Gabe

by M. Malone

  I probably can't afford to make it look exactly like the old club but surely I can pull in a little sexy retro glamour. It would be so worth it just to see the look on my father's face. Part of me wishes I could find that charlatan who swindled him out of his money and force him to pay up. It makes me so angry that some criminal with no conscience stole my father's dream. I would love to be able to give a little piece of it back to him.

  I write down all the things I think I can handle on one side of the paper and then all the stuff that I'm not sure about on the other. On the left I have entertainment and furniture. On the right I have taxes and payroll. Then I add insurance to the list. And marketing.

  With a disgusted sound, I drop the pen. There are so many things that I have no idea about and all of those things are vital to starting a business. Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to turn down Gabe's help. Even though I want to do this myself, he is really good at this kind of stuff. At times like these, I wish I had a partner. If Kay wasn't so busy recording and growing little mini-Eli's then I could ask her. I rest my head against the back of the couch.

  When I wake, it's pitch black in the room. The television has a timer so it shuts off after a certain amount of inactivity. I stand in the dark room, padding in my bare feet back to my bedroom in the dark when I hear it. Scritch scritch scritch.

  There it is again. A soft scratching sound. Then the loud click of the latch. Shock and fear race through me. Someone has just opened the back door.

  I move backwards slowly, praying that none of the floorboards under my feet squeak and betray my position. All the times that Eli lectured me to set the alarm as soon as I get home run through my head. That always seemed so over the top so I usually set it right before I go to sleep. But now as I inch backward, praying that I can get to my room undetected, I curse my stubbornness. If I’d just listened to him then the silent alarm would have already alerted him that there was a problem.

  I have to get to my room so I can call for help.

  As soon as I cross the threshold to my room, I shut the door, turning the knob all the way so the latch doesn't catch and make noise. I turn the lock and then hurriedly rush to the bed. My laptop is sitting on top of the covers. I grab it and my phone from the nightstand, my heart racing so hard I can barely breathe. I carry everything into the closet and drop to the floor.

  I dial 911 and then open my laptop. My hands fumble with the lid, fear making me clumsy. I’m typing a message to Kay in the messaging app when the emergency dispatcher answers. I whisper my address and that there's an intruder just as a message comes in from Kay.

  - - Eli is on the way. Stay where you are!

  I sit quietly, responding to the emergency dispatcher to tell her my location in the house. Suddenly there's the sound of glass breaking from out front.

  "Whoever it is just broke something," I whisper. "They're making a lot of noise. I don't think they know I'm here. What if they try to come back here?"

  "Ma'am, please stay calm. The police are en route." The dispatcher’s calm, steady voice is only making me panic more. There's some psycho in my house breaking stuff. And if they think they're in an empty house, what will they do when they finally realize they aren't alone?

  Just then I hear the sound of my bedroom doorknob turning. It makes a clicking sound as whoever is on the other side tries to turn it again and again. There's a muffled curse and then a bang. I hang up on the operator, not wanting the intruder to hear the sound of her voice. I close the lid on my laptop and silence my phone. I shrink back deeper into the closet.

  My hand bumps into something hard and pointy. I grope around until my fingers close around the shoe. I almost want to sob and laugh at the same time. I'm trapped in my room and the only weapon I have readily available is a high-heeled shoe.

  I clutch the shoe tighter to my chest when I hear the sound of sirens in the distance. Then a few minutes later I hear someone call out, "Police! Anyone here?"

  I'm shaking so badly I can't even answer. I crawl out of the closet and run to open the bedroom door.

  "Is it safe to come out?"

  The beam of a flashlight hits me in the face and I squint against the sudden light in the darkness. The officer lowers his weapon and his flashlight. "Yes, ma'am. You called about a prowler?”

  “Someone was here. I heard them.” I open the door wider and then gasp.

  An ornately carved knife is embedded into the wood of my bedroom door. The blade goes directly through a picture.

  Of me.

  * * * * *

  For the next half an hour, I have to recount the story of what happened and point out the damages. Nothing appears to have been taken but it's hard to tell since my living room has been trashed. The cushions on the couch have been slashed with a knife and all my vases have been shattered.

  The picture of me is still on my bedroom door. I was told not to touch or move anything, not that I wanted to anyway. It gives me the creeps every time I look in that direction. I’m not sure what day it was taken but it must have been recently because I’m wearing my new down coat. In the picture I’m laughing, my face turned up to the sky. There are words written on the bottom but I only know because the officer told me what it said.

  You take from me, I take from you.

  Just remembering the words sends a chill up my spine, not that I have any idea what that means. I haven’t taken anything from anyone. And I never have. I would never steal.

  Eli arrives in the middle of everything and smoothly takes over. I'm grateful for his interference for once. When he sees my fingers shaking, he even uses my cell phone to call Gabe.

  While he deals with the police, I sit on the couch clutching my phone in my hands. The next thing I know Gabe is kneeling before me. His dark eyes are awash with regret. I launch myself into his arms and cling to his neck.

  “I knew I should have brought you home with me. Oh god, Sasha.” His voice breaks and he suddenly grabs me in a hug so tight that my ribs ache. He hefts me in his arms and sits awkwardly on the couch with me in his lap.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  My tears have subsided a little at this point so I wipe my eyes and stand. I point to the back door. “He came in through that door. I was asleep on the couch. When I got up, I heard some strange sounds. Then I heard the door open. I barely made it to my room.”

  Eli appears at my elbow. “The police are about done. They’re going to dust for prints and they’re taking your neighbor’s statement. She says she saw a guy hanging around earlier today. They’re also going to analyze the photo and see if they can find out where it was printed.”

  “Photo?” Gabe raises his eyebrows.

  Eli points to my bedroom door.

  Gabe walks over and when he sees the note all the blood drains from his face. I’m stunned by the devastation in his eyes. Silently, he crosses the room and pulls me into his arms. I can feel his anguish.

  “I’m okay, Gabe. I’m okay.” I repeat the words, hoping if he hears it enough, he’ll believe it.

  He pushes back and the bleak despair on his face transforms into a determined look. He kisses me on the forehead again. “I have to go.”

  “Wait! Where are you going?” I follow him to the front door.

  When he turns, something comes over his face and his expression goes completely blank. I haven’t seen this look on his face in so long that I forgot what it was like to have him look at me with no emotion in his eyes.

  His mask is back and my Gabe is gone.

  “Sasha, I was wrong when I told you that I could do this. This, all of this, is getting too real. You deserve the kind of guy that can be there for you, who can make you happy and hold you when you’re sad. I tried to be that guy … ”

  It sounds like he’s reading from a script. Despite that, my heart still drops to the floor. He’s pushing me away.

  “You do make me happy. I love you.”

  Gabe runs a hand through his hair in agitation. “That’s because
you don’t really know me. I did more than just steal cars, Sasha. I stole lives. I manipulated people who trusted me. It’s a compulsion I have to play with people. To see how far they’ll let me go.”

  Everything he’s saying is shredding me, like I’m swallowing knives. Listening to him, hearing his callous recitation of the things he’s done is draining me until I have to cling to the doorframe just to stay on my feet.

  “But I do know you, Gabe. That’s not who you are. It’s not.” The words are as much for my benefit as his. I can’t accept that he’s not who I think he is. Because taking that away makes me feel like someone just died.

  “I blame myself for this.” His voice is smooth, almost seductive. And cold as ice. “You have to understand, someone like you is irresistible to someone like me. So naive, so trusting. It's like asking an alcoholic to stay away from the bar. You can try but if they build a bar near your house, you won't succeed. Playing with you was just too much temptation for me.”

  “I don't believe you. You’re trying to push me away and it won’t work. Just, please. Talk to me.” I’ve already lost my pride so I’m willing to beg. Anything to get him to stop saying these awful things.

  Gabe makes a frustrated sound. “Your bank account number is 0004328567 and you keep the password written in an old day planner at the back of your closet.”

  I gasp but he’s not done.

  “Your social security card and birth certificate are tucked into that old Bible on your bookshelf. Probably so you don’t forget where they are, am I right? Your mother’s maiden name is Dalton. You told me that when you were telling me about your family. It was so easy to get everything I needed from you.”

  I’m crying so hard now that Eli has ditched any appearance of giving us space.

  “What the hell is going on?” Eli growls, glaring at Gabe. He pulls me into his arms, putting himself between us.

  “I’m telling Sasha the truth. That I’m not good for her. And if you care about her like I think you do, you’ll make sure she doesn’t follow me.”

  Then Gabe turns and walks down the driveway. I watch, feeling like everything I know has just gone up in flames.

  chapter fifteen

  GABE

  I want blood.

  Walking away from Sasha’s door, her soft cries ringing in my ears, feels like cutting off my own arm. Lying to her about how I feel took all the acting skill I have. It was torture crushing her spirit and it did just as much damage to me convincing her that everything she felt for me was a lie. I feel torn open and gutted.

  But the gaping hole in the center of my chest is soon filled with boiling rage and one purpose.

  Getting to Blade.

  I want to hit him where he lives. This asshole was in Sasha's house. He could have done anything and I wouldn't have been there to help her. The enormity of just how vulnerable she is sends a paralyzing wave of fear through me.

  I almost collide with someone coming up the driveway. Tank. I have to suppress a growl of impatience. Convincing Eli and Sasha that I’m an asshole was easy. It’ll be harder to get by Tank. He’s not easy to manipulate.

  “Where are you going?” He stops squarely in my path knowing that I’ll have to stop. If I want to get by him, I’d have to be able to push him out of the way. There are not many people big enough to take him.

  “I have to go.”

  He doesn’t move. “What do you mean you have to go? Sasha needs you right now.”

  “We broke up. She’s not my problem anymore.” I give up on moving him and just walk around him.

  He grabs my arm and I shrug it off angrily. I’m too primed to be polite right now.

  “You expect me to believe that Sasha’s in danger and that you don’t care?” Tank narrows his eyes. “I don’t believe it. So I’ll ask you again. Where are you going?”

  Now this I don’t need. If Tank thinks I’m going after Blade he’ll try to stop me. And Sasha isn’t safe with him out there.

  “Just because we share DNA doesn’t mean I owe you any explanations. I don’t care what you believe as long as you get the fuck out of my way.”

  Tank finally takes a step back. “I don’t know what the hell is going on but Gabe … ” He eyes me with a hard look. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  I start walking down Sasha’s driveway and then into the street. Direction won’t matter. Blade will still be nearby. Watching. Waiting. Sure enough, after I walk two blocks over, I see him. He’s got a baseball cap on but I know that walk.

  “Hey!”

  He looks back and then takes off running. I sprint after him, dodging around a parked car to follow him down a side street. As soon as I turn the corner, a fist plows into my stomach.

  “Shit!” I swing out blindly, catching him in the arm.

  He pulls me up and then unleashes a flurry of jabs to my chest. I manage to block a few and deliver a punch to his jaw that makes his head snap back but that doesn’t slow him at all. It’s clear that he’s an experienced fighter and before long, he catches me on the side of the head so hard I see stars. Then his arms slashes out and fire explodes in my side.

  He shoves me away and I stumble and land on one knee. Gravel and rocks tear at my jeans, sending little shards of pain to the skin. When I look up, there’s a knife in his hand. I can’t tell in the dark but I’m willing to bet it’s the same kind of knife rammed into Sasha’s bedroom door. Just the thought of it enrages me all over again. He sees the anger in my eyes and laughs.

  This is where it ends, I think. Because with the look in his eyes I know that he will have no problem cutting my throat.

  “I’m not going to kill you. Unless you force me to.” He has a thick Irish accent. Tank’s intel was good then.

  “That knife isn’t just for show,” I remark. “Clearly you have no problem using it, either.”

  “Your last name is the only thing that saved you, boyo. That message was a warning. Most people don’t even get one.”

  “My last name?” I pant, holding a hand to my aching ribs. When I pull my hand away, it's stained with blood.

  Fuck.

  “I had to come, to see what could make a man turn his back on his family, his country and his duty. This isn’t how I wanted things to go but you brought this on yourself when you stole from me. I saw you at the warehouse.”

  His ramblings make no sense but all I care about is clarifying the last point. “I didn’t take anything from you.”

  “Not at first. But you sent back your little friend. The redhead. He took something from me and I need it back.”

  “I didn’t know." Damn Cole and his sticky fingers. "I’ll get it back. Just leave Sasha alone!” Pain flares anew from the exertion of yelling and I struggle to calm down. Deep breaths cause a firestorm in my chest. I keep my hand pressed to my side as hard as I can.

  “Get me my ring back and we’ll see.” His accent thickens as he points the knife at me.

  “And you’ll leave her out of this?”

  He doesn’t answer, just smiles that creepy smile. Then he’s moving toward me.

  “What do you mean about my last name?” I ask desperately.

  He flips the knife, the blade glinting in the moonlight like a shooting star, before he catches it. “It’s the same as mine.”

  I never even saw the punch coming.

  * * * * *

  When I wake up, the only thing I feel is pain. I can’t even cry out. It would take energy I don’t have to even make a sound so I just lie in agony hoping that someone will come along and put me out of my misery. Until I hear Tank’s voice. Then I think, anyone but him.

  I’m never going to hear the end of this.

  Tank kneels next to me. “I told you not to do anything stupid.”

  He slips an arm under my shoulders and then hoists me up. My voice returns then, either that or the pain needs an outlet.

  “That fucker hits like a freight train. I think his knuckles are made out of titanium.”

  Tank glances o
ver at me, walking slowly so I can lean on him. “Looks that way. You haven’t seen what your face looks like yet. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I had to, Tank. He can’t hurt Sasha. I can’t let that happen.”

  “Sasha is fine. Eli took her to his house. I’m more concerned about you right now. We need to get you to the hospital.”

  I scoff. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’ve been beat up before.”

  We’re almost to the end of the street now where Tank’s SUV waits idling at the curb.

  “Are you going to be able to get in by yourself or do you need me to help you? Maybe to fasten you into your car seat and give you a bottle, too?” Tank chuckles.

  “You’re enjoying this way too much. And the only bottle I need has Johnnie Walker on the label.”

  When he's helping me in the car he lets out a curse. "You were stabbed? Jesus."

  That's when I pass out for the second time.

  Over the next few days things are a blur. There's a lot of noise and voices and then I'm floating on a blissful wave. Fluorescent lights overhead, antiseptic smell all around. That can only mean one thing. I wake briefly to a nurse adjusting my IV line and whatever she gives me knocks me out again.

  When I wake again, I hear Zack’s voice. “Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

  Someone answers, a soft feminine voice I don’t recognize. I open my eyes and then immediately squeeze them shut when the bright lights in the room send a sharp pain through my head.

  I glance over at Tank. “I guess the hospital was a good call.”

  He lets out a little laugh, relief in his eyes. “Surgery went well. The knife missed the important stuff. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the police haven’t caught the mugger who did this to you.” His eyes narrow and then lift to something on the other side of me.