Raw Talent

by Debra Webb

  “He hated my father,” Mark went on. “Wanted to make him suffer. She worried that he might change his mind about letting her keep me.”

  Gabrielle’s mouth went dry and what was left of her appetite vanished. “She was good to you? This sister.” She didn’t know why she asked the question. It just felt like the right thing to do.

  He nodded. “Yeah. She treated me real good. My father let me stay with her until she died.”

  “She died?” Gabrielle didn’t know that part.

  Mark nodded again. “She was really sick when he found out I was still alive, but he didn’t want to hurt her since she’d been so good to me. So he let me stay with her until the end.”

  Gabrielle looked away. Refused to feel any new admiration for the man who’d likely saved her life while helping to rescue Braddock and Amy.

  The boy stood. “I should go. Rachel wouldn’t want me bothering you.” He hesitated at the door. “My brother and I appreciate what you did for us.”

  She shrugged, too overwhelmed to say much of anything. “No problem.”

  After he left, Gabrielle stood and restlessly roamed the room. She tried to block Mark’s words from her head but they just kept echoing there. She was too tired to think rationally and she knew it.

  She needed time and distance to regain some sort of perspective.

  Another knock at the door had her pivoting in that direction. She figured this time it would be Victoria to tell her she was fired and going back to prison. Hell, just being across the border was a violation of her parole.

  She walked over to the door, braced herself, then opened it.

  Sloan.

  Her heart rate bumped up a couple beats per second even though she’d known he was going to meet with her.

  “I guess it’s time we finished our business.”

  She told herself to speak, to say yes, but a nod was the best she could do.

  That intense gaze studied hers a moment. “We’ll need some privacy.”

  With that, he turned and walked away. She followed. He led the way through the house and, oddly, they didn’t encounter anyone. Not Ian Michaels or Victoria, Rachel or the boys. All of whom Gabrielle knew were around somewhere.

  She imagined they wanted no part of this.

  Her gaze settled on the broad shoulders of the man guiding her to what could very well be certain death. Why was he doing this? He’d rescued her…welcomed her into his home and now he was prepared to face off with her?

  Outside, the sun was settling behind those rugged mountains she would never forget. Night would come soon and this day would be over.

  Where would that leave her?

  Sloan stopped at the large structure near the rear gate she’d decided might be a garage. But she’d been wrong. Inside was a huge workout gym.

  But he led her past the mats and equipment to a door that opened into a small break room or something along those lines.

  “Sit.” He gestured to the table and chairs.

  She wondered if that was a good idea. As if she had a choice. She was unarmed. This was his territory. She pulled out a chair and dropped into it.

  Sloan opened a cabinet on the other side of the room and took out a bottle of tequila and two glasses. She looked at the label as he sat the bottle on the table and noted that it was the best. She could definitely use a drink.

  He filled each glass to the halfway point, slid one toward her and took a long sip from the other.

  Just as she started to lift her own glass he reached behind him and withdrew a weapon. Her heart jolted. But instead of aiming at her, he laid the 40-caliber automatic on the table between them. Then he sat down and poured himself more tequila.

  Gabrielle downed hers in one long gulp. She placed the empty glass on the table and shook her head when he offered her a refill.

  “You came here,” he said, those blue eyes boring straight into hers, “to kill me. Is that right?”

  Maybe it was the tequila or plain old stupidity, but she found herself nodding.

  “Because I killed your father?” he added for clarification.

  The words stung through her. Braddock had told her that Sloan hadn’t killed her father…was Sloan admitting he had? She didn’t want to believe Braddock would lie to her. She blocked thoughts of him, couldn’t go there. It hurt too damned much.

  “That’s right.” Surprisingly her voice sounded reasonably strong and steady.

  “I didn’t kill him,” Sloan said bluntly. “But I would have if his girlfriend hadn’t.”

  A volatile mixture of emotions coiled inside her. “Braddock told me that my father killed your wife,” she said, her voice shaking with the combination of hurt and anger. “Why would he do that?”

  Sloan pushed an envelope in her direction. She blinked to clear her vision, hadn’t noticed it lying on the table.

  “This is a highly classified file from Interpol. After you’ve looked at it, you’ll need to burn it.”

  Interpol? She stared at the envelope and then at him. “How do I know this is for real?”

  He let go a heavy breath. “I guess you don’t.” He pushed the weapon a little closer to her. “I’ll let you decide for yourself.”

  She stared at the gun. Was this guy crazy or what? “You think I won’t use it?” she demanded, certain that was the real story here.

  Sloan propped his arms on the table and leaned slightly toward her. She resisted the urge to draw away. Not that there was anything at all repulsive about him…he was just intimidating like that.

  “The truth is on my side, Miss Jordan,” he said in that gravelly voice that would put the fear of God in any breathing human. “I don’t have anything to hide from you and I’m damned sure not afraid of you.”

  She looked at the gun then at the envelope. The idea that he would go to these lengths to prove his point rattled her. Cast a new light on all she’d ever believed.

  The way she saw it, she could go on believing hearsay or she could learn the truth. She picked up the envelope and allowed her gaze to shift back up to Sloan’s for just a second. It was time to end this. Braddock had told her to weigh the facts.

  She opened the envelope and withdrew the documents. Each page was stamped “classified” and clearly marked as having come from Interpol. Even Gabrielle had to admit that this looked like the real deal.

  For the next few minutes she lost herself in the file that spelled out what little was known about Gabriel DiCassi. None of it was good. He was, in fact, known as the Angel of Death. He had killed literally dozens of people, including Sloan’s first wife. He’d killed Rachel’s father. But the most damning evidence of all, in Gabrielle’s opinion, was the report on the murder of a prominent couple in Dallas just over twenty-three years ago. A young woman, Lisa Jordan—Gabrielle’s mother, the personal assistant of the murdered man—was suspected of having passed along information as to the couple’s itinerary that day, but no formal charges had ever been filed.

  Gabriel DiCassi had used Lisa to get to his targets just as he had used Rachel to get to her father.

  How could she have believed her mother’s stories? How could she have lied to Gabrielle that way?

  “Don’t blame your mother.”

  She looked up at Sloan, who had apparently read her mind. “How can you say that?” Confusion and anger whirled like a hurricane inside her.

  “We all want to believe we’re doing the right thing,” he said. “Your mother didn’t realize who she was dealing with. The fantasies she made up afterward were a self-defense mechanism. They weren’t meant to hurt you, just to protect herself.” He shrugged. “And maybe you.”

  Gabrielle shook her head. None of this had been about her. “But she kept in contact with him after that…how could she do that when she knew what he had done?”

  “It was part of the fantasy. She needed to believe she hadn’t done anything wrong.”

  Gabrielle tossed the papers aside, couldn’t read or listen to any more. “I don’t want
to know this.”

  “You need to know the truth so you can get on with your life.”

  She laughed, disgusted with herself for being such a fool, mad at him for pointing it out. “My life is over, or didn’t you know that? I’m probably going back to prison. I screwed up the best chance anyone ever gave me.”

  Sloan smiled. Gabrielle wondered if maybe the tequila was paying havoc with her ability to properly process what she saw and heard. Why would he smile at her misery?

  “If our business is finished,” he said, “I think you have some unfinished issues with Victoria, as well.”

  Gabrielle had almost forgotten that Victoria was here.

  Sloan indicated the weapon. “Are you going to need this?”

  She looked from the gun to the man. She’d definitely never met anyone like him. “No.” It was true. The business between them was finished. She abruptly felt as if a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Years and years of unfounded emotional baggage. All because she’d believed her mother’s fantasies. But there was a gaping hole left behind.

  “Good.” He stood and picked up the weapon. “Victoria would like to speak with you now.” He nodded toward the tequila. “Feel free to brace yourself.”

  Gabrielle swallowed hard and summoned her courage. As tempting as his suggestion was, she needed a clear head.

  Gabrielle stood as Sloan left the break room or conference room, whatever it was. Victoria walked through the door next. Gabrielle estimated that if she could face Sloan and survive it, she could face this. Her mind was still reeling with all she’d learned.

  Victoria gestured to Gabrielle’s chair before settling into the one Sloan had vacated. “I won’t waste your time, Gabrielle.”

  She tensed, hadn’t really expected idle chitchat, but it might have been nice. Gabrielle sat again.

  “What you did was wrong. I gave you the opportunity to join the ranks of the best and you took advantage of the situation.”

  “Yes,” Gabrielle admitted. “I did. And, believe it or not, that’s one of the things I’m most sorry for.” Just another lesson learned a little too late.

  “You’re not getting off with a mere apology,” Victoria attested, her expression stern.

  Gabrielle hadn’t expected to. “I understand.”

  “Of course,” Victoria went on, “I will permit you to take a brief break to reevaluate your life before reporting back to work.”

  Stunned, Gabrielle echoed, “Reporting back to work?”

  “I’ve never been wrong about an investigator, Gabrielle. I’m not about to let you be the first blemish on that record.” That stern expression softened into a smile. “You’ll make an excellent investigator. Is two weeks sufficient time for you to regroup?”

  Gabrielle couldn’t answer right away. She was too shocked, too overcome. She’d expected a one-way ticket back to prison. She gave herself a mental shake. Victoria was waiting for a response. “I appreciate your confidence in me,” she responded, finally managing to string the words together.

  Victoria stood. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

  With that, she left. Gabrielle was too stunned to do anything but watch her go.

  Well, at least now she knew…there really was something to that whole prayer thing.

  She had herself a second chance for a real future.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two weeks later

  It felt strange to be back in her Chicago apartment. When Gabrielle had left she’d assumed she would never see the place again.

  But that had been before.

  Everything had changed now.

  As Victoria suggested, she had spent the past two weeks regrouping. She’d gone back to her hometown in Texas and visited her mother’s grave. She’d dropped by her old high school and even the house where she’d grown up.

  All of it felt like another life now.

  She’d contacted the Interpol agent listed in the documents Sloan had given her and learned even more about the man her father had been.

  Just how wrong she had been still startled her. Her mother’s stories were just what Sloan said, self-preservation fantasies.

  But Gabrielle had worked past that. She’d forgiven her mother and herself for being fools. Life was too short to waste any more of it.

  She’d contacted Amy a week ago to check on her. She was doing fine, resting at home and letting her husband take care of her. Amy had told her that Braddock was home and doing well, also. He was going back to work soon.

  Tomorrow, when Gabrielle returned to the Colby Agency, she would have to face Braddock…as well as the others. It would take a long time for her to regain trust. Despite Victoria having given her this second chance, she understood that the others might not be so quickly forgiving. She’d lied to them, had threatened one of their own.

  She drew in a deep breath. But she could do this. She was strong. She wasn’t afraid to answer for her mistakes.

  The only part that worried her just a little was running into Braddock. She wasn’t sure she could pretend that how he felt didn’t affect her.

  She’d pretty much fallen in love with the guy. It was dumb, she knew. He was older, smarter and far too good for her. At any rate, she couldn’t help how she felt. The question was, could she keep her cool and not do anything embarrassing or stupid?

  Gabrielle pushed away the troubling thoughts and considered her apartment. When she’d leased the place she’d intended it to be temporary. Now that she was back, she’d have to consider redecorating. A little paint, if the landlord would permit it. Some artwork and definitely some new furniture.

  A smile tilted her lips. She could afford it. Being a Colby Agency investigator paid well. Better than she’d ever dreamed of making.

  A new car might be in order, as well. Why not go all out, right?

  Her doorbell rang and she almost jumped out of her skin. Who in the world? Amy, maybe? No, Thompson. He’d said he might stop by. He was glad to hear that she was coming back. The other new recruit that had been hired with them had resigned, unable to handle the rigors of the job. That left just the two of them to pave the way for new blood, Thompson insisted.

  Gabrielle opened the door, hoping he’d picked up pizza before stopping by.

  Not Thompson. Her brain registered what her eyes saw and left her speechless.

  Braddock.

  The swelling was gone from his face as was most of the discoloration. But there was a definite new, ever so slight angle to his nose that hadn’t been there before.

  Man, did he look good.

  “Hello.”

  She realized then that she’d been staring and hadn’t even said hello. “Hey.”

  “You mind if I come in?”

  Where was her brain? “No. Sure. Come in.” She backed up and opened the door wider.

  He walked with a bit of a limp and her heart squeezed painfully.

  She closed the door and struggled to restrain the damned tears that instantly brimmed on her lashes. She had to keep her cool here. Whatever his reason for stopping by, she couldn’t let him see how pathetic she was.

  She faced him, pushed a smile into place. “You look great.” Her gaze swept the length of him. Crisp button-down shirt, well-worn jeans. All fit him as if they’d been designed especially for his great body.

  “I’m better.”

  She reminded herself to breathe. “So what brings you by?” She winced. She hadn’t meant for it to sound as if she didn’t appreciate his stopping by, she was just a little confused and a whole lot nervous.

  His gaze settled on hers and the breath she’d struggled to take in left her in a rush. “I wanted to apologize,” he said quietly, that deep voice making her shiver. God she did love to listen to him talk.

  Apologize? “You don’t owe me any apology.” How could he think he had anything to apologize for? That was ridiculous. She dared to move away from the door just a little, putting her closer to him.

&nbs
p; “I rationalized my actions by telling myself that if I got sick it would ruin both our lives. So I ignored my feelings, pretended I wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship. I stayed away from intimate entanglements period. I let you get away when maybe, if I’d done the right thing, maybe I could have helped you through this instead of just standing back and doing nothing.”

  He blamed himself for her stupidity? “This wasn’t your fault, Braddock,” she argued. “You couldn’t have known what I had in mind. This was my quest, my mistake.” She wanted to know more about his health, but let him get to it in his own time.

  He took a step closer…wrapped the long, gentle fingers of his hands around her arms. It was all she could do not to throw herself into his strong arms. She’d dreamed of him holding her again…of that kiss.

  “If I’d followed my instincts and let myself get close to you, maybe I could have made you feel something besides the need for revenge.”

  Did this mean he’d felt something for her before? “You had feelings for me before that trek in the mountains?” She’d known she was attracted to him…who was she kidding? She’d been infatuated with him.

  “Definitely.” He smiled and her heart lurched. “I know we both have to go back to work tomorrow, but I’m hoping we can, taking our time, of course, see where this leads us. If you can deal with the reality that my future is a little less than certain.” He explained about the immune disorder caused by the virus.

  She couldn’t take any more. She threw her arms around his neck and went on tiptoe to brush a kiss across his lips. “Don’t sweat the future, Braddock. None of us is guaranteed tomorrow. Nothing is certain. I just learned that the hard way.” She nipped his lower lip with her teeth. He shuddered. “And, maybe you older guys like to take things slow, but girls my age, we don’t like to waste time.”

  “I think I can handle that,” he murmured.

  And then he kissed her…long and deep. With her entire being she knew that this kiss would never, ever be enough.

  She drew back, slid her hands down to his and entwined her fingers there. “We need to take up where we left off.”

  He looked confused for a moment. Gorgeous and utterly confused.