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Not that Gwen had been intentional. But hadn’t Robert always said she was weak? Hadn’t he taught Claudia lessons through Gwen’s failures?
Sure, it hadn’t fit their plan. She’d had big dreams of being best friends with Gwen. Equals. Sisters. That hadn’t happened. What had Robert always said? Pain makes us stronger. Oh, and death is part of life. He’d told her that, right after he’d taken Tanaka’s. Well, she had brought the death. Right now, Robert was watching her with a giant grin on his face. He was saying well done and bragging about the cunning daughter that he had. This plan was better than his plan. Or it would be, once she had a chance to change her appearance, create a new game plan, and come back into Dario Capece’s life and finish the job.
He would never see her coming. Once the fire went out, once they found the eight-foot box with the blonde inside… their search for the kidnapping realtor would be over. Case closed. Danger gone.
She saw the fence ahead, the outline becoming visible in the dark. Slowing to a walk, she moved down its perimeter until she reached the gate, hidden from anyone who didn’t know where to look. Picking up the lock, she entered the combination, yanked the latch open, then slipped through the opening.
Her vehicle was now gone, victim to the explosive devices that she and Robert had wired throughout the warehouse’s infrastructure. It didn’t matter. Stepping onto the neighboring parcel, she headed for the middle of the field and the small tree, planted specifically for one purpose—to mark the eight-foot box’s air vent.
Before her, the sky glowed, the clouds reflecting the blaze, and the smell of smoke was heavy in the air. Slowing her steps, she scanned the ground, her search taking longer than expected before she found the small pipe, the diameter of a soda can.
“It looks too skinny.” She examined the pipe, her opinion producing a scoff from Robert Hawk.
“Think of how small your throat is, little dove. You breathe just fine through it.”
She wrapped her hands around her own throat, considering the logic. “How long would we survive without the air pipe?”
“In that box?” He frowned. “A half hour. Maybe less.”
She crouched and lifted up the small cap that hung from the lip of the vent and twisted it on, tightly capping the vent and blocking the flow of fresh air.
She stood, taking a moment to look down at her handiwork and wondered if she would feel any compassion for the woman, trapped in that box, underneath that inferno. Ten seconds passed, and she envisioned what would happen when the air started to get thin, wondered if the box was properly insulating the woman from the heat. Another ten seconds passed, and she pictured her mounting panic, the desperate claw at the handle in an attempt to free herself. After another few seconds, she straightened, firm in her resolve and confident of her decision.
Maybe, she mused, she didn’t have much of a heart left. Maybe, between Tanaka and Robert’s death, there wasn’t anything in her left to feel.
She thought back to Bell Hartley, remembered the way the brunette’s eyes had flashed when she’d said Dario’s name. There had been fight in her little body, despite her weak position, the injection’s drugs still present in her system. It’d been a cute letter. She’d seen the sincerity and thought behind it. She’d noticed the way her forehead had scrunched in concentration, the pen trembling when she’d put it to paper. The girl had stopped several times during the composition, pausing to think, putting the end of the pen in her mouth as she had reread over her last few lines.
Too bad the man had been Dario. With any other man, Claudia might have rooted her on. But Dario had already been taken, had been a pivotal part of the Hawk empire’s success. Bell had threatened to take him away, a move that had jeopardized everything.
One little cocktail waitress, one Vegas slut out of a million…and she almost caused the fall of the Hawk dynasty. One little cocktail waitress, who caused a domino of events that had left both Gwen and Robert dead within a week of that San Diego trip.
Now, there was only herself. The last remaining Hawk, and the only daughter who was truly worthy of his bloodline. She had everything—the training, the self-control, the intelligence, the resolve. With her, the Hawk name would come back stronger than ever.
It wouldn’t be easy. She’d have to be smart about it. Get plastic surgery. Lay low. Quietly work with Hawk’s estate attorney to transfer his assets into her possession. Get her name changed. Wait several years and then reemerge and introduce herself to Vegas. To Dario. To Bell Hartley, should the weakling still be around.
