by Paula Graves
“Females, age twenty-five to thirty, long dark hair, dark eyes, curvy figure—”
“I bet that must have freaked you out,” Marlon said, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Discovering you fit the profile almost exactly.”
Her heart skipped a beat as a new worry occurred to her. “Did you tell him about me? Is he on his way?”
“He doesn’t know about you. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
Marlon’s smile widened. He reached up with his free hand and retrieved something lying atop one of the enormous galvanized air vents that filled the basement room. Only when the light caught the steel blade did Alicia realize he was holding a large hunting knife.
“Because you’re mine,” Marlon answered.
Chapter Seventeen
Gabe heard voices. Not close enough for him to make out words, but the muted tones were definitely coming from somewhere in the bowels of Atchison Hall’s basement.
He eased down the stairs on the balls of his feet, glad he’d put on rubber-soled athletic shoes rather than boots that morning. He reached the concrete floor and halted, listening as he looked around in an attempt to get his bearings.
The stairwell he’d descended was located at the northeastern corner of the building. Though the stairs were open, there’d still been a landing, which put Gabe’s back to the eastern wall of the building.
The cell phone in his pocket vibrated. It made almost no noise, but Gabe grabbed it up and checked the text message Tony had left. 2 units outside. Status?
He froze for a moment, not sure what to do. Every instinct he had was screaming for him to keep the situation as low-key as possible. He didn’t know who had Alicia. He couldn’t even be positive she was alive anymore. The voices could be coming from the pair of killers she’d been trying to track down. One of the voices sounded female, but like Alicia’s warm alto, the voice was low enough to belong to a man with a tenor voice.
But what if his instincts were wrong? What if he was walking into a trap that would end up getting both of them killed? Maybe he should let the police handle things.
You don’t want to face a world where there’s no Alicia, a small, determined voice murmured in his head. What’s it going to take to get her out of here alive?
He punched in the word hold and sent the text, then pocketed the phone and started carefully toward the voices.
THE KNIFE WAS ENORMOUS, the blade at least six inches long. Alicia tried not to focus on the weapon, though it was hard to drag her gaze away from the shiny stainless steel.
Keep him talking. If he’s talking, he’s not stabbing.
And if he wasn’t stabbing, she had a chance to change the balance of power. All she needed was a weapon and an opportunity. Once the knife was in his hand, Marlon had tucked the gun in the waistband of his jeans. It would take a second or two to pull it back out, especially with the silencer still attached. He’d lose valuable time, and that might be all she needed to get the drop on him.
She’d been sneaking looks around the basement, hoping to spot something to use as a weapon. It had taken several glances before she realized the shadowy object lying next to a rickety work table was a crowbar. It was about three feet long and looked looked solid. It would pack a wallop. All she had to do was get to him before he got to the gun.
And before he got to her with the knife.
She wasn’t sure why he hadn’t come at her already. He seemed hesitant, which she found odd, since she knew he’d killed at least one person with his own hands. And if they were right about the man who’d rigged the gas explosion at Victor Logan’s house, he’d tried to kill three others as well.
But an explosion and even a gunshot were entirely different acts from taking a knife and gutting someone face-to-face, she realized. Was that what gave him pause?
“You weren’t in Europe last month, were you?” she asked aloud, mostly to answer her own curiosity. “You were in Buckley, Mississippi, blowing up Victor Logan’s house.”
Marlon’s lips curved in a faint smile. “He was so easy to manipulate. I think that’s when I figured out what I was really good at, you know.”
“You stopped him from shooting Jake and Mariah Cooper, but then you tried to kill them yourself.” According to Cissy’s retelling of the story, Mariah was Victor’s captive in the house and Jake had just gone in to rescue her when the man who set the gas to explode entered and set his plan into motion. “Why? Why not let Victor kill them in the first place?”
“Because that’s what he wanted,” Marlon answered.
So it really was about control, she thought. She and Gabe had been right to speculate that the note to her and the spray painted message on the side of Stiller’s Food and Fuel had been a side project for the beta killer from the beginning.
“Did your associate know what you did in Mississippi?” she asked, her gaze sliding back to the knife he held in his right hand. He was gripping it so tightly his knuckles showed white beneath the latex glove, but still he hadn’t made a move.
“He’s the one who sent me.”
“How did you know what was happening there?”
Marlon laughed, sounding almost relaxed for the first time since he’d picked up the knife. “The damned cable news. Alex saw Victor stalking the Coopers on the midday news.”
“Alex?”
Marlon went instantly tense. Clearly he hadn’t meant to drop his partner’s name. “It’s not his real name. I don’t even know his real name. And you’re not going to live to—” He cut off midsentence, his head snapping to the left, as if he’d heard something behind him. His body twisted until he was facing almost completely away from her, giving Alicia the break she’d hoped for.
She darted to her left and grabbed the crowbar. It was heavy, and she hadn’t accounted for how useless her injured left hand would be, but she couldn’t let weakness stop her.
Marlon must have heard her steps as she ran up behind him, for he whirled around, his free hand groping for the gun in his waistband. His fingers closed around the butt of the gun.
One of the small rebellions Alicia had indulged in as a teenager had been her determination to play high school softball, a game her parents found a little too pedestrian for their tastes. They’d tried to coax her to play soccer instead, but she’d stuck to her guns. She’d been an average fielder but a damned good clutch hitter.
The crowbar was heavier than any bat she’d ever wielded, but her aim was true, even with the handicap of her wounded hand. The crowbar cracked across Marlon’s knuckles where they clutched the butt of the gun. A crunching sound echoed through the basement, eclipsed by Marlon’s howl of pain.
Simultaneously came a muted blatting sound. Marlon screamed again as a dark red stain bloomed on the thigh of his jeans.
The blow had caused him to discharge the gun.
A SHRIEK OF PAIN ECHOED THROUGH the basement ahead, sending Gabe’s heart leaping into his throat. He forgot about stealth and broke into a run, uncertain whether the cry had belonged to Alicia or her captor.
Another sound—a soft popping noise—registered at the same time, almost taking his feet out from under him. He’d heard that sound before. It was one of the things he’d learned during his stint at the Sheriff’s Academy—the distinct sound made by a pistol with a sound suppressor attached to the barrel.
Another cry followed immediately, drowning out the faint reverberations of the gunshot. Gabe regained his balance and hurtled forward through the obstacle course of pipes and machinery until he spotted movement ahead.
Alicia stood over Marlon Dyson’s prone body, her hands gripping a rusty crowbar. One hand was wrapped in what looked like a bloody shirt, but the injury didn’t appear life-threatening, he saw with relief.
She hadn’t spotted Gabe yet, her attention focused on the man at her feet. “Put down the gun, Marlon. If you shoot me, we’re both dead. You hit an artery. Probably your femoral. If you don’t get help now, you’ll bleed out. You’ll never make it
back to the stairs.”
“Maybe it’s worth it.” Marlon’s gun hand looked bruised and swollen, his grip on the Glock not looking too steady. But all it would take would be one flick of his finger on the trigger to send a bullet tearing through her chest.
“Or I could just shoot you now and be done with it,” Gabe suggested, surprised by how calm his voice sounded. God knew, his insides were a quivering mass of sheer terror.
Marlon’s body twisted and he tried to level the gun at Gabe, but Alicia swung the crowbar in a beautiful arc and knocked the Glock out of Marlon’s shattered fingers. The pistol went airborne, a nice looping base hit that landed several yards away and skittered across the cement floor.
Marlon’s shriek of agony filled the air. Still, he had the presence of mind to swing his other arm at Alicia as she darted past him, making Gabe’s heart skip another couple of beats as he saw the dim light from the overhead bulbs glint off the stainless steel blade of a six-inch hunting knife.
But Alicia sidestepped him easily and threw herself at Gabe, nearly knocking him from his feet.
Gabe tucked her close, his heart galloping with joyous relief at the feel of her soft, sweet curves pressed against his side. He needed to let Tony know it was okay to bring in the backup, but he also needed to keep his Colt aimed at Marlon Dyson, and nothing on God’s green earth would have made him let go of Alicia with his other hand.
“My phone’s in my right front pocket,” he told her. “There are two Millbridge units outside waiting on my word to move. Call Tony and tell them where we are.”
As she made the call, Gabe held her more tightly to him, thrilling in the strong, swift beat of her heart against his rib cage and the feel of her arm wrapped firmly against his back.
She was alive. He’d made it in time.
It was only later, when Tony arrived with the cavalry and detectives whisked him and Alicia away for questioning, that Gabe realized the ordeal wasn’t really over. Not for his brother J.D. and not for him.
There was still a killer out there. He may have just lost his partner in crime, but he’d already proved he could find a new one when necessary.
But with Marlon in custody, a dangerous wild card, the alpha killer wouldn’t hang around Millbridge a second longer than it took to find out that Marlon was under arrest. He’d be gone, to another town, another set of unsuspecting victims. Another twisted soul eager to play his sick games.
Then what? Gabe had never planned to stay here in Millbridge even this long, and with the alpha moving on to greener pastures, the only thing that would be keeping him here sat across town at the Mill Valley University Hospital emergency room, getting her wounded hand stitched up.
And she deserved so much better than him.
ALICIA HADN’T REALLY EXPECTED Gabe to be waiting for her at her apartment when Tony drove her home from the hospital. She’d hoped he’d be there, but after Tony caught her up with everything that had happened since she’d left Atchison Hall, she’d knew there wasn’t much to keep him in Millbridge anymore.
Marlon was recovering from surgery to repair the torn artery in his leg. He’d been lucky; when he’d fallen to the floor, the weight of his uninjured leg had applied just enough pressure to the gunshot wound to slow the bleeding, keeping him from losing all his blood volume. The doctors seemed to think he’d live, but he’d lost a lot of blood and they weren’t sure whether his brain might be affected. It could be hours, even days, before he was conscious again.
“The story’s already all over the local news,” Tony had told her grimly. “Dyson’s partner will be headed out of town before I get you home.”
So it was over. For her, at least. There would be no more coed murders in Millbridge, at least none committed by Marlon Dyson and his partner.
No more reason for Gabe Cooper to stay in town.
But Gabe’s truck was parked at the curb when Tony pulled up in front of her apartment.
“Oh, look. Bassmaster Gabe is still here.” Tony’s wry tone was more teasing than sarcastic. “Guess you were wrong.”
“Unless he’s just packing his things to leave,” she muttered bleakly.
He came around the Jeep and opened her door, helping her out. She was a little woozy from the painkillers the E.R. doctor had given her after he stitched up her cut. “Maybe not. Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt.”
But she’d been right. When Tony opened the door for her, Gabe stood in front of the sofa, packing clothes into the soft-sided duffel bag he used as a suitcase.
He looked up, his gaze honing in on her with the intensity of a Klieg light. “Are you sure you’re okay? Should you have stayed overnight at the hospital?”
She dropped her gaze to the duffel bag. “The better for you to make a clean getaway?”
He made a low growling noise in his throat. “Look, it’s not like that—”
“You know, I think I’m going to go check in at the station, see if there’s anything new.” Tony backed toward the door.
“No, stay,” Alicia said. “This won’t take long. I think we said most of what needed to be said this morning.”
“Tony, go,” Gabe said. “I’ll stay with her until you can get back. I promise.”
“So you really are going?” Tony sounded disappointed.
“It’ll be okay,” Gabe insisted.
Alicia wanted to protest, not ready to be left alone with Gabe when he was so obviously about to walk out of her life for good. She’d known this moment was coming—he’d made it clear this morning that he wasn’t going to stick around long-term.
She just wasn’t ready for that moment to happen now.
But she was a grown woman. She’d taken some hard licks in her life before. She could take this one, too. It would hurt like crazy, but at least she had a heavy-duty dose of pain-killer coursing through her bloodstream. It wouldn’t make tomorrow any easier, but maybe it would take the edge off tonight.
Gabe waited until Tony had left the apartment to speak. “I wrote you a note.”
“Nice of you.” She had meant her words to come out more breezy than bitter, but the drugs were apparently screwing up her grasp of nuance.
“It’s pretty much a good-bye,” he admitted. “Nice to have met you, have a great life.”
“At least you’re honest,” she muttered, realizing that she even loved his brutal honesty. It was refreshing, if painful as hell. “You want to just read it to me? They gave me the good drugs at the E.R. My eyes are kind of crossing at the moment.”
Gabe moved forward, his hands cupping her arms as she started to wobble on her suddenly gelid knees. His touch burned like a brand and she felt all her bravado seeping away.
He helped her to the sofa, shoving his duffel bag onto the floor, where it spilled some of its contents. “Are you okay?”
Her head stopped swimming. “I will be.”
He slid his palm up to her jaw, his thumb brushing over her chin and settling on her lower lip. She found it difficult to draw her next breath.
“You deserve a guy who isn’t so damaged by his past mistakes. I screwed up so badly and there’s no way I can ever fix it.” His voice ached. “I was so afraid I was going to be too late today.”
She gazed up at him, the world spinning around her as she struggled to focus. “But you weren’t. I’m not sure it would have ended as well as it did if you hadn’t arrived. I’m pretty sure he meant to kill me, even if he bled to death because of it.”
Gabe nodded. “I think you’re right.”
“You can’t punish yourself the rest of your life for one mistake.” The room finally stopped whirling, though clarity wasn’t exactly repairing her equilibrium, not with Gabe’s sexy lower lip close enough to reach up and nibble. “Nobody expects you to. Not even your brother.”
“I know.” Gabe bent forward until his forehead touched hers. His breath warmed her cheeks, fragrant with the aroma of coffee and breath mints. “I still have to go.”
She closed
her eyes, pain tracing a hot arc through her chest. “And that’s it? You walk away and never come back?”
“That was the plan,” he admitted, pulling his head away. “Right up to the moment you walked through the door.”
She opened her eyes. He was gazing at her with a heady mixture of need and desperation. He lifted his other hand, cradling her face between his palms.
“I have to go home. Tonight.” Gabe’s thumbs caressed her bottom lip. “J.D. doesn’t know anything about what’s going on—Cissy and I decided not to tell him until we were sure there was a connection. But now we know there is and he needs to hear it from me before he hears it from someone else.”
“Tonight?” she repeated bleakly, even though she knew he was right. His brother had to hear the truth from him, as soon as possible.
Gabe’s brow creased and she saw a battle going on behind his murky blue eyes. “It’ll be all over the news by morning. It has to be tonight. But I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone—do you think Tony—”
“Take me with you,” she blurted, catching even herself by surprise. But now that the words were out, the idea seemed bloody brilliant.
“To Gossamer Ridge?”
She nodded. “You don’t want to leave me alone. I don’t want you to leave. Taking me with you solves both problems.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “I’m not sure I could let you go if you come with me.”
She felt a silly grin spreading across her face, no doubt drug-fueled, but she didn’t care. “I don’t want you to let me go, so that works out.”
He released a soft huff of laughter. “You’re so high.”
“High on love,” she said with a giggle that she was pretty sure she’d be mortified to remember in the morning.
“That’s just the drugs talking,” Gabe said, but he was grinning at her as if she’d just told him he’d won the lottery.
“Probably,” she agreed. “So you’d better take advantage of me while I’m stoned, because by morning when I come off this pill, I’m going to be hell on wheels.”