Gabriel Is No Angel

by Wendy Haley

  “Hmm.” Lost in thought, she gently chewed her bottom lip. “Something doesn’t add up. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’ve got this itch at the back of my neck that tells me so.”

  Gabriel watched her mouth in fascination. He’d like to run his tongue along that red, lush flesh. He’d like to—Grimly, he forced himself to think about the business at hand.

  “I know that itch,” he said. “I get it whenever I’m on a troublesome case. I’ve learned to pay attention to it.”

  She nodded, only briefly acknowledging the sudden kinship she felt. She had no business feeling anything for him. “Have you been able to trace who owns any of those houses?” she asked.

  “We keep running into dead ends.”

  Rae cocked her head to one side and regarded him for a moment. Then she smiled. “There are no dead ends, MacLaren. Other than the ones you accept.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Okay,” she said, turning to the computer and turning it on. “There might be something in the case file that could help us, maybe something you didn’t see because you were looking for something else.”

  “Happens all the time. Plus, in a case this complex, my partner and I divide up tasks, which also divides our attention. There are times when I’m so busy I don’t have time to do more than glance at reports he’s written.”

  “Is there anything you can think of now?”

  Gabriel cast back through the jumbled files of his memory. Most space seemed to be taken up by a woman named Boudreau, who’d seared him to his soul with her fire and her passion. Damn. Then he recalled something in one of his partner’s reports that had nagged at him. He’d made a mental note to talk to Drake about it, and had forgotten amid the chaos Rae had brought into his life.

  “I had a hunch on one thing, but I can’t remember exactly what it was. I’d have to take a look at the file again.”

  “Hunches work for me,” Rae said. “So let’s get that file. Will your partner put himself on the line to help you out?”

  “He’s my partner,” he said, looking shocked at the question.

  Cops always stuck together, Rae thought, her gaze carefully focused on the computer screen lest she give herself away.

  “Drake will do anything he can to help,” MacLaren continued, adding, “if he isn’t under suspension, too.”

  Rae swiveled to look at him. Her temper spiked heat through her veins, making her reckless. She no longer cared about the deal, or anything but the anger that made her blood burn. “Gee, maybe somebody called in to say he slept with me, too.”

  “The complaint wasn’t that we slept together, Rae. Only that I harassed you. The blame was only on one side.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped.

  “You’re the one who brought it up,” he growled.

  “Now I’m the one who doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  With a look that should have scorched his eyebrows, she turned back to her computer, shutting him out. He grabbed the arms of her chair and swung her back around.

  “Hey, look,” he said. “If we’re going to work together effectively, we can’t keep snarling at each other about things you don’t want to talk about.”

  “I did not snarl.”

  “You did.”

  “And we’re not exactly working together,” she snapped. “I’m working with you under duress.”

  His jaw tightened. “I’m the one who got suspended. If anyone’s got the right to be upset, it’s me.”

  “Right. Fine.”

  She tried to swing her chair back toward the computer, but he clamped his hands on the arms, pinning her in place. Her breath hung up somewhere around her diaphragm, and there didn’t seem to be anything she could do to free it.

  His eyes looked impossibly clear and blue, and he was so close she could see the tiny dark hairs that were beginning to show on his chin and jaw. His mouth was tight with annoyance, but nothing could hide the sensual curve of that lower lip.

  She could tell him what had happened. She could show him the same evidence that had convinced the commissioner to take action. He’d believe her then.

  But it wouldn’t be enough. She wanted the one thing he apparently couldn’t give her: faith.

  She planted her feet on the floor and pushed, trying to ease her chair away from him. His hands curled around the chair arms, holding her in place despite her efforts.

  “Let go,” she said.

  “I thought we’d called a truce.”

  “There was no truce,” she retorted. “Only coercion.”

  “Damn it, Rae, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

  She loved him. Damn him. “Yes,” she said, “it does.”

  “You’re the most aggravating woman I’ve ever met,” he growled.

  “I try hard,” she retorted.

  Gabriel opened his mouth to retort, but she put her hands on her hips, pulling her black cotton vest tightly across her breasts. Suddenly, he found himself having trouble remembering why he was angry. Simply, she was too desirable for words, and his soul yearned for her.

  So did his body. Everything that made him a man desired her, a hunger as strong and primitive as a thunderstorm. But that hunger was less profound than the heart hunger he felt for this woman. She was a player. Games within games within games. She’d betrayed him, sold him out simply to win, and still he wanted her.

  Was this love? Hell, he didn’t know. Love was supposed to be a good thing, not something that ached and raged like this.

  As a vice cop, he’d seen love bought and sold; he’d seen it used and abused and thrown away. He didn’t believe in love. Never would. And if he changed his mind, it would be with a woman who could love him back. Not a player.

  He cupped Rae’s chin with one hand and tilted her face more fully into the light. What was really there? he wondered. Were there any feelings for him at all? Had the passion, that fiery, incredible passion...had that been all a game, too?

  He had to know.

  Even though he told himself to be cold, to keep his emotions in check, he couldn’t keep his hand from trembling as he slid it from her chin to the back of her neck. He claimed her mouth softly, gently. He could feel reluctance in her for one breathless heartbeat. His whole being was suspended between heaven and hell, waiting for her to reject him. Then her lips softened, and all the tension drained out of her body, and relief raced through him as bright and warm as sunlight.

  This, at least, was real.

  It was magic. It always had been. He curved his other arm around her waist, pulling her up out of the chair. She felt like heaven against him, warm and lush and erotic. Her breath went out in a sigh he felt down to his toes. As if it had been his. As if, with that kiss, they had lost their separateness, their confusion and conflict, and had become one.

  “Wait,” she gasped. “Stop.”

  He didn’t want to stop. But he did, and every cell in his body protested. “Rae—”

  “Don’t.” She pulled away. “Why did you do that?”

  “I had to.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “Well, next time, don’t have to.”

  “Strictly business,” he agreed.

  “Yes.”

  But her eyes were stark with the knowledge that it would happen again. They couldn’t help themselves.

  “The trick,” he said, perhaps talking more to himself than to her, “is not to resist it, but to make it not matter.”

  “How very...astute of you,” she replied, her tone arid. “Why don’t you go get that case file? The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

  “I agree,” he said. Coolly, as though it didn’t matter.

  Gabriel watched her throat move as she swallowed convulsively. This time, he knew he hadn’t imagined the tears in her eyes. Ah, damn it, he thought. Of all the reactions he might have imagined, this was the least expected.

  And the most dangerous.

  Gabriel rang the bell at Eddy Drake’s apartment. T
he door swung open, revealing Eddy’s narrow hawk’s face and, behind it, a slice of bachelor-messy living room.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Eddy said, opening the door wider.

  Gabriel stepped into the apartment. Eddy hadn’t cleaned the place since his wife left him six months ago, and things were getting pretty bad. Pizza boxes littered the coffee table, and a veritable forest of empty two-liter soda bottles had sprouted on the floor beside the sofa. Gabriel had seen this before—too many times. The job was as tough on the wives as it was on the men. Maybe tougher. They had to send their husbands off to work not knowing if they’d ever come home again. Not many could handle it.

  I bet Rae could. He thrust that thought away quickly. Sure, Rae could probably handle anything. If she cared enough to put the games aside.

  “Hey, why do you look so sour?” Eddy asked. “It’s not like you’ve never seen the place before.”

  “Yeah, and I still get nightmares,” Gabriel retorted.

  “It’s just me, and I don’t seem to care. How are things going with that sexy, sassy process server?”

  “Things don’t ‘go’ with that process server,” Gabriel said. “They sort of sweep you up and away, and before you know it, you’re not in Kansas anymore.” With a sigh, he raked one hand through his hair. “Look, I need another favor from you. See what you can find out about Rae Boudreau’s ex-husband. He used to work at the Stiller Street Precinct a few years ago.”

  “Yeah, I heard the story,” Eddy said. “Brett Wilson gave me all the gory details.”

  “I don’t want gory details. I want the truth.”

  Eddy grunted. “All right. But if you were smart, you’d leave this the hell alone.”

  “If I were smart, I wouldn’t be a cop.”

  “Yeah. Here’s your file,” he growled, thrusting a manila folder into Gabriel’s hands.

  Quickly, Gabriel thumbed through the folder’s contents. He frowned, then went through the papers again. And cursed.

  “What’s the matter?” Eddy asked.

  Gabriel slapped the folder shut. “Something’s missing.”

  Chapter 14

  “What do you mean, something’s missing?” Rae demanded.

  “Just that,” MacLaren replied, tapping the case file. “I know there was more in here a few days ago. Somebody’s gotten into it and pulled something they didn’t want me to see.”

  Rae leaned back in her chair and studied him. Bright early-afternoon light poured through the windows of her office, slashing with unremitting harshness across his face. He looked grim and fired, his mouth set in a hard line.

  “Of course they pulled something,” she said. “If it’s political, and as high-placed as you think, then they’ve got somebody, probably several somebodies, in their pockets.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Your partner?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I trust Eddy implicitly.”

  “Who don’t you trust?” She couldn’t keep herself from adding, “Besides me?”

  “Damn it, Rae...” His breath went out with a hiss, and he swung away from her to look out the window. His big, lean body cast a sharp-edged shadow across the floor.

  Rae watched him for a while. He didn’t move, nor did the line of his back become less uncompromising. But she knew that inside, where no one could see, he was struggling with himself.

  Of all the people in the world, she understood. She’d gone through the same struggle, the same violation of her trust in the system. She didn’t know what to say to make it right. She didn’t know why she wanted to say something to make it right, but she did.

  “Look, MacLaren—” she began.

  “They’re not going to get away with this,” he growled. “I’m a cop. I became a cop because I believed in the law. And I’m not about to let some sleaze break the law with impunity just because he’s got political connections. I’m going to get him.”

  “That’s going to be hard when you’re on suspension,” she countered.

  He swung around with a suddenness that startled her. Before she had a chance to get her breath back, he’d clamped his hands on the arms of her chair again.

  Too close, she thought, every cell in her body registering his presence, his scent, his maleness.

  “I’m taking this guy down if I have to bring the whole city government down with him,” he growled.

  Idiotic, she thought, but on the whole, rather magnificent. His eyes looked like cracked glass, and held a most exciting ferocity. He’d fight the Devil himself for what he thought was right, and he wouldn’t care what happened to him as long as he brought his enemy down with him. Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes. Her pulse beat a swift, heavy tattoo in her ears. Whatever else Gabriel MacLaren might be, he was much man.

  Much man, her heart told her. On a personal level, as well. She remembered how he’d leapt into the path of Dillard’s car to get her to safety, and her heart did one of those steep dives again. How many women could say that their man would die for them? If only, she thought, he could have loved her.

  “You can let go of my chair now,” she said.

  He blinked, and some of the fierceness left his eyes. But not all. For a moment, he pinned her there with that blazing blue crystal gaze, then straightened.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “I get a little intense some times.”

  “I remember,” she murmured.

  He drew a sharp breath, and she instantly regretted her words. It was much too dangerous to remind him of their lovemaking. But it seemed the damage was already done, for those memories lay stark and vivid in his eyes.

  She turned hastily around to the computer. If he touched her now, if he said something tender and funny, she’d be lost. Sudden tears fractured the light into a million multicolored specks.

  “Earth to Rae,” Gabriel said.

  Strangely, the sound of his deep voice steadied her. Taking a deep breath, she managed to shore up her collapsing resolve.

  “I’m here,” she replied. “I’m just thinking about the best way to go about this.” Absently, she tapped her fingertips on the edge of the keyboard. “How much can you remember about the case?”

  “Maybe enough, if you’re as good as I think you are.”

  The compliment surprised her. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Thanks,” she said.

  Their gazes met and locked, and a tense silence fell for a moment. Then Rae gave herself a mental shake and forced herself to disengage. Just before she turned back to the computer, she thought she saw a flash of regret in his eyes.

  “Names first?” he asked.

  “Any and all,” she replied. “We don’t know what will connect up, so everything is equally important right now.”

  He started pacing the room. “I’ll start with anything connected to Peter Smithfield. First, there’s Applegate—”

  “His girlfriend,” Rae interjected.

  Gabriel’s brows rose. “Then there’s Walsh, the—”

  “Cousin. Johnstone, the alias.”

  “One alias,” Gabriel corrected, pleased to know something she didn’t. “He’s been a real busy boy lately.”

  Rae called up the Smithfield file. “Give.”

  “Peter Jarvis, Paul Sheridan—”

  “Steal from Peter to pay Paul,” Rae murmured.

  Gabriel stopped pacing for a moment. “That’s almost as bad as a doughnut joke.”

  “I’ve got some of those, too,” she said. “Been saving them for the right opportunity. Is Sheridan a family name?”

  “No. He lived on Sheridan Place Drive for a while.”

  “Mmm. That means I’ve got to check the name of every street he’s lived on. Sheesh. Hasn’t the guy figured out that if he put this much time and energy into an honest enterprise, he’d probably be a millionaire by now?”

  “Guys like Peter Smithfield never figure anything out,” Gabriel said.

  Rae rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure any man ever figures anything out.�
��

  “How flattering.”

  “You’re welcome. Any other aliases?”

  “Yeah. P. Michael Duncan—another street name, before you ask—and Peter Elliston.”

  A shiver of recognition raced up Rae’s spine, the nose-twitching awareness of a fresh trail. “Hold it a minute. I know that name.” Quickly, she called up the Smithfield file and scrolled through it. “There.” she said, stopping the cursor. “Remember the condo where...” With a lift of her eyebrows, she glanced over at Gabriel. “You do remember the condo?”

  “How could I forget?” he asked. “Four-B.”

  Suddenly he grinned at her, and the smile was so full of devilment that her mouth nearly dropped open. Oh, he was a sexy, sexy man!

  “I thought you were mad about that,” she said.

  “I wanted to strangle you,” he admitted. “You stood there and lied with the straightest face I’ve ever seen. And I would have done exactly the same thing in your position.”

  “Well, hallelujah,” she breathed.

  “Don’t get cocky, Boudreau. That doesn’t mean I won’t arrest you again,” he countered.

  “Do you want to hear my wonderful revelation or what?”

  “Speak.”

  “Elliston Enterprises is the owner of the condo,” she said. “Four-B. Maybe his girlfriend really rented it, or maybe she doesn’t know anything about it.”

  “She doesn’t,” Gabriel said. “She broke up with him. The relationship cost her several thousand dollars, she told me.”

  “What a jewel he is,” Rae murmured.

  Gabriel grunted. “So we have one thing that at least seems to be a fact. Someone allowed Smithfield to use that condo, and that someone didn’t want him being found by the police.”

  “I’m willing to assume that for now,” Rae said. “It also explains why he’s dropped completely out of sight. See, he knows that as long as you think he’s useful, he’s dangerous to the other side. He’s got a lot of incentive to keep them from finding him.”

  “Yeah, like breathing,” MacLaren said. “Your point?”

  “Why not go right to the source?” she asked.

  He grinned, a smile of pure, unholy devilment that sent a shock wave of reaction crashing through her. “Why not? Start with Elliston and see where it takes us.”