A Kiss of Revenge (Entangled Ignite)

by Natalie Damschroder

  She shook her head. “Not everything.”

  “What?” Griff’s face dipped, probably with a frown. “Not everything what?”

  “You didn’t learn everything I did. Did you get the criminal kingpin’s name?”

  His moment of hesitation revealed his annoyance before he admitted, “No.”

  “It’s Chris. Kryszka.”

  After a beat Griff cursed, his hand rising to shove through his hair. “Are you kidding me? Your ex?”

  “That’s what they tell me. And there’s more. Griff, he’s got Kimmie.” She didn’t wait for his reaction this time, but rushed to convince him not to try to stop her. “I don’t know why, but she didn’t look like she wanted to be here, and I have absolutely no basis for going to the police with that. Chris must not have considered me and Brian a threat after the accident, so my quest for revenge probably triggered everything.” Her voice cracked, even at a low hiss, and she swallowed before it rose too high and caught someone’s attention. “He for damned sure thinks so now, or he wouldn’t have killed Brian. But the FBI has nothing on him, no connection to any of the crimes, so the only threat is me. He won’t stop until I’m dead, too. And I don’t even care, if—”

  “I care.” The words burst fiercely out of Griff, his hands coming up to grip her shoulders tightly. He pulled her forward and leaned to meet her body. “I’m not stupid, Reese. I know what you were doing the other night. Yeah, I reacted badly, but—”

  “You reacted the way you were supposed to!” Alarm raised her voice again. “You can’t be involved in this. Just knowing I’m here is compromising your career, your—”

  “Just shut up a minute, will—”

  She ignored him and raced on. “—Values. I could go to the FBI, help them run a sting, or hope they get something on Chris for a different crime, but I can’t live like that! Always knowing he could be right behind me, that he could kill the only man I lo—”

  Griff’s mouth came down on hers, unerring in the dark, and his arms wrapped around her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Or maybe that was the power in his kiss, the desperation he poured through it, full of all the love she’d always wanted and had never, ever, in her whole life, received like this.

  When he pulled a scant breath away, she could feel his next words more than hear them.

  “I would kill for you, Reese. Break the law, end this bastard and all of his people, if it would keep you safe.” He stopped her murmur of protest with another kiss, this one tender and tinged with amused sorrow. Her surge of terror faded under it, as no doubt had been his intent. “So how can I blame you for doing the same?” he whispered, his lips brushing hers, his hand pushing the hair back off her face. Her scarf must have fallen off when he first kissed her, she thought dimly, focused completely on him. “I understand you,” he murmured. “What you need. So I’m not going to stop you. But I will have your back.”

  She went into free fall. For a moment, the rest of her life ceased to exist. All the baggage she carried from trying and failing to keep the men in her life, all the hatred for Chris and what he’d done to her—even the need to please Griff by saying okay, forget it, she wouldn’t go after Chris…none of it had any hold on her.

  “I love you.” She mouthed it more than said it, but he hugged her closer, and she knew he’d heard. She rested against him, eyes closed, breathing him in, wanting to freeze this moment forever, but knowing nothing had really changed. She still had to go after Chris. Had to stop him from hurting anyone else, especially Griff.

  And in the end, she wouldn’t be worthy of his love.

  “So what the hell?” She stepped back, out of his reach, and sniffed hard, once. “What have you been doing all this time? I could have been out of here already if you’d helped me saddle Sin.”

  “I was saddling Halo.” His teeth flashed in a grin as he slid the stall door open again. He crossed the aisle and led a bay out of the opposite stall. “Let’s go.” He turned Halo to the far end of the barn, the end farthest from the house on the other side of the compound. She followed with Sin after snatching her scarf from the ground and re-covering her hair.

  They were silent until they reached the road and mounted up.

  “Sin was a good choice,” he told her in a normal, albeit low voice. “He’s the most sure-footed of the stables’ horses, and he sees exceptionally well in the dark.”

  She paused in checking her equipment. “Okay. How—”

  “The horses don’t mind cross-country, but the dunes near Smuggler Sam’s are riddled with burrs, so we’re not going that way. Stay on this side of the road until you get past the house, then work your way up the hill from the other side. There’s an old servant’s road, unpaved and overgrown, that should get us there with no trouble, and more quietly.” He grinned again. “I had a busy afternoon.”

  She blinked. “Thanks, Griff.”

  He patted her thigh, then the horse’s rump. At her command, the big black started forward, his clomps dulled by the sandy shoulder. Any jitters she might have felt if she were alone were soothed away by the motion of the horse and her awareness of Griff behind her.

  The darkness on this side of the island was nearly complete except for the light of a half moon and the yellow glow within houses they passed. They kept the horses deep in the shoulder so their hooves wouldn’t echo and they wouldn’t be easily seen, and once they were less than a quarter mile from Chris’s house, they moved farther off the road. No one would be able to see them here among the sea grass and scrub brush.

  This section of the island was undeveloped. Either Chris owned a lot of acreage, or there was some kind of ordinance against developing this close to the island’s main historical landmark. Her vote was on the former.

  She pulled up on Sin’s reins once they were directly in front of the house, and studied it. A few lights shone from each of three floors. Questions paraded through her mind—how many people were inside, which room Kimmie was in, what was the best way to find Chris, and how to get him to confess to everything before she killed him.

  But not how to kill him. That she knew. The electricity humming through her practically wiggled with eagerness to be used. Chris had forced this on her, and she really, really wanted to end him with it. To add poetry to justice.

  She’d also brought along the bow and arrow, which had several advantages. She was more skilled with them than with a gun, and an arrow didn’t make noise that would alert the whole damned island. Multiple arrows could be used against any goons who tried to stop her. And the metal shaft and head of the arrow would conduct electricity. Perfect.

  She laughed, and it sounded cold in the still air.

  Griff’s saddle creaked as he shifted, but he said nothing. A light in the turret flickered, drawing her eye. Was it candlelight? A fire? Even out here surrounded by ocean, it was too warm for a fire this time of year. She narrowed her eyes, trying not to blink. A shadowy figure moved into the window, and an instant later the light went out behind it.

  Her spine stiffened but she didn’t move. Was someone watching them? No. There was no way they could be seen at this distance, in this darkness. She shivered. The house suddenly made her think of the one in that old movie, Salem’s Lot, a dark, menacing presence over the whole town.

  Stop it. That’s not going to help.

  She shook off the creepiness and moved Sin forward, across the deserted road, turning left and up the hill. She angled across the grass and weeds for several yards before finding the service road. Griff spotted it first. It was overgrown, better seen by not looking directly at the path, the edges becoming clear only in peripheral vision. She nodded and guided Sin upward, the swish and thump of Griff’s horse a reassuring sound behind her.

  The house was hidden by the slope and vegetation growing on the hillside. She guided Sin off the road and wrapped his reins around the branch of a stunted tree. If something spooked him, he’d rip the branch right off the tree and be gone. But as long as he was calm and unnoticed
, he’d wait here for her. When she dismounted he bumped her with his head, then bent to rip some ground cover up with his teeth. She hoped there wasn’t anything growing here that could harm him, like burrs. She turned toward the house.

  Time for the showdown.

  Griff caught her arm before she moved off. “What do you want me to do?”

  She hadn’t really thought about it, just kind of expected him to follow. But was that wise? She glanced behind and saw he’d tethered his horse similarly. He couldn’t stay here, as she’d deliberately chosen a spot out of sight and hearing. But he’d have her back better if he wasn’t right on it.

  “Let’s go closer to the house,” she whispered, “and we’ll find a spot for you.”

  He didn’t look as though that was his first choice, but he nodded, and they started up the hill.

  The going was slower and harder than she would have liked. She’d stopped the horses too soon. Cursing the miscalculation, she fought her way upward against dragging brush and shifting sand, trying to keep her breathing and trudging quiet in case there were guards posted around the house. Griff seemed to have no problems with either, and she realized there was a lot she didn’t know about him. Such as where he’d learned to move so gracefully in such conditions. She tried not to think about the possibility that she’d never get a chance to find out, and focused instead on the faint outline of the top of the hill.

  Finally, they reached the crest. Over a hundred yards still lay between them and the structure, so she collapsed to the ground, flattening herself beneath some underbrush while she caught her breath. Reconnoitering, that’s what she was doing. Not resting. Amusement came off Griff in waves. She ignored him and studied the house.

  They held their position long enough to determine there were no guards patrolling on this side of the house. A four-bay carriage house stood dead ahead, with a path leading from its side to the back of the main house, which overlooked the ocean.

  Carriage house first. There might be a getaway vehicle in there, a Vespa or a bicycle. Hopefully Kimmie would be in good enough shape to ride one. Reese had no idea if the nanny knew how to ride a horse, and she wasn’t going to relinquish her responsibility for Sin. A bike would get Kimmie to town, where she could lay low until the next plane off the island.

  The old carriage-house doors had been replaced by modern overhead doors, which were solidly locked. Griff pointed to a keypad in the center of the building, between the two double bays. She shook her head. She didn’t want to short the system because that would lock the doors in place. There was a regular door on the left wall. She crept up to it and peered through the glass into the dark interior, but didn’t try to go in, not yet. Even if she disarmed the alarm system from here, it would alert Chris or his goons. He probably had a backup system, anyway.

  She could see motionless shapes in the building but no detail. There were no other windows. She grabbed the flashlight, slipping it easily off the quiver, and held the head flat against the window before turning it on. Blocking the light as much as she could with her body, she shone the broad beam over the interior of the building.

  The vehicle farthest from her was a large, motorized wagon, probably a working vehicle for a gardener or maintenance man, or to haul supplies from the airport. Next to that were a racing motorcycle and a Vespa-like moped. The moped would be Kimmie Plan A.

  The rest of the building was nearly bare, except for a toolbox on an empty bench along the back wall and three snow shovels hanging directly across from her. She clicked off the flashlight and shoved it back beneath the strap of the quiver slung across her back.

  “You try to get in here,” she whispered to Griff. “We’ll need to get Kimmie away from here, and the Vespa seems like the best bet.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “Get inside the house.”

  He didn’t look happy, but instead of arguing, he pressed his finger to the skin behind her ear. She reached up and felt one of his tiny transmitter-trackers. “Thanks.”

  “Be careful.” He kissed her quickly and melted into the darkness around the back of the carriage house.

  She hesitated a moment, the suddenness of being alone chilling her from the inside. She shook it off and moved on.

  The wind picked up when she circled behind the house and lost the shelter of the building and trees and slope. Her scarf whipped off her head. She pulled it back on, but her hair had come loose, and she couldn’t get it all under the dark fabric.

  Forget it. If they spotted her, she’d just get to Chris that much faster. The thought of having him at her feet, groveling, drove her on.

  She skirted a landscaped garden maze, dropped flat when someone came out onto the porch to smoke, and belly-crawled between shrubberies until she reached the far corner of the maze. The side of the house was right in front of her. She ran across the grass and flattened herself against the wall to look for a way in. The weathered wood siding offered no purchase, and there were no features to climb, such as a porch, drainpipe, or trellis.

  The view, spanning the entire island, caught her attention as she turned her head. The town below seemed bathed in golden light from the streetlamps, and she imagined she could hear thumping music from the restaurants and clubs dotting the area just outside the main business district. Beyond, a stretch of darkness was dotted with house lights, then the dark rise to the hill the airport sat on, bright lights shining on a small plane parked next to the terminal. Farther out, lights blinked on ships and boats on the water between the island and the mainland. The distance seemed cold and forbidding, since she was trapped here until morning, if not longer. She shuddered, imagining the flight back. If she made it that far…

  Enough.

  She had to get inside, find Kimmie, and get her out of there before anything else. The basement had been her ticket into the Alpine house—she’d try there again.

  Except there didn’t seem to be a basement. There were no window wells in the foundation on this side of the house. She hesitated, not sure which way to go. The front seemed the riskiest, but someone had been outside in the back, making that way just as bad. She didn’t feel good about either one.

  You’re all alone, about to face a killer and rescue a foolish, helpless girl.

  There were no risk-free options here.

  She decided to go back to the rear of the house and look for a hatchway directly into the cellar. Maybe it just didn’t span the full width of the building. She quietly sidestepped back to the corner of the house and peered around the edge, seeing nothing but tall grass and flowers bobbing in the breeze.

  The rear structure of the house was much more interesting than the side. Immediately past her corner, a room jutted out beyond the main building. There was a low window at about waist height in the middle of the short wall. It was dark, but that didn’t mean the room was empty. She crouched and eased low, tilting forward in a runner’s stance that kept her below the window and allowed her to see around the wall. The covered patio where she’d heard the man smoking was shadowed and deep, and probably had several doors opening onto it. Someone could be standing there watching her right now.

  Her eyes were adjusted enough to the dark and there was enough moonlight for her to see there were no hatchway doors on the other side of the patio. The building cut into an L beyond it, though, and the niche might be just right for a basement entrance. But how was she going to get across?

  In the half minute she watched and debated, the wind died and silence descended. In the void, she was certain she heard crying. It was muffled, as if coming from inside the room she was crouching near. That had to be Kimmie. Reese’s heart rate increased. She could break her out, get her to the carriage house, and send her on her way before anyone knew.

  Except…why had Chris put Kimmie in a ground-floor room? It would be much easier for her to escape. Unless she was tied up…or not alone.

  Reese could get in via the window, but possibly not without a lot of noise, and d
efinitely not without going in blind, since the shade was pulled down tight.

  The thought of Chris, or Armen, or any of the other goons violating Kimmie turned Reese’s stomach. She had to just bite it and go.

  She sprinted around the corner, keeping low, heading for the patio entrance on this side. She approached it silently, her sneakers making no sound on the cement, her stillness keeping her clothes from rustling. The entry had a glass-and-screen storm door and an inner door with a window…and a dead bolt. The storm door’s hinges looked like they needed oil, so she yanked it open to minimize the squeal. She held still, waiting, but nothing moved on the other side of the sheer curtain hanging over the window. No lights came on, no alarm sounded. And no one lunged at her across the patio.

  She tested the inner door. It wasn’t locked! She said a prayer of thanks, and dismissed the thought that this was too easy. Slipping into a short foyer, she let the door swing closed behind her. A dim light at the end of a zigzagging hall appeared to be coming from the kitchen.

  A room to her right looked like a mud room/laundry room. On her left was only blank wall. The room Kimmie was in must have an entrance nearby, probably up the hall and around the corner.

  Reese crept down the hall, one foot at a time, rolling her feet from heel to toe as she walked. She catalogued everything she saw in case she needed it later, to find a way out.

  The walls here were bare of decoration, but the hall corner sported a small, rectangular table with a basket of dried hydrangeas on it, unsuitable for personal defense. Though the table might make a good shield if it was as light as it looked.

  On her left was a plain, white door. The hall continued to the right and opened up at the end. She spotted gleaming wood and the back of a kitchen-style chair.

  She listened at the white door. She heard the crying, softer now than before, but no other voices or movements. She tried the handle. This one was locked. She slid a credit card from her back pocket and worked it into the latch, wincing at every click and scrape she made. Kimmie stopped crying abruptly. Reese pressed her lips together against the urge to reassure her. Someone out here would be more likely to hear her than Kimmie would.