by D. L. O'Neal
He shuddered, sheer will pulling him from of the black pit of remembrance. "After a while I didn't want to die. I wanted to kill. Kill the shadowy figure behind my torture. I lived for the moment I could put my hands around his throat. Dreamed of it, held it desperately when the knife cut my back, when the wire around my wrist, wrapped so tight I couldn't bleed, cut to the bone." He was barely aware of Kalesia's horrified gasp.
"I escaped. Managed to make it back to the LZ, the landing zone, more dead than living. Torture nearly killed me, but vengeance became the food of life. The CIA recruited me." Gabriel paused, and then threw in as an afterthought. "They had initiated a lot of the missions in Vietnam."
He stared down at the rumbled sheet, unable to meet her clear gaze. "I jumped at the opportunity. Somewhere along the way, I gained the reputation as the best. When the final decision was made, or if the mission was suicidal, I was the one called in. I guess technically you could call me a patriot. After all, I was fighting the good war on the side of right," he drawled sarcastically. "The reality is, our friend behind the anonymous packet is a hell of a lot closer to the truth. I was an assassin. True, it was for the government and, after my stint in Vietnam, I didn't set out to neutralize a subject, but that doesn't change the facts. I killed for a living."
"After awhile you can forget the faces, go on to the next job. But night," Gabriel swallowed, "night has a way of creeping up on a man. A way of sneaking in and making you remember: the heat, the stifling smell of rotting vegetation in your nostrils, the scarlet lace of blood, the faces captured in death," he rasped painfully.
Kalesia slid her hand free of his, wrapped her arms around him. He didn't resist, but buried his face in the side of her neck. One long, hard shudder racked him. She didn't say anything, for which he was grateful, just stroked her hands over his hair and back. Finally, he spoke.
"Do you hate me?"
She was silent for so long that fear knotted his gut. "I don't hate you. And what you did doesn't disgust me. I love you."
Shock jolted through his body. He raised his head. "What did you say?" he asked hoarsely, not daring to believe his ears.
Her love was reflected in her quietly glowing eyes as she touched a forefinger to his lips. "I said I love you," she repeated, softly.
His eyes slid shut. An aching hunger woke. He'd never thought to hear her say those words. He cleared his throat. "I--I," frustrated, he trailed off.
"Shh, don't. I don't need to hear you say it. Not yet."
"I don't deserve you," Gabriel rasped, his hands gripping her upper arms. His fingers bit into the soft flesh with the force of his feelings. "But, dear God, I can't bear to let you go." His mouth crushed hers as he pulled her to lie on top of him. She opened her mouth, giving him everything he demanded, and more.
Gabriel was breathing hard when he lifted his head. "You won't regret loving me," he promised.
"I know."
Gabriel played absently with her hair, his hand running down the silky length, patiently untangling knots his passion had put there.
Love. It was such a foreign concept. His world knew much of death, of betrayal. He understood and valued honor and loyalty. They were the codes he lived by, had survived by. But love? Gabriel felt totally inadequate when it came to that emotion.
How could he learn to love? He had no experience with such an emotion. Hell, he wasn't even sure it existed. The woman in his arms stirred sleepily, her hand falling possessively over his heart.
Kalesia believed in love.
Gabriel's brow knitted. She had come to him, believed in him, when by all rights she should have run screaming in the other direction. And freely confessed her love after hearing his horror story. She hadn't demanded proof.
The image of eyes burning with a steady flame hovered in his mind. Perhaps such a thing as love existed, after all. But was he capable of it? Or had all softer emotions been burned from his soul?
It was a tangled question, one for which he lacked an answer.
He started to drift off to sleep. A man would kill for Kalesia's love. He'd like to get his hands on the bastard who had sent her that damn package.
Gabriel's eyes shot open. "I wonder how he knew to use my past against us?"
Damn, he had screwed up. He should have seen this angle sooner. That the discord between him and Kalesia had distracted him and that he'd been busy tracking down the murdered man from two years ago, was no excuse. Gabriel ground his teeth together, biting back a blistering epithet.
Kalesia burrowed deeper against his side. He knew the instant she woke fully. "It would mean that whoever it is, knows you're helping me. It means," she said carefully, "that now you're a target."
Gabriel brushed her concern for his safety aside impatiently, the deeper meaning behind the act more important. "I can take care of myself." He turned on his side to face her. "My cover was very deep," he explained succinctly.
"You mean," she said, grasping the implication.
"Yeah. Someone has power. A lot of it. The kind of power that has access to restricted files and can convincingly alter them."
His voice sharpened. "He knew you were here. With me."
"I don't understand," but he could tell she did. Horror strangled her voice. "Only the sheriff's office..."
Every nerve in Gabriel's body was tipped with fire and there was a familiar tightening in his gut. It had been over a year since he had felt the sensation, but Gabriel had no doubt what it was. Every hunter instinct he possessed was screaming to life.
"Yeah, only the sheriff's office. I find it odd that the day after we go see Harley about another vision, a packet designed to make you distrust me arrives. In fact, the timing stinks. But," he reflected, "if someone on the force is involved, why now? Why not two years ago when you reported a murder?"
"Maybe because two years ago I wasn't a threat."
He turned that over slowly in his mind. It made a kind of sense. As much as anything about this case made sense. "Why are you a threat now? Why not then?"
"Maybe because no one would take me seriously then," Kalesia suggested.
"Or maybe," Gabriel drawled, "someone has a reason to fear you might link him to both murders."
"If I can link him now, I could link him then," Kalesia argued.
"Not if he didn't know of your first reporting."
"That means more than one person is involved," she whispered, a fine trembling settling into her limbs.
With a harsh expletive, Gabriel threw back the sheet. "Get dressed," he ordered, pulling on a pair of jeans.
"Where are we going?" Kalesia demanded, wrapping one of his shirts around her. It swamped her.
He speared her with a glance. "To see Tom Harley. I said to get dressed."
"I am," she snapped. "My clothes are in the other bedroom." Kalesia marched out of the room, chin held high.
"Well, hell," Gabriel muttered in disgust, buttoning the fly of his jeans swiftly. "And don't be long," he yelled after her. He slipped his arms in a sweatshirt. "Damn cat!" he roared as Hannibal took the opportunity to slither in the open door and attack his bare ankle.
Kalesia smiled at the yell. Gabriel really was going to have to do something about Hannibal--surrender came to mind.
It was a short drive to Harley's home. The house was dark. "Wouldn't it be more polite to wait until morning?" Kalesia tried tentatively, not able to subdue a pang of guilt at again disturbing the Major's night.
"No."
That was that, she thought in amused resignation. There was no arguing with Gabriel when he spoke in that tone. She trudged after him, more than willing to have him face Tom first.
"It's three-thirty in the morning. It had better be important." Seeing Gabriel, Harley looked surprised before glancing down the hallway and lowering his voice. "Make it fast, Gabe."
Gabriel pushed his way inside, dragging her along with him. Kalesia smiled apologetically at the rumpled man as she slid past.
"Someone on the force is dirty
. I intend to find out who."
Tom Harley did a slow double take. "I think we'd better sit down." He led the way into a comfortably furnished room and turned on a lamp. "Got any proof?"
"Nothing written in blood--yet. I want him, Tom."
Harley raised a brow, inviting Gabriel to elaborate. His skepticism was obvious, yet Kalesia knew he trusted Gabriel's instincts. Harley waited patiently.
Gabriel passed Harley the packet containing the pictures and letter. He waited while Tom skimmed them once, and then again, taking his time the second perusal.
"Nasty bit of work."
"I don't like it, Tom. Kalesia goes to you for help because of a vision of her own murder. She then leads you to a murdered hit man. Then, a matter of days later, after we ask about a previously reported vision, she receives this. I think I know why."
"You suspect me?"
Kalesia's palms grew moist at the sudden tautness between the two men.
"If I had, I wouldn't have brought Kalesia with me."
Harley stared at Gabriel's set expression for a minute longer, and then relaxed. "It's damn little to go on."
"I'm at my best with little to go on. How many times did you tell me that?" Gabriel reminded him.
"I remember. That's why I sent her to you. I knew if anyone could protect her, you could. Okay." With another quick glance down the hall, Harley heaved a sigh. "Let's go over this again."
After discussing it from all angles, a half hour later Harley was still skeptical but willing to go along with Gabriel's plan to leak false information to smoke out an informant.
"If there is one," Harley inserted doggedly. Kalesia felt sorry for him. It was easy to see he hated to admit there could be a dirty cop on his force.
"There is one," Gabriel corrected coolly.
"Your plan is dangerous, Gabriel. Especially if someone in the department is on the take. Spreading it around that you ran drugs and arms to the VC could stir up a lot of bad feelings, not to mention unneeded complications."
Gabriel bared his teeth in a savage grin of anticipation. "It's supposed to. That information fits right in with the image our boy has created to scare Kalesia away. If he gets it back to her as further reason why she should leave my protection, we'll know for sure. I want the murderer's attention on me, not Kalesia. I want you to spread it around that I'm closing in fast. That Kalesia doesn't make a move without my permission, she's so terrified of angering me. He ought to buy that."
"When do you want me to plant it?"
Kalesia leaned forward, deciding to take a hand in the conversation. "Not too soon, or he might suspect a set up." She turned to Gabriel. "It's been less than a week since I received this." She flicked a finger at the spread contents.
"If I agree to plant the information in two days, can I get back to bed?" Harley asked with comical plaintiveness.
Kalesia caught the sound of a faint rustle from the bedroom. She knew Gabriel had, too, when a sardonic grin spread across his face.
"You sent her to me," he said. "Into every life a little chaos must fall. It's only fair you experience the aftershocks, too."
"Now is that any way for him to treat a friend?" Harley appealed to Kalesia. He turned back to Gabriel. "Bug off, I've got better things to do with my night, or rather, what's left of it, than trade barbs with you."
Kalesia glared at the two men. "It's impolite to insult a person as if she isn't present." She crossed her arms belligerently, but inside she was smiling. She wasn't a bit upset. In fact, if she wasn't certain that Gabriel would have kittens, she'd throw her arms around Tom Harley and kiss him. After all, if it wasn't for his suggestion, she would have never met Gabriel.
Gabriel stood, hauling her up beside him with an easy strength. "She has a temper, too."
"Goes with the hair," Tom observed companionably.
"Tom," Kalesia began sweetly, "go to bed."
"Bossy, too, isn't she."
Kalesia purposely raised her voice. "But, Tom, she'll have to find out sometime--mmf." Gabriel clamped his hand over her mouth. She bit it, hard. He yelped and snatched his hand away, sucking on the pad of flesh beneath his thumb. "...what it's like dating a dedicated officer of the law." Kalesia finished, sticking her tongue out at Tom's horrified expression.
Before she could get into any further mischief, Gabriel grabbed her arm and began propelling her toward the front door.
"I forgot to warn you," he said over his shoulder, "witches fight dirty."
"`Night, Tom," Kalesia sang out as she was hustled outside.
"Witch," Gabriel muttered, not quite able to hide his amusement.
"Who me?" Kalesia asked with exaggerated innocence. "What did I do?"
Gabriel leaned down for a short, hard kiss. "Don't act so modest. You know very well that you turned a hardened veteran of numerous street confrontations into a nervous wreck. Talk about ruining a man's love life," Gabriel said with a heartfelt masculine sympathy that Kalesia thought entirely misplaced. "It's a good thing they outlawed burning at the stake."
Kalesia sniffed. "Men, they can dish it out, but they can't take it." She giggled, ruining the effect. "He did look as if he wanted to dig a hole and pull it in after him, didn't he?"
He gave up trying to scold her and hugged her tight, his laughter joining hers.
Kalesia sobered once they were home, in bed. "Gabriel?"
"Hmm," he mumbled, nearly asleep.
"What happens if the story Tom plants doesn't smoke the killer out?" She couldn't keep the worry out of her voice.
Gabriel fitted her body to his, closing both arms around her. "Then we'll think of something else. He made a big mistake when he involved you. He's bound to have made others. We'll just have to uncover them." Despite his effort to sound confident and unconcerned, she knew Gabriel recognized the fact they had to wait on the unknown assailant's time schedule. He was too intelligent not to immediately realize the disadvantage in which that placed them.
"Wrap your arms around me and tell me again that you love me."
"WE NEED something concrete to go on," Gabriel thrust his hands in his back pockets. The simple act of frustration as shocking as if another man were to explode in violence. "Things are going to hell in a hand basket. I can feel it." He started pacing. "We're no closer to unmasking the murderer's identity than we were a week ago. I should have found something to go on by now."
"My vision is different." Kalesia dropped the comment into the taut silence with the subtlety of a nuclear warhead.
Gabriel snaked his head around. "Different? How? When?"
"Three days ago." Kalesia kept her attention concentrated on petting Tia.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
She met his gaze candidly. "Because we were barely speaking. Because I wasn't sure if you'd want to know."
Gabriel's throat worked violently. "I wanted to know."
Kalesia dropped her head. "I'm sorry. I was angry and unsure."
He came to stand in front of her. He held out a broad, battle-scarred hand, palm up. A hand that could wield a knife with deadly efficiency or cup the blossom of a gardenia so gently he didn't ruffle a petal. She placed her hand in his without hesitation. It closed over hers and he pulled her up. "You had reason."
"How is your vision different?" he asked long minutes later.
She thought for a moment. "My death didn't happen by the pond." There was only the merest trace of a falter as she recanted the new vision of her murder. "It was odd, really. I have the impression it was inside a building. I'm not sure exactly, but I think it was a barn. I remember seeing hay. That's it," Kalesia apologized, depressingly aware that it offered even less to go on than before.
"Were you still shot? Has that changed?"
Kalesia thought hard for a minute. The new version of her death was in many ways less clear, the details less defined, almost out of focus. "I'm still shot," she said slowly. "I still get the impression of an exit wound. What I don't understand is why it ch
anged. That's never happened to me before."
Gabriel didn't answer right away. "The only reason I can come up with is that my involvement has changed the equation somehow. Maybe in your original vision, I wasn't a factor. Hell, I don't claim to understand it, but there's a possibility that as long as I'm involved, what happens is in a constant state of flux. The trick is making it go the way we want."
Chapter 11
WOLF, SAM AND Badger returned to Gabriel's house dead tired. Gabriel met them at the door. Arm outstretched across the entrance, Gabriel simply stared at Wolf. The other man stared back, a hint of wariness on his austere features.
"Let him in, Gabriel," Kalesia ordered, sounding exasperated. "You can't hit a man because he was right." Slipping under the barricade, she hurried out onto the small stoop and hugged Wolf. Grey eyes met grey eyes over her head. Wolf smiled faintly, and held one hand out in a peace offering.
Gabriel retrieved his woman, conscious of the other man's quiet amusement at the gesture. Once she was safely ensconced under his wing, he shook the proffered hand.
"I wasn't going to hit Wolf because he was right," Gabriel objected mildly. "I was going to deck him because of his method of achieving his objective."
"You always did hate being backed into a corner," Wolf agreed, amiably.
"Anything new, or did you just come back to bury the bodies?" Gabriel laced the question with mild sarcasm.
"I found a few things of interest." Wolf pushed past him and entered the house. In the living room, he dropped into a chair, exhaustion clearly written in the drooping line of his broad shoulders. He rubbed his face tiredly. Badger and Sam, following close behind, were in the same state.
Kalesia sat on the arm of Gabriel's chair. He put his arm around her waist. He seemed to find a lot of excuses to touch her. Gabriel smiled faintly. But then, she found plenty of reasons to touch him, also.