by W. J. May
It didn’t matter that the clock on the wall said six-thirty. It didn’t matter it was Gabriel’s training that had propelled him out of bed, consumed with the inexplicable desire to stretch his muscles and burn off some of that perpetual energy before it could get him into trouble. He wanted to kiss her. Talk with her. Laugh with her. Find out what she was thinking about, or if she remembered her dreams. He wanted those things now. He wasn’t programmed to wait.
I could ‘accidentally’ wake her. Drop a mug on the floor or clatter some plates—
He paused with his shirt halfway over his head.
No, you idiot! Don’t do that!
In the end, he went with moral compromise. He ripped off his clothes all over again and took a shower. Something that wasn’t necessarily bound to wake her, but it certainly had the potential. He took a lot longer than usual, flooding the hallway with steam every time he poked his head out the door to see if there was any movement.
Nothing. She was out like a light.
After about twenty minutes he gave up with an impatient sigh, turned off the water, and got dressed all over again. On the streets below, the rest of the city was just beginning to wake. Shops were opening their doors, taxis were starting their regular screaming clatter, people were making their way down the sidewalks on the hunt for their early morning coffee.
Wait...coffee.
A new idea popped into his head and he was off all over again, an adorable blur of perpetual motion. This time, he took extra care to let her sleep. Tiptoeing around the house, he gathered up his wallet and wrestled his shoes away from Hans. His hair hung in damp, gold curls as he ghosted back to the bedroom for one final look—leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.
So beautiful...
Then he was off. Flying down the stairs of her apartment complex and out onto the busy streets. The sun warmed his skin and put an extra spring in his step as he headed away from the residential slums, towards the bustling market.
On the way, he couldn’t help but notice a strange man staring back at him from the reflection in the store front windows. The man looked like him, but it couldn’t possibly be. He was too lighthearted. Too unconcerned. Gabriel didn’t smile like that. That was a smile he only ever saw on the faces of his friends. The man staring back at him looked almost...happy.
There was a visible hesitation in his step as he filed that away from later analysis, ducking under the awning of a bakery. A little bell went off the second he stepped inside, and he was awash with the sudden aroma of freshly baked bread.
“Can I help you, sir?”
An old woman came bustling out from around the back, wiping her floury hands on the front of her apron. Gabriel looked up at her before glancing a bit uncertainly at the display.
“Yeah, uh...I’ll get an assortment.” His green eyes shot up again, locking onto her wrinkled face. “Do you do that? A box with a little bit of everything?”
“Sure, we do,” the woman replied in a thick Russian accent, pulling out a to-go container as she began filling it with sweets. “Big family breakfast?”
An uncharacteristic flush colored Gabriel’s cheeks.
“No, I just...I’m not sure what she likes.”
There was a pause as the woman glanced up at him in surprise. A grandmotherly smile flitted across her face as the tongs hovered over a croissant, then she continued as if nothing had happened. “Well, she’s bound to like something in here. You two married?”
This time, it was Gabriel’s turn to be surprised. “Sorry...what?”
“Married.” She stressed the word, thinking perhaps that her broken English wasn’t coming through. “You bring a girl breakfast in bed, you married to her?”
For a second, he was almost tempted to lie. Between the accent and the sea of wrinkles, he got the feeling that the ‘wrath of the village’ would descend upon him if this requirement wasn’t met. Then he remembered his distinct lack of ring, and the words died on his tongue.
Again, he settled for a hasty middle-ground.
“Not yet.”
“Well, have you at least asked her?”
“Not yet.”
The woman let out a burst of crackling laughter, creasing the lines at the corners of her eyes. “You know that part comes first, yes? You ask—then she answers?”
Gabriel’s lips twitched up in a wry smile. “You’re not going to withhold my scones, are you?”
She laughed again, handing him the box over the counter as he handed her his money. “I withhold nothing. I only say—if girl wakes up in your bed, she gets a ring. That’s the rule.”
He left his change in the tip jar, backing out the door with a little wink. “I’ll keep that in mind...”
That freakin’ smile was back, brightening his face as he breezed across the pavement. He was going to head straight back to the apartment, but before he’d gone more than a few steps a distant clamor of noise caught his attention. He glanced once towards Natasha’s street, then headed the other way instead. Feeling refreshed, animated, and fully prepared to investigate.
Of course, it was at that precise moment his phone went off. He shifted the box impatiently to one side and glanced down at the screen. It was Julian.
Yeah. I’ll bet he’s seeing something different about me today.
With an absentminded grin, he ignored the call. Then, knowing the psychic’s persistence, he turned the phone off for good measure. Nosy friends would just have to wait. He had a different sort of mission this morning. One that required his complete concentration.
A few more blocks up the road, he rounded a corner and found it. The source of all the noise. It was a farmer’s market. The kind where a big, impersonal city liked to pretend it was a small town, gathering people under tents and awnings. Selling jewelry, produce, and soaps.
Gabriel’s eyes lit up as he peered around, and just like that he found himself making a beeline for the nearest cart. Heard himself saying something for the very first time.
“How much for the roses?”
A man in a huge bee-keeping hat turned around with a smile. He saw the bouquet Gabriel was holding and the smile widened. “For you, twenty dollars.”
Gabriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a few bills, thanking the cosmic forces that he’d had enough time to go to an ATM before Devon cancelled his stolen credit cards.
“Yeah?” He handed over the cash with a teasing grin. “How much for everyone else?”
The man’s bushy eyebrows shot into his hair, making him look like some sort of cartoon gone awry. “For everyone else—much less than that!”
The two of them shared a spontaneous laugh, and Gabriel thanked him and went on his way. By now, the sun was beginning to climb higher in the sky. With any luck Natasha was already awake, but if she wasn’t Gabriel had an idea of how he might kill the time.
It had only been a few months since he’d sold his flat in London, and he wondered if there was a chance it was still on the market. Not that he wanted to go back. Not that Natasha would possibly consider going with him. But just in case... It wouldn’t hurt to see, right?
At any rate, he could always rent the place out. Pull in some extra income, while giving him the option of a place to stay whenever he was in town—
“Hello, Gabriel.”
It was like a light went out. All those warm feelings vanished on the spot as Gabriel froze dead in his tracks. Stryder was standing in front of him. Along with every single one of his men.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing!” The man raised his arms with a giant smile and the rest of them melted quickly into the crowd. “What’s that on your face? A dreamy smile? Roses?” He turned to the one man still standing beside him. A man who was staring at Gabriel like he wanted nothing more than to eat him alive. “I think our boy’s in love.”
Even amidst the cheerful bustle, Gabriel could still hear it. The telltale click of half a dozen guns. The quiet metallic whirl as Stryder’s henchmen screwed on the silenc
ers. None of the people rushing by noticed a thing; they hardly even glanced up, but Gabriel would recognize that sound anywhere. He’d know it in his sleep.
It was a simple ploy. One he’d used himself more times than he could count. If the person you were trying to apprehend wouldn’t think twice about gambling with their own life, then you took their life out of the equation. You made it about other people’s lives instead.
Although Gabriel couldn’t see them, he was sure that each one of the men was stationed by an adjacent civilian. Standing close enough to shoot, while far enough away not to be noticed.
All except one. The one who was still glaring him down by Stryder’s side.
“Ah... this is Doug.” Stryder followed Gabriel’s line of sight and hastened to make the proper introductions. “You met Doug’s brother that other night on the train.”
On the train was right...
Gabriel gave the man a quick assessment before his lips twitched up in a hard smile. “You’re welcome.”
The veins in the man’s neck throbbed, like a pit bull straining at the end of his leash. “You trying to be funny, kid? You’re welcome?”
Gabriel stared back at him, completely unfazed. “It was the quickest death I could possibly give him. Better than he deserved.”
Halfway around the world, Rae Kerrigan just cursed his name without knowing why. She was always telling him not to antagonize people when they were holding a gun to his head. It was a lesson he’d never quite been able to learn.
Doug’s nostrils flared, and for a second Gabriel thought he was going to abandon his position all together and rip him limb from limb. But he didn’t. Instead, he twisted around with a wicked smile. When he emerged a second later, he was holding a young boy.
It was at this point that Gabriel set down the pastries. The roses fell from his hand.
The kid was petrified. Maybe ten or eleven years old. With a mop of shaggy hair, and huge dilated eyes that stared up at Gabriel in absolute terror. One arm was clenched firmly in Doug’s massive hand, while the other twitched sporadically against his side.
Gabriel’s eyes locked on the hand before locking on the gun. The one Doug was digging into the kid’s ribs from behind. When they returned to the boy, they were kind. Reassuring.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
Without realizing it, he found himself slipping into the same voice Jason had used with him. When bad things were happening, things neither of them were able to stop.
Please tell me you’re okay. Please tell me they haven’t hurt you.
Before the child could answer Stryder threw back his head with a loud laugh, the kind that sent visible chills flying up the boy’s spine. “We might have scared him a little, but the kid’s all right.” His voice dropped intently as he and Gabriel locked eyes. “Aren’t you, Zach?”
Zach. And now I know his name.
Another part of the game. Humanization. Leveraging in faces. Naming the guilt.
A heavy weight descended onto Gabriel’s shoulders as his eyes flickered quickly between the boy and the gun. Yes, he could destroy one, but would it be in time to save the other? He wasn’t sure. It was a risk he’d take with his own life. It wasn’t a risk he’d take with another.
Which was exactly what Stryder was counting on.
The man watched the dilemma ripple across the young assassin’s face. Watched it settle in his bright green eyes—clouded, since the moment they’d seen him. Watched the telltale tightening of the jaw, followed by the frustrated clenching of the hands. He’d gotten him.
He threw back his head with another laugh, even louder than the first. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The Michael I knew would have ripped this whole street apart with his bare hands. He wouldn’t have cared about the life of one boy.” His eyes twinkled as they locked onto Gabriel’s. “But you already know that. Don’t you? You’re nothing like dear-ol’ dad.”
Gabriel said nothing, his eyes were fixed on the child. The man, Doug, was holding him roughly. Far too roughly for a kid so young. There were already bruises forming on his arm and his eyes were red, as if he’d been crying for the last long while.
Gabriel tried again to silently comfort him. Tried to reassure him with his eyes. But the kid looked just as terrified of Gabriel as he was of everyone else. They were monsters. All of them. Painted with the same dark brush.
“To be honest, I can’t believe you didn’t come after me sooner.” Stryder was still monologuing, pacing back and forth. “You obviously bounced back rather nicely from that bullet to the heart. Dispatched my agent with little to no trouble. So, where were you?” He cocked his head to the side, curious, looking Gabriel up and down. “What was keeping you?”
Never answer a question. Ask one of your own.
“Your agent, huh?” Gabriel’s lips twitched up in a humorless smile. “So, you’re running the board, then, are you? Am I looking at the new Cromfield?”
The disparity between the two men was so ludicrous, even Stryder had to blush. But he recovered quickly, staring at Gabriel with curious, searching eyes. “If I was, would you be interested? A talent like yours should be celebrated, not wasted. You could be invaluable to me.”
Invaluable. That’s what Cromfield had always called him. Right before saying he was no longer needed and pointing a gun at his chest.
“It’s sweet of you to think of me, but I’m fine where I am.” Gabriel’s eyes swept briefly over the crowd as his tatù sizzled on his skin. “I also think we need a bigger audience.”
Before Stryder could say a word, before anyone could try to stop him, he took a deep breath and braced himself against the street. His arms drifted away from his body. There was a deep tearing inside his chest. His blood felt like it was boiling in his veins. And for one terrifying moment, he was convinced he was going to black out.
Then he heard a quiet gasp and lifted his head to see Stryder staring around the street in astonishment. Every single security camera in a ten-block radius was pointed right back at him.
“That...was very impressive.”
His men started fidgeting anxiously in the crowd as, one by one, the cameras zeroed in on their faces. The guns were quickly holstered. They resisted the urge to run.
Only Stryder maintained a perfect calm. Staring at Gabriel the way one would regard an admirable chess opponent. One who’d just made a particularly clever move.
“Let them go,” he said quietly. At once his men abandoned their positions, scattering to the wind. They ducked under eaves and darted around corners, carefully keeping their faces tilted away from the cameras until they vanished completely out of sight. “Except him,” Stryder added suddenly, gesturing to the boy. “He stays.”
Gabriel gritted his teeth in frustration, watching as Doug tightened his grip around the child’s arm. Every instinct he had was telling him to race forward. To take him back by force, ripping to pieces everyone foolish enough to get in his way.
But there was a still a gun shoved into Zach’s ribcage, and Stryder wasn’t taking any chances. As if one weapon wasn’t enough, he quickly added another.
Gabriel twitched his fingers. Breaking the cameras pointed at the street, one by one.
“Three cameras in a row and they alert the nearest precinct,” he said quietly, keeping his steady gaze locked on Stryder. “The police are on their way. Shall we move this along?”
Stryder tilted back on his heels with a twinkling smile. “What would you suggest?”
“Let the boy go. You and I can finish this someplace else.”
For a split-second, a strange expression flickered across the man’s face. If Gabriel didn’t know better, he’d swear he almost looked nostalgic. Then it sharpened into something cold.
“You’re right. We don’t need the boy.”
Gabriel watched in what felt like slow motion as two fingers tightened upon two different triggers. Zach sucked in a terrified breath, clutching the insides of his sleeves. A preemptive sparkle
of triumph gleamed in Stryder’s eyes, and Gabriel realized he was left with only one option.
If he couldn’t move the guns...he’d have to move the boy.
In an act of desperation his arm shot out into the open air, latching onto every bit of metal on the kid’s clothing he could find, latching onto the very iron in his blood. A sharp cry echoed in the air as the boy flew towards him, a cry immediately muffled by Gabriel’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, wrapping his arm around the child while keeping a constant hand clamped over his mouth. “I know that hurt. It was the only way.”
Two guns went off. Muted by their silencers. Unnoticed by the bustling crowd. Both Stryder and Doug looked up in amazement as Gabriel slowly lifted his hand.
“Please, don’t scream.”
The kid didn’t scream. He punched Gabriel instead.
There was a quiet gasp as Gabriel’s head jerked to the side. By the time he looked back up, the boy was already running away. Sprinting down the sidewalk to freedom.
Run, kid. Run and don’t look back.
A slow round of applause brought him back to the present, and he turned around to face the two remaining men. Doug was staring after the kid, like he was unsure whether or not to give chase, while Stryder was looking more and more disappointed that Gabriel had refused to be the prize jewel in his newfound collection.
As for Gabriel himself, the game was over. He’d had enough. “I’m going to kill you.” He took a step forward, raising a deadly hand. “You have to know that, right?”
Why was the man just standing there, clapping? He had no more leverage. And Gabriel didn’t need guns to kill people. He only needed to wish it so.
Stryder nodded contemplatively, as if the thought had occurred to him as well. “You could,” he conceded, “but I don’t think you’ll have time to do both.”
...both?
When he looked back later, Gabriel had no idea how he suddenly knew. Why the color drained from his face as his feet angled back towards Natasha’s apartment. He had no idea how he’d run so fast, leaping over the hoods of cars, pushing people out of his way. He couldn’t even remember sprinting up the stairs in her building...only to see the broken door.