Page 93 of Fast Vengeance

Her grandson gave her a gap-toothed smile, his eyes an exact mirror of his father’s as they sparkled up at her. And for a moment her heart clenched. “You know the best games, Abuelita.”

Maria smiled, a steely resolve pushing the grief back down into the box she would keep it in. That was how one survived. “I do.” She played them well, too.

Because she was the master of them all.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Bellingham, WA

Two weeks later

Victoria stopped in the act of transferring her second load of laundry from the washer to the dryer and turned her head toward the door, listening. She thought she’d heard something—

A knock sounded at the back door.

She frowned, tossed the damp sweater she was holding into the dryer and headed down the stairs. Was it her neighbor? Sometimes the elderly lady next door came to bring her something. Cookies, cut flowers from her garden.

But when she rounded the corner of the downstairs hallway and reached the mudroom, she froze at the sight of a man’s silhouette outlined there. Fear punched through her for a second, followed closely by a painful swell of hope. Brock?

No, the build wasn’t right. Too short. Not broad enough through the shoulders.

“Who is it?” she called out, already turning toward the hall and the front door if she needed to escape.

“Bill Carruthers. U.S. Marshals.”

Marshals? Instant suspicion made her pause. “Where’s Tony?” Her WITSEC handler. He was the only one she kept in contact with. The only one who had ever visited her here.

“On another assignment. Check your phone. He left you a message a couple hours ago, telling you to expect me.”

Damn, she’d left her phone charging in her office. She’d left it there this morning after plotting out the last bit of her novel and hadn’t checked it since. “Hang on,” she told Carruthers through the door, not caring if it was rude to leave him standing on the stoop, and rushed to her office, keeping one eye on the front door. WITSEC said she was safe here under her new alias, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

Sure enough, there was a message from Tony, saying his boss would be stopping by to talk to her.

She unlocked the back door, gave Carruthers—a fortyish man in jeans and a button down—a rueful smile as he held up his ID for her to check. “Sorry about that. Can’t be too careful. Old habits die hard, and all that.”

“That’s the truth,” he said with an easy grin as he stepped inside and looked around. “Nice place.”

She shut the door behind him. “I like it. It’s homey.” She had fallen a little in love with the green heritage Victorian the moment Tony had driven up to it. As far as starting her life over, this was a beautiful home to begin it in. Even if she had a gaping hole in her heart—and her life—without Brock.

All Tony had been able to tell her was that Brock had been discharged after his shoulder surgery a little over a week ago. She thought of him constantly, had reached for her phone so many times to call him, only to realize she couldn’t. For her safety. And to keep from hurting him more by not letting him go.

Carruthers gestured to the hallway. “Can we sit down for a few minutes?”

“Oh, sure. Right this way.” She led him through to her living room, just off the kitchen, and gestured to the couch, the only piece of furniture in the room so far. “Sorry about the lack of furniture. I’m still getting set up.” She sat on the hearth in front of the wood burning fireplace opposite him.

He sank onto the couch, rested his forearms on his knees and studied her. “You settling in okay? I know it’s not an easy adjustment.”

“I’m fine. Fairhaven’s the most beautiful spot in Bellingham. Lots of little shops and cafes for me to explore, and I like walking along the beach. I’m going to be volunteering at the library to get my feet wet while I work on my next book, starting this coming weekend.” She didn’t know why she was babbling, except his visit made her nervous. “But you didn’t come here to ask me that.”

A faint smile tugged at his mouth at her astuteness. “No. I didn’t.”

“So what is it?”

“I have good news and bad news.”

She expelled a breath. She’d had enough bad news to last her three lifetimes. The last news she had received from Tony was that both Montoya and Ruiz were dead. She preferred that kind of news. “Okay. I’ll take the bad news first.”

“Thought you might.”

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