Known (40 page)

“Thank you,” she whispered. “That’s twice you’ve saved Violet and me.”

He held her gaze. “I guess someone’s trying to tell me something. I’ve tried my hardest to stay away from people for the past two decades. It took both my sister and Michael to yank me into their lives, and I’ve never regretted it. Now someone has forcibly placed you and Violet where I have to practically trip over you to get me to open my eyes again. I think it’s a sign.”

Her lips curved up. “A sign? Do you remember asking me if I believed in fate on that first night in your cabin?”

“I do.” His expression was deadly serious. He reached out and gripped her closest hand.

“You said you thought you were sent to help Violet and me.”

“I’ve changed my thoughts on that,” he said.

“Oh?”

“I wasn’t sent to help you two. You were sent to save me.”

Gianna couldn’t breathe.

“The last two years of my life have been a series of small steps. Learning how to live in the real world. Being human again. I think someone felt I was ready to take a huge leap. I’ve never felt more alive than in the last few days. I feel like . . . something has settled into its rightful place inside of me. I
knew
something was wrong, but I couldn’t put a name or description to it. There was an empty spot and I couldn’t figure out how to fill it.”

“It’s better now?” Gianna asked. Her mind spun as he spoke, knowing the exact sensation he was talking about. Violet’s father had left a hole when he’d died. It’d healed over, but she’d never felt the same. A constant nagging empty sensation had followed her for years. She’d tried to fill it with work and her daughter, but it had been like placing a paper patch on a fabric hole. It protected the spot, but never felt right.

“It’s like it was never there.” He paused. “It’s you, Gianna. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, but I don’t think I was ready until recently.”

Tears streaked down her cheeks. “I feel the same way,” she whispered. “I don’t want it to go away.”

“Hell. I’m not going anywhere.” The familiar stubbornness settled on his face. “We’ve got all the time in the world. And I know what I want to do first.”

“What’s that?”

“Introduce you to my son.”

She couldn’t wait.

One month later

Chris sat on the rocky wall and stared out at the Caribbean at five in the morning. Even in the early hours, the Kool-Aid shade of blue was stunning. White sand under his toes. Palm trees overhead. The beach on the Yucatán Peninsula was straight out of heaven. He’d never visited this part of the world before. It was an odd mix of Mayan ruins, sleepy towns, tourist traps, and poverty.

The sweat under his bulletproof vest ran down his back.

“The local girl said it’s the second tent,” Michael said softly. He crouched on top of the wall, his gun balanced lightly on his knee. Weeks of searching, digging, and payoffs were about to come to fruition. They’d tracked Reid Kruger south into Mexico and east to Cancún and then south again. Twice they’d been hours behind the man, finding dirty dishes and angry women who said he’d promised them money.

Reid Kruger was out of money.

The USB drives in the Darth Vader PEZ dispensers contained information that’d brought Kruger’s father’s company to its knees. War crimes, hate crimes, international crimes. His father had been a part of all of it, and he no longer had money to send to his son on the run. Evidence of Reid Kruger’s brutality in his home country of South Africa was also on the thumb drives, but it paled in comparison to the crimes of his father. Hawes and Becker had been stunned by the amount of information and passed it to the right international authorities.

Chris didn’t care. He simply wanted Reid Kruger to pay for shooting Jamie and Gianna. The women had spent the last month looking over their shoulders, wondering if the blond giant would reappear. Michael and Chris were determined to give their women peace of mind. Their latest lead had brought them to a camp on a quiet beach where young international travelers gathered. College dropouts who wanted to see the world on a budget. Young people in their twenties who wanted to live by the water this week and climb a mountain in Tibet next week. A transient group, constantly changing and evolving. Their most recent addition included a
very
tall and large blond man.

“Let’s go.”

Chris followed Michael between the palms, staying low and stepping quietly. His brother moved like a panther. He crouched next to the second tent and looked in the open flap. “Tent” was a misnomer. It was several tarps strung together between two trees. Large openings allowed the coastal breezes to flow through. Michael looked back at him and nodded, his eyes serious. He held up one finger.

It’s Kruger and he’s alone.

Michael started to enter the tent, but Chris grabbed his shoulder. He shook his head and pointed at himself. His brother held his gaze for a long moment and then stepped back. Chris had spent decades looking over his shoulder, expecting to see the face of his torturer, wondering when the Ghostman would find him again. Chris might have been locked up for two years, but he had spent even more years in a mental and emotional prison because he never felt safe. Ever. Chris could eliminate that life of uncertainty for the women.

Chris took a deep breath, studied the inside of the tent, and stepped inside. The smell of unwashed male slapped him in the face. Even the salty breeze couldn’t clear the sweaty odors from the blankets. He crept closer, his weapon trained on the head resting on the small pillow, and he recognized the profile. The man was leaner now, his beard growing out and his hair in need of a trim. The smell of alcohol mixed with the other odors of the tent. Judging by the empty glass bottles off to one side, Kruger drank a lot. And often.

Here was the source of Gianna’s, Violet’s, and Jamie’s nightmares.

He thunked his weapon on the man’s skull and stepped back. Kruger lunged up from the ground and froze as he saw the men and the weapons trained on his face. He stared at Chris and muttered something in a language Chris didn’t recognize. Alcohol fumes and bad breath drifted from his mouth.

“Yes, he did survive,” answered Michael.

In the dim light, Chris realized the man had lost more weight than he’d originally guessed. Life on the run was a thorough diet. He hoped Kruger had been scared shitless the whole time.

“I knew someone was following me,” muttered Kruger. “Are you the police?” he asked, looking at Michael.

Michael’s lips twisted. “I’m not.”

Kruger looked from Michael to Chris and then scooted back a few inches. “What do you want? I can get you money.”

“No, you can’t. Daddy’s deep pockets have dried up, and I’m sure you’re very aware of that fact,” said Chris. “What we want can’t be bought. We want the women in our lives to be able to sleep at night and not worry that someone is going to burn their house down around them or shoot them in the stomach.”

Kruger’s white teeth flashed. “I read she survived. She is a hot one, your woman.”

Chris’s arm shot out and whipped his weapon across the man’s face. Blood dripped from his nose. Kruger wiped it with the back of his hand and eyed the blood smear.

“You Americans think you’re all John Wayne,” sneered Kruger. “You don’t know what real power feels like.”

“I have your fucking puny life in the palm of my hand,” said Chris, lining up his weapon with Kruger’s right eye. “No one will care if I kill you right now. The United States wants you for murders of police officers. Do you know what we do to cop killers back home? South Africa wants you for some of the sickest crimes I’ve ever heard of. You should be happy that I’m going to save you from that hell.”

Kruger’s bravado faded at Chris’s words. “I still have friends with money. I can pay you well.”

“They can’t be very good friends if they let you sleep in this filth,” answered Chris. “I’ve got no reason to let you walk out of this tent. No reason at all.”

Kruger lunged for the tent flap, and Chris leaped on the stinking man’s back, clubbing him in the head with the butt of his gun and forcing him to the ground. Kruger fought to throw off his weight as Michael flung himself onto the backs of Kruger’s legs. Michael grabbed one of the man’s arms and wrenched it behind his back. Chris heard the click of handcuffs and transferred his weight to the man’s shoulders. Kruger swore with foreign words as Michael wrestled with the cuffs.

A second click.

Chris rolled off his back while Michael kept his weight on the man’s legs. Chris crawled to the tent flap, pushed it aside, and looked out at the four waiting men. “He’s all yours.” The men were dressed in cheap tourist shirts, but Chris knew they wore body armor underneath. They were impatient to take their prisoner back to South Africa.

Two of the men ducked inside and Kruger shouted in anger at the sight of the newcomers.

Michael crawled out of the tent. “It fucking stinks in there.”

The two remaining men shook hands with Michael and Chris. “Thank you,” said one.

“No,
thank you
,” answered Chris.

“Let’s go home,” said Michael.

“Home,” echoed Chris with an eager smile.

It’s over.

Gianna stood in the waiting area of the tiny regional airport, shifting from foot to foot, watching out the window. Heavy rain had fallen for the last few hours, delaying several flights. Behind her Brian patiently explained the nuances of his video game to Violet as they sat with their heads together, peering at his small screen. Violet’s interest was genuine, and Gianna’s heart warmed at how the kids had taken to each other.

The first meeting between the three of them had been stiff and awkward, with Chris uncertain how to introduce Gianna and Violet to his son. Brian had looked from one woman to the other, a puzzled look on his face as he listened to his father fumble through an explanation of a cabin fire and snowstorm.

Gianna couldn’t take her eyes off the boy, stunned at his strong resemblance to both Michael and Chris. She’d pulled her gaze away for a second and raised a brow at Chris in amusement. He halted his jumbled story and held up his hands in exasperation. “I like her,” he finally blurted. “A lot.”

Brian frowned as he processed his father’s statement, and then his face lit up. “She’s your girlfriend?” he said with a grin, looking eagerly from Gianna to his father.

Gianna could have sworn Chris blushed. “Yes.”

“Awesome.” Brian’s smile filled his face. “It was about time, Dad,” he said seriously. “I was getting worried.”

“Ah, jeez,” muttered Chris, running a hand over his face.

Gianna wished she’d recorded the moment. After that, Brian acted like he’d always known her and Violet. He’d had a bit of a crush on Violet for the first two weeks, but lost it after she beat him in almost every video game he owned. Now the two of them argued and teased like siblings.

“You need to pause a second when the werewolf appears,” Brian instructed. “If you shoot too soon, you’ll miss.”

“Like this?” asked Violet.

An explosion sounded from the game. “You got ’em!” exclaimed Brian. “Nice!”

Gianna sighed.

“Their plane landed ten minutes ago,” muttered Jamie, stopping next to Gianna. “In this rinky-dink airport, it shouldn’t take more than two minutes for them to walk in. The plane had only four people on it, so why don’t they
hurry up
!”

Gianna understood.

In the two weeks Chris had been gone, phone calls and video chat hadn’t filled the void. She’d worried constantly that Chris and Michael wouldn’t find Reid Kruger. And she’d worried they would—and not survive the encounter.

It’s over.

The words repeated over and over in her head.

Now come back.

“Dad!”

Gianna turned around to see Chris wrap his arms around his son and lift him off his feet, his face buried in his son’s neck. Next to them Michael tipped Jamie backward in a flashy move and kissed her soundly as Jamie’s hands gripped the front of his coat.

Chris looked over his son’s shoulder, and his hazel gaze locked with Gianna’s. Her heart did a flip and she smiled, her legs unable to move. He was tan and his hair had lightened in the constant sun of Mexico. He set Brian down, tousled his hair, and slapped the high-five palm Violet held out to him.