Chapter 30

Liv, Finn and Grannie remained hidden in the garage until the first rays of sunshine crept through the windows. The volunteer fire department and the neighbors had cleared out over an hour ago. Cautiously, they rose from their positions and checked each window, looking for any sign of a lingering guard.

Satisfied that none were easily detectible, they plotted their escape. Keeping as low as she could, Liv grabbed the keys to the Starfire from a hook on the wall and crept back to unlock the car. They stowed most of the guns and supplies in the cavernous trunk. Only the weapons they carried were placed in the car.

"Can I drive? Please, please, please? I saved you from freezing to death and shot a guy who was trying to kill you. That's gotta mean something," Finn pleaded, eyeing the keychain.

"Fine." Liv held out the keys.

"Would you get down on one knee and give them to me?" Finn asked, with a twinkle in his eyes. "I promise I won't say no. You would make me the happiest girl in the whole world!" The keys would have hit him in the face if his reflexes had been just a hair slower.

Finn excitedly hopped in the driver's seat and started the car, while Grannie climbed in the back. The V-8 rumbled to life and idled contently. Clutching the AR-15 to her chest, Liv approached the double doors. She looked over her shoulder, making sure Finn was ready, and inserted a key into the padlock holding the doors shut.

At Finn's signal, Liv shoved the doors open and ran outside. She dove to the ground behind a large concrete planter, took a deep breath, rose, and scanned the horizon with the assault rifle. Seeing no reaction, she motioned for the car to pull out of the garage. Liv closed the garage door behind the Starfire, then hopped in the passenger's seat.

As they drove past the ruined house, each was overcome by a deep sadness. Liv couldn't believe the house she had grown up in was gone. What had once been a vibrant home was now just a soggy pile of charred lumber. Only the blackened gun safe stood stoically in the midst of the wreckage.

A tear rolled down Grannie's face. The loss of so many family heirlooms and the kitchen her son had remodeled for her when she moved in after the death of Liv's mother, was too much.

Finn could hardly believe his eyes as he stared at the ruins. Even his GSX-R had not escaped the inferno; it was now just a pile of metal rubber and plastic.

"Well, let's go figure out who did this," Grannie's voice interrupted their thoughts. Turn left at the stop sign. Hopefully, Stephen will have some ideas about how those guys knew where you were. He's an early riser, so we won't be waking him."

They rode in tense silence. Every passing car and person was carefully scrutinized. Finally, the nerve-wracking car ride ended when they pulled up to the gates of a large estate. "I didn't know you were dating a rich guy. How come you never tell me these things?" Liv stared at the elaborate, wooden entrance, set into a tall, red adobe wall.

"Oh hush, darling. Finn, be a dear and pull up to the gate and ring the buzzer. When he asks who it is, just say, 'Marcy Driscol calling.' Make sure you tell him I have a chauffeur!" Finn smiled and complied. Minutes later, the Starfire was safe from prying eyes, behind the large, closed gates of Stephen Viktorson III's estate.

"Wow, he's got a Viper and an Audi R8!" Finn exclaimed, as they pulled into the only empty slot in a six car garage.

"Lucky for us, the Aston Martin is in the shop, or we wouldn't have a parking space," Grannie said as Finn stopped the car. "Come on now, leave the guns in the car." Ignoring her advice, Liv and Finn each kept a pistol as they followed Grannie through the garage door and into a large living room. An adobe fireplace filled one corner. Rough, hewn beams supported the ornate ceiling.

"Marcy! I didn't expect you to come by so early!" Stephen Viktorson III, a jolly man in his late fifties, welcomed them into his home. He greeted Liv's Grandmother with a kiss on the cheek. "Oh and the pretty lady with the pink pistol tucked in her pants must be your granddaughter? And who's this rascal?" Stephen asked, shaking hands with Liv and Finn.

"Finn Andrews, sir. I'm a friend of the family." He firmly clasped Stephen's outstretched hand. Finn considered himself a good judge of character and liked Stephen immediately.

Stephen surveyed the motley group with curiosity. "Before you tell me what happened, go get cleaned up. If you go down the hall, each bedroom has a bathroom with a shower and robes. I'll get breakfast going. Everyone like omelets?" The three nodded their approval as they headed for the hallway.

Liv felt as if she could follow the water down the drain. The shower was relaxing, making her feel puddly and human. Warm steam from two shower heads curled around her body, washing away grime and tension. She examined the damage that the last few days had inflicted on her. Scratches covered her arms and legs from the broken glass of both the Porsche and the kitchen window. A bruise crossed her chest, left behind by the seatbelt that saved her life in the mine shaft. As she shampooed her hair, she winced when her finger brushed over a hidden bump. She was hurt, but alive, and she had a score to settle.