deep ch2
Diana watched Rafe from across the street.
There he was with his friends. His stride was easy, as if he didn’t have any cares in the world. What was that like?
Her whole life, she’d always felt uncomfortable. Like she was waiting for something bad to happen. Thank you, Rafael DeMarco. Hell yeah, it was his fault. The day he’d come into her life, she’d been scarred in ways she could never have predicted.
With her long-lens camera, she took several photos, zooming in on the digital images as they came up. The tall one with the cocky stride, he was Noah Blake. Blake Security was his.
Had he been the one to call the hit on her father? Was Rafe just a hired assassin? There were so many questions there. Before a few years ago, Noah Blake hadn’t seemed to exist beyond a social security number and patchy school records. Not so much as a menial job at a 7-Eleven.
And then suddenly there he was with enough money to open his own business. A very nice business considering Blake Security occupied the penthouse of this building. She took more photos. Snap, snap, snap, snap. The soft click of the shutter filled the silence in the car.
Blake had his arm wrapped around a woman with a baby strapped to her. Her long, curly hair was flowing in the wind behind her. The way he tucked his arm around her and held her protectively made it clear they were together. A family unit. No one was breaking them apart.
The one she didn’t know was the younger guy. Oh, he was just as tall and looked just about as deadly as Noah and Rafe did. Dark hair, some tattoos peeking out from under his T-shirt. Of all the guys, he was the hardest to pin down. He hardly ever left the building.
She’d managed to catch him skulking out like he didn’t want to be seen about a month ago. But that had been it.
She knew from her surveillance over the past several months that there were at least four more. Mueller, the Viking from the other night, and a couple of younger-looking ones. They both had dark hair and more boy-next-door kind of looks.
That left the one who didn’t fit. Jonas Castillo. He dressed better than the others, including shoes she recognized as something her brothers would wear. Sometimes a vest, sometimes a suit. Her files said ex-cop. But seriously, what kind of cop dressed like that? He, unlike every other person who worked at Blake, actually had a traceable path. Though a sketchy one. Rumor was Castillo had been sleeping with the wife of the disgraced ex-mayor.
Well lo and behold, the guy ended up dead after putting his wife in the hospital. All fingers pointed at Castillo. But he’d had an airtight alibi complete with video evidence for the hours surrounding the mayor’s death. They couldn’t make anything stick to him, but he’d been forced out of the department. Within a week, he’d had a job at Blake Security.
She needed to know more. And until she could get in and meet them, the other players on the board would remain question marks. That was okay—she was getting close. At least she hoped she was getting close, because she sure as hell was getting tired.
As she watched Rafe’s strides eat up the pavement, the tingle in her belly intensified. What the hell was wrong with her? Danger, bitch. Danger. This thing with her libido was getting out of hand. There was something about his swagger that was ultimately appealing. Hell, she was a woman after all.
But that gnawing, longing pull of attraction had only gotten worse. Something at the base level of her nature found him fascinating. Which was a hell of a problem, because how was she going to get her revenge when her body kept thinking about ways to get under him? Okay, on top of him too. She did like to be thorough.
The Bluetooth in her car rang, and she pressed the Yes button. “Hey, Charisse.”
“Hey, Di. What are you up to?”
“Oh, you know. A little of this. A little of that.”
“Still following Rafe, huh?”
She sighed. “So what if I am?”
“Are you at least being safe?”
“Yes. I’m being safe. I promise. Besides, I already have a plan to get at him.”
She could hear her best friend muttering something about saints preserving her. “Shit. Di, do I even want to know how you plan to get at him?”
“Probably not. You wouldn’t like it.” Charisse was her oldest friend from university. She was also the only one who had the whole picture on what she was doing.
She’d given Diana a place to stay while she planned and a shoulder to cry on when shit got so hard she didn’t think she’d be able to continue.
“Di, look, I get it. This guy killed your father, but that’s all the more reason you should let the authorities handle it. Because he is a killer and he could hurt you.”
“Well, he’s going to have a hell of a time. I’ve been planning for this, training for this. I have given up any semblance of a life just to get this close.”
She’d started looking for him three years ago, as soon as she graduated university. She’d dug up her father’s old files that she could access, tried to think of anyone who might have information.
She’d been so deadly serious about pursuing him she’d even asked her brothers for help in finding information. They didn’t think that a woman was capable of much, so they’d laughed her off. But not before giving her the name of someone who could do the legwork. It had taken time. But she’d been given a name. And a name had been all she needed.
After that, she tracked him. Rafael DeMarco. Italian. Grew up in Connecticut but then moved to Brooklyn. He had a younger sister, Lucia DeMarco, married to Noah Blake with one child.
Rafael DeMarco had never been married as far as she could tell, unlike Noah Blake. He was supposed to be dead. He looked pretty damn good for a corpse. If that guy was a vampire, she suddenly saw the appeal of all those sparkly undead.
The first time she’d seen Rafe’s obituary, the despair had been deep. She’d been sure she’d lost her only chance to find out why her father had been murdered. But she’d gotten lucky.
She’d had eyes on his sister because she figured Lucia might know something about the people her brother worked for. Then one day out of the blue, Rafe had just walked into Lucia’s office. She’d been studying him ever since, getting ready to spring a trap. Hell, it had taken patience and dedication and help. At least she had the funds to finance the help. She couldn’t watch him all the time. Nor should you. Lest you become obsessed.
“Look, Char, I know you’re worried about me, and I appreciate it. But this man is a killer. He took my father away from me. He has to pay.”
“I hear that, but you need to be careful. You don’t have enough information about him. You say he’s a killer. What if he finds out who you are? What if he finds out that you are lying to him? I mean, he killed your father. So he has no qualms about killing innocent people. Maybe he had business with your father, maybe he didn’t, but you don’t know that he won’t hurt you. You’re lucky to have what you have. Maybe it’s time to move on.”
“Charisse, I wish I could explain, but I cannot move on with my life. It feels like I’m stuck in the memory of that day. My father, he wasn’t always around, but I know he loved me. And that man took him from me. I can’t just let that sit. It’s like I’m stuck. I can’t move forward.”
“I understand. I do. I just— I think what you’re doing is dangerous, and I worry about you.”
“I appreciate it. But look, right now I’m hidden. No one can see me. No one knows I’m observing them. I’m at his job. I know he goes there every day. I’ve been tracking his movements. His employer of record is Blake Security. These are things I know. I know he has a sister. She’s married to the boss. If I can get a little leverage, then I can guarantee he won’t hurt me.”
The baby in the carrier strapped to Lucia DeMarco waved a fist and then giggled. Diana couldn’t exactly hear it, but she could imagine the sound. And despite herself, a smile tugged at her lips. Lucia DeMarco looked happy. With her handsome husband, smiling at him, walking with friends. Did she know her brother was a killer? Did Noah Blake know what Rafe was capable of?
They look like a family. The pang sliced through her, deep and strong, debilitating enough to make her suck in a short breath. One day. One day you’ll have that.
Yeah, just as soon as she’d dealt with Rafael DeMarco.
She snapped another picture of the guy she didn’t know and then frowned when she zoomed in on the image. He had dots, a series of them on the back of his neck. Just like Rafe did.
What the hell?
She photographed Rafe as usual. She photographed Lucia, but no such dots. But Noah Blake had them too.
What in the ever-loving hell?
“Hello, earth to Diana.”
“Sorry, I just—”
“Diana, you said you were following Rafe. Where exactly are you?”
Diana sank in the seat of her car as if Charisse could see her. “Well, about that—”
“Where are you?” Her bestie was not to be fooled.
“I’m across the street from Blake Security.”
“Oh my God, are you insane?”
“Relax. It’s fine. They can’t see me.”
“They could have cameras.”
“Maybe. But (a) I’m wearing a wig, (b) I’m a tourist taking photos, (c) I keep changing out my rental cars so they don’t notice. I’m fine. I got this handled.”
“I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”
So did Diana. Because if she didn’t, she might end up dead.
Like your father.
Diana started down over the edge of the ravine and swallowed hard as saliva filled her mouth. She hated heights. Heights meant she could fall to her death. But hey, details, right? Besides, the whole plan was for it to look like she’d nearly tumbled to her death. It was times like this that she needed a rational friend to tell her that her plan was crazy. Note to self, make more rational friends. Or hell, any friends. Funny how there wasn’t time for friends when you had revenge on the brain.
Ovary up, bitch. This is the plan.
If she wanted her plan to work, it was going to require sacrifice, which meant getting this car down the fucking ravine and then climbing down herself. Time to put on her big-girl thong.
She gathered up her long blond hair and secured it with a ponytail holder. Time to get to work. She only had a couple of hours. She’d been following Rafe DeMarco every Tuesday for months. This was the path he’d take. It was too late for another plan. Besides she’s been setting this up for months.
She had selected the perfect spot for this. Right before the guardrail began. As an added bonus, there was a path she could use to initially climb down and a rock outcropping she could stand on to wait for him.
She’d scattered broken glass to make it look like an accident. Once the car was in neutral, she jogged around to the trunk and started to push.
Her ribs throbbed. That asshole in krav maga class had forgotten they were training and had gotten in a brutal hit. She’d have bruises for days. But it wasn’t like she could wait to heal up.
Even as the sweat popped on her brow and her body screamed, inch by inch she pushed until she finally started to get some momentum. And then managed to get the car right up to the edge. With one more deep breath, she rolled the car over the edge.
The crash, boom, thud sounds echoed all through the ravine as the car tumbled front-over-end down the jagged edges of rocks. A quick glance at her watch told her she needed to haul ass. DeMarco was likely turning on to the road by now, so she didn’t have time to waste.
It was a stupid thing, but she felt a pang of hurt looking at the shiny blue paint she’d picked out, all crumpled and cracked. That was the first car she’d ever bought for herself.
She’d never had her own car before. Her father had preferred for her to be chauffeured, and her brothers had felt the same way. So she’d been excited to pick out a car on her own. And look at it now… a martyr for the cause.
“Your sacrifice will not be for nothing, young Toyota.”
The back of the car was now completely smashed and bent, so it looked like the car had skidded off the road and plunged down the embankment. She shivered. Under her coat, she only wore a thin dress, one that clung to her curves. But it was part of the plan, so she’d pushed past the mortification. It would all be worth it soon.
She clasped her forehead, rubbing at the stress ball of tension that had settled behind her eyes. Now or never.
The entire scene had been meticulously planned. With a deep breath, she scooted around the guardrail and held her breath as she started down the nearly nonexistent trail. Sand and razor-sharp rocks were more than happy to mingle with her toes and cut up her feet, but she kept moving.
The son of a bitch had better take the bait. He will. This whole plan banked on Rafe DeMarco being a decent enough human being to care about someone else potentially being hurt. Either that or curious enough to stop and see what the hell was going on.
The glass was hard to ignore. She just prayed some other stray motorist didn’t decide to be a Good Samaritan. But this was an access road, rarely ever traveled.
She shoved aside the lingering feelings of doubt and concern and guilt. This man had taken everything away from her, deliberately and systematically. She was going to return the favor. And she was going to get her life back. It didn’t matter how long it took.
She shivered again when she remembered his dark eyes peering at her from behind the mask. He’d just killed her father. Two bullets in the skull. Cold. Efficient. His lips had been set in a firm, grim line.
She’d gasped from her hiding place, the fear and the shock and despair leaking through her body like a chemical spill. She still remembered the sound of his voice as he muttered a single word. “Fuck.” When he’d pulled aside the curtain, she’d been so sure he was going to kill her too. Positive he was going to murder her like he’d done her father. But he hadn’t. He’d let her live.
That was his first mistake.
Maybe he’d assumed she’d be so traumatized by the situation that she wouldn’t remember. Maybe he thought she’d be grateful he hadn’t killed her. Maybe he thought she’d forget his face, his voice, the way he made her feel.
Bad luck for him. She remembered that day in startling clarity. The day he’d turned her family upside down. Come to think of it, she needed to have a slogan for when she saw him again. Like in The Princess Bride.
“My name is Diana Vandergraff. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” She wasn’t the villain here, so she wasn’t going to have some long, drawn-out bragging speech. But he would know. She’d make sure he understood the series of events that had led to his world crumbling.
She wanted him to know.
Before she got her revenge, she’d get the answers she’d been searching for her whole life. Her father hadn’t been particularly affectionate or demonstrative, but he’d always been gentle with her. She couldn’t imagine any reason that he would be murdered other than for his money. Even as sheltered as she’d been, Diana had seen how people treated them all because of their wealth.
There were quite a few men who had approached her brothers about her simply because she’d inherited such a large trust fund. Men whom she’d had only brief conversations with were suddenly ardent admirers once they found out she was the Vandergraff heiress.
Well, she was an heiress no more. Hell, she didn’t even recognize that version of herself, the one who represented her family at society functions, wearing a ball gown and an insipid smile.
That girl was soft. That girl was vulnerable. The moment Diana was out of school, the only identity she knew was avenging angel.
Diana rubbed her hands up and down her arms when she reached the outcropping. The man she was targeting was a killer and a criminal. He had this coming. To do what she had to do, she couldn’t be Diana Vandergraff. She needed to be Diana Renquist.