Harlequin Blaze June 2015 Box Set: Midnight ThunderFevered NightsCome On OverTriple Time

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Gabe gritted his teeth. “Stephanie also knows I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  “I dimly recall her mentioning something about that.” Jack waved off Gabe’s complaint. “But I need to read the testimony of the defense’s expert tonight. I’m cross-examining him in the Samuels case tomorrow.”

  “I’ll have her bring it to you when we’re done.”

  Devin unfolded her long legs and rose. “It’s okay. I think I’ve got what I need.”

  Her eyes caught Gabe’s and she nodded, telling him without words she’d heard enough. Jack was one of the men at The Mark last night. He nodded back, letting her know he understood.

  “What you need?” Jack waggled his eyebrows.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter.” Devin shot him a glare that could have turned the Hope Diamond into a pile of expensive dust. “Gabe was giving me some friendly legal advice. Landlord issues.”

  She turned to Gabe, her expression softening. “Thanks again.”

  “My pleasure.” Gabe stood and walked her to the door. When they got there, he bent his head to whisper in her ear. “I’ll be in touch so we can take your statement. About your landlord.”

  “Gabe.” Her voice faltered and she started again. “Gabe, I’m...”

  “Sorry. I know.” He reached for the door knob and pulled the door open.

  She gave him a weak smile and strode through.

  And for the second time in a month he stood and watched helplessly as the woman he loved walked away.

  19

  “WHAT ARE YOU making for us today, Victor?”

  Devin looked over Victor’s shoulder at the drawing on the table in front of him. This had become a Thursday ritual in the months since she’d found her brother. She picked him up at Haven House in the morning and brought him to Ink the Heights. He seemed to like the atmosphere of the shop—the yellow walls cheery but not too bright, the customers chatty but not too friendly.

  Then, when her shift was done, she took him back to the group home. It made for a long day traveling to and from Long Island, and she had to borrow Leo’s car, which she hated. But that would change once a space in their Manhattan location opened up, something the staff at Haven House assured her would happen any day now, maybe even in time for Christmas. From there, the plan was for him to move in with Devin, eventually, with the help of a full-time aide.

  “Seahorse,” Victor answered, not looking up from his artwork, his colored pencil moving furiously. Eye contact was still tough for him. But he remembered her. Responded to her questions. Even let her touch him every once in a while.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. He’d rendered the creature in muted blues and greens, flanked by pale yellow sea grass and bright pink and purple coral.

  “Another one for the book?” Leo asked, coming over to see for himself. Ever since Victor’s second visit, when Leo had seen him doodling on a napkin with a Sharpie and given him paper and a set of colored pencils, Leo had taken a special interest in Victor’s artistic ability. Just like he’d done with Devin ten years ago.

  “I’d say so.” Devin laid her hand gently on her brother’s shoulder. Her heart stuttered when he didn’t flinch.

  “I’ll get it.” Leo went and pulled down a thick black binder, already bursting at the seams. “We’re going to need another one soon. The regulars will revolt if we don’t have Victor’s latest designs to show them.”

  “What do you think, Victor?” Devin asked. “Should we start a new book? Maybe a red binder this time. You can do some special stuff for the holidays.”

  Christmas had always been his favorite time of year. Santa Claus. Snowflakes. Sleigh bells. He loved it all, in small doses. “And we can decorate the shop next week.”

  Victor’s eyes stayed locked on the drawing but his head gave an almost imperceptible nod. “The male seahorse is the only male in the animal kingdom to give birth to its young.”

  “Where did you learn that?” She let her hand fall, not wanting to push her luck.

  “Animal Planet.” He finished shading a blade of sea grass and put down his pencil. “I also know that seahorses are fish, that they’re bad swimmers and that they mate for life.”

  “Let me guess.” She smiled. “More Animal Planet?”

  “Is Leo your mate?” He picked up an orange pencil and started on another piece of coral.

  “I’m her friend.” Leo thankfully stepped in to respond, setting the binder down gently on the table so as not to startle Victor. “Yours, too.”

  “You should have a mate. For life, like seahorses.” Victor caught her eye briefly then looked back down at his paper. “What about Gabe? He could be your mate.”

  Her brother had only met Gabe a few times in the weeks before the split, but Gabe had clearly made quite an impression, judging by the number of times Victor brought his name up. Each new reference was like a knife to the gut, hot and twisting. She thought the pain would recede with time. If anything, it had gotten worse. Two months of intense, bittersweet longing, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her Pamplona Purple toenails.

  “He has a point.” Leo rested against the wall, crossing his tattooed arms across his broad chest and giving her what she called his Spanish Inquisition stare. “You never did tell me what went wrong with you and Clarence Darrow.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It always is.”

  “It was for the best.”

  “Who’s best?” Leo’s eyes narrowed. “Yours? Because I hate to tell you, hermanita, I’ve seen you in far better shape. You’ve been sleepwalking through life since you two broke up.”

  “I have not.”

  “Then why did you almost misspell strength on Jazmin’s wrist?”

  “Spelling’s never been my strong suit.” Devin grabbed a handful of tools from her work station, tossed them into the autoclave and flipped the switch. “And I caught it in time, didn’t I?”

  “Barely.”

  “I’m done.” Victor slid his drawing across the table. “And I’m hungry.”

  “I’ve got granola bars in my purse.” Devin reached under the table for her bag. “That’ll have to tide you over until closing time.”

  “Go.” Leo picked up the drawing and admired it, sliding the paper into an empty sheet protector. “I’ll lock up. Looks like my last client’s a no-show.”

  As he spoke, the bell above the door chimed. A second later, Hector pushed through the curtain and dropped into Leo’s hydraulic chair. “Sorry I’m late, manito.”

  “Gabe,” Victor said.

  “Not Gabe.” Hector had about ten years and fifty pounds on Gabe. Maybe Victor wasn’t as enamored with Gabe as she thought if he’d mixed them up. Then again, the workings of Victor’s mind were—and would always be—a mystery. “This is Hector. You’ve seen him here before. He’s getting your wolf tattooed on his shoulder.”

  “No. Gabe.” Victor pointed to a newspaper someone had left behind. “Here.”

  “In the paper?” Devin crouched next to her brother for a better view. “Let me see.”

  Gabe had been big news since the shitstorm with Jack hit the fan. He’d come out the hero, with Jack disgraced, forced to resign and possibly facing criminal charges. And even more important in Gabe’s eyes, she knew, the suspect in the Park Avenue case had been released and reunited with his family. Maybe they’d finally tracked down Phillip and arrested him.

  She inched the newspaper out from under Victor’s hand. Sure enough, Gabe’s face stared back at her, handsome as always but haggard, recent events clearly taking their toll. But the headline next to the photo wasn’t about Phillip or the Park Avenue murders. Instead, it read Front Runner May Be Bowing out of Race for Top Spot in DA’s Office.

  She shot upright, banging her hip on the table and alm
ost knocking Victor’s pencils onto the floor. “What the fuck?”

  “That’s a bad word.” Her brother rocked back and forth. “You’re not supposed to say bad words.”

  “I know. But sometimes...” Sometimes even fuck wasn’t strong enough to express her level of pissedoffedness. Sometimes a thousand fucks weren’t strong enough.

  “Que pasa?” Leo put the binder back on the shelf and leaned against the counter.

  “Take a look at this.” She thrust the paper into his hands. “He’s quitting.”

  “Who’s quitting what?” Hector asked.

  Devin ignored him and sat on the edge of her tattoo chair to stop herself from pacing the floor, which would only make Victor nervous. “All that work getting him ready to run, for nothing. How can he do this to me?”

  “To you?” Leo raised a suspicious brow. “Or for you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Did you read the article?”

  “No.” She’d been too freaking furious to get past the headline.

  “It says he’s considering dropping out to focus on personal issues,” Leo read. “Rumor has it he’s heartbroken.”

  “It does not say that.” She snatched the paper back, frantically scanning it.

  “Not in so many words,” Leo admitted. “But the picture speaks volumes. Look at those haunted eyes. If that’s not a man who’s had his heart ripped out and stomped on, I don’t know what is.”

  “I did not rip out his heart and stomp on it.” Devin huffed a stray hair off her forehead. “And heartbroken or not, I’m not letting him quit. Not after I left him so he’d...”

  Damn. She bit her lip, but it was too late. The knowing glint in Leo’s eyes told her she’d already said too much.

  “Ah.” His satisfied smile would have rivaled the Cheshire cat’s. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  Hector coughed not so discretely. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  “Devin gave up the man she loves under the misguided impression that she’s bad for his career. And now he’s giving up his career for her.” Leo put the newspaper down on the counter behind him and walked over to his station. “Very ‘The Gift of the Magi.’”

  “That’s not it at all.”

  “Isn’t it?” Leo tilted his head to study her. “It’s obvious to even the most casual observer.”

  “Obvious,” Victor echoed, methodically putting his pencils back in their box.

  She shook her head. It couldn’t be. Yeah, she loved him. That much of Leo’s theory was true. But no way was he dropping out of the race for her. There had to be some other reason. And as much as she hated the idea of facing him again, there was only one way to find out.

  Ask him.

  “I’m still not following you,” Hector said, rubbing his jaw.

  “And I’m still hungry.” Victor snapped the lid on his pencil box shut.

  “Here.” Devin fished another granola bar out of her purse. “Your favorite. Chocolate chip and peanut butter.”

  Victor knocked it out of her hand. “I don’t want granola. I want McDonald’s.”

  She looked at the clock above the sink. 6:05 p.m. Too late to catch Gabe at the office, and no way was she going to his apartment. Too many memories and way, way too much room for temptation, with his ginormous bed and the walk-in shower with the body jets. Besides, she had to get Victor fed and home. Anything she had to say to Gabe would have to wait until tomorrow, when she’d had time to calm down and think rationally.

  “Come on.” She picked up the granola bar, stuffed it into her purse and handed her brother his backpack and Tex. The armadillo hadn’t been out of his sight since she’d given it back to him. “Let’s get our coats and grab something to eat.”

  “Hermanita.” Leo’s voice was soft but insistent, stopping her in her tracks. “If you love him, go to him. Fix this before it’s too late.”

  A shadow crossed his face, and not for the first time she wondered what romantic skeletons were hiding in Leo’s closet.

  “What if you’re right?” she asked, the words almost catching in her throat. “What if he really is giving it all up for me?”

  “Then he’s your seahorse. Your mate,” Victor said. In a rare moment of real connection, her brother’s eyes met hers, and the raw honesty, the trust, the understanding she saw there floored her. “For life.”

  * * *

  “I’M SORRY, BUT YOU just missed him.”

  “Shit.” Devin scuffed the toe of her boot on the linoleum. “Are you sure you can’t catch him? I only need a minute. It’s...”

  “Let me guess. It’s urgent.” Gabe’s secretary gave her a patronizing smile. “Again.”

  “Yeah, like last time.” Devin knew she sounded like a goddamned broken record, but she was way past caring. All that mattered was getting to Gabe ASAP so she could stop him from throwing away everything he’d worked so hard for. “It’s about the election.”

  “Then it won’t be urgent for much longer. Gabe’s about to give a press conference. He’s withdrawing from the race.”

  Fuck. This was even worse than she thought. He wasn’t just considering dropping out. He was actually doing it. Today.

  “He can’t quit,” Devin insisted. “I have to stop him.”

  The secretary pressed her lips into a thin, harsh line. “Good luck with that. He’s on his way to city hall. He’ll be half way through his speech by the time you get there.”

  “City hall?”

  “He’s giving a statement to the press and filing the withdrawal papers with the clerk’s office.”

  “What time?”

  “You’ll never make it.”

  “What time?” Devin repeated even louder.

  “His speech starts in ten minutes.”

  “Thanks,” Devin grumbled. “For nothing.”

  “Wait.”

  Devin turned, hands on her hips. “This better be worth every second it’s costing me.”

  “Here.” The secretary came out from behind her desk and handed Devin a plastic identification card on a mint green lanyard. “Take this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Press pass. It’ll get you past security.”

  Devin lowered her head to stare at the other woman. “What gives? Now you want to help me?”

  “Let’s just say I have a feeling work will be a lot more pleasant if you’re back with Gabe.”

  “Who said anything about me getting back with Gabe?”

  “Why else would you race downtown to stop him from committing political suicide? And he’s been unbearable since you guys split.” She nudged Devin toward the elevators. “Now go. Fast. Stop him before he files those papers.”

  “Thanks,” Devin said, meaning it this time.

  She didn’t stop running when she hit the street, racing all of the six plus blocks to City Hall, thankful every step of the way she’d traded her thigh-high stiletto boots for a pair of Docs just before leaving her apartment. It was like some inner voice was telling her she’d need speed more than sex appeal to fix this mess.

  She’d also need the right words, which she didn’t have yet, and the guts to say them in front of a pack of strangers. And a lot of luck to get there and track down Gabe before it was too late.

  Any worry that she’d have trouble finding him in the maze of corridors and offices that made up city hall vanished the second she turned the corner and saw the crowd on the massive steps leading up to the building’s main entrance. The same steps where Gabe had announced his candidacy on television almost two months ago. News vans from all of the major stations sat parked at the curb, their antennas whirling.

  And on top of the stairs, at the center of it all, stood Gabe behind a wooden podium, a gray wo
ol coat over his usual suit, one hand thrust in his pocket, looking like a modern-day Atticus Finch. Several other well-dressed gentlemen surrounded him. One she recognized as his boss, but unlike last time the rest of the men were unfamiliar. Devin rubbed her hands together, trying not to attach too much significance to the fact that the heavy hitters were noticeably absent.

  “We’re here for two reasons today,” Gabe began. “First, we’ve made an arrest in the Park Avenue homicide case.”

  Her heart pounded even faster than it already was from her six-block sprint. He hadn’t announced that he was dropping out yet. She wasn’t too late.

  She breathed in the cool, fall air and let it out in a long, slow hiss. She’d faced plenty of scary-ass situations in her twenty-eight years. Taking care of her stoned mother. Having Victor ripped out of her arms and taken away from her. Sleeping on the street, alone and cold.

  This topped them all.

  She pushed her way through the crowd as Gabe continued to discuss the arrest, desperate to get to the front before he started in on the election.

  “I’m sorry, miss.” A thick-necked man with Security written across the chest of his navy blue windbreaker stopped her with an outstretched arm. “Press only past this point.”

  She flashed the pass around her neck with a cocky grin she hoped said “ace reporter.”

  The security guard frowned. “Which outlet?”

  Shit. She hadn’t thought of that.

  “Uh, The Village Voice.” Hopefully he’d believe the alternative weekly tabloid would employ someone with four earrings in one ear and a spider-web tattoo.

  “Go ahead.” He lowered his arm and she made her way up the steps.

  She stopped about halfway up and listened, staying partially hidden in the crowd. She kept quiet as Gabe fielded questions about the murders. After a few minutes of answering what seemed like the same question asked ten different ways, he ran a hand through his hair and scanned the crowd.

  “If there’s nothing more on the Park Avenue case, I’ll move on to the second reason I brought you here today.” He paused to take a sip of water from a bottle on the podium. “It’s with a heavy heart and after much consideration that I’ve decided to—”