A vine in the blood

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Less than an hour after Juraci Santos was unceremoniously dumped into the back seat of her kidnappers’ getaway car, Luca Vaz crept through her front gate and poisoned her bougainvilleas.

The way he figured it, he didn’t have a choice. And it wasn’t his fault. It was the fault of that lying lowlife, Mateo Lima.

“You’re sure about the color of these bougainvilleas?” Juraci had asked when he was planting them.

“I’m sure, Senhora,” he’d assured her. “Blood red, like you told me.”

“Guaranteed?”

“Guaranteed, Senhora.”

“All right, Luca. But you’d better be right. Because, if they flower in any other color…”

She left the threat unspecified. But a threat it was-and he knew it.

Three weeks later, the roof fell in: Luca learned that those new plants of hers were about to flower in a color his wife, Amanda, had described as the palest purple I’ve ever seen on a bougainvillea. If Juraci Santos, a woman known to be as vindictive as she was distrustful, discovered the truth, he’d be in big trouble.

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