by D. L. O'Neal
"One more crack out of anybody and I'll take him out for some quality time behind the greenhouse." Gabriel threatened with lazy menace.
Color high, Kalesia wriggled out of Gabriel's lap, avoiding his outstretched arm. "So what now?" She ignored the huge grins the men wore.
"Now we keep digging." Gabriel turned to Wolf. "Did you find out who's been accessing my files?"
Wolf was already shaking his head. "Jim's tearing the office apart, on the QT, of course. Danielle can't remember anyone requesting authorization for your records." Gabriel shot Wolf a sardonic glance. Wolf shrugged. "I know. I know. It's highly unlikely whoever is behind this stopped to ask permission, but you never know. Jim will go just so far without going through official channels," Wolf warned. "You know him, he leaves breaking the rules up to the rest of us. As long as it doesn't come back to haunt him. The moment something concrete turns up, he wants it official."
"Who are Jim and Danielle?" Kalesia allowed Gabriel to pull her back to his side.
"Jim Wright is my old boss. Danielle Eastman is his Assistant."
"They haven't found out anything at all?" She couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice.
"Kalesia, whoever he is, the guy's a pro." Gabriel's voice was exquisitely gentle.
"I know. I just wish this whole mess were over."
"I OWN YOU."
Anger tightened the listener's throat even as he shifted from one foot to the other. He swallowed a hot rush of words. More than money restrained him. A deeply ingrained desire to continue living held him back.
"Look. I'm doing everything you ask. I told you about them investigating her vision from two years ago, didn't I? And I told you the info Harley dug up on Steele. At some risk to myself, I might add."
"Don't ask for more money," he was informed coldly. "I might begin to regret our bargain."
A frisson of fear shuddered down his spine. Sometimes, he wished he'd never gotten involved, had turned down the money. There was something...innately sadistic about the other man's cultured tones. But he was in too deep to quit now.
"Is the woman still with him?"
"If she is?"
"Make her leave."
"I'll take care of it."
"Do that. Otherwise, I might begin to wonder if the information I'm buying is worth what I'm paying."
"I said I'd take care of the matter," he told the mocking voice angrily before remembering where he was. A bead of sweat slid down, tickling his cheek. He lowered his voice. "She might be afraid to leave."
"For the sake of your health, she'd better have a change of heart. I want that investigation stopped."
"What about my money?"
"When I'm sure you've done the job properly."
Chapter 12
GABRIEL'S EYES flared opened abruptly. He laid perfectly still, waiting for a repeat of the slight noise that had jarred him out of a sound sleep. He felt a small surge of irritation even as his knife slid smoothly into his hand.
A sound sleep was still novel enough to be treasured. The small electric device at the head of the bed made another, near soundless, burring noise. Kalesia stirred in her sleep, moving until her bottom was snuggled firmly against him.
With a silent thud, Hannibal landed on the foot of the bed. Slinking soundlessly until he was next to Gabriel, the huge, black cat crouched low beside him. He was staring intently in the direction of the double French doors. A growl vibrated deep in the cat's throat.
Disentangling himself carefully from the slumbering woman, Gabriel placed a warning hand on the cat's back. Hannibal's tail whipped angrily, but he subsided.
Gabriel had lived too long with danger not to recognize the symptoms. Even as he watched, the door opened smoothly. There was the subdued sheen of polished metal. Gabriel threw the knife, and in one smooth motion, followed it across the room. A painful yelp was quickly cut off.
The sound of a struggle startled Kalesia awake. Disoriented, it was a second before she located the source of the battle. She heard Gabriel grunt and then the sickening sound of flesh striking flesh.
Kalesia scrambled desperately for the gun she knew Gabriel kept in the nightstand, forgetting her distaste for weapons in her need to protect him. She was aware of loud screaming, and distantly realized that she was yelling at the top of her lungs for the men. Just as her hand closed on the surprising heavy pistol, one of the men on the floor gave an agonized shriek.
"Gabriel!" she screamed.
"Honey, do me a favor. Point that thing the other way. I'd hate to get shot while buck naked." Gabriel straddled the man, the knife resting with casual menace against the man's throat. The intruder, not being totally stupid, didn't move a muscle. "While you're at it," he added in an afterthought, "turn the light on so we can see who we've got."
Gabriel shook his head mournfully. "Damn, just when I was getting used to sleeping the night through." The soft light of the bedside lamp flared.
"Well, well, well. Who would have guessed?" Gabriel looked up as the bedroom door crashed against the wall. "One of you had better get Harley on the horn. Our little pigeon found us." Badger made an immediate about-face.
Wolf crossed the room to crouch beside the pair. He studied the fallen man's knife wound dispassionately. He raised one brow. "The thigh?"
"My aim was off. I threw across my body while lying down. Sue me."
Wolf gave a low whistle as he got a closer look. "What the hell happened to his face?" he asked curiously, studying the numerous scratch marks.
"Courtesy of my partner." Gabriel tilted his head in the general direction of Hannibal who, once he had taken care of the threat to the one person he idolized, was contentedly washing his paw.
"Hard to believe you two were actually on the same side of a conflict."
"Yeah, ain't it just. Life is just full of improbabilities lately. Want to keep an eye on Goldilocks here, while I get dressed?"
"My pleasure." Wolf smiled maliciously down at the sullen man, silently inviting him to try to escape. "You know, Sam," he began conversationally, not taking his eyes off his prisoner. "I've come to the conclusion you and I lead boring lives. When's the last time you had so much excitement in your bedroom?"
Hazel eyes crinkled in thought. "Well," he drawled, "there was that brunette."
"The expert in hand-to-hand?" Wolf shook his head sorrowfully. "Damn, everybody gets to have a little fun but me. I need a vacation."
HARLEY ARRIVED in less than half an hour. He shot a sour glance at the apprehended deputy. "I had hoped to hell you were mistaken, Gabe. What happened?"
"It seems Deputy Pompano had orders to give Kalesia additional impetuous to leave my tender, expert care."
"From whom?"
"Claims he doesn't know. Actually, I kinda believe him. It's about the only thing with his story that I do believe."
"Let's ask Rambo over there how he made contact," Badger said, contempt on his face at Pompano's jungle suit and painted face.
"It wasn't from the S.O. I ran a check on all repeating numbers," Sam commented from the depths of a chair.
"You obtained a record of the Department's calls?" Harley asked incredulously, anger darkening his face.
Sam's face was all innocence. "Now that would be illegal without a court order, wouldn't it?"
Harley glared.
Gabriel stopped the incipient argument. "We'll go into the legality later. What did you find out?"
"I cross-indexed it with our list and came up the nada."
"We'll definitely talk later." Harley turned to face his deputy, restrained anger vibrating through his taut form. "What Agent Woods found out does, however, bring up an interesting question. Just how did you make contact? Before you answer, let me read you your rights. You're familiar with the procedure, aren't you?"
Pompano eyes darted about frantically. He looked like he wanted to run. Wolf casually got to his feet and positioned himself within an arms-length of Pompano. Samuel did the same thing on the other side. Po
mpano sank back in his chair. "I never initiate contact. He always calls me."
"At the Department?" Harley's voice was sharp.
Pompano nodded. "Every two or three days. I'm never quite sure when to expect a call."
"What about payment?"
"He tells me where to pick it up. It's never the same place twice."
"How long have you been selling out?" Harley balled his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white. His need to pound Pompano's face into a bloody mess was clear. Gabriel knew exactly how he felt.
"Two years, give or take."
"Sonofabitch! You've been selling out the department that long? Right under my nose? Who else have you placed in danger? Besides the deputies you work with, of course."
Pompano refused to look his boss in the eye. He hung his head. "Just Miss Brannigan."
Gabriel tensed beneath the restraining hand Kalesia placed on his arm. His voice was a black pit of promise when he asked, "Why Kalesia?"
"I don't know." Pompano raised a panicked hand as Gabriel stirred. "It's the truth, man. You've got to believe me." He licked his lip nervously. "This is the first times he's told me to keep an eye on a person. Usually, it was investigations the S.O. was working on. Things like drug busts and arms." He cringed from the hot look Harley shot him.
"Hell, it was just by accident I told him of Miss Brannigan's visit. I wouldn't have mentioned it, if Murphy hadn't remembered her coming around a couple of years ago with some story about a murder. Honest. We'd just shared a laugh about a psychic reporting her own murder when he called. I guess it was on my mind, so I told him. I didn't expect him to take it seriously." Pompano didn't see Kalesia's baleful glare.
"Why were you here tonight? To kill Kalesia?" Gabriel gathered himself, prepared to launch across the room to throttle Pompano if he answered `yes.'
"Hell, no! I'm not a murderer," Pompano protested indignantly.
"Just a miserable little snitch. A cop on the take," Wolf murmured sarcastically. The deputy had the grace to redden.
"You don't understand. It was easy money. A cop's salary doesn't buy a damn thing in today's world."
"Not even loyalty," Badger snarled, disgust for a man who would sell his honor lacing the rough comment.
Pompano looked at the floor. "I wasn't going to kill her. Just scare her a little. Make her run."
"That's why you brought a gun? To scare her a little?" Gabriel's hand fisted and then slowly opened. Pompano opened his mouth and then looked wildly around at the sea of closed, dispassionate faces. He abruptly shut his mouth and refused to say anything else.
"Conspiracy to commit murder and, I'm sure if we dig a little deeper, accessory to murder. Who knows what other interesting tidbits will turn up?" Harley reached behind him in a smooth, practiced motion for the handcuffs.
"Unless," Wolf drawled.
Harley turned back inquiringly. "Unless...?"
"There's reason to believe his boss's crimes are both federal and international in scope. The government might be willing to cut a deal if Pompano can help deliver his boss."
"He'll kill me!"
"The way I see it," Gabriel said reflectively, "you're dead if you don't talk. When news of your arrest becomes public, he is going to assume you sang like a nightingale. I'll personally make sure that impression is given. And your boss, whoever he is, doesn't strike me as the type of man to leave loose threads. You, Deputy Pompano, are a very prominent thread, one that threatens to unravel the whole operation."
Pompano looked at each man, finding no hope of mercy in the set faces. His gaze finally landed and settled on Kalesia. "You've got to believe me, Miss. It was never my intention to kill you." He sounded desperate.
For just a second, Kalesia felt a pang of sympathy. Beside her, Gabriel squeezed her hand, hard, telling her silently not to fall for Pompano's pitch.
Betrayal was a bitter lesson, one difficult to swallow. Was this how Gabriel had felt when he realized his capture had not been by chance? How many other lessons in betrayal had he learned through the years? Kalesia's momentary softening, dissipated.
"No," she agreed, quietly, an unaccustomed bitterness burning her throat. "You were leaving that up to your employer. And to kill me, he would have to kill Gabriel. Because of you, Gabriel would have been dead."
The deputy dropped his eyes. "What kind of deal?"
LATE THE NEXT afternoon, Kalesia came in the house, her face strained. "He fell for it." She held up the seemingly-innocuous envelope, boldly addressed with her name, her hand visibly shaking.
"Give it here. I'll read it."
Kalesia shook her head, her mouth tightening determinedly. "I'll read it. I refuse to let this man continually terrify me." In silence she opened the envelope and read the contents. Her face showed her relief.
"He's overplayed his hand. The details of you supposedly running arms to the VC and selling drugs to our guys are an exact match to that Harley planted." She passed the ten-page report to him, watching as he scanned it rapidly. "He must be getting desperate. He's more open in his suggestion that I leave you."
"Do you believe him?" he asked, a bone chilling cold settling deep inside him. Gabriel didn't think he'd ever be warm again. This report very neatly covered how he'd received his scars, and why. Seeing the details of his torture explicitly spelled out made Gabriel's stomach muscles clench tightly in protest. But seeing the subsequent revenge he had taken, twisted a knife painfully in his gut.
Now Kalesia knew exactly what he was capable of doing.
He had skipped letting her know the details of his escape, hoping to protect her.
Or had he been hoping to protect himself?
Had he been afraid that if she knew the full story, she'd be horrified? Possibly have second thoughts about staying with a man whose hands were steeped in blood, a man who had killed as easily and efficiently as most men shaved. Knowing what has happened to a person, knowing abstractly that they had committed acts of violence, was very different from having the finer points of the deed slapped you in the face.
How could Kalesia not believe the report? It presented a tale of fact and fiction so intricately woven, the strands twisted together so expertly, that if it were not his life Gabriel wouldn't have hesitated for a moment to believe it. It also neatly tied in his torture as punishment for double crossing his Viet Cong partners. Nice of him to be so thorough, Gabriel thought bitterly.
It then went on to cover his last assignment in Central America, linking it in with a major drug deal. According to the anonymous author, Gabriel had coldly shot his partner--and then an innocent bystander who had witnessed the outrageous act--to cover his trail.
Gabriel Steele, killer of children.
It gave Kalesia ample reason to distrust everything he had ever told her. Numb, he waited for her answer.
"Believe him?" Kalesia asked distractedly. "Oh, you mean about taking revenge after being tortured." Cupping his face, she brushed a soft kiss across his lips. "It doesn't matter."
Gabriel held very still. Raw pain flashed across his nerve endings, leaving them exposed. Very carefully, he pulled her hands from his face. "I won't deceive you anymore, not even by omission. I did take my revenge, exactly like he states," he braced himself.
"You're human. It'd take a saint not to retaliate under the circumstances. Oh, Gabriel, how can I blame you when given half the chance, I'd kill the man responsible for your pain?" The declaration was surprisingly fierce from a woman too tenderhearted for her own good. It dawned on Gabriel that Kalesia was refusing to allow him to feel guilt.
The shadows in his soul lightened as sunshine flooded in. And it was all because of one woman's faith and belief. He pulled her close, clutching her with a strength that had to make her bones ache. Trustingly, she leaned into his embrace.
"I swear I didn't mean to kill that boy," Gabriel buried his face in her hair, breathing heavily. No more lies.
Shock jolted Kalesia. "Tell me about it," she coaxed, careful to keep
her expression neutral. She had thought that part fiction. She just couldn't imagine Gabriel killing a child. There had to be some logical explanation, she told herself. Gabriel's natural instinct was to protect those more helpless than himself.
"The report told it pretty thoroughly. It happened in Central America, just as it says. Dan was my partner on that last mission. I didn't want a partner, didn't want to have to look out for anyone other than myself. I was right. I should never have agreed." He paused and Kalesia nodded encouragingly.
Gabriel drew a deep breath. "What it doesn't tell you is that when Dan's head disintegrated, I turned and dropped to the ground, and fired...Kalesia, I swear I didn't realize it was a kid until I went over to check on the status of the gunman. I kicked his gun away. When I turned him over, I looked into the face of a kid." A hard shudder ripped through the taut form.
Kalesia's throat ached with unshed tears. "How old was he?"
"Thirteen. Fourteen. Maybe a little older. Does it matter? Christ, I killed a kid! What it comes down to is I killed a kid. Just a child," he whispered, his voice hoarse with pain and a savage disbelief.
"Hardly a child." Taking hold of his arms, she shook him. "Gabriel, he had just killed your partner and was going to kill you. Of course you returned fire. You acted purely out of self-defense, the same way anyone else in that situation would have done." Kalesia could tell he wasn't buying it, that he'd decided long ago that he deserved to suffer. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like. What she did know was that Gabriel had suffered long enough. She switched tactics, coming at him from another angle. "Was that when you decided to retire?"
"The decision had been creeping up on me for some time. That last mission simply brought it to a head. I was determined not to be put in such a position again. I didn't join to make war against children."
"Gabriel," Kalesia reminded him gently, "if he was capable of surprising two experienced warriors, killing one, it seems reasonable to assume he hadn't been a child for a long time."
A bitter twist lifted one corner of Gabriel's mouth. "Maybe. Still, the fact remains that he'd be alive if I hadn't had an aptitude for killing. The next child killed won't be because I pulled the trigger. Never again," he vowed harshly, his face starkly etched, the crystalline eyes cloudy with a bottomless regret.