Free Vengeance by Shana Figueroa Page B

doomed. Fine, I might as well stay at your place. Let’s just get out of here.”

Chapter Ten
    T he last time Val had been at the Carressa mansion, she hadn’t made it past the gate. This time, Max punched a code into the keypad underneath the intercom and the wrought iron fence swung open with ease, welcoming its owner. The mansion itself was about a quarter mile from the gate, after a winding single-lane road that cut through a tiny patch of northwest wilderness with sky-high evergreens and ferns carpeting lush forest ground. Val gawked like the middle-class bumpkin she was when Max pulled up to a giant asymmetrical house made of vaulted glass walls framed by smooth pinewood beams, an integration of nature and the cosmopolitan that only a seasoned architect paid millions of dollars could have achieved.
    Max unlocked the door and held it open for her, then punched another security code into the keypad adjacent to the entrance. It beeped, and the house lit up like the stage lights on an orchestra about to perform. The first floor was a sprawling open space that reminded Val of a Northwest Living magazine cover, with polished wood décor balanced against glass and steel fixtures. Everything was in its place, immaculately clean. She followed him up a spiral staircase to a guest bedroom on the second floor, done up like a posh hotel room at the Seattle Westin with dark gray silk bedding, solid oak furniture, and framed pictures of pressed Northwest flowers. Nothing personal distracted from the room’s elegance.
    “Where’s your room?” Val asked.
    “I stay in the guest house,” he said. “It’s about a hundred feet away, on the west side of the property. There’s a path that connects the two.”
    “You don’t need to vacate your own home for me. I can stay in the guest house.”
    “Actually, the guest house is my home. I hate this place. It was my father’s, not mine. I’m planning on selling it and moving to the city after the investigation into his death is over. I should have moved away a long time ago, but…” He trailed off, lost in a thought that darkened his eyes, before pulling himself back to the present. “Anyway, I’ve dismissed the help, so it’s just you and me for now. Help yourself to whatever you want. I’ll have Kitty bring by a change of clothes for you. Let me know if you need anything else.”
    Before she could thank him for his hospitality, Max said, “Good night,” turned, and left, as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
    Val would’ve loved to take a look around, but exhaustion from her long day dragged her brain into a stupor she was helpless to resist. She stripped off her moist clothes, slipped her gun underneath her pillow, and passed out on the guest bed.
    *  *  *
    Val woke with a start, not sure where she was for a moment until the previous day’s events came flooding back in heart-pounding detail. She eased her hand off her gun, then checked her cell phone; four missed calls from Stacey. Val queued up Stacey’s number, but stopped herself from dialing when she considered the massive amount of explanation she’d have to go through, as well as the inevitable talk about where their relationship stood. She texted Stacey instead: I’m fine. 2 much 2 explain now. talk to u soon , then turned off her phone.
    She took a hot shower, washing away the grime from her mad dash down Chet’s alley. Her clothes still felt damp, and she recoiled from the musty smell they’d acquired after sitting in a wet pile all night. Wrapped in a towel, she padded to an adjacent room, also impeccably decorated with no personal touches, and rooted through a dresser drawer until she found a men’s dress shirt and boxer shorts for temporary coverage. She descended the stairs to the first floor, now awash in the early morning sun that filtered in through glass walls overlooking the crystal waters of Lake Washington. Her stomach growled, and she opened the stainless steel fridge to find