For the Bond (Romantic Suspense) (Beyond Blood, #3) (11 page)

From what I could tell, he was the only person in the car. The driver's side cranked open, spitting the putrid monster I'd had nightmares about into the street.

Lars Diani.

Having a name to put to him was amazing. My memory had been spot on. Thick shoulders, trunk arms, and a chest so wide I was sure his suit was an extra large. Those fucking piggy eyes glistened, settling on the doorway to the wake.

Shit, there was sweat on my palms. Everything was slick and hot.
Calm down, you can't shoot him yet. You'll never hit him.
The time I'd missed Kite when we'd played paintball was a sobering reminder. Telling myself this didn't keep me from crushing the grip of the Ruger until my fingers ached.

Lars made it to the building, the lights casting a long shadow behind him. The people standing outside greeted him, many shaking his hand and looking delighted. Didn't they know what kind of demon he was?

Shoving the gun into my bag, I jumped from the car. Letting Lars leave my line of sight was giving me anxiety. Call me obsessed, I wouldn't argue it, but the man I wanted dead was here,
right here.
I wasn't about to let him vanish.

No one said anything to me as I walked by them. They kept smoking, a glance or two tossed at me.
Act natural,
I told myself. In the interior, there was a long table covered in flowers. A giant poster-board with a young man's face was smiling at nothing. His hair was mossy green, teeth unnaturally white. The scrawled, elegant writing below said: Hector Jett, Gone but not Forgotten.

There were voices rumbling gently down the hall. I stopped, staring at the photo again.
So this is Hecko.
I didn't see the resemblance to Frank. I'd expected his last name to be Montego, too. It must mean Frank had a sister. Someone who'd married and taken another man's surname.

Juice said he died in an alley. I wonder how?
Abruptly, I recalled the news the other day. I'd seen them talking about this! It was unsettling to connect the two events.

Hoisting my purse, my tongue started to tingle as I entered the main room. It was full of people, grouped up and chatting, some of them in tears. I was out of place and I knew it, but the fear I had was being overrun by my determination.

Lars was bent over a woman, holding her hands and speaking softly. She didn't look pleased to see him. Those tight lips and narrowed eyes made it clear.

“He was a good boy,” Lars said. He kept patting her hands, making a show of comforting her.

The woman forced a smile so jagged it made me pull up short. I stayed where I was, backing up until I hit the nearest wall. I could watch from here, hopefully I'd be ignored.

Briskly, she pulled her arms to her sides. “Yes. He
was
. Good of you to make it tonight, Lars. I take it you're back, then?”

Lars chuckled. I saw his teeth, the filling that replaced the gap I'd committed to memory. “Not quite. Did you miss me already, Janice?”

“I just wanted to know if I should start locking my doors at night,” she said, still with her sugar-sweet grin.

Adjusting his tie, Lars lowered his tone. I could barely hear him. “You should always lock your doors. I hope you're not implying you're worried something will happen to you.”

Janice turned her body away, a subtle motion. “My brother, my son. It happens in threes.”

“I had nothing to do with Hector's death, or Frank's.”

Her lips curled so high that the ruby lipstick reminded me of a snarling animal. “I'll take your advice and lock my doors, just the same.” She left him, migrating into the safety of another circle of people who welcomed her.

The swell of emotion in me was hard to handle.
That was Hecko's mom. Frank's sister.
This woman was related to the man I'd watched slice up my loved ones with an X-Acto blade. A man I'd wanted gone and had been lucky enough to witness dying on a sunny day in the park. I should have hated her for the connection, but all I felt was sympathy. Loss was my old friend. Her son was dead, she wasn't to blame for my past.

Lars was.

Glaring at the spot between his shoulders, I imagined pulling the trigger of the Ruger. It'd be easy to do it here. He wasn't looking, just standing still and making himself the perfect target. But every time I visualized whipping out the gun, I thought of the photo of Hecko in the foyer. How awful it'd be—how cold—to murder someone here while Hecko's family was trying to celebrate his memory.

Gritting my molars, I turned on my heel and left the room. Lars had to exit eventually. I had the perfect view to stake out his car, he couldn't escape. That was what I'd have to console myself with.

I was close, so fucking close. Patience was a virtue, wasn't it?

Stretching out in the driver's seat, I put my purse in my lap. It felt better to know the gun was in reach. Alone with my thoughts, I recapped the scene I'd witnessed. Janice... she suspected Lars had something to do with her brother
and
her son's death? She clearly didn't like him and thought he was dangerous.

And what had she meant when she'd asked if he was 'back' now? There was a lot of junk going on under the surface. It wasn't my business. God, it wasn't even
important
to me. My goal, the person and retribution I'd been hunting was
here.
Lars was here. That was all that mattered to me.

He didn't spend long inside, but it felt like forever. The thick man stepped across the grass, then down the curb until he reached his car. My heart had taken position in my mouth, forcing me to breathe heavier. I didn't have an exact plan. Not really.

It was a straightforward urge that made me turn on the engine. That feeling guided me down the street, following as far back as I could from Lars while still tracking him. Wherever he was going, I intended to stay on his ass.

Not appearing suspicious was easy to do while we were on the main roads. Clumps of cars camouflaged mine. It was when Lars got on the interstate, then pulled off an exit onto a quiet, emptier stretched of road that it became risky.

Taking a chance, I slowed down and flicked off my lights. In the dark, tree-lined lane, I was a shadow. He didn't speed up or change his pattern. Grinning in excitement, I listened to how my confidence sang. This was going to happen. I was really doing this.

He took a corner, his car escaping behind the thick strand of brush and branches. We were in the middle of no where, I didn't know if it was east or north or what. I was hyper focused on Lars, not the directions.

Coasting down the road, I expected to see his car moving ahead of me. Instead, I came up on it in the darkness. There were no street lights here, no homes or business nearby. Prickling with foreboding, I pushed the breaks and slowed to a halt. He was blocking me in, I'd have to reverse. Why had he stopped?

Lars was a solid shape with no features as he stalked into view. His headlights illuminated him from the back, I covered my eyes and blinked. He was mere feet from my door, something in his hand as he snarled. “Get the fuck out of the car.”

Oh god. Oh fucking god. Claws scraped at the inside of my stomach. In a moment, I'd gone from heated confidence to cold despair. He was a hellion at my window, knuckles rapping savagely on the glass. I didn't know what to do. Aim the gun and shoot now? Could that work?

Grabbing the door, he yanked it open. I hadn't thought to lock it. Fuck, my mistakes were adding up. They were going to cost me. “Who are you?” he snapped, lifting the hatchet into view. The sight of it curdled my blood. “Why are you following me?”

Making myself tiny in the seat, I hoisted my purse and lifted my hands. “Don't hurt me! I—I wasn't following you, I swear!”

Lars yanked me out in one quick motion. All of a sudden I was six again. Except this time, it wasn't Cece who had the monster towering over her with an ax at his side. It was me. The fear was paralyzing.

“You weren't following me?” he asked, ignoring how I winced when I hit the asphalt. “Then why are your headlights off? I'm not stupid, lady. Tell me who you are.
Now.
” The hatchet glinted, wickedly sharp.

On hands and knees, I wasn't going to be able to escape. Running wasn't an option, but you know... for me, it never had been. My purse had spilled open near my thigh. Grabbing the Ruger, I flipped back and aimed it at Lars's surprised face. The weapon fueled me, made it clear I was no longer the little girl hiding in a closet. “Throw the hatchet away. Do it right the fuck now!”

He hesitated, gaze flicking from the pistol to me. Finally, he tossed the ax, the instrument clunking in the leaves of the ditch.

On legs that did not shake, I rose up, kept the gun leveled on him. “You want to know who the hell I am?” I slid the safety off. “I'm Marina Fidel. I'm the woman whose family you destroyed... the person you stole everything from.” Heat flared in my chest. “And I'm the one who's going to kill you.”

He hadn't blinked. The only noise was his car, the engine running quietly in the night. “Fidel?” he asked. “I don't remember any Fidels.”

I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice. “You don't
remember
us? Let me help. Think back, sixteen years. You and a man name Frank. A hard working dad, a happy home, and you swinging that fucking hatchet of yours to chop everyone up.”

A coldness slid over his face. I thought he'd been scary before, but even through my stoic shield, Lars made me swallow loudly. “Did you come back from the dead, little girl?” Shit, how was he able to smile? “I swear I cut you up after I used your body.”

Inhaling sharply, I trained the gun on his evil grin. “That was my sister.”

“Was it?” He tilted his head, I followed the movement with the Ruger. “She was a sweet one. She screamed so pretty when I touched her.”

God, Cece.
My head swam with the memories he was forcing up. I felt vomit on my tongue, cold sickness knotting up my muscles. I hadn't been thinking—could
not
think—my hands just squeezed
.
The gun went off, firing uselessly past his ear and into the black sky. Bullets that missed and set me up for my own carefully constructed doom.

Lars was shadows and lightning, he grabbed for me and caught me by the hair. The gun fell, my scream slicing up my own vocal cords. His punch to my stomach ended the noise. On the rough ground, I fell to my side and moaned.

Boots appeared, a hand in my scalp forcing me to my knees. The hard tip of the gun—Kite's gun—made me snap my eyes open. “I don't remember you,” Lars said calmly. “But if you're who you say you are, then I'm impressed. That was a long time ago. Did you live all these years, wishing me dead?”

Tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes. The way he twisted my hair was excruciating. “You and your friend murdered them,” I sobbed. “All of them!”

“My friend? You mean Frankie?” He shoved me against Kite's car, bending so we were nose to nose. “He's not my friend. He was a fucking rat... and he's dead now. I kill little rats. Get it?”

“Let me go and just
die!
” This wasn't how this was supposed to go.
Cece, Mom, Dad. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

His breath was humid. I flinched and bent away, but he pulled me right back. “I won't be the one to die tonight. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone into the city yet, though. I thought everything had blown over by now. I was worried about Frank's supporters, I didn't expect an anomaly like you.” Running the tip of the gun down my cheek, he smiled. “I like to tie up loose ends. I think you did me a favor, appearing like this. Everyone who could betray me is gone, now.”

It clicked for me. “You had Frank murdered, didn't you?”

“Had to happen. Some people need to die so the rest of us can move up in life.”

I saw nothing but the opening of the suppressor. My death would be quiet, snuffed out on a darkened road to be found by scavengers. At least Kite and Jacob wouldn't have to see my cold body.

Their faces entered my mind. Revenge had kept me going. With it escaping me by the second, my heart yearned for something more. A life that lay beyond this moment, a place I could maybe reach if I just lived. That was all it would take... living.

I had to find a way.

Lars was speaking, but I didn't listen. I thought back to the steps I had taken to prepare for this moment from start to finish. The metal of the gun was warm now, my blood alight. I burned with something besides fear. Eyeing the mouth of the Ruger, I felt... hope.

That monster pulled the trigger, and I felt fucking
hope.

The click popped in my ear drum. I knew what would happen before he did. Lars had been ready for my brains to splatter. No bullet came out to pierce my skull. I'd fired all three of them.

He couldn't react fast enough to the fact I wasn't a corpse. Instead, I was a coiled spring. I was prepared. Summoning all my speed, I jammed my elbow into his jaw. The gun bounced out of reach. I wasn't going for it, though. It was useless without ammo.

As Lars groaned, covering his face with his hands, I sprinted across the road. The hatchet was in the leaves, I skidded to grab it. He was panting and shouting, coming my way. I hadn't pictured this going down with me wielding an ax—potentially the very ax that had been used to chop up my family—but it was a weapon. It was enough.

Spinning, I swung just as he got in range. The edge cut his forearm, blood pouring down his sleeve. The pain didn't stop him, he shoved me into the road. He was bigger, stronger; my adrenalin and lust for survival couldn't match for long.

Screaming, my arms vibrated as I worked to keep him from shoving the handle into my throat. Lars crouched over me, eyes so wide they could have fallen from his head. “I'm going to make this hurt,” he hissed. “I'm going to strangle you, and then I'll fuck you like I did your sister. How's that sound?”

Grunting, I worked my knee up towards his balls; he blocked me, kept bearing down. “I hate you,” I growled. Spitting in his eye, I got goosebumps from how he laughed. The wood touched my skin, my muscles failing.

The air was split by a whistling bullet. Lars fell sideways, shouting in shock and pain. Breathing in deeply, I coughed and sat up. Hands grabbed me, pulling me away and getting me on my feet. “Are you alright?” Kite asked.