“That’s where he stabbed her!” Rae said fiercely.
Verona grabbed Kellen’s arm and held her up as if she would faint. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Not quite true—the knifepoint had not pierced her skin, but the violence of his attempt had left a sore spot and a bruise. “The bracing on the corset caught the point and I’m fine.” Still, Kellen was vain enough to ask, “Does it look terrible? The wine and the tear and the wrinkles?”
Verona stepped back and scrutinized Kellen from head to toe. “Actually, it’s oddly striking. It makes you look wild and untamed.”
Birdie handed Kellen the bouquet. “You look beautiful.” Her voice wavered with sentiment.
“Have you got the ring?” Verona asked Birdie.
Birdie patted her pocket.
Arthur arrived, not a hair out of place. “Are we ready?”
At Kellen’s nod, he signaled Temo and Adrian, who escorted Verona to the front row. The music started, and Birdie walked down the aisle to the front where Max and his groomsman waited.
Arthur handed Rae and Kellen their bouquets of purple roses and asters with baby’s breath and tendrils of ribbon.
Kellen took her daughter’s hand.
Together they stepped through the entrance to face the guests, who stood on cue, then gaped as Kellen and Rae walked down the aisle together.
Rae smiled and greeted people as she walked.
Kellen saw no one except Max, still smiling, still watching her.
When asked who gave this woman, Birdie, Temo and Adrian answered, “We do.”
Rae got the most laughs and the most tears when she announced, “And I give my daddy to my mommy!”
It was the perfect wedding, especially for the surprised winery guests who dropped in and discovered a celebration in progress.
No one stopped them or requested their invitations; Parliman Security had left in a huff.
58
For three hours, the music played, the food and wine arrived in waves and the guests grew louder and louder and more and more convivial. When Pearly Perry wheeled out the wedding cake, guests gasped and cooed.
The main edifice had been shaped and frosted to look like a three-foot-tall oak barrel. Frozen sugared grapes hung in bunches around the rim. A long slice from top to bottom displayed an ombre of colors from pale yellow to lavender to an intense, Syrah dark purple. All around the cake, purple or pale yellow cake filled crystal wineglasses; the frosting was contrasting buttercream.
Behind the scenes, Dr. Frownfelter and Dr. Brundage had worked on Kellen’s ankle, approved Arthur’s work, given her pain relief and an antibiotic and told her sternly not to indulge in any of the fine wines served at her wedding feast.
Kellen sighed and complied, circulating on Max’s arm to visit the guest tables and thank them for their attendance. When they reached the table Annie and Leo were hosting, she collapsed into a chair and smiled at two of her favorite people in the world. Almost everyone here belonged to Max, but Annie and Leo—they belonged to her, too.
Verona joined them, looking flushed and out of breath. She had had a dance with Arthur.
“We’re so excited, dear girl, to welcome you into the Di Luca family.” Annie handed Kellen a small rectangular box. “This is for the two of you, if you wish to have it.”
The box felt oddly heavy for its size and had been tied with a lush purple silk ribbon.
Kellen looked up at Max.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Open it!”
She did, and inside was a giant old-fashioned iron key. “What does it open?” she asked.
“It’s the original key to Yearning Sands Resort,” Leo said.
Kellen shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s for you and Max. We know how much you love Yearning Sands, and with my current lousy health, we have to retire.” Annie was clearly disgusted with herself. “But I know my darling home will be in loving hands if you and Max take it over.”
Kellen handed the box to Max. “But the winery—”
“Someone else in the family can take it over,” Max assured her.
“Someone who can blend a good wine,” Leo suggested.
Max glared at his uncle.
Leo cackled.
“Did you know about this?” Kellen asked Max.
“No, I didn’t see this coming. But it does make sense, except for—” Max stopped short.
Kellen understood his train of thought, and he was right. She knew he was. Taking Annie’s fragile hand, Kellen held it. “I would love to come to Yearning Sands and take it over as managers, but we can’t. Rae is our first priority, and the school system in Cape Charade isn’t good.” She realized what she’d said and winced. When she decided to own motherhood, she went all the way.
Max got it, too, damn him, for he murmured, “The keys to a minivan are within your reach.”
“Shut up,” she said.
Verona leaned into the conversation. “But the resort is an ideal place to raise a child. Isn’t it?”
“In the summer when there’s no school, yes,” Kellen agreed. “To be out there on the coast, running free... Yes. It would be good for Rae.”
“I have a thought.” Kellen’s new mother-in-law looked bright-eyed and enthusiastic. “I was a grade school schoolteacher before I retired. I can move with you to Yearning Sands and homeschool Rae.”
Kellen felt faint, and not with joy. They were just married, and already Verona wanted to live with them? Permanently?
Verona pulled her chair close to Kellen, excluding Max, excluding Annie and Leo, and in a low voice, she said, “Look. I know we haven’t gotten along. I didn’t trust you. I didn’t believe you. I didn’t like that you...that you saw Rae and didn’t instantly love her. But the way you did it was better. You got to know her, then you loved her.”
“Yes. Yes, I did. We bonded.” Kellen wanted to laugh as she remembered Rae’s Monster MegaBond speech. But now was not the time.
Verona continued, “I’ve been with Rae since she was born. I love her, and she loves me. You’re going to be working. It’s a big resort. I can stay out of your way and still be close to Rae. And I am, if you’ll excuse my confidence, a damned good schoolteacher.”
Kellen took a breath. Everything Verona said about Rae was true; she loved her grandmother, Verona loved her, and most important, when Kellen had been unconscious and then missing, Verona had been there for Rae and Max every minute, and that could happen again. In fact, it might be necessary. “Then I think that’s a great solution,” she told Verona. “I think that’s exactly, exactly, what we need to do.”
“It won’t work forever. Sooner or later Rae will need higher education, more than I can give her, and we’ll have to move.” Verona had clearly decided she would be part of the household forever. “But she’ll have the best educational foundation any child could ever have.”
“She already has an amazing vocabulary.” Which sometimes isn’t comforting.
Verona smiled smugly. “She tests at the top of her class in every subject.”
Kellen offered her hand. “Well, then. It’s a deal.”
Verona shook her hand, then pulled her into a fierce embrace. “In the Di Luca family, we hug.”
Kellen stiffened, hesitated, then relaxed and hugged her in return.
Verona pushed her chair back, whisked tears from the corners of her eyes, looked around and announced, “It’s settled, then. We’re moving to Yearning Sands.”
Annie and Leo and the other guests at the table, Di Lucas and otherwise, clapped in appreciation and congratulations.
Max slid the key into his inner suit pocket and helped Kellen to her feet. “Although this is, of course, our favorite table, we should visit our other guests.”
They exchanged cheek kisses with all the relatives, an
d as they moved on, he said, “That was a good thing you did.”
“Your mother’s right. It is the best solution.”
“You didn’t have to go for it.” He turned Kellen to face him. “You do know you didn’t, right?”
“I know. I just... The resort will be a great place to raise Rae, and I’ll have a job, and you’ll have a job.”
“No doubt. We’ll be working all the time.” He sounded satisfied.
“If she can get a quality education there—and I know your mother will see to it—then we have everything we need.”
“Except time.” The bitter words slipped from him.
“Then we shouldn’t waste what we’ve got.” She joined their hands, leaned her body close, matched their lips and whispered, “Shall we leave on our honeymoon?”
Someone whistled in appreciation.
“Right now?” Max’s lips moved against hers. “We haven’t cut the cake.”
“To hell with the cake.”
“I knew it from the first moment I met you. You are the woman of my dreams.” He kissed her, long and slow, ready to take up his husbandly duties the moment they were alone.
Max didn’t realize that Daniel Lykke hadn’t lived to complete his dream of taking control of Lykke Industries, but he had fulfilled his desire to harm her; he had slammed her to the floor one too many times. Something was wrong with her. She suspected he had moved the bullet in her brain, for the edges of reality had become fuzzy and gray, like a camera with Vaseline rubbed around the edge of the lens.
But how did she tell Max that, on this day when he had married her and their daughter was safe from threat?
“Look!” he said. “The dead arises!”
At the fringe of the crowd, Nils Brooks stood, head bandaged, eyes bloodshot, looking as if...as if he’d been racked and beaten all in one day.
“He’s not having a good time,” Kellen observed.
“I know!” Max sounded fierce. “He deserves every ache and pain. I trusted him to guard Rae, and he screwed up.”
“He really is a good fighter.” She watched as one of the tiny Di Luca boys toddled over and embraced Nils’s leg with sticky hands. Nils picked up the child and grinned at him, then relinquished him to his laughing mother. “He likes kids, Rae bosses him around, and he took his eye off the ball.”
“You’re too forgiving.”
Kellen met Nils’s gaze.
For the first time since she’d known him, he looked sorry and embarrassed. He dipped his head in apology.
“I am too forgiving. But I keep thinking... I will never let him live this down.”
“I’ll never let him near you again.”
“Check. No more jobs for Nils Brooks.”
“We should probably have our first dance before we leave. For Rae’s sake.” Max knew what his little daughter liked, and he knew, too, she would miss them while they were vacationing in Italy.
“That sounds like a lovely plan,” Kellen agreed.
In deference to her injuries, Max and Kellen’s first dance was a slow waltz, a wonderful spinning tribute to love that made the guests sigh with pleasure.
Then Zio Federico stepped onto the floor with Rae, and the old man and the child danced in circles around them. Max waved his arm at the family and friends who were watching, and soon dozens of couples waltzed in a burst of rhythmic joy.
Carson and Birdie.
Verona and Arthur.
Temo and Adrian.
Max said, “Zio Federico approves of the splatters on your dress. He wants to know how you created it.”
“What did you tell him?’
“That it was a spontaneous demonstration of creative sophistication.”
She chuckled. “You’re a genius.”
“I know. I’ve got you.”
That fuzziness advanced, the edges of her vision diminished. She slowed. “I’ve begun to think that’s not such a smart thing.”
Max’s smile faded. His face became watchful. “Why?”
Kellen had to tell him. Warn him. She looked around, avoiding his gaze, and—Rae had disappeared from the dance floor.
“Where is she?” Kellen searched the wedding party.
“Who?”
“Rae. Where is—?” Kellen caught her breath.
There, at the edge of the dance floor, she saw them. Rae, her charming trusting lovely daughter, smiling and talking to...to a...
FEMALE, WHITE, TANNED, HEALTHY, 5'6", 130 LBS. AGGRESSIVELY PHYSICALLY FIT. DARK HAIR. BRILLIANT BLUE EYES.
She looks older than the last time I saw her...
Mara Philippi, smuggler and serial killer, the woman who had almost murdered Kellen. The woman Max and Kellen had captured and sent to prison.
In slow motion, Mara knelt before Rae and listened to Rae’s enthusiastic babble, then turned her head and smiled directly at Kellen, taunting her with her helplessness.
“She’s here.” Kellen stopped dancing and dug her fingernails into Max’s arm.
“Who’s here?” He looked around, alarmed.
“Mara Philippi. She’s here. She’s with Rae. She has Rae.” The gray mist moved like an ocean fog over Kellen’s mind, invincible, blinding her, binding her.
“Where?” He held Kellen up by her elbows and helped her circle in slow motion.
“There.” Kellen tried to point, but when she stared at the place where Mara Philippi and Rae had been, they were gone. “Rae. Where is Rae?”
“I can see her. She’s with my mother and Arthur, talking and dancing. She’s safe, Kellen, she’s safe.”
Kellen looked up into his eyes. “No. I wasn’t hallucinating, Max. Mara Philippi is back, and she wants to kill everything I love. Save Rae. Take care of yourself. I love you forever.” She collapsed in his arms.
I have three confessions:
My name is Max Di Luca.
I’m a father and a husband, and I’ll do what I must to save my daughter and my wife from harm.
I will kill to protect my family. Make no mistake about that.
* * *
Find out Kellen’s fate in
the next book of Christina Dodd’s
pulse-pounding Cape Charade series,
Strangers She Knows,
coming soon from HQN Books.
Acknowledgments
Nothing was as important to the writing of What Doesn’t Kill Her as my daughters, Shannon and Arwen, who taught their amazed mommy how smart, how annoying and how funny little girls can be. The terror a parent feels about the safety of their children is universal; translating that terror and the incredible bond that grows between parent and child was a challenge I hope I captured in some small part, and communicated to my dear reader. Thanks, my dear girls, for making me a better person.
When it comes to positioning the books, sales navigates the increasingly challenging and constantly changing platforms that are book placement. In the case of What Doesn’t Kill Her, the HQN Books sales team was also the guiding light behind the name change and the cover redesign. Thank you so much, Fritz Servatius and the team. I’m so excited about the changes.
To Allison Carroll—so many brilliant insights and ideas wrapped up as horrible queries! Keep up the good work!
Thank you to the whole trade and hardcover art team, led by Erin Craig, and to Sean Kapitain for the What Doesn’t Kill Her cover and the formatting of Kellen’s mental Rolodex files.
Thanks to Lisa Wray, manager, publicity and events. Despite bad weather and broken planes, what an entertaining publishing year we created! I look forward to working with you on many more fabulous and unique publishing events.
Thank you to Craig Swinwood, publisher and CEO, Loriana Sacilotto, executive vice president, and to Susan Swinwood, HQN editorial director, for the opportunities you’ve given the Cap
e Charade series.
Dianne Moggy, vice president of editorial, thank you. After so many years of anticipation, working with the HQN team and seeing the care with which you publish is a privilege. You used the word “stellar,” about What Doesn’t Kill Her; what a treasure for me to enjoy!
Photo credit: Marc von Borstel
CHRISTINA DODD
New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd writes “edge-of-the-seat suspense” (Iris Johansen) with “brilliantly etched characters, polished writing, and unexpected flashes of sharp humor that are pure Dodd” (Booklist). Her books have been called “scary, sexy, and smartly written” by Booklist, and much to her mother’s delight, Dodd was once a clue in the Los Angeles Times crossword puzzle. With more than fifteen million copies of her books in print, Dodd’s fans know that when they pick one up they’ve found, as Karen Robards writes, “an absolute thrill ride of a book!” Enter Christina’s worlds and join her mailing list for humor, book news and entertainment (yes, she’s the proud author with the infamous three-armed cover) at christinadodd.com.
ISBN-13: 9781488096501
What Doesn’t Kill Her
Copyright © 2019 by Christina Dodd
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
What Doesn't Kill Her Page 33
