

  She wriggled through the bushes and stood in the shadows of her yard, studying the house. The back door was closed, and from this angle she couldn’t see through the tiny window over the sink. She didn’t like not knowing where they were, but any more time spent trying to figure it out gave them a chance to get away. She wanted to know who it was and what they were doing here.

  She jogged across the grass and lightly up the cement steps where she eased the screen door open a half inch at a time so it wouldn’t screech. Her key slipped into the lock and turned without sound. She eased the door open.

  The kitchen was empty, but voices came down the short hall. She stood and listened hard, pinpointing them in her office. The bastards were after her files. Her computer contained all her notes on everything she’d discovered or theorized about Brian and his partner. Not enough to incriminate anyone, but even if she didn’t have additional evidence, someone else might. She had a backup in a safety deposit box, but it wasn’t fully updated, and she didn’t trust the integrity of online storage. She couldn’t let them take everything.

  She straightened and strode down the hallway, the carpet muffling her footsteps. She paused in the doorway and watched the two idiots in front of her computer. Far from Skav’s scary muscle or Armen’s ruthless efficiency, their skills were obviously purely technical. They murmured to each other irritably, one guy disconnecting a portable hard drive from her computer, the other typing feverishly. Since they were alone, without physical backup, they were probably supposed to be done and long gone before she got home. Obviously, they’d broken her encryption, but it had slowed them down. Lucky for her.

  “Armen said to do it,” she heard the typist snap. “So I’m doing it. She’d never have known we were in here if I didn’t.”

  The other one scowled as he wrapped the cord around the drive. “But it’s taking too long. She’s going to catch us, and that wasn’t the plan. She’s just supposed to find out later that he left her a message.”

  Lord save her from bad guys with dramatic tendencies.

  “She already knows,” she said.

  It was comical, the way the two jumped. But comedy only lasted so long. They may have been idiots, leaving the lights on, not posting a lookout. But they were prepared idiots, and looks were misleading.

  When Idiot Number One heard her voice, he leaped to his feet and spun with a gun in his hand. Knocking over his chair didn’t make his balance waver an inch.

  Her swing at his midsection hurt her hand as much as his stomach. Calling on her self-defense training from Griff, she didn’t pause, but swung the other hand up in an uppercut. But damn, these geeks had hard jaws. The impact vibrated up her arm and only knocked him back a couple of steps, the desk behind him keeping him on his feet. He didn’t try to hit back, just brought the gun up again. In this small space, he couldn’t miss, and she didn’t have time for another swing.

  Nor time to concentrate. Fast and ugly, she sucked electricity through one arm, dimming the computer screen, and shot a burst out the other, directly at his gun hand.

  “Ow!” Idiot Number One shook his hand and hopped in pain as the gun fell to the floor.

  She immediately reversed the flow and blew the remaining energy at Idiot Number Two, who was stuffing the hard drive inside his jacket and circling the fallen chair to charge past her. The ball of energy struck him in the chest and he flew backward, landing on his side against a bookshelf.

  The first guy stared at his fallen partner, then at Reese. Anger contorting his face, he ducked and tackled her around the waist. She staggered backward against the edge of the doorjamb, gasping as pain shot up her spine. Idiot One raised his fist, but he was no fighter. He was all about the blow, not the block. She rammed her knee upward and he toppled with a screech.

  Idiot Two lay on the floor where he’d landed, moaning. Panting, she limped over to him, bent, and grabbed the hard drive he’d stuffed into his jacket. A shove from behind told her she’d become Idiot Number Three. She’d turned her back on Idiot One, thinking him out of commission. His shove overbalanced her and she fell into a nook between the shelves and filing cabinet. Before she could get enough purchase on anything to haul herself up, both idiots had cleared the hallway.

  Cursing, she ran after them, her screaming back slowing her down. She stopped at the edge of her yard, watching a car zigzagging down the street. Her car was half a block in the opposite direction. Chasing them was useless.

  She dragged herself back into the house, not bothering to check the hard drive to see what they’d tried to take. It didn’t matter. They knew who she was, had confirmed what she was looking for, and how she’d been looking. She’d lost every advantage.

  And eliminated the choice she’d thought she still had.

  It was her own fault. She’d ignored Griff’s pleas to drop this, to leave it alone. Had been unable to accept that someone could wreak havoc with her life, take Brian’s away from him, and just go on with his own life without repercussions. And now she’d made her quest impossible to drop. She’d put herself on her enemy’s radar, had become a threat he was now forced to eliminate. Since she didn’t want to die, she had no choice now but to take it through to the end. There was no point in ignoring the BlackBerry.

  She retrieved her car and locked up the house once she was inside again—not that it had done any good before. She might be smarter going to a hotel tonight, but she was too tired and angry. She wasn’t going to let them win. She went to bed, Armen’s BlackBerry under her pillow, because surely by now he realized she had it. She tried to turn everything off in her mind and go to sleep to prepare for tomorrow’s ordeal.

  But of course, sleep wouldn’t come. Maybe whiskey would help. But as she stood in the dim kitchen in the middle of the night, staring at the amber liquid in her glass, she knew that wasn’t what she wanted.

  She wanted Griff.

  The phone was in her hand, speed-dialed, before she could talk herself out of it. He answered on the first ring.

  “Reese. Everything okay?”

  She burst into laughter that immediately became tears. />
  “Reese?” He sounded as alarmed as any man when faced with such a reaction. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Everything is so not okay it’s funny, except it’s also so not funny, and it just overwhelmed me.” She sniffled. “How did court go?”

  “It was tedious. We managed to get all my testimony done, but I have to hang around in case they recall me for some reason. Tell me about the surgery. Did it go okay?”

  Her heart sank. She hadn’t even realized she’d been hoping he could come back right away. “So how long do you have to wait?”

  “A few more days. The prosecution should wrap up soon. Reese—”

  “I’m okay.” She carried her glass to the sofa in the living room. “You probably should go to bed. Hell, I don’t even know what time it is.” She dropped her head back over the arm of the sofa. “I shouldn’t have called.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I’m not hanging up until you tell me what’s going on.”

  She realized he’d asked about the surgery. “Brian came through the surgery great. He already looked different when I got to see him for a few minutes.”

  “That’s good. So it’s probably not the ‘so not okay it’s funny’ part.”

  She sniffed and considered admitting that it was. Telling him she missed him, needed him, had actually hoped Brian would die this morning so she could be free. But even thinking those things was horrible, and hearing his reaction to them would be worse.

  When she didn’t answer right away, he sighed heavily. She imagined him pinching the bridge of his nose, resigned, and probably guessing what she was going to say. Part of it, anyway. “You went to Chelsea, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. It was—horrible. A huge mistake.” Maybe that would gratify him enough to keep him from scolding her. “But I might also have gotten what I need.” She told him about the boat, and Armen Missirian, and Skav. She had to wait while he cursed and, yes, scolded her before she could tell him about the break-in. She almost didn’t mention it, so she wouldn’t have to admit she’d signed her own death warrant. But after everything he’d done for her, been for her, he deserved to know it all.

  “You’re a Greek tragedy, Reese. Cripes.”

  “I know.”

  “So what did you get that you needed?”

  “I got Armen’s BlackBerry.”

  Another few beats of silence. “Did you look at it?”

  “Not yet. I don’t want to until after I see Brian tomorrow. I need—he needs my full concentration.”

  “Sure. I understand.”

  She didn’t know how that was possible when she didn’t make any sense to herself. Maybe, she thought when a yawn made her jaw crack, she was just too tired to make any sense and he was only humoring her.

  “It’s okay if you don’t ever look at the phone, you know.” His voice was low, soothing, and she blinked, trying to comprehend his point through her sleepy fog.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You sound conflicted about what happens next. But there’s no reason you can’t let everything go, especially now that Brian needs you.”

  She smiled. “That’s sweet, but with the chance that Brian will wake up, it’s more important than ever that I not give up now.”

  His sigh held a slight growl of frustration that made her shiver.

  “Um…how busy will you be with the trial?” She wanted him here so badly it choked her, but she managed to keep that out of her voice. “Would you have time to find out what you can about Armen Missirian?”

  “Of course. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Thank you.” She closed her eyes and wriggled lower on the couch. “You need to go to bed,” she said for something like the millionth time.

  “Sounds like you need sleep yourself.”

  “Almost as much as I need you,” she murmured, her mind loose and drifty.

  “Reese,” he breathed in her ear, and his yearning matched her own.

  Oddly enough, it was exactly what she needed to finally let go and fall asleep.

  …

  She spent the entire next day with Brian in the step-down unit, one level down from ICU. Nurses came in regularly, checking his vitals and printouts from the EEG before smiling encouragingly at Reese and bustling away. Langstrom led in a troop of young men and women in lab coats. She didn’t explain who they were—Reese assumed they were students or residents—but gave them a rundown of Brian’s background and condition before and after the surgery. The numbers she rattled off seemed insignificantly incremental, but the group murmured and took notes, so maybe it was better than it sounded.

  After they left, Langstrom took a moment to give Reese some trite words about expectation and hope and positivity. Reese wasn’t sure if she was being told to have patience, or if they were disappointed that Brian hadn’t reacted more obviously yet. They’d assured her all along that it could take weeks to show any change, so she remained in neutral, waiting and wondering and trying not to think about the future.

  Studtgart never made an appearance, which surprised her. She’d have thought he would want to crow about his innovation and expertise, but maybe he left that for the “lesser” physicians to do for him.

  When she couldn’t stand the clammy air or antiseptic smell any longer, she went outside and texted Griff. She had a vague sense that she’d said something stupid just before falling asleep on the couch last night, so she didn’t want to call. He wouldn’t answer if he was in the courtroom, anyway. So she sent a short text asking how things were going and walked around the hospital grounds, waiting for a response.

  DEFENSE BROUGHT IN ANOTHER EXPERT TO REFUTE MY TESTIMONY. NOT LOOKING GOOD.

  She tried not to feel guilty about a trial she had nothing to do with, on top of everything else. If Griff hadn’t visited her so often, spent so much time helping her—to the point of exhaustion, even—maybe the outcome in court would have been different. She texted back I’M SORRY and watched some starlings foraging for bugs in the lawn. An ambulance screeched up to the nearby entrance, and for a minute the area was filled with chaos, shouted instructions, and revving engines. Then the vehicle was moved to a parking place, everyone bustled inside dealing with the patient, and lonely silence descended until Reese’s phone buzzed again. It was ridiculous how close she could feel to someone so far away, with the simple anticipation of whatever he was about to say to her.

  DEPOSITION FOR ANOTHER CASE IN NYC TOMRW. THEN I’LL BE BACK. FLY IF I HAVE TO.

  She closed her eyes and clutched the phone under her chin for a moment. She could get through this endless waiting now that she knew when she would see him, even though the thought of him being on a plane made her nauseous. After sending him a quick answer and turning off her phone, she went back inside for a few more hours of nothing. She read the newspaper to Brian and ate a disgusting dinner from the vending machine before finally kissing him on the forehead and heading home for the night.

  When she pulled into her driveway she sat for a while, engine idling, studying the house and property. Nothing seemed amiss, though her damned lawn needed mowing again. The setting sun glinted off the windows, the maple tree in the backyard waved in the breeze, and she soaked in the peace of it, grateful for a reprieve from drama.

  She’d barely taken a step toward the front porch when a car pulled into the driveway behind hers. She groaned, recognizing Andrew’s cruiser. There was no good reason he should be here. He looked grave, almost wary as he strode across the grass, his hand on his gun belt.

  She braced herself. Maybe they’d found something at the Alpine house that connected to her, or maybe he had other reasons for heightened suspicion. So much for her reprieve.

  She didn’t speak when he stopped—a few feet away, as he would if he were about to arrest someone unpredictable.

  “I’m afraid I have bad news.” He removed his hat and fiddled with the brim, the gesture removing some of her tension, but not much.

  She swallowed ha
rd, bracing for the worst and having no idea what it could be.

  “It’s the bakery.”

  The words were meaningless, not connecting to anything she was dealing with right now. “What about the bakery?”

  “There was a fire.”

  With a flash of horror, she understood. Then came fear. “Oh, my God! Sarah?”

  “She’s fine.”

  Thank God. Her tension eased, but only halfway. “What was it? Faulty wiring, or—?” But she knew before he shook his head. It was too coincidental. Big K. The asshole couldn’t leave her with anything, could he?

  “It wasn’t an accident.” Andrew moved closer, letting the hand holding his hat drop to his side. His other hand came up, as if to catch her if she fell.

  “It was deliberately set?” Her voice sounded amazingly calm, betraying none of the rage taking over her entire being. A sharp pain sliced into her palm. Her nails, pressed by her clenched fist. “As in, arson?”

  He nodded slowly. “Someone threw a Molotov cocktail through the front window. I’m sorry. It’s completely gone.”

  …

  Shock wasn’t the right word.

  Devastation seemed more appropriate, but that emotion implied weeping, screaming, railing at the sky, and as Reese stood in front of the blackened, gutted building, she could summon none of that.

  Loss had been part of her life since her earliest memory, and each kind of loss had its own flavor, its own color. Loss of a parent was purple, heavy with the spice of sorrow. Loss of a spouse had more red, with sharper, more citrusy flavors.

  For the first time, she felt the loss of a dream, and it was heavy. Spoiled cream, but brown. Burnt-edged. Though that could just be because of the fire.

  “No one was hurt?” she asked Andrew again.

  “No, it was late. Sarah said she’d been tired and hadn’t even cleaned up properly. Felt pretty guilty about it.”

  “I’ll talk to her.” She’d put it on the list. Somewhere between going back to the hospital to determine the next step with Brian and calling the insurance company to deal with this. Part of her wanted to just let it go, but she couldn’t allow the ruin to remain here, downtown, among all the pretty storefronts.