BooksBarbecue
Back Strangers She Knows Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Praise
  4. Booklist
  5. Dedication
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. BPA
  61. Author Bio

“All’s fair in love and war, Max. This is a battle.” She allowed her fingers to curl as if they were still far gone into atrophy. “Mara doesn’t need to know how well this hand can work.”

37

Kellen stood on the beach, her toes curled in the cold, wet sand. She was soaked by the windblown rain and her efforts to help Max launch the SkinnySail into the depths of the roiling surf. There was no way—no way—Max could guide the vessel bearing Rae through the storm to the mainland, to the coast of California.

Yet Kellen trusted that somehow he would. He had to. Rae was their daughter, their hope, the proof of their love.

Max struggled against the storm, using brute strength and motorized power. Waves swamped the small vessel; Max and Rae disappeared from view, and Kellen found herself on her toes, straining and screaming at them to come back, come out. As if her shouts lifted the SkinnySail, the boat rose, wobbled at the top of the wave, and finally thrust itself out of the surf and into the rough, gray seas beyond.

Max was frantically bailing water from the tiny vessel.

“My God,” Kellen whispered. She observed until they had disappeared behind a curtain of rain.

They were gone. Gone from sight, gone from assistance, gone beyond all the help she could give them—except prayer. She could pray, and she did, as she seated herself on a driftwood log, rubbed the worst of the sand off her feet, and donned her soaking wet socks and worn running shoes. She prayed fervently and constantly as she fought the wind on the steep and twisted path up the cliff. And she wept.

As she climbed, she kept touching the pistol in the holster at her side. Mara was up there somewhere. She wasn’t going to make her revenge easy and shoot Kellen; if she had intended to end things that quickly, she could have done that at Yearning Sands from a safe distance. No, that demented bitch had some other crazy plan.

Kellen had her own crazy plan: shoot Mara between the eyes, shoot her in the back, shoot her anywhere and anytime.

The wind continued from the south, pushing her up the trail, and at the same time, rain made the gritty rocks slick and dangerous. More than once, as the wind shifted a few degrees to the east or west, she could have bounced all the way down to the beach. When she reached the top, the sand swirled in her face. She slid backward, grabbed a handful of the rough beach grass, and stopped herself. Struggling erect, she wiped the rain and tears off her face, took that last big step onto the top of the cliff, and heard that familiar female voice.

“I gave her only a half dose, because she loved me.”

Kellen used her sleeve to clear her eyes. She looked up at—

MARA PHILIPPI: