Page 136 of What Doesn't Kill Her

Her tone must have penetrated Mr. Parliman’s thick skull, for he said loftily, “This is most irregular. I will speak with Mr. Waldberg and Mr. Di Luca about you. I was told these two criminals were carrying firearms by that man who—”

Kellen heard a thump. Abruptly, Mr. Parliman stopped speaking.

Somewhere near, a man shouted.

Another thump.

Temo picked up his phone and spoke to Kellen in a cold clear voice. “Two dumbass security men down. We’ll retrieve our weapons and be there ASAP.”

“Come to the edge of the property,” Kellen instructed and hung up. She turned off the sound and put the phone on vibrate.

As they passed under one of the massive cherry trees, they heard a worried old voice call, “Kellen,il mio cara, you’re not running away from Max again, are you?”

It was Bisnonna Debora, leaning against the trunk, and Kellen whirled to face her. “No. I won’t do that.”

“Marry him today,” she said. “It won’t be as bad as you fear.”

Kellen believed her. But...she looked around. No one was near. “Bisnonna, what are you doing here so far away from everyone?”

“I was looking for the restroom.” She dabbed at the sweat on her cheek, and her hands were shaking. “One should always go before a wedding. But it’s very far and I’m afraid I’m confused.”

“There’s no one to take charge of her,” Birdie said in a low voice.

The kids had disappeared, probably doing exactly what Bisnonna wanted to do—visit the restroom before the wedding ceremony began.

“We can’t call security to come and get her,” Kellen said.

Bisnonna Debora moaned and slid down the tree trunk.

Birdie caught her arm.

“Would you take her...?” Kellen asked.

“Okay.” She slid her arm around Bisnonna Debora’s waist. “We don’t trust any of the staff now?”

“I don’t know. Anyone Arthur hired—”

Birdie fumbled for her phone. “I’ll call Carson. He’ll meet me and take her.”

“Perfect.”

“We can do this. We’ll get Bisnonna Debora cared for, and we’ll be back as quickly as we can.” Which was as quickly as Bisnonna Debora could walk. “As soon as you know your destination, let me know!”

“I will.” Kellen moved on, moving quickly, holding her skirts off the grass, watching ahead of her, following the star path—which disappeared halfway between the barn and the wine blending shed. “No!”

Rae must have run out of stars. Kellen looked between the two buildings.

The barn was too open, with too many ways to get in. But the shed had one way in, the door.

The shed it was.

The door should be locked, but a pick set could open it. All the windows were up at the second-story roofline, a long line of old-fashioned warehouse-type awning windows. In there, a kidnapper could contain Rae and pick Kellen off as she breached the door—Kellen, and whoever came in with her.

Obviously, she wasn’t going in the front door. She had to get to one of the windows. The cherry fruit pickers were finished for the summer, so no ladders were available, but there was a lean-to built onto the shed, a place to store lawn mowers and, oh gee, clippers. Kellen smiled. Nice shiny long sharp clippers, much better for defense than colored pencils.

When she tried the door to the lean-to, it creaked open into a shadowy interior. Inside, gardening equipment was neatly arranged on hooks around the walls, and the pink handles on the hand tools made Kellen think this was Verona’s domain. So many of these tools meant to pierce and turn the earth qualified as weapons; Kellen chose a thin pointy set of pruning shears, light and easy to carry. She smiled at the eight-foot ladder; it would get her onto the lean-to roof and from there, up to the windows.

Climbing a ladder in petticoats and pantyhose was a special hell reserved for, well, her, but she did a good job of it. Dragging the ladder up onto the lean-to roof while trying to maintain silence made her strain and puff—whoever had invented corsets with their cursed plastic stays should be damned—and Kellen was glad that none of the windows were open. Of course, that might present a problem all its own...

---