Taste of Vengeance

by Kristi Belcamino

  “Truce?”

  She smirked, but took the glass with a nod

  Cars were wedged in to every possible spot in the parking lot at the foot of the statue. It was like visiting the Statue of Liberty or the Eiffel Tower. Major tourist overload. Our driver dropped us off at the base of the stairs leading to the statue.

  The second half of our group, who had been in the other SUV, stood in a tight circle, furtively passing small pills around. I guess they needed some Molly to enhance their pleasure. Like standing at the foot of the world-famous fucking Christ the Redeemer statue wasn’t enough?

  “Glad you wore your walking shoes,” Damien said, glancing down at my ballet flats.

  I shot a look at the rest of our party. Zoe and Cat wore high-heeled sandals. I read a sign about the statue as we waited for them to join us.

  I bet those women would have some killer blisters after scaling the two hundred and twenty steps to the top.

  That’s when I saw them head for a line to the elevator.

  I laughed.

  The rest of us took the stairs, feeling like cattle as we merged into the stream of people heading upward. It wasn’t any better at the top. People stood shoulder-to-shoulder, angling their cameras up at Jesus’s gentle features and open arms. At one end of the platform, several people lay on their backs, shooting photos of the iconic landmark. The view was spectacular. The perfect combination of tropical blue seas and lush green hills.

  I leaned my back against the small wall and gazed up at the serene look on the sculpted face. I said a silent prayer for my mother and then turned my back on Jesus, looking out over Rio to hide the tears in my eyes from anyone else.

  Back down in the parking lot, we got into the SUV and headed for the top of another mountain.

  When we arrived at the hang gliding spot, Rich and Damien climbed out and headed over to a king-cab truck parked nearby. Two squat, dark-skinned men stood by it. One wore a beat-up straw hat and the other a well-worn ball cap.

  I stretched, doing some half-hearted Budo moves, sucking in the clean mountain air. At one point, Damien walked over to where the equipment rested and was talking intently with one of the men.

  After a few minutes, Damien came back over.

  “Looks like the fog is dissipating. We should be able to see for miles without any problems. Otherwise we get a full refund,” Damien said, shooting a glance toward the two men, who were now standing with their arms folded, leaning against the truck.

  Damien directed us to the gliders we’d be using. Sydney started toward a red one, but Damien pointed her toward a black one at the end.

  He turned around, and she watched him walk away. The look on her face sent a trickle of foreboding down my spine.

  She noticed me staring and lifted her chin to acknowledge me before she turned on her heel and headed toward the black hang glider.

  47

  Game On

  There was no way Sydney was going to use the hang glider that Thornwell had directed her toward. Sydney had zero doubts that he knew she was on to him. It would make her job a little tougher—maybe even life-threatening—but she’d manage.

  Physically, he wasn’t a problem. She could take him out in a heartbeat. But until she had proof that he’d done something to Alaia, her hands were tied. If she could track down his pied-a-terre, perhaps she’d find the evidence she needed to take him out. And while Schwartz wanted to take care of Damien his way, Sydney knew she’d be the one who’d have to handle it. Thornwell was too dangerous, too powerful, and too wealthy. If he realized what she’d uncovered, he’d be in the wind. He’d create a new life with his scads of money and prey wherever he landed.

  When he’d pointed at the black hang glider, Sydney walked over and introduced herself to the pilot.

  “I’m Gabriel,” the man said. “The owner.”

  “I haven’t done this in a while,” she said, casting a glance over at Damien, who was inspecting his own glider. “Is there some type of safety check we should do? I can’t remember.”

  Gabriel smiled. “I checked it myself last night. I took her out for a test run. She is in tip-top shape.”

  Sydney looked up in time to see Damien watching. He quickly looked away.

  “Does Damien usually fly with you?”

  The man frowned, lifted his hat, and scratched his head. “Yes. It’s a little odd for him to allow a guest to take this glider. He’s usually territorial about it.”

  Casting a sly glance her way, he said, “I figured you maybe were more special than the other ladies he usually brings here.”

  Sydney nodded. “Yes, I think you’re exactly right. I am different than the other ladies he brings here. Which reminds me …”

  She dug into her small backpack and took out the picture of Alaia. “Did you ever see this woman?”

  Gabriel took the picture and nodded. He was about to say something, but when he looked up, a strange look crossed his face.

  When she saw where he was looking, Sydney understood why.

  Damien had stopped what he was doing and was glowering at Gabriel.

  “No, I’ve never seen her before,” Gabriel said and thrust the picture back at her.

  Sydney bit her lip, thinking.

  “Exactly when did Damien decide that I should fly with you?”

  “He called last night about nine and said there had been a change of plans. That the blonde lady would ride with me.”

  “Gabriel, would you mind giving the glider another once over before we take off? I’m a little nervous. It would make me feel better.”

  Gabriel smiled. A nervous woman was something he could relate to, Sydney figured.

  “Of course. Anything to make you feel more comfortable.”

  “Thanks.” She glanced over at Damien. He was adjusting something on his own glider. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to use the restroom while you give her a once over.”

  She planned to tell everyone her stomach was upset so she’d have to pass on the hang gliding. But when she stepped out of the bathroom and looked around, she was confused. The spot where her glider had been was empty. She spotted the pilot on the platform at the edge of the cliff.

  A scream lodged in her throat as she raced to stop him. She was too late. She watched in horror as the pilot stepped off the platform. The top of the glider dipped violently and disappeared into nothingness. As Sydney ran, her eyes scanned the lot and met Damien’s. He was staring at her with an expression of pure fury.

  48

  Over the Edge

  I wasn’t really paying attention to the other hang gliders until my assigned pilot looked up from his inspection, and his face turned a sickly shade of white.

  He bolted to the edge of the cliff and peered over. After a moment, he took off his ball cap and crossed himself. With a mounting weight of dread in my stomach, I raced over to join the rest of our group, now gazing down the cliff face from the platform. As I passed my pilot, I saw that he was weeping. I looked over the edge. I could see the black hang glider shattered on the rocks far below. A motionless body was sprawled nearby.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God!” Tears pricked the corners of my own eyes.

  Sydney brushed past me and muttered something under her breath.

  Damien grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Within two seconds, Sydney’s elbow had cracked into Damien’s lower jaw sending him reeling back. Rich and I stood wide-eyed and open-mouthed as Sydney took off at a run.

  The SUV started up. Sydney was behind the wheel. The driver, who had just come out of the bathroom, started to run. Sydney squealed the SUV to a stop in front of me. “Get in.”

  I froze. What the hell was going on? Before I could react, she sped away, the massive tires spitting up rocks.

  “What the fuck was that about?” I said. My voice had a slight hysterical whine to it. “Is he dead?” Damien and Rich didn’t answer. They both stared at me wordlessly.

  Then Damien grabbed his phone and stepped aside, speaking
Portuguese.

  The man assigned to my glider came over.

  “We must tell police.”

  “No polícia,” Damien said. “I’ve already notified the proper authorities.”

  We all piled into the other SUV.

  When we arrived back at the villa, the other SUV was parked in the driveway. I immediately looked for Sydney, but couldn’t find her. Her room was empty. She was gone. So was her dog.

  Fuck.

  Damien stood in the hall when I walked out of her room.

  “I need to be honest with you,” he said. “Sydney has accused me of some pretty serious wrongdoings. I’ve been trying to ignore it. I didn’t want to spoil the trip.”

  “What did she say? What is all this about?”

  I put my hands on my hips and stared at him, willing him to answer and alleviate my growing misgivings.

  “Nothing. Some untoward business dealings. I think she is angry I chose you over her.”

  I kept my face blank. He was fucking joking, right? Did he think I was that stupid? Maybe I had been, but no more. I could see through his lies. It was as if Gabriel’s death lifted the pheromone cloud that had been obscuring reality.

  His eyes grew hooded, and his lips moist. I could see he was becoming aroused. I looked around and couldn’t figure out what had caused it, but I wasn’t having any of it. He reached for me, but I wriggled out of his grasp.

  “I’m sorry.” I averted my face so he couldn’t read the truth there. “I need some time alone. I’m pretty shaken up. I mean, a guy just died, Damien.”

  That sobered him up. Or else reminded him that he was supposed to seem distraught.

  “You knew this guy, right? Aren’t you upset.” I was laying it on a little thick, but I didn’t care.

  Damien pulled away and gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re right. Responsibility calls. I’m supposed to receive the inspector here in a few minutes anyway to go over the accident. Although I don’t know what I can say to help their investigation.”

  I ducked into the open doorway of my bedroom. Before I closed the door, Damien said, “They may need to speak to you, but if I can prevent that, I will. Okay?”

  Wordlessly, I nodded.

  I shut the door and leaned against it, listening, my heart pounding. After what felt like forever, I heard him move away. I bolted the door and then raced over to the adjoining door to lock it before I remembered he had a key.

  I pushed the dresser over in front of the door. It was small and light, but it would stop him at least a little. I didn’t know why I needed to barricade myself in my room, but all my instincts screamed to do so.

  There was only one person who could tell me if I was losing my mind.

  “Dante?” I held the phone to my ear so hard it hurt.

  “Gia? What’s wrong?” In the background, I could hear the bustle of the restaurant, the clanging of pots and pans, the kitchen staff shouting orders.

  “There’s some weird stuff going on down here.”

  There was a pause. “Let me go somewhere private.” I waited until it was quiet in the background. “What’s up?”

  I didn’t quite know where to start.

  “This woman, Sydney Rye, she is here investigating the disappearance of a San Francisco woman that has had dealings with Rich and Damien.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well,” I flinched as I said the words. “She thinks Damien is involved.”

  “In the woman’s disappearance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh.” I could imagine his olive-skinned face scrunched up as he thought about this. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How are things going with you two, anyway?”

  I exhaled loudly. “I want to be around him all the time.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  “And he sometimes annoys the fuck out of me.”

  “Normal.”

  “But I also feel like I need to keep my guard up.”

  “Does this Sydney have any proof?”

  “No. That’s what she’s trying to get.”

  “Has he done anything weird?”

  I flashed to him with that woman on the beach.

  “I don’t know. He’s a player. Even with me down here with him.”

  That shut Dante up.

  “You sure you want to get involved with a guy like that?” he finally said.

  “I’m not ready for a commitment, either.”

  “Aha.” I could hear something in Dante’s voice.

  “What?” I was wary of what he would say next.

  “Gia, are you sure that your unease isn’t your natural defense mechanism trying to stop you from falling for this guy? I mean, it would make sense that you are leery of falling in love right now.”

  Bobby. The name was unspoken, but we both knew what he meant.

  I shrugged, then realized he couldn’t see me.

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  A booming voice yelled Dante’s name. I head the mumble of voices.

  “Gia,” Dante said. “I’ve got to go. The duck is charred. I’ve got to whip something up. I’ve got a senator from Connecticut in the dining room.”

  “Call me later?” My voice was plaintive. But he’d already hung up. I flung my phone down on the bed and the flopped down myself, burying my face in my arms.

  I felt the vibration of my phone and looked over. My phone was lit up with a text.

  Sydney Rye.

  49

  Favela

  Settled in to her one-room apartment in the slums of Rio—the favela—Sydney couldn’t believe that, even after everything that had happened, Gia still didn’t believe that Damien was a killer.

  She’d sent a text giving Gia her number and saying she’d come for her if necessary.

  Gia had written back.

  “Thanks anyway.”

  And dismissed her.

  After ditching the SUV, Sydney headed into a favela not far from Ipanema Beach. All she took with her was Blue and small backpack.

  Sydney had done her research well before leaving the states. She knew she’d need a place to go underground if things went south—which, of course, they had.

  Named for the thorny favela plant, the slums of Rio—called favelas—had a long history of providing shelter for the down-and-out. Immigrants looking for work took shelter in the slapdash structures that were scattered on the hills on the outskirts of Rio. More than a quarter of the residents of Rio lived in one of the one-thousand favelas in the area.

  Leaving the beach community behind and stepping into a crowded street, Sydney felt Blue’s nose tap her thigh to show he was sticking close. Drawn by a wide staircase painted with dancing figures on a yellow background, Sydney headed for higher ground. As she ascended, an elderly man with a cane was slowing making his way down to the shopping district she’d just come from.

  He didn’t even glance her way, which made Sydney realize she’d chosen the right location to lay low.

  At the top of the staircase was a small platform leading to a bridge that overlooked the slums. There, two women posed for pictures with the ghetto in the background. They spoke English and were obviously tourists.

  A group of teenagers stepped out of an alley nearby. The group surrounded the two women, flicking their hair, herding them up against the rail of the bridge, reaching for the camera.

  Sydney waited with Blue in the shadows of a building, waiting to see what would happen.

  The group of boys spoke Portuguese and broken English.

  Sydney could only make out a few words.

  “Camera. Nice camera. Give.”

  The two women shrank against the rail of the bridge as the boys surrounded them.

  Sydney crossed the space between the group with Blue at her thigh. They were no more than a foot away from the nearest boy. They were all so focused on the women and their prize, no one had noticed them yet. Sydney looked down at Blue and gave a quick nod.
The guttural sound that rose from Blue’s throat made one boy freeze and cock his head. When he turned his head slightly toward the sound and saw Blue, he jumped and propelled himself to the other side of the circle.

  Blue’s growling turned into a fierce, deafening bark, and the boys scattered with shouts. They raced over to a wall and scrambled up onto it. Once safe, they looked at one another and began to laugh nervously.

  Sydney looked at Blue and the barking stopped.

  The two women cowered against one another. One was crying.

  “Thanks,” the brown-haired woman said.

  “Let’s take one more shot,” the other woman said.

  “Hey,” Sydney said. “Maybe it’s not the best idea to be taking selfies with your thousand-dollar camera in an area where people struggle to find food every day. It’s disrespectful.”

  The brunette had the good grace to look ashamed, but the other woman just sneered. “Whatever,” she said.

  Sydney jutted her chin toward the group of boys who stood nearby whispering and talking. “I’d get back to your little safe hotel before the sun sets.’

  The brown-haired woman nodded and turned to the other one. “She’s right. Let’s go.”

  Sydney waited until they left before she turned back to the boys.

  “Hey guys, want to pet him? He’s really a sweetheart. Bark worse than his bite you know.”

  A few of the boys broke into wide grins and jumped down from the wall. Several crouched down and whistled. Blue looked up at Sydney. She nodded, and he headed their way, tongue lolling and tail wagging.

  After a while, Sydney was led to her new apartment by a little girl in a stained dress. She was the sister of one of the boys. The girl led her to an alley and a small doorway, and when she knocked a woman with a bandanna over her hair answered.