His gaze dropped to the table in the center of the room, a virtual altar to the Furies and Stone’s research. On one side, Tisiphone sat perched against a drape of red velvet. On the other, an urn was surrounded by a wreath of dying flowers. And in the center, photos of Lisa over the last day stared up at him—her tired and worn out as she stepped off his boat at Lauren’s dock, her somber face as she stood at the kitchen windows gazing out at the water, her asleep on the window seat in the living room while he planned to go after Tisiphone.
Dread swept over Rafe and a tickle lurched in his throat. Swanson knew Lisa was still alive. She’d been watching Lauren’s house, which meant she knew Maria and Billy had been there. She hadn’t left here tonight headed for Odyssey and the other two Furies. She was going after Lisa.
“Mierda.” Frantic, Rafe reached for his mike and whipped around. “Billy. Goddammit, it’s a setup!”
***
Lisa swallowed a scream. The bottle slipped from her fingers and bounced off the tile floor. Cold water splashed across her feet as she took a cautious step back.
Christy Swanson narrowed her eyes and lifted the gun at her side. “Surprised to see me?”
Lisa’s heart thumped erratically against her ribs, but she refused to let her fear show. “I shouldn’t be, should I?”
Christy shook her head slowly. “You’re resourceful. I’ll give you that much. Doug always said you were the smartest woman he knew. Used to gnaw on every one of my goddamn nerves.”
The venom in Christy’s voice made Lisa’s adrenaline spike. She darted a look over Christy’s shoulder to the doorway leading to the living room.
Glancing back at the woman holding a gun in front of her, she spoke louder, hoping Shane would hear their voices. “Not as smart as you, Christy. You tricked everyone.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I was never good enough for Doug. He was the only family I had left. I would have done anything for him. But in his eyes I was never smart enough, never tough enough, never what he really wanted. He wanted the Furies, and I couldn’t get them. He wanted you to be the one taking care of him, not me, even after the way you betrayed him.”
Christy’s voice hardened. She moved forward. The gun wobbled in her hand. “Do you have any idea how that made me feel? I gave up my whole life to help him. The least he could have done was pay me an ounce of fucking respect. But no, he had the nerve to compare me to you.”
She laughed, an evil sound that echoed through the kitchen and sent a shiver down Lisa’s spine. “You! A lying, conniving whore with absolutely no sense of loyalty! When he learned you’d found Alecto, he was stupid enough to think it was going to bring you back to him. Can you believe that? He wanted Alan to help him find you. I couldn’t stand back and let that happen.”
Lisa’s stomach tightened with understanding, and she eased back another step until she bumped into the counter. “You killed him.”
Christy’s eyes blazed with both hurt and fury. “Mercy. That’s what I gave him. He should thank me for what I did for him. He would have died within the year anyway. I eased his suffering.”
Lisa glanced over Christy’s shoulder again. Where the hell was Shane?
“He’s not coming, you know,” Christy said in a mocking tone. “No one’s coming for you this time.”
Lisa’s eyes shifted back to Christy’s menacing glare.
“He’ll have a massive headache when he wakes up, but he’ll live. I want him to know you died because of your obsession with the Furies. I want someone else to feel an inkling of what I felt all these years.”
Panic squeezed Lisa’s chest.
Christy grabbed her by the hair and thrust her toward the patio door. “We have one stop to make first, though. Before this is over, you’re going to get me the Furies. I deserve that much at least.”
***
Rafe drove ninety on U.S. 1 north toward the Rickenbacker Causeway. He swerved in and out of traffic, swore at an old man out for a Sunday drive in the middle of the friggin’ night.
Billy hung onto the safety handle above his head with one hand and kept the cell phone pressed against his ear with the other. “Still no answer at the house. They’re not answering their cells either.”
“Hijo de puta.” Rafe ran a hand over his face and tried like hell not to panic. He should have listened to his gut. Goddammit. He should have listened to Lisa and brought her with him.
“Try Pete again.”
Sweat beaded his forehead. He slammed on the brakes at the tollbooth, dug change out of his pocket and tossed it into the coin basket, then punched the gas before the light turned green and tore off across the West Bridge.
Billy lowered the phone and dialed again. He darted a worried look Rafe’s direction. “Signal keeps dying.”
Carajo.
Muscles rigid, Rafe drove the six miles in silence and turned into the Village of Key Biscayne. His hands clenched into fists against the wheel as they cut through town and finally pulled to a stop in front of Lauren’s house. He punched in the code, waited impatiently for the gate to slide open and eased into the drive.
The house was dark but for the blue-green flicker of a TV downstairs. He parked in the shadows and killed the engine. When they climbed from the vehicle, Rafe pointed at Billy then signaled for him to go around back. Billy nodded, crept along the side of the building and disappeared into the darkness.
Rafe held his breath and listened at the front door. The only sound was the gentle lap of water against the shore behind the house, a seagull screaming from far off, muffled voices from the television.
If he was too late, if something had already happened to Lisa…
He tried the knob and found the door unlocked. Panic welled in his chest. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The living room was dark. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, he noticed that the large wooden candlesticks from the coffee table lay broken in two in the middle of the living room floor. Beneath it, droplets of blood stained the white carpet and disappeared in a trail toward the kitchen.
No, no, no…
“Lisa!”
He tore around the corner just as Billy swept in from the patio. Shane was on his knees in the kitchen, hands cuffed behind his back. Blood dripped onto the tiles from a gash in his forehead and spread across the white cotton shirt from the wound in his shoulder.
“What happened?” Rafe grabbed a rag from the counter and pressed it against Shane’s forehead. “Where’s Lisa?”
“Swanson. Was here. Surprised me.”
“When?”
“Not sure. Think I blacked out. Went to get some pain pills from my bag while Lisa was in the kitchen.” He gave his head a swift shake. “When I stepped out of the hall she cold-cocked me and jammed her foot into my bad shoulder.”
“Where are the keys to the cuffs?” Billy asked.
“My bag. Bedroom down the hall.”
“Where’s Lisa?” Rafe asked again, impatience and worry squeezing the air from his lungs.
Shane looked up. Guilt and fear plagued his features. “I don’t know.”
Rafe raked a hand through his hair and pulled so hard his scalp burned. Where would Swanson take her?
Think, dammit.
What did the woman want? She wanted Lisa to suffer. She wanted the Furies.
Odyssey.
His head darted up. “Call Pete at the gallery. Tell him what happened. Warn him Swanson’s on her way. Then call your cops in.”
“Swanson wouldn’t be stupid enough to go after the Furies if she’s onto us,” Billy said quickly from the archway, holding Shane’s leather duffle.
“She would if she’s got Lisa as a hostage.” Rafe headed for the patio door. He’d never make it in time by car. He just hoped Lauren’s fancy powerboat moored at the dock was full of fuel.
“Rafe.”
Shane’s worried voice stopped him. He glanced over his shoulder and felt his chest tighten with the same fear he saw on Shane’s fa
ce.
“There’s an extra gun in my bag. Take it.”
Billy dug through the bag and pulled out the Glock.
Rafe caught the firearm and magazine when Billy tossed them, then checked the chamber. He’d never taken a weapon on a job. In his line of work it was how people ended up dead, but this wasn’t a job anymore. This was personal. He swallowed around the lump wedged in his throat and looked at Shane. “You’re not the only one who loves her, Maxwell. I’ll get her back.”
“You’d better,” Shane said. “I’m counting on you.”
***
Lisa’s hands tightened on the wheel of Swanson’s Mercedes. Beside her, Christy sat rigid with the barrel of the gun pointed at Lisa’s chest.
The woman had been silent since she’d pushed Lisa into the car and barked directions. Lisa wasn’t sure which was better, the eerie silence or the irrational rants the woman seemed to go off on when the mood hit. Neither were high on her list at the moment.
The lights of Miami twinkled across the water. Lisa’s mind spun as she made the slow turn from Virginia Key onto the Bay Bridge on the Rickenbacker Causeway. Darkness pressed in from both sides, the water big black pools to the right and left.
If she made it to Odyssey, she knew Swanson wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Pete and Hailey to get the Furies. How many more people had to die because of this woman’s sick sense of revenge? If Lisa did something now, she could stop her before anyone else got hurt. She already knew Swanson planned to kill her as soon as she got what she wanted. It was only a matter of time for her at this point.
Lisa’s adrenaline surged. Traffic was sparse this time of night. They’d only seen a handful of cars since they’d left Key Biscayne. Her best chance for surprise was now, not after they got into the city.
Before she could change her mind, she wrenched the wheel hard into the right-hand lane and rammed the vehicle against the security barrier. The Mercedes skidded against concrete, shooting sparks into the darkness. Swanson’s body jerked to the side and bounced off the car door. She screamed. The gun slipped from her fingers and landed on the floorboards. Cursing, she tried to push herself upright.
Lisa slammed on the brakes. Swanson fell forward then back. Lisa thrust her elbow into Swanson’s face, and the woman screeched. Arm aching, Lisa jerked the driver’s door open and bent for the gun that had fallen and slipped under her feet.
“You bitch!” Swanson lunged across the center console, ramming her body into Lisa. They tumbled out of the car. Lisa’s back and shoulders took the brunt of the fall as she hit unforgiving pavement. A car whizzed by on the left, the blare of its horn jolting through her whole body.
Swanson grabbed Lisa by the T-shirt, lifting her an inch off the ground. She jerked one hand back and landed a right hook across Lisa’s cheek. Pain exploded in Lisa’s face. Her head smacked the pavement with a loud crack.
Stars crept into the edge of her vision, but she fought back with everything she had. She was smaller than Swanson by several inches, but stronger.
She jabbed her fingers into Swanson’s eyes. When the woman howled and pulled back, Lisa wriggled out from under her weight.
Frantic, Lisa glanced around for the gun. It had fallen out when they’d tumbled from the car, been kicked across the pavement in their struggle. She spotted it by the front tire.
She moved quickly around Swanson, who was still kneeling on the ground, moaning in pain. Chest heaving, Lisa leaned down and lifted the gun.
Swanson plowed into her from behind. The weapon flew from her fingers and disappeared over the side of the bridge. The air whooshed out of Lisa’s lungs. For a frightening moment, her body sailed over the security barricade into the darkness below.
Her hands grasped the edge of the concrete. She dug bleeding fingers into the hard stone as she was jerked over the side by the force of gravity, and tried to hang on. It was at least a fifty-foot drop. If there was water beneath her, she knew she could swim to safety. If there was land below, she’d be dead.
Oh, God. She swallowed the fear and gripped the concrete tighter.
“This is so much better than I planned,” Swanson growled from above. Her shadowed face, highlighted by dim lights on the bridge, came into Lisa’s view. Blood ran down her cheeks. Dirt was smeared across her forehead. “Beg. Beg for me to save you, Dr. Maxwell.” She wrapped one hand around Lisa’s wrist and pushed slightly. “I want to hear the words.”
Terror clawed at Lisa’s chest. She wasn’t going to die like this. Not on a bridge in downtown Miami only a mile away from the man she loved. Not when she finally had something real to believe in.
Lisa’s blood ran hot as she looked up into ice-cold eyes. A memory flashed, one of the rare instances Doug had talked about his family, about his sister who was afraid of the water. She quickly twisted her wrist and wrapped her hand around Swanson’s forearm. “Still hate the water, bitch?”
Swanson’s eyes went wide with fear and realization. “Wh-What?”
Lisa yanked hard. Swanson’s body shot off the bridge. Lisa let go so she wouldn’t be pulled down. Swanson kicked frantic arms and legs as she plunged into the darkness below with a bloodcurdling scream.
Lisa reached up to grip the barricade. Her hands were sweating, her fingers slipped, and she dropped a fraction of an inch. Her muscles screamed from the weight of her body. She couldn’t hold on much longer.
Oh, God, she was going to fall.
Voices echoed from the bridge. Below she thought she heard the rumble of a boat’s engine and another voice. For a moment, a spotlight swept over her, highlighting the concrete barricade that had become her lifeline.
Her fingers slipped again. Her heart rate jumped. Sweat slicked her skin, and she fought against her own weight, but the effort was futile. Her raw fingertips slid against the gravelly edge, and she managed one shrill scream before she plummeted into utter blackness.
Brisk air whooshed around her. She hit the water feet first and rocketed downward. On instinct she kicked as hard as she could, held her breath and swam upward with every bit of energy she had left.
Just when she was sure she was swimming the wrong way, she broke the surface and gasped. Her lungs burned as she drew air in and out in shallow breaths. Above, faint sirens echoed in the night, followed by voices yelling down at her from the bridge.
She closed her eyes and tried to steady her racing pulse. Someone knew she was down here. She wasn’t going to die, not tonight. Not when she had a whole life ahead that suddenly looked better with each passing second. She just had to hold on until a rescue boat came to get her.
“Lisa!”
Limbs aching, she treaded water and turned a slow circle, peering into the darkness for a voice she was sure she’d only imagined. Lights swept across her, forcing her to blink against the blinding beams. The roar of an engine sputtered and died somewhere close.
“Jesús, Maria y José.”
Rafe.
She hadn’t dreamt him. He was real. Her heart lurched in her chest.
Water splashed, and in an instant his strong arms were around her, supporting her and tugging her with him. “Are you okay? Jesus, Lisa, talk to me. Tell me you’re okay.”
Words choked in her throat. He hauled her up the swim ladder, dropped onto the floor of the speedboat and cradled her in his lap. His heart raced against her skin. Warm water ran in rivulets off both their bodies. His hands streaked over her, checking every inch to make sure she wasn’t hurt.
“I’m okay,” she managed on a shaky breath. “Rafe.” She placed a hand on his arm to stop his frantic search for injuries. “I’m okay.”
He let out a strangled groan, pulled her tight against him and dropped his forehead to hers. “Jesus, I… When I saw you dangling off the bridge, I thought I’d lost you.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the raw emotion in his voice. She sank into him and closed her eyes, for the first time in as long as she could remember feeling…free.
“You can’t get rid of m
e that easy, Slick.”
His arms tightened around her. “Don’t tease me. Not right now. I can’t take it.”
There was no humor in his voice. He pulled back enough to look down, eyes dark and intense and locked solely on her. In those gleaming obsidians she saw the same fear that had almost crippled her moments before, and it shot warmth through her whole body. She curled her fingers into his damp shirt and pulled him closer. “Rafe.”
A blinding spotlight swept over them, followed by the wail of a horn signaling the arrival of the U.S. Coast Guard Search and Rescue boat. Lisa dropped her head against his chest. His fingers slipped into her hair as he held her tight against him and waved to the Coast Guard with his other hand.
This was what she wanted. Him. Nothing else mattered. As soon as they were out of the water and back on dry land, she was going to tell him.
She wasn’t going to lose him, either.
Chapter Twenty-two
The early morning hours after the accident were a blur to Lisa. Rafe had been adamant she go to the hospital for observation, but she’d brushed off his concerns and let the EMT check her out instead. She now had a butterfly bandage across her cheek and bruises over most of her body, and felt like she’d been hit by a Mack truck.
But for all the bad things she could focus on, if she tried, for the first time in her life she was excited about the future. She’d never planned on falling in love at this point in her life, didn’t need a man to complete her, but she was counting her blessings for the one who’d had the good sense to hustle her in Milan.
They’d been separated for questioning after the accident. Lisa cooperated in any way she could, filling in details about Doug and the Furies and Christy Swanson’s demented need for revenge, omitting of course any reference to illegal activities she or Rafe had participated in, including theft, breaking and entering and how she’d come to acquire Alecto in the first place.
She sensed the detective interviewing her knew there was more to the story, but she didn’t really care what he thought. All she wanted was to curve into Rafe and fall asleep for at least a week. Shane, having cooperated as much as possible in the investigation, sensed her weariness and stepped in to help.