Double Dealing

by Jayne Castle

  On the dark enclosed back porch Samantha fumbled momentarily and then indicated the fuse box. Unhesitatingly Gabriel went to work on it, slamming the switch master. An instant later the entire house was plunged into darkness.

  “Tony! What the hell–?” Almost immediately the intruder realized the stupidity of giving away his position in the dark by yelling for his hapless companion. Once more, silence descended.

  “Now for the kitchen,” Gabriel muttered half under his breath. He dragged Samantha, who by now could barely feel her numbed feet, into the warmth of the shadowy kitchen. Her eyes were adjusted enough to the darkness to make it possible to discern familiar shapes.

  In fact, she could just barely make out Gabriel’s arm reaching for the heavy old cast-iron frying pan which hung on the wall. Her eyes widened, but she resisted the urge to demand an explanation. Then he gripped her arm, giving her a slight, urgent shake, and brought his face very close to hers.

  “Stay here.” The words were not quite a sound, but she understood.

  Samantha nodded mutely. She damn well wasn’t going to stay behind in the kitchen while Gabriel and Eric were in such danger. But there was no point alarming Gabriel further with that news. He clearly had enough on his mind at the moment.

  Then he was gone, his dense, dark form gliding down the hall on incredibly quiet bare feet. The silence in the house was eerie, almost unnatural. Even the small noises of the night outside seemed to have ceased. At least, thought Samantha, Gabriel had the advantage of knowing the layout of the downstairs portion of the house a great deal more intimately than the other man did.

  Where was the other? Had he followed his friend Tony upstairs? Another dismaying thought flitted through Samantha’s mind. She and Gabriel had only heard two different voices, but what if there was a third stranger in the house? Still no sound from Eric. What on earth was Gabriel going to do with that skillet?

  As stealthily as possible, Samantha pulled open the cutlery drawer and removed a small paring knife. She had no real idea of what she could accomplish with it, but there was some reassurance in having it in her hand. Then, hardly daring to breathe, she padded silently down the hall in Gabriel’s wake.

  She hadn’t gone far before she realized that she had no notion of where the others were. The intruder might be hiding behind the closet door ahead. Or he might have dropped in back of the old couch in the living room, waiting for some shape to materialize out of the darkness. Where was Gabriel?

  On instinct Samantha paused in the hallway, violently aware of the adrenaline pounding through her. The primitive fight-or-flight reaction of the human being under stress, she consoled herself. It wasn’t true that anyone else could actually hear her heart beating or be aware of the fine trembling in her hands.

  She peered into the living room. In the deep shadows she could make out the familiar bulk of the couch, the overstuffed chair by the hearth, and even the leering shape of the tall palm near the window. There were no human shapes. Samantha stayed where she was, sunk in the shadows of the hall.

  The back parlor which housed the computers was down the hall which branched off to the right. Was Eric still there? Tied up, perhaps, or unconscious? Maybe she should make a dash for the parlor. It was the one room in the house which still had a locking door.

  Even as the thought occurred to her, Samantha realized the impossibility of carrying through with the idea. It would leave Gabriel alone out here in the darkness to face the intruder. There was no question of abandoning him, regardless of whatever condition Eric was in at the moment.

  There was a click and then a horrendous roar as a gunshot shattered the stillness. Samantha started, the fear-induced adrenaline pumping more madly than ever. Then she froze. The shot had come from the top of the stairs. She had seen the brief flash out of the corner of her eye.

  “Don’t move!” the intruder shouted, more than an edge in his voice now. The man was coming unglued, Samantha decided. Perhaps that would work to their advantage. “Don’t anybody move or I’ll kill you!”

  When he got no reply, he waited a few more heart-stopping seconds. Was he trying to decide whether or not he had an audience? Perhaps he was convincing himself that whoever had decked good old Tony had now fled?

  Then he started down the stairs. Samantha couldn’t yet see him, but she heard the familiar creak in the third step from the top. Where was Gabriel hiding? My God, the man was already halfway down the stairs. What was she going to do when he made it to the bottom?

  The assailant seemed to regain his confidence with every step. Or perhaps he had simply succumbed to the urge to get out of what had become a highly untenable situation for him. Whatever the reason, he was moving very quickly by the time he reached the last step.

  So quickly that he didn’t even notice the broad, male shape which surged out of the pit of darkness beneath the staircase.

  Frozen in the hall, Samantha saw what happened next as a rapid play of dark forms against an even darker background. Gabriel hurled the heavy iron pan at the man on the stairs, who screamed in panic and pain as the skillet struck him.

  Then Gabriel was lunging toward his staggering victim, who had dropped the gun under the impact of the frying pan. A split second later both men crashed to the floor at the foot of the stairs in a writhing, savage tangle of flailing arms and legs. The tinkle of breaking glass told Samantha that the small vase on a nearby end table hadn’t survived the jarring thud of the men as they hit the floor.

  She watched in horror as the two rolled over and over across the old, worn Oriental carpet, each struggling for dominance. Gabriel was recognizable in the darkness only because of the lighter shade of his bare upper torso. The contours of his broad shoulders materialized on top as he momentarily gained the advantage. Then, with a vicious grunt of pain and rage, the other man managed to reverse the position.

  Another vase was sent hurtling to the floor along with a dainty tri-legged table and a stack of books which had been resting on it. Samantha felt the violence in the air as if it had a life of its own. It was a palpable aura surrounding the two battling men. Savage, primitive, and overlayed with a life-or-death desperation.

  The ferocity of the battle struck deeply into Samantha’s awareness. She had never seen men literally at each other’s throats. At that moment it was difficult to remember that the civilized world existed, the primitive instincts were so very close to the surface.

  Suddenly, above the grim sounds of the battle on the floor, another, much fainter noise pulled at Samantha’s attention. The third step from the top had creaked again.

  Helplessly Samantha stayed in the shadows as the other gunman began to groggily descend the staircase. He had apparently recovered somewhat from the blow Gabriel had dealt him earlier.

  ‘If you think,” Samantha muttered to herself, “that I’m going to let this fight become two against one, you’re out of your head!” Her fingers tightened on the small paring knife. Damned if she would let the other man go to his friend’s aid.

  The man called Tony reached the last step, one hand on his jaw as he squinted into the darkness, trying to determine exactly what was happening. At that moment Gabriel’s bare back became visible as he heaved himself once more on top of his opponent. Apparently Tony, too, realized how to tell one fighter from the other in the darkness, because he started forward at once.

  Samantha waited no longer. Without giving herself a chance to think, she leaped out of the hall and onto Tony’s back, clinging there like a limpet as she brought the paring knife down against his shoulder.

  The small blade just managed to penetrate the jacket and shirt Tony was wearing. Less than an inch of steel actually made it into the shoulder muscle, but the surprise assault from the rear, together with the unexpected, stabbing pain, produced a roar of anger and panic from Samantha’s victim.

  He swung around, dislodging her so that she dropped to her feet. Tony’s momentum carried his hand through a violent arc which brought his fist crashing
against the side of Samantha’s face, the same cheek Gabriel had slapped earlier. The wild blow brought a cry from Samantha as she staggered backward under the impact.

  “Samantha!”

  As if her shout had given him the impetus he needed to end the battle on the floor, Gabriel freed one fist and brought it awkwardly but with tremendous power against his opponent’s head. As the man went limp beneath him, he leaped to his feet, charging blindly toward the man who was attacking Samantha.

  But Tony had had enough. He backed away toward the open front door, dancing quickly away from Gabriel.

  “Tony, wait! Help me, you bastard!” The man on the floor struggled to his knees and then shakily to his feet.

  “How many of them are there?”

  “I don’t know!” Tony had already reached the door. It was obvious he was of two minds about assisting his partner, but when the other man lurched toward him, he grabbed his arm and yanked him out the door.

  Gabriel stood groggily, gasping for breath and feeling pain seeping through every pore. He reached for Samantha, trying to see her face in the darkness.

  “Are you all right? Samantha! Are you okay?”

  “Yes! Yes, Gabriel, I’m fine. Oh, my God, what about you? That man was hurting you so!”

  He stared down at her as her palms came up to cup his ravaged face. Even in the shadowy light he could see the terrified concern in her widened eyes. Her hands felt marvelously light and gentle on him, and for a long, bewildering moment he wanted only to stand there and let her go on touching him like this.

  “Eric.” He got the name of her brother out huskily.

  How could she have forgotten Eric? How could she be standing here trying to soothe him when her precious half brother was in God-knew-what condition in the back parlor?

  “Yes, yes, I’ll get to him. But what about you, Gabriel? Are you all right? You should lie down. There’s the possibility of shock, isn’t there? Are you bleeding? Oh, damn! I can’t see a thing!” she wailed helplessly.

  He caught her hands in his own and gently tugged them away from his face. “I’m okay, honey. Go see about Eric. I’ll get the lights.”

  She hesitated a moment longer, and then she whirled, heading down the hall toward the back parlor.

  Gabriel stood for a second watching her flying nightgown trail out behind her like a gossamer ghost, and then he pulled himself together and started toward the porch.

  Even as he relocated the fuse box and got the lights functioning again, he was still telling himself not to read too much into Samantha’s actions.

  Still, anyway you sliced it, the facts came out the same. In the crunch, with both her brother and himself needing her attention, Samantha’s first concern had been for him, Gabriel reflected. She had stayed to deal with his hurts first before racing off to check on Eric.

  The cut on his lip grew even more painful as Gabriel found himself smiling with savage satisfaction.

  Chapter Seven

  The reason for Eric’s silence throughout the siege became evident as soon as Samantha raced into the parlor. He lay bound and gagged on the floor, his alarmed eyes asking frantic questions as she knelt by his side and began untying him. The lights came back on just as she got the gag off.

  “Christ, Sam! Are you all right? What happened out there? I’ve been lying in here feeling like a stupid, helpless fool for getting you into all this! Where’s Gabe?”

  “Right here.” Gabriel’s laconic answer brought Samantha’s head around sharply. He was leaning against the doorjamb, massaging the bruised and battered side of his face. “And I couldn’t agree with you more, Thorndyke. You are a stupid fool for getting yourself and Samantha into this mess.”

  “It’s not his fault!” Samantha protested automatically, undoing the last of Eric’s bonds. Instantly she regretted the defensive words. Gabriel’s hazel gaze swung to her, pinning her coldly.

  “If by that you mean not all of this is his fault, that you’re as much to blame as your brother, I might be inclined to agree with you.”

  “Gabriel, you don’t understand!” she cried, getting to her feet as Eric shakily stood up beside her.

  “I understand enough to know that both of you are playing out of your league.” His eyes ran down the length of her body. “Go put some clothes on, woman. I don’t feel like hashing this out while you’re running around half-naked! Come on, Eric. I think we both need a shot of some of Samantha’s brandy. I could probably use the rest of the bottle, now that I think of it.”

  “Gabriel, let me help you clean up first,” Samantha said quickly, her heart wrenching at the sight of the blood on his mouth and the swollen redness under his eye.

  “I said go get dressed!” he barked.

  Her eyes narrowed as she realized just how thin his temper was at this point. But she prudently said nothing, moving to slip past him and head for the stairs.

  “What the hell… ?” He grabbed her arm as she moved past, yanking her to a quick, urgent halt. “Your cheek!”

  Her hand came up to her abused face as she remembered Tony’s blow, and her first impulse was to answer Gabriel with some snide remark. A fitting reply for his foul temper.

  But he looked so incredibly stricken as his eyes moved over her swollen cheek she relented, tortoiseshell eyes softening. “Don’t be silly, Gabriel. It probably looks a lot worse than it feels. That second man, the one you decked on the balcony, hit me.

  “Besides.” Samantha lifted her chin with a trace of arrogance as she faced her now-frowning angel. “Weren’t you threatening to damage another portion of my anatomy earlier, Gabriel?” she managed lightly. The relief which crossed his face was mixed with a decided degree of sardonic warning.

  But all he said was, “Go get dressed, Samantha. The three of us have a lot to talk about.” She was halfway down the hall when he called out softly behind her. “You’re right. I remember the conversation now. But if and when I take to beating you, I won’t make a habit of giving you black eyes. Just a black and blue ass.”

  Samantha didn’t glance back over her shoulder, but as she went around the corner she deliberately added an extra flounce to her stride, aware that Gabriel’s gaze was focused on her retreating derriere. The nightgown didn’t provide much concealment.

  As soon as she was safely in her room at the top of the stairs, she regretted the sassiness. This was hardly the occasion for it. Her bruised face hurt, Gabriel looked in much worse shape, and Eric was already feeling horribly guilty for the disaster he had brought down upon her house. Gabriel, she suspected, was going to go out of his way to make Eric feel even worse.

  And the basic problem remained. True, thanks to Gabriel, the two toughs had been sent packing into the night, but what was to prevent their return? Eric had to get that phony financial data finished and turned in to the mysterious contact the intruder had called Kirby. It was their only hope.

  But first came the explanations to Gabriel. There was, Samantha realized grimly, no way around them now. She’d seen the implacable intent in him when he’d told her the three of them were going to have a talk. Ah, well. In a way it was going to be something of a relief to talk to him about the whole mess.

  Fifteen minutes later, bundled in her very untantalizing yellow terry cloth bathrobe and seated beside Eric on the overstuffed couch, Samantha changed her mind. It was not going to be a relief at all to talk to Gabriel Sinclair about the problem. It was very unpleasant, indeed.

  “You’re a pair of fools.” Gabriel sat across from them on the old chair near the hearth. The pile of computer printouts which represented much of Eric’s work was stacked beside him on the table. Gabriel took another sip of his brandy and leaned his head back against the cushion, lashes lowering briefly over weary eyes. “A pair of fools.”

  In spite of her own immediate reaction to being labeled a fool, Samantha’s heart turned over at the sight of his battered face. Gabriel had taken a lot of punishment. No man had ever come close to doing half as much on her beh
alf before.

  “Gabe, you don’t know the whole story,” Eric said dully. He, too, was taking large swallows of brandy and looked more exhausted than ever.

  Without opening his eyes, Gabriel replied, “I can see from these printouts that you’re up to something with a lot of cost data that applies to Thorndyke-type equipment. You’re faking up an entire spread-sheet.”

  Eric hesitated and then asked bluntly, “How can you tell it’s faked?”

  There was silence, and then Gabriel opened his eyes and stared at the younger man. “The same way Kirby will be able to tell. The numbers are too far off to be anywhere near plausible.”

  Eric grimaced. “Oh.”

  Gabriel’s glance swung to Samantha. She shrugged. “I don’t know plausible-sounding figures for pumps. That’s not my field of expertise.”

  “If you’re going to get into industrial espionage in a big way, you’d better be a bit more thorough in your research, don’t you think?” Gabriel asked with a savage cool that unnerved her. “Your casual, offhand ways aren’t going to assure you a very lucrative career in that field, honey. People like Jackson Kirby play for keeps. And they tend to put a premium on accuracy.”

  Samantha chewed anxiously on her lower lip, aware of just how angry Gabriel really was.

  “Don’t take it out on Sam,” Eric urged bleakly. “She’s not involved in this. If you knew her at all, you’d know this mess is hardly her style.”

  “I know her well enough to know that, while s-she might not have gotten into something like this on her own, s-she s-s-sure as hell could be hauled into it by a conniving half brother who convinced her do it s-she had to for his sake!”

  The heavy stammer was ample evidence of his rising temper, Samantha thought, but that didn’t keep her from taking fierce exception to the implication that she was easily manipulated. “For heaven’s sake, I can think for myself! I was trying to help Eric get out of a mess, not into a career in industrial espionage! If you want to hear the whole story, why don’t you stop telling us how dumb we are and let us tell you what really happened!”