Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 (40 page)

She left them gaping after her.

Dani walked across the courtyard. She kept going until she found her special, private place among the shrubs, where she could always be alone with her thoughts.

There she sat, deep in thought, until she heard the shot ring out.

She sat there, wondering. A hunter? But they respected the convent and stayed away, or so she’d been told.

A chill of foreboding began to work its way through her. Quickly she got to her feet, left the sanctuary of the foliage, and started down the road, forbidden though it was to go beyond the gates., As she moved, the fear grew stronger, and she quickened her pace, lifting her long skirt.

Suddenly, in the distance, she heard the sound of a woman screaming, screaming as though the hounds of hell were snapping at her.

There was the sound of men shouting in excitement, and then the thundering of hoofbeats. Many horses were moving along the rocky mountain path.

She rounded a curve in the road, then stopped as something to the left caught her eye. She turned, hands flying to cover her mouth and stifle a scream.

Colt lay naked on the ground beside the stream. The water flowing below his body was red with the crimson rivulets coming from his head.

She ran to him and, kneeling, lifted his head gently onto her lap. His blood spread bright red stains across her skirt.

She called his name again and again, in despair and in supplication.

He moaned—a tiny sound, barely audible, but it was enough. Dani choked on her own sobs as she attempted to rouse him, daring to shake him only very gently.

Others had heard the gunfire, for the shooting had taken place so near the usually serene and quiet convent.

Nuns came running down the trail. Horrified by what they found, they ran back to the convent to summon their port in all storms—Mother Superior.

She did not rush to the scene, but gave directions for bringing Colt to the convent infirmary.

Dani followed as Colt was lifted on a litter and carried gently back up the trail and into the convent.

She waited outside while Sister Mary Francesca, a nun with two years’ nursing practice, examined Colt. At long last, Dani was allowed to enter the barren room. The walls and ceiling were white. There were no curtains at the arched windows, which overlooked a bare, rocky slope and an autumn-browned valley below. The floor was wood, and had been scrubbed with bleach and water so many times that there was no color left to it.

There were four beds lining each side of the long room, narrow cots with iron headboards. Colt was lying very still on a bed near the window, a crisp cotton sheet and a thick wool blanket over him. His head was wrapped in a cocoon-like bandage and propped on a pillow. His eyes were closed, and his chest moved only a little.

Dani looked at Sister Francesca, her eyes begging for good news—but for honesty as well.

“Your brother has not been conscious in all this time,” Sister Francesca informed her frankly. “The bullet did not enter his head, or he would be dead. It grazed his skull, and grazed it hard. With my limited medical knowledge”—the nun shrugged apologetically—“I can only assume that the bullet hit hard enough to bruise his brain, causing a concussion.”

Dani swallowed hard. “Will he live?” she whispered.

Sister Francesca looked away. “I have done all I can think of. We will just have to wait and see what God wants to do about this.”

Dani moved to Colt’s bed and, leaning over him, brushed her lips against his cheek. “Live, John Travis,” she whispered. “Live. Please.”

Then she turned away. It was time, she decided, to send a message to Travis Coltrane that his children needed him.

Gavin Mason strode furiously up and down the area outside the hatchway to the deBonnett cellar. His men were bringing up the crates of gold with agonizing slowness. Damn it, why was this taking so long? The ship he had booked for the voyage to Santorini was in the harbor, so all they had to do was load the gold and set sail.

Dirk Hollister stood a little ways off, watching the men struggling with the crates. Gavin regarded him warily. How could the blundering fool have been so stupid as to kill Coltrane and Pope so close to the convent? Hollister hadn’t admitted it, but the two men with him had told Gavin they’d questioned the wisdom of the shootings, telling Dirk that the bottom of the mountain was a far better place. And at the very least, the bodies ought to’ve been hidden. But Hollister was hell-bent and wouldn’t listen.

Gavin had exploded when they reported to him. He told Hollister what a stupid son of a bitch he was, and now things were dangerously tense between them.

Gavin hadn’t liked it any better than Hollister did that Coltrane and Briana had been found naked in each other’s arms. When the men brought her back, Gavin saw her virginal blood smeared on her thighs and rage overtook him. Everything was clear now. He knew the depth of her feelings for Coltrane. She had drugged Coltrane, but she hadn’t coupled with him, not if she was still a virgin. All this time, Gavin had been deceived.

Well, no matter. It was over, and Coltrane was dead. Briana, bound and gagged, would be hidden on one of the wagons that would transport the gold to the ship. They were going to Santorini. Once they were safely there, he would have Briana whenever he wanted her.

Gavin didn’t have to ask what had made Hollister act so crazily. Hollister both desired Briana passionately and hated her savagely for scarring him.

As three men struggled futilely to get a crate through the hatchway, Gavin’s tension got the best of him, and he railed, “God damn it, move your asses. You got it down there, so why can’t you get it up? We haven’t got all day. Hollister blundered the job, and we’ve got to put as much distance as we can between us and France, because you can believe Travis Coltrane is going to come after us with everything he’s got.”

“Which is…” Alaina taunted softly, “a
lot.”

Gavin whirled around. What was she doing here?

“Get out of here, you old bitch! I won’t listen to your goading. You’re looking for trouble.”

Alaina flinched. Why must he treat her this way in front of these men?

“Did you hear me, bitch?” Gavin roared, lips turned back in a vicious snarl, eyes glittering. “Get out of here!”

“After all I’ve done, you ungrateful…” Alaina sputtered.

“Ungrateful!” Gavin shoved her away from him, and she sprawled to the ground.

“I warned you I wasn’t going to listen to your drunken nagging anymore,” he cried.

“You old bat!” he went on furiously. “You’re the one who should be grateful—grateful I was able to stay with you so long. You’re a disgusting old lush.” He gave her a savage kick in the side.

Slowly, gasping with pain, Alaina struggled to stand, falling twice before she managed to get herself up. Her side hurt terribly, and she clutched at it, crouching over.

Gavin took a menacing step nearer. “I will tell you one time: Get out of my sight, or you’ll make me really hurt you.”

She reached out for the stone wall of the house, leaning on it for support.

The crate was finally through the hatchway.

“Is that the last one?” Gavin asked, and the men grunted assent.

“Get it on the wagon, and let’s head for the harbor.” He turned to Dirk and said, “I’m going to make sure Delia’s ready. Wait for me by the wagons.”

He started toward the house, and Alaina called out, “Wait! What about me? How long before you come home, Gavin?”

Gavin turned around very slowly and stared at her. What did it take to make her comprehend? “You brought all this on yourself, Alaina. I am sick of you, and I don’t know whether I’ll come back or not.”

Alaina’s spirit had not been crushed despite all the humiliation of the last few weeks. “You bastard!” she screamed, her voice ringing out like a death knell. “You goddamn, no-good bastard! You can’t just leave me here to starve while you take everything for yourself. I’ve got as much right to that gold as you have—more, really. If it weren’t for me, you’d never have gotten it.”

“I owe you nothing,” Gavin growled.

Just then Dirk dared to intervene. “You aren’t going to leave her here to starve, are you?”

Gavin sighed. “Don’t be dramatic, Hollister. She still has some things she can sell—furniture and so on. Now let’s
go.
She’s not destitute. If Travis Coltrane catches up with us,
we’ll
be destitute.”

Alaina had, at last, become too angry to feel humiliated. She was smoldering with a rage so fierce it actually caused a burning sensation in her chest. And she knew just what to do about it.

By the time Gavin finished yelling at Delia for being so slow and rushed downstairs again, heading outside to check the wagons, Alaina had reached the kitchen. She heard Gavin leave, then crept to the big chopping block in the middle of the room. Beneath, neatly positioned in their slitted compartments, were a dozen knives of various sizes.

She chose the longest and largest.

Then she began to make her way upstairs. All was quiet.

She picked her way along carefully, for her side was aching terribly, and it was grueling to climb the stairs. She was also having difficulty focusing. How many vodkas had she had today? She couldn’t remember. When she had taken care of the evil in the house, she promised herself, had gotten rid of the demon that had taken over Gavin’s will, she would have champagne to celebrate.

What had happened outside, Alaina told herself, was not Gavin’s fault. The man she had loved for so long, treated as a son in his younger years and then as a lover, would never, ever treat her that way. Why, Gavin was Stewart Mason’s son, and Stewart had adored her.

No, the Gavin she loved had become possessed by that creature who’d seduced him and come back with him from America.

The door to Delia’s room was ajar. Alaina stood very still and peered inside.

Delia was standing in front of her dressing table, humming as she tucked her curly hair inside a wide-brimmed straw bonnet. She was wearing a pink velvet dress made in the newest fashion. She looked fresh and pretty. She twirled, smoothing the long, flowing skirt, delighted with herself. The delicate lace edging at the high collar, framing her face, gave her an innocent, cherubic look.

Delia was thinking about how good Gavin was for her. Oh, he was no great lover, and she didn’t much like him
that way.
She also did not love him. But he was rich, filthy rich, and that made all the difference that mattered. She intended to stick to him like a newborn calf to its mother. Nothing would come between them as long as he stayed rich.

She went out onto the small balcony off her room, wanting a last look. Who knew whether she’d ever come back to Monaco? Gavin had said they probably wouldn’t. It was a dramatic view. The rocks below were large and jagged, and the azure waters of the Mediterranean lapped lazily among them. Sea gulls darted, crying to each other. It was a lovely view, but Delia resentfully recalled the panorama from Alaina’s balcony. There, the sea could be seen in all its splendor, as well as the mountain range to the east.

Delia placed her hands on the waist-high balcony railing, standing on tiptoe and leaning forward, trying to see the yard to her left. Only a tiny corner of the yard was visible. She wanted to see Gavin, to wave to him to let him know that she was on her way downstairs. She knew that she made a beautiful sight, the sea and sky surrounding her for background.

Gavin was nowhere in view. She turned, and in that instant, Alaina brought the knife down in a deadly arc.

With lightning speed, Delia leaped to the side. And then she gazed in horror as the force of Alaina’s lunge propelled her over the railing. Dumbstruck, Delia watched the screaming Alaina hit the scrubby brush along the rocks, then tumble on downward to lie at the water’s edge. She lay very still.

Alaina’s scream died away, and Delia’s shrieking took its place.

She was still screaming when Gavin burst into the room moments later. He slapped her hard several times until she stopped screaming and succumbed to broken sobs. “She tried to…stab me. I jumped to the side, and she just plunged over the railing.”

Gavin’s thoughts raced while he quieted her. As he was weighing the odds against Alaina’s still being alive, Dirk burst in.

“Mason!” he called. “She’s not dead. She must’ve hit the bushes first, and that broke her fall. But she won’t live long, not the way she’s busted up.”

Gavin eyed him shrewdly. “Is she…very bad?”

Dirk nodded brusquely. “What doc do you want to send for?” he asked. “I told the men not to move her till the doctor got here.”

When Gavin spoke next, both Delia and Dirk gaped at him, amazed and disbelieving.

“We’ll leave her where she is. When someone eventually finds her body, they’ll, think it was an accident that happened after we’d already gone. To send for a doctor means answering a lot of questions. See?”

At last, the horses and wagons began to move down the road toward Monaco, and the ship in the harbor.

Gavin and Delia, in the deBonnett carriage, felt like royalty. Settling back against the smooth red leather seats, Gavin placed a possessive arm around Delia, drawing her close.