Page 70 of Vengeance

"Can we outrun them?" she asked.

"Not on the bike or in the truck,” he admitted.

She looked at him. "So what do we do?"

His smile was wicked. "We make them think we're dead."

Within five minutes, they were ready to leave. The cabin looked abandoned as though they had left in a hurry. Coffee still steamed on the table, the front door stood open, and one of Chloe's sweaters hung over the back of a chair. The Harleythat Vengeance had been rebuilding remained parked beside the porch. Everything suggested that two people had fled in a panic—exactly as they intended.

“What now?” she asked as they ran out of the back door and into the woods wearing their backpacks and everything that they were taking with them.

“You’re not going to like this next part,” he admitted.

“What is the next part?” she asked.

“There is a stream about a quarter of a mile down the trail from the cabin. The cold spring water will hide our heat signatures,” he said.

“Wait, we’re getting in the stream?” she asked.

“Yeah, but it’s not too deep. We will have to completely submerge ourselves to hide our body heat if we want to make this look believable.” The idea of being completely underwater freaked him out, but this was the only way—they needed to make this look believable.

They got to the stream, and he checked his watch. “We have about forty seconds before the cabin blows,” he said. He reached for her hand, and she reluctantly took it. Vengeance pulled her against his body and sealed his mouth over hers, and he wasn’t sure if he was kissing her goodbye or just for luck. He hoped like hell that it was the second one.

“Keep your nose above water to breathe, but make sure that the rest of you stays under. This is the only way, honey,” he said.

“Okay,” she agreed. He pulled her down into the water, and they completely submerged themselves. He could still hear the explosion and feel the aftershock as it rippled through the water. They lay in the shoulder-deep freezing mountain water, inside a narrow creek nearly a hundred yards downhill, but he could still feel his entire world exploding into pieces. Only their noses remained above the surface beneath a fallen hemlock as thewater nearly stole his every breath, but it also hid their body heat, and that was exactly what they needed to deceive Dante.

Rotor blades thundered overhead as the first helicopter settled into the clearing. The second landed next to it while the third remained circling overhead. Vengeance tapped her shoulder and motioned for her to follow him downstream. They emerged at the edge of the riverbank, closer to where the cabin used to stand. Watching the flames lick through the roof was nearly too much for him. It was the first place that he ever lived in that felt like home, and now it was gone.

“It’s gone,” she whispered.

“Yeah, but they think we’re gone too, and that’s all that matters, honey,” he breathed. They watched silently as men jumped out of the helicopters and ran to the cabin. There were about eight men, and Vengeance watched them carefully. He had a sick feeling that someone important had come for Chloe. He slowly turned his head and noticed that Chloe's lips were blue from the cold water. She caught him looking at her and managed the tiniest smile. God, he wanted to kiss her. Instead, he silently squeezed her fingers beneath the water.

"Boss!" a man called through the clearing.

“Stay down,” Vengeance whispered. He watched as the man ran over to a woman, and Vengeance’s blood froze colder than the creek water.

"I found their supplies,” the man said.

Another voice answered. He sounded older than the first guy. "Any sign of Manzo?"

"No,” the first man said.

"Search harder,” the older man ordered. Vengeance’s pulse hammered because he knew that voice. A familiar laugh drifted across the clearing. It was a laugh he'd heard in nightmares for twenty years—Dante. He was here.

Chloe must have felt Vengeance tense beside her because she squeezed his hand. “If they survived, they couldn’t have gotten far,” the first man said.

"They didn't get far.” Dante sounded amused. "They're watching us." Vengeance's stomach dropped. Dante knew him well.

“How do you know they are together?” the first man asked.

"He'll never leave her," Dante continued. "He's too sentimental."

The woman laughed softly. "You always said love makes people predictable."

"It does,” Dante agreed. Vengeance carefully lifted his eyes just enough to see through the branches. Dante stood by one of the helicopters. And beside him stood a blonde woman. She was elegant and wore expensive clothes. If he had to guess, she was in her mid-fifties. She looked nothing like the faded photographs Vengeance had carried in his wallet for years—except for her eyes. They were the same icy blue that he remembered his mother’s to be.

His lungs felt like they had stopped working. It was his mother—Elena, and she was alive. She turned slowly toward the creek and toward him. Their eyes met, and for one impossible second, neither of them moved. Recognition exploded across her face. She knew exactly where he was. She slowly lifted one finger to her lips, and he felt as if he were holding his breath. Instead of pointing him out, she was warning him to run.