He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with an air of casual calmness as he waited for her to die.


DESPITE EVERYTHING, some vestige of the man he’d once been still lived in Raul. He knew this was true because it’d never been his intention to kill Kelman. But as he leaped over the wall separating the two houses and sprinted for Emma’s house, this last reminder of who he had been disappeared. Rage and pent-up frustration filled him, and he could think of only one thing: seeing Kelman dead. It was no longer enough to take his money or ruin his life. Raul wanted to kill him. Preferably with his bare hands.

The front door was locked. Cursing, Raul turned and ran to the back of the house. Someone had already jimmied open the door off the terrace. He stepped inside the house, his heart pounding loudly enough to reveal his presence, he was certain. He paused and forced himself to listen.

There was nothing but silence, then he heard conversation, faint but definitely there. He lifted his face to the ceiling and wished he could see through the rafters to the floor above. They were there, but where? And doing what? Did Kelman have a weapon?

It didn’t really matter. Raul slipped through the house and made his way up the stairs, pulling the drunk’s ancient pistol from the waistband of his pants. Holding his breath, he paused at the top, his hand on the doorknob. He turned it slowly, then exhaled a prayer of thanks when the knob gave way. He tensed, then threw open the door.

The room was empty.

But from the adjoining bathroom, the muted sound of voices could be heard. He crossed the bedroom, stopping once more when he reached the door to the bath. The sound of Kelman’s smug voice, mixing with the low and pleading tones of Emma’s, reached out and grabbed Raul. The sensation was physical; he felt it come under the door and jump up and choke him.

With his hand gripping the pistol, Raul put his shoulder to the door, twisted the knob and burst into the room.


EMMA SCREAMED as the door flew open, but it was a reflexive action borne of survival. Her body and mind had already started to shut down, the drugs beginning their work. Lying in the corner of the room, she fought to focus, blinking rapidly, but the man tumbling into the room moved too fast for her to follow. Even Kelman’s voice, as he bellowed in surprise, came to her from a well. It was stretched out, too, like music played too slow, the name he uttered making no sense to her cloudy brain.

The two figures wrestled in the tiny confines of the bathroom, their curses and grunts signaling the violence of their fight. Emma commanded her legs and arms to lift her up and get her out of the hell she was in, but they wouldn’t listen. It was all she could do to raise her head from the cold marble floor. A second later, the two men came crashing in her direction, locked together, rolling as one. She tried to escape the inevitable, but she simply couldn’t move. The two heavy bodies collided with her limp one. She blinked and cried out, the knee of one of the men slamming into her stomach.

Her breath left her in a whoosh, and the jolt of it, the pain of it, cleared her mind, if only for a second. Raul came into focus. He was on top of Kelman, struggling to hold him down, a gun in his hand only inches from her face. She strained to figure out where the gun had come from-hadn’t Kelman left it downstairs? Before she could reason it out, Raul lifted Kelman’s wrist and smashed it into the marble, the sickening crunch of breaking bone sounding above their rasping breaths.

“Take the pistol,” Raul screamed. “Take it, Emma! Take it and shoot him!”

Their eyes connected, but Emma could no more have seized the weapon than she could have fired it accurately. In another second, the two men rolled away from her. Instead of moving inches, they seemed to travel miles. Paralyzed, she watched them go, but before they did, she saw the expression in Raul’s wild gaze. It was pure disbelief. He didn’t understand why she refused to help. He didn’t know it was because she couldn’t. He believed it was because she wouldn’t.

It was her final thought. Emma’s eyes rolled back into her head and everything else disappeared.


EMMA’S REFUSAL stunned him, but his instincts kicked in and saved him from distraction. Raul pounded Kelman’s hand once more into the marble, the pistol trapped between them, neither willing to release his grip. Raul should have shot him the minute he’d pushed open the door, but he’d been too startled once he’d seen Emma. Kelman had taken advantage of the moment and managed to grab the gun.

Kelman’s knuckles were bloody and ragged, yet he continued to hold on. Another whack against the marble and this time something bigger broke. Raul heard the snap and took advantage of the moment. He popped Kelman’s wrist one more time, then twisted it. The gun fell free. Unable to get to it himself, Raul did the next best thing. He batted the pistol with his elbow and sent it spinning into a corner. He wouldn’t be able to reach it, but neither would Kelman.

Using the opportunity to twist away, Kelman jumped to his feet. His wrist dangled uselessly before him, but he suddenly lunged forward. Raul followed his movements with his eyes, his heart stopping as he saw what had happened. The gun had lodged beneath the tub, caught by one of the old-fashioned legs. In one quick motion, Kelman bent down and picked it up with his good hand, swinging around to fire.

Raul searched for a weapon. Strangely enough, he saw a cane lying in a corner. He didn’t stop to wonder about it; he picked it up and gripped it with both hands. The gleaming silver top hissed through the air with the force of his swing.

It connected with Kelman’s head. And the other man went down without a sound.

Raul turned instantly to Emma. She was a crumpled ball in the corner, her limbs splayed, her body slack. Then he saw the empty bottles and understood. He lifted her head gently. “Emma? Emma, can you hear me?”

Her head lolled sideways and his heart almost stopped. He started to scream her name again, but then he saw her throat move, saw the faint pulse at the base of her neck. Too slow to be okay, too faint to last long. He picked her up and ran from the room.


TWO DAYS LATER, it seemed like a dream. A very bad dream. Emma’s throat still burned from the attentions of the doctors, but it wasn’t important. Her children were safe, she was alive.

And Kelman was dead.

The Bolivian police had been exceedingly cooperative. Emma knew it had more to do with Raul’s friend Wendy Fortune and her position than it had to do with the situation. The consul had gotten involved, and everything had been handled so smoothly Emma had been shocked.

Chris had been happy to have the whole thing resolved without the bank’s name being mentioned. He’d had no idea of Emma’s machinations. No idea that she’d rigged Kelman’s account. No idea she’d planned everything. Including Kelman’s death.

She wondered now what she’d been thinking. Had she really been prepared to kill him? She’d fired, yes, but she’d missed. Had that been deliberate? She’d never know now and she wasn’t really sure she wanted to.

Sitting on the terrace at the back of the house, Emma held the portable phone to her ear and closed her eyes, the sunshine on her face warm and healing, the voices she was listening to, even more so. Jake was babbling about catching a fish, and Sarah was saying something about a sand castle and the princess who lived inside it. Emma let them talk. She didn’t care if the conversation made sense. They were perfectly fine and thought they’d simply had a great vacation at Gulf Shores the week before. After another minute, Todd came on the line and shooed them away.

“Emma, you gonna be all right? Were you hurt bad?” Someone hearing his question might have thought he was concerned; Emma knew it meant just the opposite. Todd would be thrilled if she died and he didn’t have to factor her into his plans anymore.

“I’ll make it.” Her voice was whiskey hoarse and raw. It was painful to talk, and as she spoke, she moved, then winced. Her whole body was bruised, black and blue marks everywhere she looked. Kelman’s last legacy. “I need a few days to rest, that’s all.”

“The man who killed this Kelman fellow. You know him well?”

“He’s a friend,” she answered in a neutral voice.

Raul had come by to see her numerous times, but Emma had been so out of it Reina had sent him away each time. Emma had heard their voices downstairs, though. Reina had told him about Emma’s hours in jail. Raul’s reply had been too low to hear. They still hadn’t talked, but when they did, Emma didn’t know what she’d say.

Todd broke into her thoughts, and the minute he spoke, Emma knew she was in trouble. He had that gloating, I’m-in-the-catbird-seat kind of tone to his voice. “Listen here, Emma, I want you to know, I’m very upset about this situation. You have, once again, put our children in danger, and I don’t intend to let this slip by. I’ve already talked to the lawyers, in fact, and we’re considerin’ some kind of action.”

A clamp tightened around her heart, making it hard for her to breath. It had nothing to do with her injuries. “Some kind of action? What does that mean?”

“It means we know you’re up to your same old tricks. You’re bein’ irresponsible and not thinkin’ about your children.” He took a self-important breath, dragging out the moment. “It means I’m gonna have to do something about this again, just like I did before.”

Through her fear, Emma heard his words. She wasn’t surprised by his reaction, but instead of the defeat she usually let overcome her when he talked like this, a new emotion suffused her. Anger. Total and complete anger.