by Lisa Eugene
Who was this woman? Certainly not plain, neurotic, Maggie Lawson. She sighed. Why did her heart long for this incredibly dangerous man? Why did her body ignite whenever he looked at her? How could she so easily submit to her desire? Even now, she could still feel the slick dew from her sex coating her inner thighs. The plan was to escape, not to get her heart entrapped! She could hear David’s sarcastic voice in her head: ‘The plan, Mag, is to get away, not get off!’ A disparaging smile pulled her lips. On second thought, David would advise her to get off and then get away! Maggie shook her head, stepping into the shower. What about her heart? She feared the only thing her heart would get was broken. It was crazy to get involved with this dangerous man. Perhaps the untimely intrusion had been fortuitous.
Gabe was dressed when Maggie emerged from the bathroom. He’d kept his eye on the security camera and followed the maid as she’d made her rounds, ascertaining she didn’t harbor some nefarious intention. He shook his head in frustration. The damn do not disturb sign had been on the door! Well, what did he expect? This was Motel Six, not the Four Seasons. Maggie had tarried longer than usual in the bathroom, and he guessed she’d been ruminating over their aborted love making. He searched her face as she walked out and could read nothing from her guarded expression.
He approached her and cupped her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to confront his gaze.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
Her gaze shifted to the door. “Yeah, she just scared me. I was afraid it might’ve been the person after you.”
He stared silently for a protracted moment, watching the gray cloud her eyes. That wasn’t what he’d been referring to, but if this was the artifice she wanted them to assume, then he’d comply. He too could discount what almost happened, and what was happening between them. It was for the best. He dropped his hand and turned away.
“Get dressed. We’re going out.” He was annoyed by the unexpected anger in his voice.
Her delicate brows squished together. “Where are we going?”He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply. “We’re meeting with someone.”
“Who? Your friend, Harry. Is he giving you information on—”
A raised hand silenced her. “Maggie, you need to listen to me and do exactly as I say. This could be very dangerous. I will keep you safe, but you must not try to run.”
He watched a glassy film cover her eyes, and they glowed radiant like precious gems. She gave a submissive nod. “I know you’ll keep me safe, Gabe. I’ll listen. I promise.”
He grunted a response, desperately wanting to believe her. He had no choice. He couldn’t very well leave her here. Besides being caught unawares earlier, he hadn’t been too concerned that it was his pursuer at the door. They wouldn’t have bothered to knock. But he wasn’t taking any chances.
In the car Gabe reached into his glove box and passed her a blue baseball cap. He watched as she pulled it low on her forehead. He’d warned her to keep her eyes down. Those beautiful eyes were a dead give-away, and he didn’t know who was looking for her. There had been nothing in the news regarding the bodies left in her apartment, or any sign of a legitimate search for her. The fact that she’d called her job and her family would nullify any alarms raised. That had been one of the reasons for his capitulation, why he’d allowed her the phone calls. He grudgingly admitted that another reason was because he found it difficult to resist those imploring eyes and pouty lips when she wanted something. It didn’t really surprise him that there’d been no media attention on the homicides. Cane Howard’s influence spread wide like groping tentacles, allowing him to manipulate and strangle anyone around him. It also helped that his pockets were as deep as the abysmal ocean.
He pulled into the outdoor parking lot of the farmer’s market where he and Harry had agreed to meet. He was early. He was always early. He stepped out and rounded the car to open the door for Maggie. It was spring, but the day was unseasonably cool and a brisk wind stirred up a cyclone of dry leaves.
The outdoor market was isolated, but right off the road, which created easy access in and out. It had a large parking lot on both sides of the century old farmhouse. Stalls displaying a colorful array of fruits and vegetables lined the front of the building, creating mosaic rows of produce for the lazy afternoon shoppers. The lattice fences and arches that grew beds of snaking vines and budding rose bushes gave the market a naturally rustic appearance. White wicker benches sat outside, a resting place for weary shoppers to sit and take in the bucolic scene.
Gabe looked around. There were a few couples milling about the aisles, fondling their prospective purchases. He guided Maggie to one of the outdoor benches and stationed her there, giving her strict orders. He then proceeded to the far lot where he was to meet Harry. He twisted his neck as he took long steps, judging the distance back to her. He should have a direct view of the bench from his meeting place. He fingered the key in his pocket that was meant for Harry and took his place under the shade of a large gnarled oak tree just outside the lot.
Gabe shifted his weight and rolled his wide shoulders. He hadn’t been concerned when Harry hadn’t shown at the scheduled meeting time. His friend was not one for punctuality. But now he was over a half hour late, and the hairs on the back of Gabe’s neck were standing at attention, prickling with alarm. He pulled his cap lower over his eyes and sidled a gaze to Maggie. She was still sitting on the bench, a paper he knew she wasn’t reading in her hand. As if sensing his gaze, she turned and their eyes met. Even from this distance he could see her brows angle with worry. She knew something was wrong.
Gabe scanned his surroundings and pushed away from the tree he was leaning on. He was about to walk back to the bench when his gaze alighted on a familiar car at the far edge of the parking lot. The beat up red Ford had been in Harry’s possession now for almost five years. He always complained that the vehicle was as temperamental as he was. Gabe hadn’t seen the Ford pull in, which meant it had been there the entire time. Gabe frowned, taking cautious steps towards the parked car, his internal sensors probing his surroundings. Was Harry so afraid that he didn’t trust leaving his car? Did he want to meet in a more sheltered space instead? Why would he not alert him to his presence? Gabe kept a hand on the hilt of his Glock as he approached the car, his heartbeat growing sluggish with each step.
He approached from the rear, and not seeing an occupant, inched tactically around the side. That was when he saw him, when his fear was confirmed, and his heart kicked hard in his chest. First a sneakered foot attached to a jean clad leg. Then the other leg splayed at a grotesque angle away from the lifeless body. Harry’s corpse was sprawled out on the graveled lot between two parked cars, his dark eyes staring pitifully into the heavens, his mouth parted with unspoken words. The gunshot wound to his forehead looked like a bull’s-eye tattoo. The tattoo had leached its sanguine color onto his forehead and congealed in macabre streaks. Gabe swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Harry had been dead for some time now, which meant it had happened before he’d even arrived. His killer was most likely still here. He cursed violently, palmed his Glock and sprinted towards the bench.
Maggie craned her neck, searching in the distance for Gabe. She’d lost sight of him moments ago when he’d headed into the parking lot. Although his face had been as stoic as usual, she’d been able to discern that something was amiss. He’d been waiting a long time for Harry to show up. She bounced a knee nervously. Should she go in search of him? Should she see if something was wrong? Was he okay? He’d given her a strict dictate not to leave the wicker bench, but the longer she waited, the more her anxiety pressed in on her. She caught a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye and saw a short man approaching the bench from the side. He was taking determined strides directly towards her, his face an emotionless mask. Maggie’s heart rate accelerated, the beats crashing against her chest. She saw a distinct bulge under his green jacket, and her throat closed up.
Immediately she shot up, her feet pe
daling in the opposite direction. She managed a glance back and saw that he was still following, his steps now speeding up to match her brisk stride. Shoppers still idled about, oblivious to what was happening. The sun’s rays had broken through the clouds and now seemed to beat down on her, oppressive and blinding. Coming to the edge of the market, she twisted her head left, then right, still searching for Gabe and unsure of which way to go. Her breath came out shallow and choppy as panic knifed through her. Deciding there might be an alcove or place to hide at the back of the farmhouse, she rounded the corner and took off at a run. She could hear the footsteps pound behind her and fear mixed with pure adrenalin spurred her onward. She saw him then, a uniformed policeman stepping into her path, and she gasped with relief, running towards him. Thank God! Heaving, she slowed her steps, her palm to her chest as she strove to catch her erratic breath.
Thank God! She’d inform the officer that she was in danger, that the stranger was pursuing her. And while the officer detained him for questioning, she’d maybe make some excuse about needing to find a lost child, slip away, and find Gabe.
“Th…There’s a man chasing me! He’s wearing a green jacket.” The words rushed out as she approached. She started to explain, but when he grabbed her arm and twisted it brutally, she choked out a loud sob. She felt the flow of blood stagnate in her chest as she saw the weapon he’d held concealed behind his back. He raised the gun, the sun glinting off the metal, and jabbed it ruthlessly into her side.
“Shut up!” he snarled in her ear.
Maggie whimpered, her arm almost breaking from his iron grip. He held her close to his large body, crushing her to his side.
“Let. Her. Go.”
The steely command came from somewhere behind them. She almost fell over as her captor abruptly pivoted, holding her in front of him, the gun muzzle now digging a hole in her temple. She was panting, the flow of oxygen to her brain now severely diminished. She was sure she would faint. She’d never been so afraid in her life. She looked at Gabe’s impassive countenance. His fierce eyes were riveted on the officer’s face. They seemed otherworldly as they swirled darkly. His tall body was erect, coiled, as he leveled his gun at the man’s head. He stood barely ten feet away.
“Let. Her. Go,” he repeated slowly.
“Give me the drive or I’ll kill her,” the officer retorted sharply.
“You have exactly three seconds.”
Maggie shivered at the lethal tenor of Gabe’s voice. It seemed to invoke the strong breeze that suddenly swirled around them.
She gasped, her eyes darting about frantically. This was her life they were bargaining with! Her arms and legs grew slack with dread and tears started to glide down her face.
Before she could figure out what was happening, a loud blast exploded in her ears and she felt the wet splatter of blood coat her neck and face. She screamed and screamed, not knowing if the blood was hers or not, not knowing if she was about to fade into darkness or head towards that dreaded white light at the end of a tunnel. Her body was shocked with panic and hysteria shooting through her veins. The body gripping her suddenly slackened, and then fell to the ground with a dull thud. She wished she hadn’t looked down at the gruesome sight.
She was still shaking and screaming when Gabe pulled her into his arms, issuing words that were supposed to calm her down. She didn’t have time to recover as he turned and dragged her behind him through a back door and into a gloomy hallway. She could hear the echo of screams behind her and guessed that the gun shot and her manic screaming had drawn attention from the people in the market.
“There was another man,” she managed as she followed quickly behind his large form, desperately trying to clean her face and neck with her shirt.
He stopped and turned to her, and she felt his stormy gaze on her face. Beside his calm control, she felt dark anger radiating from him. Anger directed at her, and she couldn’t understand why.
“Dressed as a cop?”
“No. Wearing a green jacket. Short, with dark hair.”
She was about to ask about Harry, but Gabe nodded curtly and continued forward. They walked down another hall, and Maggie could hear raised voices just beyond the wall. The quaint market was erupting into a horror scene. She guessed she herself was a ghastly spectacle with blood stains spattered all over her. Body fluids…Uhggg!! She struggled to suppress the uncontrollable trembling of her body and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Gabe’s confident presence was reassuring and did much to soothe her shaky nerves. They emerged through a side door onto a stone patio that faced the second parking lot, and Maggie spotted Gabe’s car parked just beyond a graveled walkway. She was about to take a step towards the vehicle when a potted plant exploded just above her head, showering her with dust and debris. She screamed in fear just as he pushed her to the cobbled ground, her hands scraping against the rough stones.
“Stay down!” Gabe yelled, and she saw him crouch behind a table and take aim at something in the distance.
Another hanging plant exploded, this one closer to Gabe, and she pressed her hands tight to her ears. She lay prone on the ground, her body cold and numb against the stones digging into her skin. Her throat was on fire from screaming, flames scorching the flesh raw. She saw Gabe zip past her across the patio to assume a position behind a thick pole. A bullet plugged into the wall behind her and she covered her head. She was starting to hyperventilate, her breaths exploding in shaky gusts, and she fought the panic that wanted her to get up and run. A moment later he was at her side, pulling her from the floor.
“Up, now. Let’s go!”
She ran behind him, her legs disobedient weights. She expected at any moment to have a bullet zing through her body and tear it to pieces as it had that officer’s. Maggie didn’t know how she’d made it into the car. She only remembered falling back against the soft leather seat, her body lurching as the vehicle careened out of the lot.
Maggie walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped snuggly around her body; one also secured her wet hair in a giant turban. Although scrubbed of the gore that had clotted on her face and clothes, she still could feel the residual effects of the horrific afternoon. She made a quick mental list of blood borne pathogens and felt relieved as she dismissed each one for likelihood of contamination. Thank God she was alive. Gabe had saved her—again. After bringing her back to the room via the back entrance, he’d mumbled something about needing to speak to the motel manager and abruptly left.
He hadn’t spoken a word to her since they’d taken off from the market. She could tell from his stiff square shoulders and the strained line of his lips that he was keeping a tight rein on his emotions. She’d asked about Harry, and he’d offered noting more than the fact that he was dead. She knew they were close, or perhaps had been at some time. Assuming his aloof hostility was a result of losing his friend, she’d respected his brooding introversion. He didn’t seemed like the type of person to have many friends, and she guessed Harry’s death was a grave loss. She wanted to comfort him, but his black mood was a strict admonition to stay clear.
She sank to the bed and switched on the television, not really paying attention but needing the background noise to scatter the persistent memories. Since Gabe had entered her life, there’d been nothing but death and violence. Was this what his life was like? Every day a battle to survive?
He was definitely not the domestic type. She’d known he wasn’t the wife and house with white picket fence type, but today’s events revealed his world with alarming clarity. She couldn’t imagine living on such an extreme edge. He was a dangerous man. He had stood calmly and shot a bullet through that officer’s head without even blinking. She would assume that to perform such an act one had to be glacial to the core, soulless, patently evil. One had to have a complete disregard for human life. She also realized that had he not shot the officer she most likely would’ve been killed, but his skill at the act had been frightening.
I’m a bad man, Magg
ie. Those had been his words.
Was he cold and heartless? Is that why he didn’t care about what happened to the research? That many would die without it?
She shook her head, dislodging the towel and feeling the wet tendrils of her hair fall around her face and neck.
No. He wasn’t cold and heartless. Not the Gabe she’d come to know and developed feelings for. It wasn’t often he let his guard down, but when he did, she saw a complex array of deep human emotions. He did have a heart. He wasn’t evil. At first, that’s what she’d thought of him. When he’d first broken into her apartment, she’d imagined him the devil himself.
She sighed. That seemed like an eternity ago. Another life. But this hobo thief was turning out to be so much more…
Or was she deluding herself into thinking there was more to him because of her intense attraction to him? And what did he think of her? Was she just a convenient outlet for his sexual needs—one who didn’t offer much resistance? Was he trying to protect her or was he just using her? Hadn’t he claimed the only reason he’d saved her was in case he needed a hostage?
She smirked and blew out a long breath. He’d called her crazy. Crazy. Not like she hadn’t heard it before. Somehow the word wasn’t biting when Gabe said it. In fact, she enjoyed seeing his puzzled smile when he made the accusation. Marc, her ex-boyfriend, had called her crazy. That had been his excuse for cheating on her. Maggie winced as the old memory stirred.
She’d surprised Marc at his apartment and found him naked and sweaty, hammering between some other girl’s legs. Devastated, she’d fled the room. He’d followed her, ranting that the reason he was forced to be unfaithful was because she was crazy, oh yeah…and fat. Maggie hadn’t known what’d hurt worse—the betrayal, or the honesty of his words. Crazy? Okay yeah, but really, who wasn’t? As long as she wasn’t talking to green dinosaurs or seeing dead people then she considered her mental faculties intact. Fat? Uhgg! Her entire life she’d struggled to lose the extra weight that enjoyed residing at five foot four Maggie Lawson. PO Box ASS, Zip code THIGHS. Seems it was its permanent address, and she’d come to accept the houseguests.