Wise Moves Read online

  He remembered when his sister had first come to the foster home. He’d been thirteen, had lived in the home for two years and had fallen into a routine. Nancy had been ten years old. She’d had a broken arm and had been so afraid when she’d arrived. But instead of cowering, she’d given everybody, especially him, so much sass. At first he couldn’t stand to be around her, but Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, who’d raised fifteen foster kids over the years, had been patient. In time, her anger had faded and she’d started to lighten up.

  He’d found out later that Nancy’s father had broken her arm. He’d been drunk and had hit her with his car when he’d zoomed out of their driveway. Eventually, the Bennetts got full custody.

  Dane shoved out a breath. When Nancy had first died, he had played it by the book, going after Benito by conventional means. For months he’d waded through red tape as he’d tried to get to the monster. But he’d run into brick wall after brick wall and his frustration had grown steadily. A tremendous amount of effort and nothing to show for it.

  But now, for the first time in a very long time he was doing something tangible. And it felt good. He hit the wall again and again. Within minutes an entire section had been stripped away. A sheen of sweat dampened his brow.

  “So what did that wall do to you?” Kristen asked.

  He took a moment to collect himself before he turned and faced her. She leaned on the doorjamb, her arms crossed under full breasts.

  He wiped his gloved hand over his sweaty forehead. “Like you said, Kristen, time is money. The sooner I get this down the sooner you can start hauling debris out.”

  She studied him an extra beat as if she wasn’t sure what to make of him.

  He knew he had to lighten up, let go of the anger. He’d worked hard to make her relax around him. “Go ahead and put on those work gloves. I’ll be ready for you in a minute.”

  Kristen nodded and pushed her hands into the gloves. “I’ll get a broom.”

  “Sure.”

  When she disappeared, he moved to the door to make sure he hadn’t scared her off. To his relief he heard her steps down the hallway as she returned.

  He returned to hitting the wall. Soon, there was a pile of drywall that needed clearing and his arms ached.

  When she reappeared with the broom, he said, “Have at it.”

  He wasn’t quite sure what she’d do with the pile. By the looks of her she’d never done a day of manual labor in her life—Elena sure hadn’t.

  But without a word, Kristen started to collect the larger pieces in her arms. He picked up an armload himself and followed her out the back. Outside, she slid the side door of the battered red Dumpster and dumped her armload of fractured drywall inside it. Her once pristine shirt was covered in white drywall powder, as were her arms. However, without complaint she headed back inside for another load.

  The two worked for the next hour, clearing out debris. When they’d removed most of the large pieces, he knocked more down. She carried more.

  By four o’clock, they’d stripped the wall to its bones. And he could see that Kristen was tired. Her face was flushed, and sweat stained the front of her shirt.

  “Let’s take a break,” he said.

  She frowned. “But we aren’t finished.”

  “The wall isn’t going anywhere and I could use some water. You got a kitchen in this place?”

  “In the back. Follow me.”

  As they moved up the center staircase of the shotgun-style row house, he noted she moved with her shoulders back, her hips swaying gently with each step. For the first time, he got a glimpse of the money and fine education Elena Benito had known.

  Maybe she was the one.

  “You move like a dancer,” he said as they entered the small kitchen. Elena Benito had loved to dance. She took him to a small apartment furnished with a bed and kitchen table.

  Her hand on the kitchen cabinet, she hesitated. “I don’t dance.”

  He heard the hesitation in her voice. “Could have fooled me.”

  Long, delicate fingers wrapped around two white mugs that read Yoga Studio. She turned on the tap, waited until the water was cool and then filled each mug. She handed him his, careful that their fingers did not brush. “We don’t have glasses, just mugs, but they are clean.”

  “Works for me.” He drank the water, amazed at how thirsty he’d become. “So what brings you to a place like this to work?” He noted the slight tension in her hands as they tightened around the mug.

  “It’s a job.” She raised the mug to her lips and started to drink.

  “Yeah, but what brought you to Lancaster Springs?”

  She shrugged. “Lots of twists and turns, Mr. Cambia.”

  “You from Virginia?”

  She lifted her gaze up to his. “You are a very curious man.”

  He grinned, mentally backing off. “You’re pretty. Can’t blame a guy for wanting to get to know you better.”

  A blush added color to her cheeks. “I have a boyfriend.”

  That caught him off guard. “Does he live around here?”

  “Yes. You might meet him when he comes by to pick me up after work.”

  Kristen had become a practiced liar these last nine months. Stories tripped off her tongue and sometimes she half believed them herself. Despite her attraction to Dane, it was best to keep him at arm’s length. Romance was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

  “What’s his name?” Cambia refilled his cup at the tap.

  “Mark,” she said easily. She’d used this made-up boyfriend before.

  “Mark,” he said, testing the name. “What’s he do?”

  “He’s a fireman.” The trick was to keep the lies simple so that the details didn’t trip her up later. “Are you ready to get back to work?” In truth, she hated the idea of dragging more of that white board outside. Her shoulders ached, as did her lower back. But the work was preferable to the questions.

  Cambia stared at her over the mug’s rim as he drained the last of the water. He set the mug down in the sink next to hers. Then he seemed to change his mind, picked up the mug again and refilled it with water. “Let’s call it a night. We’ve gotten a lot done today.”

  “Sure.” She couldn’t wait to crawl into a hot shower and let the warm water rush over her skin.

  “Mind if I hold on to this mug?” He held it by the handle. “I’m some kind of thirsty. I’ll bring it back in the morning.”

  “That’s fine,” she said.

  “Sure.” He allowed her to lead and he followed her down the narrow hallway to the reception area. He stayed a few feet behind her but his presence surrounded her. She was aware of each deliberate step, the thud of his boots and his earthy masculine scent. He had the aura of a hunter.

  Dane Cambia might be a carpenter now, but he hadn’t always been one.

  He shoved his callused hands into his worn gloves. “So where are you and…what’s his name?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Mark.”

  “Right. Where are you going this evening?”

  “I don’t know. Dinner or a movie. We might stay in.”

  “You don’t look like the type that would date a fireman.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look like you’d hook up with a lawyer or a doctor. Some guy with enough scratch to take care of you right.”

  Carlos had been a doctor. “You make me sound shallow.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. I just know quality, even when it’s hauling out the trash.”

  Again, it struck her that he was playing some cat-and-mouse game with her. “Do you have something you want to say to me, Mr. Cambia? I don’t appreciate your observations.”

  He shrugged as he moved to the front door, and paused. “I was just making conversation.”

  Kristen noted the powerful muscles under the old T-shirt. “You haven’t always been a carpenter.”

  “No, I sure have not.”

  “What brought you here?”

  He flash
ed a grin. “There’s lots of construction in the northern Virginia area. It’s a good place to earn a living.”

  The area was booming. Washington, D.C. residents were building weekend country homes to escape the rat race. “What did you do before you became a carpenter?”

  He studied her. “I was in the army. Headed up a recon unit in the Middle East.” He laughed. “But I wasn’t good at it. Kept getting lost and I never was much good at taking orders. I’m good with my hands so figured I’d try carpentry.”

  Outside, a car door slammed. Kristen started. On reflex she looked out the side window at the house next door. It was the neighbor—Mrs. McKenzie.

  “That your boyfriend?” he said.

  “No.”

  “Right, he comes at five.”

  She changed the subject. “We made great progress today.”

  “Sure did.”

  An odd silence settled between them and she thought he’d offer her the money he owed her for today’s work. However, he didn’t. There’d been a time when she’d not have given it a second thought. Forty-five dollars was a small fortune now. “About my money…”

  “Right.” He carefully set the mug on the receptionist desk and then counted out the money and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed and her body tensed.

  She quickly counted it again and shoved it in her pocket. “Thanks.”

  He picked up the mug by the handle. “So, I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

  “What time?”

  “Seven too early? If we can get in a full day, then I’ve got a chance of finishing this job up a couple of days early.”

  “Sure, seven is good. I’m up early.” I’m up early. The thought made her smile.

  “Did I miss something?”

  “No. It’s just that when I was younger, my day never started before noon.”

  “So, did you work nights or were you just rich?”

  Kristen realized her mistake. Her guard had slipped. Staying alive had meant keeping conversations about her to a minimum. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me, but I won’t press it. We all got a right to our privacy.”

  “Thanks.”

  He left through the front door and moved easily down the front steps. He climbed into his truck.

  She closed and locked the front door.

  Dane leaned out the open door of his van and poured the water out of the mug. Carefully, he lowered the mug into a plastic bag and zipped it closed. Soon he’d know if Kristen was Elena.

  Chapter 5

  After Dane left Kristen in the yoga studio, he pulled his van around the corner and parked in the municipal parking lot.

  Lucian Moss, who was waiting for Dane in his blue pickup truck, got out and started toward the small coffee shop, as they’d agreed earlier. He wore a black AC/DC T-shirt. Moss went into the café and ordered a cup of coffee.

  Cambia picked up Kristen’s mug in the plastic bag and climbed out of his van. Glancing from left to right, he made sure no one was watching and then crossed the street and entered the shop. He ordered coffee and sat down across from Moss.

  “You’re late,” Moss said.

  Cambia glanced around the shop and then handed the mug to Lucian. “It couldn’t be helped.” He slid the Baggie across the table.

  Moss tucked the mug in his bag. “So what is she like?”

  Cambia sipped his coffee. “The last thing I expected.”

  Moss’s gaze sharpened. “Do you think we have the wrong one?”

  Dane considered the question. There were only hints of the princess who’d spent most of her twenty-five years on the Miami beaches and in exclusive clubs. But it was her. “No.”

  “Excellent.”

  “She’s very different.”

  “Nine months on the run can change anybody.”

  Dane had a sense of what she’d endured on the streets, but couldn’t imagine how she’d dealt with it. “Once you’ve run the prints and we have a confirmation, then we’ll move forward.”

  “Why not start now?” Moss’s gaze was lean and hungry.

  Knowing they’d found Elena should have made Dane happy—did make him happy. When they caught Benito they’d not only dispose of a cold-blooded killer, but they’d put a major dent in the south Florida drug-trafficking trade.

  Despite all that could be gained, a part of him was also very sorry. He liked “Kristen.” To his surprise, she’d gotten under his skin. “I want to be sure. Only then do we set the trap.”

  Chapter 6

  Thursday, May 17, 6:55 a.m.

  Since her escape from the safe house, it had become Kristen’s habit to rise before the sun. In her old life, she’d only seen the sunrise when she’d been coming home from a club or party. Then dawn’s red glowing rays signaled an ending. Now, it represented new beginnings.

  She sat in the half-lotus position on her yoga mat in the center of Sheridan’s studio. The lights were dim and she’d put on a calming CD. In the beginning, she felt a little silly sitting here like this, but Sheridan had insisted it would help her focus and concentrate.

  Her work with Cambia yesterday had left her body stiff, and her muscles ached. But the discomfort didn’t bother her. As hard as life had been this last year, there was satisfaction. Despite all odds, she was surviving, even prevailing.

  Kristen turned to the right, gently twisting the tightness from her back. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind.

  But instead, the sense of well-being faded. Dark thoughts from the past crept into her mind. She tried to push them aside but they grew stronger, pulling her back to the past.

  Sitting in the limo’s plush interior across from her brother, Elena clenched her hands in tight fists. Tinted windows prevented her from seeing outside. But judging by the roughness of the road, the car had turned off the main highway onto a side street.

  Antonio had insisted she dress tonight in something bright and cheerful. Instead, she’d chosen a severe black dress which, combined with her long black hair, made her look pale.

  The scent of Antonio’s aftershave blended with the smoke of his Cuban cigar. He wore a white hand-made suit that fit his muscular frame perfectly. Gold links winked from white linen cuffs. His dark hair, peppered with gray at the temples, was slicked back. “I’m not happy with you, Elena. That dress is unsuitable.”

  His soft accent didn’t disguise the steel beneath the words.

  Elena did not care what Antonio thought anymore. She wore black because she was in mourning for the man she’d loved and lost. “You were responsible for the car accident that killed Carlos.”

  He puffed on his cigar and stared at her through the trail of smoke curling around his face. “He was not suitable.”

  To have her fears confirmed made her sick. “So you did kill him?”

  “Yes.”

  “My God,” she whispered.

  Antonio had forbidden her to see Carlos, which had only solidified her determination to see him. A week ago she and Carlos had planned to run away. A day later his car had plunged off a bridge and he’d been killed.

  “In time you will thank me,” he said. “You are above the rest of the world. You are special. Your place is at my side and when the time is right I will choose a husband for you.”

  Unshed tears burned the back of her throat, but she refused to let them spill.

  As if on cue, the car stopped. “Time for our lesson.”

  Elena could feel her resolve fraying. “Where are we?”

  The door to the limo opened. Antonio got out and then held his hand out to her. His manicured nails caught the moonlight.

  Elena didn’t accept his hand but climbed out of the car unassisted. Anger glimmered in Antonio’s dark eyes but he let the small act of defiance go.

  Elena looked around and realized they were in the warehouse district. Before them stood three of Antonio’s muscled men standing in front of a gray tobacco warehouse. They wore white linen suits, bright shirts and gun h
olsters they made no move to hide.

  Elena had suspected Antonio was a criminal since she was a teenager, but he’d always kept that part of his life separate from her.

  He guided her to the open warehouse door. She was aware only of the pounding of her heart and the click of her heels against the damp concrete.

  The instant they entered the warehouse, she saw the six men. They kneeled in a neat row, hands tied behind their back. Their weathered faces bruised and tight with fear.

  Antonio snapped his fingers and one of the men handed him a gun. He looked at her, his eyes cold and black. “These men disobeyed me, Elena. And now you will see what happens to people who defy me.”

  Antonio fired his gun and killed the first man.

  Kristen jumped, realizing the loud sound she’d heard wasn’t gunfire from the past. Someone was pounding on her front door.

  She glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall across from her. Six-ten. Cambia would not be here for at least another hour. No one should be here.

  Her heart hammering, she rose and moved barefooted to the front door. A fine sheen of sweat dampened her back and she realized her hands were shaking. She shoved out a breath and tried to calm her thoughts.

  Thick blinds covered the glass front door, making it impossible for her to see who was on the other side. Instinct told her not to answer.

  The someone on the other side pounded harder. “Hey, Sheridan, it’s me, Crystal. Let me in.”

  Crystal. The young girl Sheridan head mentioned.

  “Come on, Sheridan, I can hear your yoga tape in there. Please open up. Tony is coming.” Desperation dripped from the last word.

  Kristen peeked around the edge of the curtain. A girl stood there. Shoulder-length black hair accentuated thickly made-up green eyes. She sported three earrings in each ear and a purple bruise on her cheek.