Roxanne St. Claire - Make Her Pay

“What do you want?” Charlotte Gorman strode into the room, her hands locked behind her back.

Con wasn’t taking any chances. He greeted her by raising his gun and aiming it. “I want Lizzie. And I want you two to take a ride with me. The Azorean police have a few questions for you.”

“Get out of here, you thief,” Charlotte snapped at him. Her fearless tone confirmed what he suspected: she had a gun of her own behind her back.

Sam held up a hand to her. “Char, I’m not ready to hang this man, despite the fact that he has a weapon pointed at us. Where did you go, Con?”

Con didn’t know what he was talking about, so he looked from one to the other, measuring the dynamics, getting the impression these two were not in sync.

“We saw you,” Sam said. “In the windmill. Lizzie and I were watching from the window.”

Charlotte sucked in a breath so softly, anyone else would have missed it. But Con heard.

“It wasn’t me. But you know who it was, don’t you, Charlotte?”

“I most certainly do not.”

He closed his finger over the trigger and pointed it to her face. “Tell me where Lizzie is right now.”

“She doesn’t know,” Sam said, patting his hands in the air to silently beg for the gun to be lowered. “She went after…” He just shook his head. “She went after you .”

Whoever she went after, it wasn’t him. “When?” he demanded.

“A few minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Charlotte demanded. “How could you let her leave?” She threw a look at Con. “I mean, it could be dangerous running after a man who’s got… a…” Her voice trailed off. “A reason he could be dangerous.”

Sam turned to her, his expression changing. “You know, Char, don’t you?”

“Know what?”

“You know what he-what someone -took from the windmill.” Sam glowered at his wife. “That’s what you’ve been looking for, isn’t it? That’s why you insisted on coming here.”

Con didn’t have to ask any more questions; there could only be one thing someone would take from the windmill.

“Sam, you’re wrong,” Charlotte insisted. “I told you that I go way back with Solange-”

“Shut up,” Con said, taking a step forward, the gun on her, his eyes on the other man. “Where did she go?”

“I really don’t know,” he said softly, shooting a vile look at Charlotte. “I don’t know anything or anyone, anymore. Even my wife. Especially my wife.”

“Not my problem,” Con said. “But you two are. I need to take you in for questioning.”

“All right,” Charlotte said. “We’ve done nothing-”

“No.” Sam cut her off and pointed at Con. “You need to find Lizzie. And you need to find her now. She’s in danger.”

The rightness of that punched him. But if he left these two, they might get away. They might get picked up in town, but he couldn’t be sure. His assignment from Lucy was to bring them in.

But Lizzie…

He notched his head at Charlotte. “Put your weapon down.”

“What?”

“Put your damn weapon down-fast!”

She brought both hands around to reveal a pistol. Con was about to pocket it when Sam reached out, his blue eyes burning at the woman he’d married.

“Give it to me,” he said. “I’ll keep her here until you get back.”

Con almost laughed. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” Sam said, his expression underscoring that. “I’ve known this woman for two years, but frankly, I don’t know her at all. And what I do know, I’m not sure I like.”

“Sorry, not putting you in charge of security anyway.” Con was already considering all his options. He could tie them up, lock them here until the police came. But that would take time, and Lizzie might not have time. He had seconds to make a decision.

“For the love of God, Charlotte, help the man.” Sam’s insistence surprised Con, both with its vehemence and its ring of desperation. “Who did Lizzie just follow? Where did he go?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her mouth pulling down. “I really don’t. I mean… I think I know, but I have no idea where he’s gone.”

“Who?” Sam and Con demanded at the same time.

“A liar. A double-crossing thief.”

Con wanted to throttle her, but forced himself to keep his voice calm. “Where did this double-crossing thief go?”

“I honestly don’t know. He must have known where the scepter is, and is hiding it.” Her voice was heavy with defeat.

“I think he went north,” Sam said, still holding his hand out to Con. “Please, Lizzie loves you. And I love her as a daughter. Please trust me to keep Charlotte here while you go get her. Go now . Every minute counts.”

He handed Sam the gun. “Screw with me, and you’ll regret it.”

“You can trust me.”

He had to.

Running from the house, he jumped on the bike to follow the tire tracks. When they dried up, he continued north on the only road on the island, imagining all the things that could happen to a woman who thought she was following a man to trap him in the act of breaking her heart.

Hopefully, Lizzie was mad enough at him to hurt the guy before he hurt her.

Because if he lost her…

He revved the Ducati over eighty and careened down the center of the road; every second counted if he was going to have the chance to tell her what he hoped she already knew.

The crack of a gunshot echoed over the rolling hills, the sound ripping through his heart. Lizzie!

Lizzie jumped a foot when Dave fired the gun at the ground near her feet, sending a small explosion of dirt and moss into the air.

“Thought I saw a snake,” he said with a snide smile. “You’re scared of them, are you? You’re lucky I didn’t put two in that room.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, backing up, aware that what was behind her was every bit as dangerous as what was in front of her. “The only snake on this island is you.”

“And Charlotte.” He pulled a dive mask from the bag, the gun still aimed in her direction. “She’s snakier than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Charlotte?” Disappointment and shock weighed her down. “And Sam ?” So much for her dad’s great character judgment.

“Nah-Sam’s not the mercenary his wife is,” Dave said, stepping closer. “He’s pretty clueless. You don’t get one of these, Lizzie.” He hooked a dive mask around his wrist, a movement she’d seen him do a hundred times aboard the Gold Digger . “But you can carry the tank. One tank-for me. Get down here.”

She didn’t move, still in shock. Dave had monitored the dive schedules and had access to the air compressor; he could remove an air intake valve and kill a diver.

All that time, all those inside diving jokes, all those days and nights and cakes and first hands celebrations… all that time, the divemaster had been her father’s killer.

“Were you with him when he died?”

“It wasn’t nice, Lizzie. I liked him.”

She choked. “Well, I loved him, you son of a bitch.”

“Hey, I was just following my benefactor’s orders. But now that I’ve gotten rid of her, and you, I’ll hide this.” He took four more steps. “Now move it. I need you to carry the tank.”

Dave Hawn. Dylan Houser. “How many identities do you have?”

“A few. Depends on the job, the treasure, the dive. Real name’s Doug Haberstroh. That’s what I’ll use when I have both scepters.”

“Are you kidding me?” She was horrified. “You killed a man for what? Fame? The recovered treasure? What?”

His expression changed. “Shut up, Lizzie. Talk time’s over. Let’s dive.”

She shook her head again, backing up, sneaking a peek to see her options. Slim to none.