That was the plan. To forget him altogether.
Unfortunately, however, Gaia had a photographic memory. She could remember what she had for breakfast on October 10, 1992—the last of the strawberry Pop-Tarts in the box. Her father had eaten one and put the open pouch back in. She hated that. So, okay, forgetting Sam (or her father, too, for that matter) was pretty much out of the question.
But she could control her thoughts. She certainly wouldn’t think about him. Because if she did, she might start to consider what they had gone through to be together—only to end up with this. Meaning nothing. She might start to think about the first day they met at the chess tables. Or that love letter, that stupid love letter. She’d do anything in the world to destroy that right now. What was worse than leaving all that naive vulnerability in his hands for eternity?
There was no point in asking that question, though. Because she wasn’t thinking about him.
“No,” she said suddenly, surprising herself. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Paul walked into the room and sat at the foot of the bed. “Come on. Let me do something to help.” He offered a tentative smile—that crooked grin that reminded Gaia so much of Mary. “Aren’t we supposed to do something completely spontaneous and random now?”
Gaia laughed miserably. She turned again toward the dark window, looking past her ghostly reflection. “I think that plan has backfired,” she mumbled.
“I’m sorry,” Paul breathed.
“For what?” Gaia asked.
“For pissing Sam off,” he said.
Gaia shook her head and glanced at him. “It has nothing to do with you. That’s what I can’t figure out. Something happened to him. I can’t explain it. It was like. . . he lost something. Like his spirit or his soul or whatever got sucked out of him—not that I believe in any of that bullshit, but. . . you know, why am I talking about him? Shut up, Gaia. Move on, Gaia.” She smiled grimly. “That’s my new motto, Paul: Shut up, Gaia. Move on, Gaia. What do you think?”
Paul stared down at his shoes. “I think it’s depressing,” he whispered.
“Now you’re catching on,” Gaia said. She meant the comment to be wry, but it came out as nothing more than bitterly sarcastic. She bit her lip. She didn’t want to torture Paul with her problems. But somehow she didn’t think she’d be able to help herself. Not tonight.
“Maybe a good family dinner will help,” Paul said.
Gaia nodded. “Dinner would be great,” she said in a faraway voice. She knew she didn’t sound sincere, but she was. At least she had a safe place to lick her wounds. The thought of having to go back to that empty apartment on Mercer Street or to George Niven’s house on Perry Street. . . that was far too dark. Blacker than Central Park at night. Too dark even for Gaia Moore. No, she was not going to take this place for granted. This was her sanctuary.
“I think Olga’s making goulash tonight,” Paul said. “It’s really good—”
The doorbell rang.
Paul frowned. “I wonder who that is.”
“Is Brendan coming home tonight?” Gaia asked.
He shook his head, then stood up from the bed and headed out to the hall. “I don’t think so....”
Gaia bowed her head again. Maybe controlling her thoughts was easier said than done. Because she found herself wishing that the person ringing that doorbell was Sam. She slipped off the windowsill and stepped into the bathroom, where she splashed some cool water on her face. “This will never work,” he’d said, with barely a hint of emotion on his face. Screw him. Gaia pounded her fists down on the sink. Shut up, Gaia. Move on, Gaia. She flipped off the faucet and dried her face, trying to make herself presentable for dinner. The better she looked, the fewer questions they’d ask. One nice family dinner. At least an hour of peace—
“Gaia?” Mrs. Moss called from the front hall. “You have a guest.”
Her heart plummeted.
Sam. She stared back at her own shocked face. Her wish had come true. Her awful, twisted wish. . . she hated him with all her heart. She never wanted to see him again. But she knew that if he said something true this time, if he managed to remind them both of who they were when all this started. . . she would forgive him. It was that simple. She wasn’t that strong.
Squelching her strong impulse to run, she forced herself to walk—very slowly and deliberately. Her footsteps were soft on the hall carpet. She kept her head down, her face expressionless. She didn’t even look up until she reached the living room.
And then she froze.
At that moment she felt like her bloodstream had been connected to an electric generator. Every part of her body tensed with its current. The mere sight of the man standing before her had the exact same effect as being thrown into the middle of deadly combat. Without warning. There was no fear as she took in his dark eyes, his slightly graying hair, his impeccably tailored and pressed suit. Of course not. There was no fear. . . only readiness. And wonder. And rage.
“You never told us you had an uncle,” Mrs. Moss said, smiling at her.
THE MESSENGER WAS ALMOST TOO LATE.
Failed Operation
Tom had already cleared customs at Frankfurt International Airport; his bags were checked through to New York. The flight was due to board at any minute. He was sitting at the bar near the gate, trying to relax with a glass of red wine, when the woman appeared at his side.
“I think you dropped your cell phone, sir,” she murmured.
Tom didn’t make eye contact with her. He didn’t want to see her face. He simply nodded as she placed the slender black phone on the bar next to his glass, dread consuming him.
“Thank you,” he said.
And then she was gone.
He was certain he wouldn’t make it on that plane. Of course not. He clenched his teeth as he paid for his drink and hurried toward the rest room. It wasn’t a secure location, but it would have to do. The phone rang even before he managed to push open the door.
“Yes?” he answered, scanning the stalls for any potential eavesdroppers. The room was empty. He was alone.
“Three, zulu, alpha, four, seven,” an unrecognizable voice replied. It was the code for a failed operation.
Tom’s pulse quickened. “Advise,” he breathed.
“The toy store was a decoy. Loki has slipped his tail. Flight is canceled. Come to the restaurant.”
For a moment Tom couldn’t speak. The impact of the news was almost too overwhelming. The “toy store” was an illegal weapons factory deep in the Sudanese desert—specifically, one that manufactured anthrax. All intelligence seemed to indicate that Loki’s latest venture involved the selling of biological weapons, particularly when the informant had mentioned DNA. But if Loki had led the agency on a wild-goose chase, if the anthrax was a decoy. . . then Tom and everybody else was completely in the dark about Loki’s true intentions. He’d pulled the hardest trick possible in their deadly business. He’d managed a surprise.
“Come to the restaurant,” the voice repeated.
“Understood,” Tom forced himself to respond. His voice trembled. He clicked off the phone and dropped it into the garbage, then hurried from the rest room.
Until this very moment, Tom had never considered that Gaia might actually play a role in whatever Loki had planned. He’d simply assumed that Loki wanted Gaia for himself—to serve him for whatever vile purposes, to exploit her many talents. But now he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t so sure at all. The informant had said something about her, right before he mentioned the DNA....
That wasn’t what terrified him the most, though. What terrified him the most was that Loki had managed to shake his surveillance.
He could be anywhere at this moment. Anywhere.
“HELLO, GAIA,” OLIVER SAID.
Victim
He was standing between Mr. and Mrs. Moss and Paul. Near enough to touch them. Gaia clenched her fists at her sides. Here she was, face-to-face with the man who’d killed her mother. But she knew h
e wouldn’t try to harm her. Or them. If he had wanted the Mosses out of the picture, they’d already be dead. Of that she was certain.
“What do you want?” Gaia whispered, fighting to control her voice.
Oliver laughed. The Mosses exchanged uncomfortable smiles. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, without calling first,” he apologized. “But I’m just about to leave the country, and I just wanted to say good-bye.”
Gaia nodded. “Fine. Good-bye.”
The smiles on the faces of Paul and his mother began to fade.
But Oliver simply laughed again. “I was hoping we could talk somewhere privately for a moment.” He glanced at the Mosses. “Again, I’m sorry. I won’t be long. I promise.”
Both Paul and Mrs. Moss looked expectantly at Gaia.
“Okay,” Gaia murmured. She had to hand it to him: coming here was a brilliant move on his part—to trap her someplace where she’d feel safe. Where she wouldn’t try to run and where she couldn’t kill him. Without another word, Gaia turned and marched back to Mary’s bedroom. Oliver followed a few paces behind her. Only in a cold and sweaty nightmare could Gaia have imagined being in this house with. . . him. With Loki. Yes, she could no longer think of him as her uncle Oliver. The notion of being related to him was too sickening.
She threw open the door and marched to the window.
For several long seconds neither of them spoke. Loki closed the door behind him. “You look stunning,” he said, standing by the foot of the bed.
Gaia kept her gaze fixed to the glass, to the winking lights of the East Side, across the park. Somehow it made such perfect sense that he was there—like a vulture that had just been waiting to swoop in once the carnage of her life was complete. How had he timed his entrance so perfectly?
“Say what you have to say and leave,” she hissed.
Loki breathed out a small sigh. “My God, he really has totally brainwashed you. I want you to know I have people looking for him right now, Gaia. He’s going to pay for what he’s done, I promise you.”
Gaia rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Gaia, look at me, please,” he begged. “I can’t talk to you like this. I can’t stand what he’s done to you. Please, look at me.”
She shook her head but turned to him—if for no other reason than just to shut him up and get on with this. But when she met his gaze, she realized that she wasn’t in danger of losing her temper. She was far more in danger of succumbing to the sadness she’d been desperately trying to keep at bay for the last forty-eight hours. Because as repellent as Loki was to her, he had the same eyes as her father. Only the love there was false. Just as her father’s had been.
“Just tell me why you’re here,” she said deliberately, “and leave.”
“I’m here because I love you, Gaia,” he said. “I’m here because my brother has told you some horrible lies. I have to set the record straight, if only for myself. To be honest, I don’t know if you’re capable of believing the truth at this point or not.”
Believe. Truth. Honest. These were not words that Gaia had any desire to hear again today. She was so tired of trying to discern the truth. Too tired.
“I don’t want to do this,” she murmured.
“Gaia, just hear me out, please. Don’t you see what Tom’s doing? Do you even know where he is right now? Did he even tell you where—”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” Gaia interrupted, straining every muscle in her body to maintain her composure.
“He’s in Germany. I had him followed. He’s not who he claims to be, Gaia. He’s meeting with some very frightening people. Why wouldn’t he tell you where he was going? Why wouldn’t he have contacted you once? Because he doesn’t want you to know. You can see the logic.”
“Doesn’t want me to know what?” Gaia snapped.
“He doesn’t want you to know that he is Loki.”
Gaia’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to scream—or to rip that phony, pleading look from his face with her bare hands and leave him in a bloody heap on the floor.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
He nodded. “You have to let me protect you.”
“I can protect myself,” she shot back.
“Not from Loki, you can’t.”
“I’m doing a pretty good job right now, aren’t I?” she asked, folding her arms in front of her. “Try something. Go ahead. Just try something. You’ll be very sorry... Loki. ”
“I’m not—”
“Shut up!” she shouted, her eyes blazing. “You’re Loki. I know you are!”
But her uncle just shook his head, very sadly. “That’s what my brother wants you to believe. He’s been passing himself off as the ‘good’ brother. He’s been playing the part of me to throw people off his trail—to throw you off his trail. He’s tried to convince you that I’m him—that I’m Loki so that you won’t trust me, so that I can’t protect you. Don’t you understand?”
Gaia fell silent. The truth of the matter was that she didn’t understand and that she was no longer interested in trying to understand. Her mind could no longer process what she was hearing. She was simply an empty vessel through which words passed.
Her uncle moved a step closer. “Gaia, think back now,” he pleaded quietly. “Please. Think back through everything that’s happened. I tried to take you away with me to Europe—to save you from all this, to save you from him, and what did he do? He tricked you into getting on a plane with him. And he had me put in jail just to be sure I couldn’t get to you. He probably tried to convince you that I killed Katia, but if you only knew . . .” His voice quavered. He reached for the handkerchief tucked in his jacket and dabbed his eyes with it.
Gaia stared at him. She felt nauseated. This display of emotion was extremely disturbing, to say the least. If he was faking this, he was an extremely gifted actor. Not that she should be surprised. If there was one thing she was truly certain of, it was that people had a tremendous capacity for lying.
“I loved your mother so dearly,” he went on. He sniffed and folded the handkerchief. “I did everything in my power to protect her from your father. I tried so many times to warn her. But I failed. He took her from us both, Gaia. . . . And then he fled, that coward. Don’t you see? You’ve got to put the pieces together yourself. Don’t waste your time trying to figure out which one of us is more credible. That’s impossible. Given all the emotional complications, you’d drive yourself insane trying to determine the truth that way.”
In spite of the venom coursing through Gaia’s veins, she found she couldn’t argue with him. It was the truest thing she had heard anyone say in days. She yearned to be coldhearted again. To feel nothing again. To make her decisions based entirely on facts and reason and give her heart a long and much needed rest. Maybe even a permanent rest. But right now her heart was still in overdrive, beating too much and then too little, and then not at all, and then too much again. And Oliver was only feeding the flame. Gaia had not a clue where her alliances were anymore. Not a clue.
“Please just consider this,” he said softly. “If our track records can count for anything, consider the facts. Tom has abandoned you twice. Disappeared into thin air with no warning, no concern whatsoever for your welfare. I have now come back for you twice—to rescue you. And I’m asking you once more. Let me protect you. Let me take you to Europe, as we’d planned before. Let me take you away from Loki. I’ve seen what he could do to his wife. I can’t sit back and watch him do it to his daughter as well.” His voice hardened, and he stuffed his handkerchief back into his breast pocket. “I will not allow that to happen.”
Gaia hung her head. She was too weak to respond. Every sentence was another debilitating blow. He was a skilled martial artist—so skilled, he only needed to use words to render her useless. The fight had gone out of her.
“I can see that your surrogate family here is wonderful,” he said, with a warm smile. “You don’t know how grateful I a
m to them for taking care of you. But you deserve a real family. A family that wants you. That is the most precious gift in the world. There’s no substitute for that. Because you and I are the same, Gaia. You and me and your mother. We’ve all been victims of Tom. But if we leave here together, we won’t have to be victims anymore. I know you want that as badly as I do—to stop being a victim.”
“Yes.” Gaia was hardly aware that she had spoken. The word seemed to appear magically before her, hovering there between them like a miniature star. She did want to stop being a victim. The problem was, she had no idea who was doing the victimizing anymore. Loki or Tom or Oliver. . . they were all the same. They all abused her, in one form or another—whether they had intended to or not.
“I’ve said too much,” he offered gently. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone now.” He walked toward the door but stopped himself and looked calmly at her, his eyes still reddish. “I’d never try to decide anything for you. Only you know what you truly believe. But know this. Know that you have a real family. One that would never abandon you. One that would always try to protect you.”
He reached into his front coat pocket and pulled out a card, which he placed on the bureau beside the mirror. “You can reach me at that number anytime.”
Gaia stared at the floor. Just go now, she pleaded silently. Now, before I make an ass of myself and start crying. Please.
“Thank you for hearing me out,” he said. “Whether you believe me or not. . . I love you, Gaia. I know it’s true even if you don’t. Good night.”
He closed the door behind him. Gaia listened as he said good-bye to the Mosses and left the apartment. She didn’t move—not for a very, very long time. She stood perfectly still. Because she was pretty sure that whichever foot she used to take the first step would be the wrong one.
GAIA
I can hardly comprehend the extent to which my life has come full circle. I mean, I’m literally right back where I started. It’s like my entire relationship with Sam and the entire reunion with my father were just little shadow plays to amuse me while I continued my descent into the underworld. That’s where I reside now. That’s where my proverbial ship has landed.
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