Gawain (Knights of Excalibur Book 1)

by Hanley, Donald

  She hesitated. The only thing she’d ever shot was a target at the gun range where she took the personal safety course. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to point it at another human being and pull the trigger.

  Maybe I won’t have to, she told herself. Maybe I can just threaten him with it. She had to grip her hands together briefly to stop the shaking and then carefully lifted the pistol from the box. Its solid weight was surprisingly reassuring. “Okay,” she said. “I can do this.”

  The Glock had a trigger lock to keep anyone who stumbled across the pistol from being able to use it, but her mind went blank when she tried to recall where the key was. Keeping it in the lockbox would have been pointless, but it had to be somewhere where she could unlock it in a hurry. After a few frantic seconds, she remembered the bundle of keys she’d dumped out of her purse and she ran back downstairs, nearly tripping over her own slippers. She grabbed her key ring, flipped quickly through the jangling tangle and found the small brass key. She twisted it into the lock, popping it out and freeing the trigger.

  She sagged back against the couch, breathing hard and keeping the muzzle of the gun carefully pointed away. The Glock didn’t have an external safety, so it was ready to its job. She fervently hoped it wouldn’t have to.

  Her phone rang suddenly and she nearly put a bullet through the living room window, but she carefully set the Glock on the floor as she fumbled for her phone. It was a Boston number calling but she couldn’t remember if it was Lionel’s.

  “Hello?” she answered. Her voice trembled but she didn’t care.

  “Trisha?” She sagged in relief at the sound of Lionel’s voice. “Are you all right? What’s this about Hawk?”

  “He was here.” Her hands starting shaking again. “He was here at my house.”

  “Are you sure? Did you actually see him there?”

  “Yes! He was right there at the door with my pizza!”

  “Your ... pizza? What was he doing with your pizza?”

  “I don’t know! It doesn’t matter, he was here!”

  “All right, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.” Just hearing him say that sent a surge of relief through her. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “No, I slammed the door in his face and told him I was calling the police. He left after that. At least, I think he did.” She scanned the room, making sure she was still alone.

  “And did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No, I – I sort of panicked and called you.”

  “That’s all right,” he said soothingly. “I’ll take care of that from my side. I know it must have a shock to see him there.”

  “You said he wasn’t interested in me. You said I’d never see him again!” That came out more sharply than she meant, but she wasn’t thinking clearly right now.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I have no idea why he’d come looking for you.” The connection went quiet and she hurriedly checked to make sure the call was still up. “Hawk saw you in the hospital but he didn’t say anything to you then, right?”

  “No. I mean, other than talking about Lucas Butler.”

  “He must have learned something about you afterwards, then.”

  “About me?” Trisha had trouble breathing again. “Like what? I haven’t done anything!”

  “It can’t be a coincidence that Hawk and Butler are both in Boston, they’re obviously working together. I wonder if Butler contacted Hawk after he left the hospital and put him onto you.”

  “Why? Why would he even know about me? He was unconscious the whole time, I never even talked to him!”

  “He woke up once, remember? You told me he said the word west. Perhaps he saw your badge and remembered your name.”

  “But – but – why? Why would he care about me at all?”

  “It’s possible he’s confused because of his head injury. Perhaps he thinks you’re the one who attacked him.”

  “What? You mean Hawk came over here to punish me for hurting him? That’s crazy!” Her free hand scrabbled for the Glock of its own accord.

  “No, I’m sure it’s nothing like that,” Lionel reassured her quickly. “He wouldn’t have left if that was the case.”

  “But what if he didn’t leave?” Trisha voice was just a raw whisper. “What if he’s just waiting for me to go to sleep?” She scanned the living room and realized that turning on all the lights was a mistake. Hawk could see in through the windows but she couldn’t see out. “What do I do?”

  “Is there someone you can stay with tonight?”

  “Um – um –” Was there? She couldn’t think of anyone she could just call up and beg to take her in. She liked her coworkers at the hospital but she wasn’t particularly close to any of them. Randy, maybe? We’re still on good terms after the break-up, aren’t we? She wasn’t sure. “Can’t you just send a policeman over?” She hated the pleading sound in her voice but she couldn’t help it.

  “No, we need to keep this quiet until we figure out what’s going on. I’ll come over myself. Where do you live?”

  “Oh, thank you! It’s 95 Thorndike, in East Cambridge. I’m across the river from the hospital.”

  “Okay. I’m on the other side of town so it’ll take me a while to get there. Just stay put and don’t answer the door for anyone except me.”

  “I won’t. I mean, I will. I mean –”

  “I know what you mean, Trisha.” The gentle chuckle in his voice made her feel a thousand times better. “Stay calm and don’t worry. I’m on the way.”

  “Okay. Thank you,” she said fervently.

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Goodbye.”

  The connection dropped and she hugged her phone and her gun against her chest. He’s coming, she told herself. Everything’s going to be okay.

  14

  Lionel rubbed his forehead as he let his breath out slowly. What in the world is Hawk up to? What does Trisha have to do with all this? He had a niggling suspicion as to why an apparently ordinary ER nurse suddenly became the center of attention. He strode for the front door, grabbing his overcoat as he passed. If he was right, he needed to get Trisha spirited away as soon as possible.

  He sped out of the neighborhood, turning north to cross over to Boylston Street. It was a more roundabout route, but Boylston would take him straight into Boston, shaving off a few precious minutes from the trip. At the first light, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, selecting one. Chantal answered on the second ring.

  “Oui?” She sounded irritated.

  “Where are you?”

  “In a very cold and dark alley. Hawk is driving into a parking garage.”

  “Is Butler with him?”

  “Non.” She made it sound like the dumbest question anyone had ever asked her. “Butler’s trail disappeared outside the hospital. I think he took a bus or maybe someone picked him up.”

  “But it wasn’t Hawk.”

  “No, he didn’t come out until much later.”

  “So you’ve been following Hawk all day?”

  “Oui. It was very easy. Un moment.” Lionel listened to the slam of a car door and then a faint rush of wind. Somewhere something heavy and metallic clattered and banged into silence. “Bon. I am in.”

  “In where?”

  “The building Hawk is in. He is going into the elevator now.”

  “Which building?”

  “I don’t know, I came in from behind. It probably faces that big park.”

  Lionel thought about that. “Tremont Street,” he decided. “That’s where Butler was staying.”

  “Bien. Shall I go up, see what he does?”

  “No, he’d see you.” She snorted but he didn’t try to argue with her. “Just keep an eye on the exits and follow him if he leaves. Where did he go after the hospital?”

  “First to a restaurant. He was reading something on a small computer.”

  “Do you see what it was?”

 
; “No, I couldn’t get close enough. He never saw me watching him,” she sneered. “I could have killed him at his table and walked out without anyone noticing.”

  “I appreciate your restraint,” he said dryly, “but we need him alive for now. What happened after that?”

  “He called someone and then left. He went to an old neighborhood across the river and met a delivery boy. He knocked on a woman’s door and tried to give it to her but she slammed the door in his face, as I’m sure he deserved,” she added with a sniff.

  “And you didn’t hear them talking?”

  “It hardly lasted ten seconds. I didn’t have a chance to get close.”

  “And he went straight to Tremont Street afterwards?”

  “Oui.”

  “That’s very strange,” he said, half to himself.

  “This woman is important?” she asked. “Should I fetch her?”

  “No, I’m taking care of that end of things. Keep an eye on Hawk. He’s bound to meet up with Butler sooner or later.”

  “And then I can kill them both?” she asked eagerly.

  “No,” he said sharply. “We still don’t know what they’re up to.”

  “But afterwards?”

  “Afterwards, we’ll see.”

  “You are too cautious, Lionel,” she grumped. “Hawk dead is much better than Hawk alive, non?”

  “Ordinarily I’d agree, but this is no ordinary circumstance. Just keep watch, Chantal. D’accord?”

  “D’accord,” she growled and hung up. Lionel put his phone away and concentrating on weaving around the traffic ahead, hoping that Chantal’s bitter hatred for Gavin Hawk wouldn’t get the better of her before they found Lucas Butler.

  15

  Trisha sat huddled in the easy chair, turned to face the front door. Her eyes were aching and probably bloodshot and her stomach growled insistently. She wondered what Hawk had done with her pizza. He probably ate it. She didn’t know where her twenty dollar bill ended up.

  Marco sensed her distress and crawled his way up into her lap, purring and kneading the quilt with his sharp little claws. She tried to relax enough to pet him but her hands were still shaky. When is Lionel getting here? What’s taking him so long? The time on her phone crept by far too slowly.

  She tensed in a gut-churning mix of anticipation and fear every time a car drove by, brightening the curtains with their headlights, but none of the vehicles stopped. She had to remind herself several times to loosen her grip on the Glock to keep her hand from cramping up. Every noise the old house made caused her heart to skip a beat, but her body was running out of adrenalin and she struggled to keep her eyes open.

  The doorbell rang and she jerked awake with a scream, aiming at the door and pulling the trigger three times before she even realized what happened. All she heard were three metallic clicks, though, and she stared at her pistol in disbelief. She turned it over slowly and gaped at the opening in the grip. She hadn’t put the magazine in. It was still upstairs in the lockbox in her bedroom.

  “Son of a bitch,” she breathed, and then she started when the doorbell rang again, followed quickly by a sharp knocking.

  “Trisha? Are you there? It’s Lionel.”

  The wave of relief that swept through her was so strong she almost fainted, but she dropped the useless Glock on the floor and shoved the quilt aside, dumping Marco onto the floor with it, and ran for the door. A last-moment doubt kept her hand off the deadbolt. It sounded like Lionel’s voice, but ... She pressed her eye to the peephole and let out a thankful whoosh of breath when she recognized Lionel’s face in the distorted image. She quickly unbolted the door and yanked it open just as Lionel raised his hand to knock again.

  “Thank God you’re here!” she exclaimed and stepped forward, opening her arms to wrap him in a grateful hug before she remembered he was just a policeman she met that morning, not a close friend come to rescue her. She suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands, but he solved that problem by gathering her in his arms.

  “It’s all right, I know you’re scared,” he said softly. Her eyes filled with the tears she hadn’t dared to shed during the endless wait for his arrival and she started shaking. He held her tightly until her trembling finally stopped. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she snuffled, freeing herself just enough to dry her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. “Can we go? I don’t want to stay here.”

  “All right.” He stepped back, keeping his hands on her shoulders as he looked her over. She was probably a complete mess, with her robe coming undone and her frightened red eyes. “Hawk hasn’t come back, has he?” She shook her head jerkily. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You go get changed and pack whatever you need for a couple of days. I’m going to take a quick look around outside just to make sure everything’s secure.”

  “What?” Trisha grabbed his hand in a desperately tight grip. “Why can’t we go now? What if he’s on his way back?” She looked around fearfully. Other than Lionel’s Range Rover sitting by the curb, its lights on and engine running, there were no other cars in sight.

  Lionel shushed her gently and took her hands in his. She hadn’t realized how cold they were already. “It’s okay, this won’t take long. Go get everything you need and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes, I promise.” He waited until she nodded jerkily and then released her hands. She bit her lip to keep from saying anything when he stepped down from the porch and headed for the side of the house and she slowly closed the door, watching him through the narrowing crack until he vanished around the corner.

  She finally shut the door and reached for the deadbolt, but she hesitated. What if he comes back before I’m ready? What if Hawk comes back before he does? She finally left the door unlocked, although her skin crawled as she ran for the stairs.

  She burst into her bedroom, shedding her robe and slippers as she yanked open her dresser drawers, grabbing the first things she saw. A handful of panties and socks joined a couple of tees and a pair of well-worn jeans on the bed and then she pulled her pajamas off and tugged on another tee and a pair of sweat pants. Nothing matched but she didn’t care. She scrabbled in the back of her closet for something to carry everything in and finally came up with the small nylon bag she used for her infrequent trips to the gym. Everything fit, barely, and she ran to the bathroom for toothpaste, toothbrush, and deodorant. A hair brush and a handful of tampons joined the collection, even though she still had a couple of weeks to go.

  A sharp rapping on the front door froze her in her tracks but she got moving again when Lionel’s voice rang from the foyer downstairs. “Trisha? Are you ready?” She raced down the hall and down the stairs in record time, nearly knocking him over in her haste. He steadied her with a strong hand.

  “Slow down,” he said with a faint smile, “there’s no rush.”

  “Did you find anything?” she asked breathlessly, peering anxiously past him through the door.

  “There’s no sign anyone was here recently. The snow around back is undisturbed.” Lionel looked her over with a frown, refraining from commenting on her black tee and yellow sweats. “You might want to put some shoes on.”

  “Oh, right.” Her bare toes peeked out from under the hems of her pants. She jammed her feet into the shoes she’d left by the door, grimacing as they sucked the heat from her soles. She didn’t want to waste any more time fishing for socks in her bag. She grabbed her jacket and scarf from their hooks. “Okay, let’s go!”

  “Is there anything over there you need?” Lionel pointed at the pile of junk on the floor where she’d dumped her purse. “You might need your keys, at least.”

  “Right, sorry.” She hurried over, her face flushing with embarrassment at the obvious evidence of her panicked state, and stuffed the essential items back into her purse: wallet, keys, phone, and a makeup compact. She left the rest where it was, although she hesitated about taking the Glock. She glanced over her shoulder but Lionel was surveying the room curiously, and she slipp
ed it into her purse. She didn’t want him to think she didn’t feel safe even with him. “Just a sec, I forgot something upstairs.”

  He nodded and she raced back up to her bedroom, snatching the magazine from the lockbox and making sure it was full. She slapped it into the grip and then carefully released the slide, wincing in anticipation as the first bullet entered the chamber. She wished she had the trigger lock with her, but it was downstairs on the floor with the rest of her junk and she doubted she could get it and insert it without Lionel noticing.

  She slipped the Glock into the bottom of her purse where she hoped it wouldn’t accidentally go off and headed downstairs at a more cautious pace. If Lionel noticed the difference from before, he didn’t comment on it.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “More than ready,” she told him and he smiled reassuringly. Then he frowned and she whirled around to see what caught his attention. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary until a small pink nose poked out from under the couch. “Oh, no! Marco!” She hurried over and got down on her hands and knees, trying to coax him out, but he shrank back out of reach. “Come on out, Marco, don’t be scared!”

  “I don’t think we really have time to worry about your pets, Trisha,” Lionel warned her.

  “I can’t just leave him here! Come here, Marco,” she called, wiggling her fingers to draw him closer. He just stared at her unblinkingly.

  “You won’t be gone long. Can’t you just leave him enough food and water for a couple of days?”

  “But what if Hawk comes back?”

  “I doubt he’ll be interested in your cat. We need to go.”

  “But –” She knew Lionel was right, but the thought of leaving Marco behind knotted her stomach. If anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. No, she told herself, I’ll never forgive Hawk. This is all his fault.

  Reluctantly, she got to her feet and hurried to the kitchen, setting out extra bowls of dry food and water. Hopefully Marco wouldn’t try to eat it all at once. She returned to the living room and tried one more time to get him to come out from under the couch, but he stayed far away from her outstretched fingers.