“So…” She bit into her bottom lip and dragged a hand through her hair. “You know.”
“Argh!” Baz jerked both hands into the air and turned around in a circle. “The hair thing! You did it all the time then. You do it all the time now. Damn! How could I have not gotten that?” Yanking his arms back down, he gently folded them across his chest then leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “How? Because. You’re. Supposed. To. Be. Dead.”
The strange intensity burning in his eyes unnerved her even more. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him this… this… volatile was the word that came to mind.
“You’re supposed to be dead, Brianna. Dead. Dead. Dead.” His sing-song tone frightened her. A bead of sweat rolled down the nape of her neck.
They’d always been friends. In fact, Baz had been the one there for her when Christiaan wasn’t. But now… Vicky swallowed thickly. She’d never been afraid of Baz before.
Before today.
“So—” She choked before the rest of the sentence left her mouth. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “So, Christiaan’s not coming?”
Stepping back, Baz began walking around the rock and Vicky. “Christiaan… Christiaan… Christiaan—” He accidentally stumbled over the gearbag she’d dropped upon her arrival earlier. He grunted in anger then kicked the offending object into some nearby bushes. “No. Christiaan is not coming. Hopefully, by now, the great Baron van Laere is out… of… the… way.”
What did that mean? Out of the way? Vicky tried to read Baz’s cold, congested expression. Christiaan was on his way to the airport? On his way back home? She swallowed hard again. Something worse? A loud squawk overhead told Vicky the red-tailed hawk had returned.
“You know… he was never supposed to come here.” Baz continued to circle her. “This…Mineral Springs… was my project. My baby. An todhchaí. The future.”
An todhchai. The file on the trailer computer. The future? Whose?
“But… no. Some crazy bitch decided she knew better. That she knew what was best for this world. Then and now. You know… I’m really getting tired of crazy bitches thinking they know better than anyone else.” He stopped moving right in front of Vicky, spread his legs out, and rested his wrapped arms on his chest.
An apprehensive shiver chased down her back.
He let out a short snort. “You’re pathetic. Do you know that? Vicky or Brianna or whatever you’re gonna call yourself now that your secret is out. I mean, I tell you the great Baron van Laere wants to talk to you, and you practically come in my hands.” Baz laughed and pretended to hold a phone to his ear. “It’s Christiaan. He’d really like to talk to you.” Changing his voice to falsetto, he continued. “He would?” Back to his regular tone. “Yes. He really doesn’t want to leave things the way they are between the two of you. He loves you.” Baz dropped his hand. “Pathetic bitch.”
Christiaan had never wanted to speak with her. He wasn’t worried about how things were between them. He didn’t love her.
I really am pathetic.
“But then again, that’s what women like you do, right?” Baz returned to circling the rock. “Whatever the men with titles and money and power want you to do.”
Vicky relaxed a little. This rant wasn’t about her. It was about Astrid.
“You just couldn’t stay dead, could you, Brianna?”
Or maybe not. She needed an exit strategy. Fast. Unfortunately, Baz’s circling made escape nearly impossible. Wait. What? “Stay dead?”
Baz started waving his hands and arms around. “First, you couldn’t stay out of my business back in Enschede. I’d been working on this project for years. Then, Christiaan decides he wants to cut back on work because you’re too tired or too stressed or too drunk or too stupid or too whatever to get pregnant. That means he doesn’t want to jump into another industry, into another country. That… that my dear Brianna, didn’t make Croi dubh happy.”
Croi dubh? Dubh? Duff?
Baz continued to ramble. “Then, like an idiot, you stumble on us meeting at the pub in town. Luckily for him, you didn’t see him there. Unluckily for you, he thought you were too big a wrench in his plans. So, you had to die.”
Duff? My Duff?
“Remember?” Baz nods his head. “You were too drunk to drive home so I brought your car home for you the next morning?
“Duff?”
“Yes!” Baz stomped his feet like a two-year-old having a temper tantrum. “Duff! Croi dubh. Black heart! The boss. Him!” Baz stopped and seemed to calm down immediately. “Now, back to my story.”
She shook her head and listened with bewilderment. Duff? That devilishly handsome, somewhat arrogant Irishman? Who’d cautioned her a few days ago to be more careful on the mountain? Who happened to be at Mineral Springs at the same time she was and warned her off the caves? The caves she’d ended up trapped in.
“Duff?” She repeated.
“Yes! Duff!”
Oh. My. God. “He had Brianna killed?”
“He ordered it,” Baz harrumphed. “But I made the arrangements.”
“You arranged to have me blown up?” The shock of his brutal truth hit her full force. Staring at him, tongue-tied, she opened and closed her mouth like she had something to say but didn’t know what.
She didn’t want to believe anything Baz was telling her, but deep down his histrionics made strange sense. Memories from eight years ago surfaced. His surprise at running into her at the pub. His anger at the news that Astrid and Christiaan were having an affair. His insistence he drive her home that day. His delivery of her car to her the next morning, right before she left for the airport.
The hawk squawked again. Vicky looked up in time to see it swoop down over Baz’s head. He didn’t even notice.
“Blowing a car up and making it look like an accident is actually fairly simple. First, you ask your local IRA bombmaker to build a simple explosive device the size of a soda can. Then, you—” He shook his head. “Oh… never mind. You’re not interested in the details. The point is, by the end of the day, you were dead. Problem solved.”
“But I’m not dead.” Her body began to shake as the fearful images of what could have happened taunted her. “So who was in the car?”
“Hmm…” Scrunching his face up in thought, Baz put a finger to his lips “You know, I’ve been noodling on that since Christiaan told me you were alive. The only thing I can come up with is that some poor idiot with the world’s worst luck stole your loaded luxury Jaguar at the worst possible time.”
“That’s the only explanation,” she whispered, feeling a little disembodied discussing her close brush with death. “I parked at the airport, and my car exploded on the motorway.”
“Hmm… mystery solved.” He placed his hands on Vicky’s shoulders and squeezed… hard. “But you didn’t die, did you?”
“No, I didn’t.” She nodded complacently, hoping the tears welling up in her eyes weren’t evident to him.
Baz released her and started strutting around the rock again. “Which would have been fine, too, except for some reason God has a patent dislike for me because he has you causing shit again for me. I mean… what are the chances?”
Better than the ones of my getting away from you.
“First, you’re just a simple thorn in my side as some random crazy environmental bitch hiding behind ShastaWatch. Then, Christiaan shows up and can’t get enough of you. Insists I go along on some crazy mountain climb so he ‘can get to know you better’. Now I’m right back where I started eight years ago…” Stopping directly in front of Vicky, he leaned in so close that spittle from his angry words sprayed her face. “… with a pathetic bitch fucking up my plans. So, this time I took care of business myself.”
Something clicked in her mind. “You pushed me down the mountain.”
“Yeah. That was me.” He stepped back, put his hand on his stomach, and laughed hard. “You should have seen yourself. After Dean’s big talk about how surefooted you were on Mt. M
cKinley and everybody was so, ‘Oh my God, Vicky, you’re so fucking wonderful,’ all I had to do was slip a foot in front of yours as we got started, and you tumbled down the mountain like a rag doll in a washing machine.”
I knew it wasn’t an accident. But she’d blamed Christiaan. Not this… this… lunatic.
“But… of course… as usual… You. Didn’t. Die!”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” She didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm.
Baz chuckled. “Oh Bri… Oh Vicky… a disappointment is all you’ve ever been to me. Like on the cliff.”
“You had something to do with that?”
He laughed again. “Well, Duff and I saw you poking around the trailer and stuff, so we waited until you’d headed back up the cliffside trail and had the boys set off a test earthquake.”
The boys. That explains the men she and Christiaan chased into the cave.
“But, again, much to my chagrin, you didn’t die.” He looked up into the sky. “Again, God fucking me over.” Baz returned his attention to Vicky. “But you were so cute, trying to keep yourself safe from Mr. Nasty Old Bear.” He reared his hands and acted like a bear.
You bastard. “That was you in the bushes.”
“Yeah. I figured at some point a bear would get you, and my problems would be solved.”
She snickered. “If it weren’t for bad luck, you’d have no luck at all.”
Baz stared at her. His jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed. Vicky’s false bravado faded as she realized this freak had no intentions of letting her leave here alive.
Suddenly, he resumed his good-natured banter. “Yes, you certainly do have nine lives.”
Another thought crashed into her. “The cave. That was you.”
“Yes!” Baz laughed that crazy, maniacal laugh again. “You and Christiaan stumbled into earthquake central. Finally, FINALLY…” Baz peered up into the sky before finishing. “I think God is ready to answer my prayers. So I had some of the boys set off another MEQ.”
Test earthquake. MEQ… seismic evidence… tectonic chain reactions… Shit! These guys are playing with fire.
“You’d be surprised what a few pieces of well-placed explosives in one of the many steam caves and tunnels around here can do.”
His remark triggered memories of the maps she’d viewed in the trailer. “Earthquake central?” slipped from her lips.
Unexpectedly, Baz turned sentimental. “Look, Bri… Vicky…” He shook his head. “You were always my friend. You always treated me nice, not like everyone else. Then… then… you got in the way, and you had to go. Now I have to do something more permanent.” Pulling a pistol from his coat pocket, he pointed it at her. “Besides, you should thank me. This will be a much better and faster way to die than what’s planned.”
Sweat rivered down the back of her neck. Don’t panic! “What’s planned, Baz?” She touched his arm, hoping she had the balls to grab the gun at the right moment. “What’s planned?”
The unrelenting, harsh squawk of the hawk almost stole her focus.
Instead, her husband’s voice startled her.
“Yes, Baz. Tell us what’s planned.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Relief at the sight of a living, breathing, and uninjured Vicky gave Christiaan some peace. However, the pistol pointed at her—and now at them both—gave him pause. Potverdomme! Why didn’t I grab Duff’s gun from the car?
Baz’s face was an odd mix of stark disbelief and bitter hatred. Without warning, he stomped his feet like a little boy told no and looked into the sky. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me, God?” Baz’s focus dropped to Christiaan. “You’re supposed to be gone. Gone. Done. Finished. Out. Of. The. Way.”
Christiaan ignored the rant to peer at Vicky. She’d managed to step back and put distance between her and the obviously unstable traitor. Running a hand through her hair, she bit her lower lip.
There’s my girl.
“You okay?” he asked, feeling as defenseless as a declawed cat.
“Shut up!” Baz’s maniacal voice boomed.
She flinched. Her expression changed from hope she wasn’t alone to face this indescribable situation to fear there wasn’t any way out. Peering at Christiaan, she struggled to put on a brave face and slowly nodded an affirmative answer to his question.
The need to comfort and protect his wife took over, and he moved toward her. The sound of a gunshot whizzing past his ear stopped him cold.
“No… no… no,” Baz’s maniacal voice soothed. “No sweet reunions here, my friends.”
Mental note: The gun is loaded, and he isn’t afraid to use it.
Christiaan fought the urge to smack the twisted, mocking smile right off his former friend’s face. He contemplated his next move.
“Where’s Duff, bro?” Baz asked like they were simply holding a normal conversation. “He was supposed to have taken care of you. Me do Vicky. Him do you. That was the plan.”
Christiaan breathed deep and played along. “Well, plans change, bro. Right now, the Irishman is gathering flies in a drainage ditch about ten miles from here. Diord fionn, bro.”
Brows furrowed, Baz stared blankly. “Duff… Duff is dead?” The gun barrel dropped slightly. “Duff… dead. Hmm…” Christiaan saw the opportunity and moved toward the weapon. He stopped short when the lunatic began giggling like a little kid getting to stay up past his bedtime.
“Duff’s dead! That puts me in charge now, right? Finally. I’m in charge. I’m in fucking charge. Whoo-hoo!” Baz shook his head then looked directly at Christiaan, a satanic smile spread across his thin lips. “No Irishman to tell me what to do, and…” He leveled the gun directly at Christiaan’s chest. “No Baron to tell me what to do… ever again!”
“Come on, Baz. You don’t want to do this.”
“You know, bro, you think you’re so fucking wonderful.” He rocked his head back and forth, from one shoulder to another. “The great Baron von Laere. All hail the blue blood. All hail the clean, perfect noble. Fuck the dirty gardener’s son.”
Potverdomme! All this because of that. “Come on. It was never like that.”
“Shut up! Yes, it was!” Baz’s nostrils flared. “All my life, I’ve been stuck in your fucking shadow. Growing up, you got everything, and I got nothing but hand-me downs. At school, everybody wanted to be your friend. They only tolerated me because you insisted. At work, you could do no wrong. I couldn’t do anything right. All because you were the golden boy and I wasn’t.”
“Baz, I never saw you that way.”
“Shut... up!” He shook his head violently. “How could anyone see what I had to offer when all they could see was you? Perfect, perfect you. Astrid couldn’t see. Even you couldn’t see. But Duff did. He saw what I had to offer and gave me a chance to shine.” Baz’s mouth twitched with amusement.
“He didn’t care about you.” Christiaan took a small step forward. Maybe, just maybe, if he could got closer, he could grab the pistol. “The Irishman was just using you.”
Baz’s maniacal smile deepened into maniacal laughter. “No, we were just using you. You… your company… your mone—”
“Save it. Duff filled me in on the all details.” Another step. “But he’s gone now. There’s no reason for any of this craziness to go any further, right?”
Baz shrugged his shoulders. “What do I care what happens after I take care of you two? With Duff gone, I’m the only one with access to the funds we stole. So, by this time tomorrow, I’ll be starting a new life of luxury in Cabo or Dubai or the Caymans or wherever I decide to have the company plane take me.”
“You’re willing to let millions of innocent people die?” Vicky offered in a voice calmer than Christiaan thought possible considering the situation. “All because you’re one crazy, insane, self-absorbed, adolescent, jealous bastard?”
Umm… mijn minnares… he has a gun.
Baz’s grin hardened for a second, and his eyes brimmed with genuine hatred. Then he chuckled and ga
ve her a soothing smile. “Who cares if this half of the world disappears? Not me. Look at it this way, Vicky darling. At least you’ll have succeeded in stopping the geothermal project. You can go to your grave knowing that you achieved that. Isn’t that nice, hmm?”
Christiaan inched forward.
“But, before my new life begins, I have a few things to take care of. First you...” Baz nodded at Christiaan then winked at Vicky. “… then you.” Slowly, he aimed the pistol at Christiaan.
From the corner of his eye, Christiaan watched her pick up a fist-sized rock and hurl it. The projectile nailed Baz directly in the chest as he pulled the trigger, and the gun flew from his hand.
“Run, Christiaan. Run!”
He turned to do that exact thing when he saw her jerk upright, clap a hand to her leg, and fall to the ground.
She’s hit! Racing to her side, he struggled with what to do next. Baz ended the indecision by rushing them. Christiaan crouched and prepared his best Rugby dump tackle. Aiming a shoulder for Baz’s stomach, he nailed it then picked up the maniac’s legs and lifted them to the side. Baz grunted as he hit the ground hard.
Grabbing Vicky’s arm and wrapping it around his neck, Christiaan pulled her to her feet and tore up the trail, hoping to get as much distance between them and Baz as possible. Christiaan stole a look at her leg, where a large stain appeared mid-thigh. All the distance in the world wouldn’t help if she bled to death. Dragging her behind some bushes, he sat her down and quickly assessed her condition.
“Don’t stop,” her voice strained and wavered. “We need to keep moving. Get to higher ground. He doesn’t know the snowfields like I do. Come on!” She tried to stand, but Christiaan held her down.
“First, let me take a quick look at that scratch of yours.” Blood now trickled to the ground. From where they sat, he could see a trail of red drops that even a blind man could follow.
She was right. They needed to get moving… soon.
Yanking his handkerchief from a back pocket, he pressed the fabric hard against her thigh.
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