Better Off Dead : A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer Novel (Book One)
Page 20
Chapter 7
HIS SPIRITS high, Gabriel returned to Enoch Industries and threw himself into his work. He fired off e-mails, made phone conferences, even let his assistant, Laurel, schedule a lunch with his mother. He felt good about the girl he’d chosen to be his red herring fiancée. She was shrewd and devious, and thought fast on her feet. He always respected a goal oriented person.
Lucy Hart had been attractive, yet too young. He’d loathed her on sight. No one so juvenile and clearly narcissistic would be capable of pulling off such an intricate, important deceit. Yet in the brief time he’d spent in her presence she’d shown she was skilled in a wide range of nefarious behaviors. He’d wanted to kill her where she stood when she’d insulted his family. But just watching her shift gears from hostile to beguilingly seductive, and then to shrewdly perceptive, convinced him that she was the girl for the job. Young or not, shallow and money hungry, he could tell she would stop at nothing to achieve her goal.
He would use his lunch with his mother to tell her about his secret fiancée. He would have to be careful, though. He would have to be deliberately vague. He would need to keep his mother in the dark until they’d had time to get their stories straight.
He sat in his office and stared out the window as the last hint of daylight receded from the sky. There had been a moment, as brief as it was confusing, when Lucy had placed her hand on his chest. It had been a simple gesture, used merely to get his attention and to halt his leaving, yet such a feeling had washed through him. It was like he’d suddenly woken up, snapped to by some sort of pleasurable jolt. It had ended the moment she’d removed her hand, but the feeling lingered—it still lingered.
He returned his attention to his laptop and dismissed thoughts of Lucy Hart from his mind and started typing a reply to a distributer from Indiana.
He felt his Blackberry vibrate in his pants pocket and retrieved it. It was a text from Delia. He smiled, welcoming his yearning for her, letting it push aside everything else he had been contemplating. She wanted him to meet her.
“When and where?” He typed with his thumbs, a smile spreading across his lips.
“Funeral Peak. I’ll be waiting.”
Gabriel knew where that was. Again with the heights! She never tired of making him face his greatest fear. Funeral Peak was a mountain overlooking Death Valley National Park. Delia would no doubt scale the sheer cliff on the southern side. He would need to ascend the other side of the craggy mountain until he reached the highest mesa. He’d been there once before. It had been the first time they’d kissed.