Fatal Wild Child

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  All she seemed to be able to focus on was the creak of the verandah outside. Each shift of the boards was terrifying. She was straining to hear for the next one and the next. The silence between them lengthened until it seemed like minutes passed between each.

  Think, Gabrielle! she yelled at herself. Then she thought of Seth's eyes, saw him looking at her as he might have if his face were only a few inches from hers. Heard his voice in her mind. Think, Ellie. You have a few seconds only. Forget everything and think.

  Her mind calmed.

  She could lunge for Tyler's gun, grab it and roll toward the front door. That way, she would be blocked from the woman's immediate line of fire by the front entrance wall.

  Tyler was looking at her. He shook his head a little. A small movement from one side to the other. He knew what she was thinking.

  She stuck her tongue out at him. It was the only expression she knew that was silent and said what she meant apart from using her finger, which had the wrong emphasis. She looked up at the windows over her head. There were no shadows to tell her where the woman was on the verandah, for the sun was almost overhead at this time of day. Besides, it was a cloudy day.

  Her heart was thundering in her ears. Did she dare do this? It wasn't the movies. Stage fright was one thing, but if she flubbed her lines this time around she'd end up dead.

  She ran through the routine in her head. She'd done action sequences like this in the past. The gun would be tight in the holster because Tyler was lying on it, so she'd have to tug hard. She could lift his shoulder with her left hand as she leaned in to get it, too.

  Tyler used a Glock like Seth—hero-worship? Finally, she'd get her hands on a forty-five. It would be heavier in her hand, so she had to make sure to keep her wrist very strong and really squeeze on the trigger...all Barty Evan's instructions came flooding back to her as she thought it through.

  As soon as she moved, the Scorpion was going to hear her footsteps on the floorboards, so she couldn't hesitate once she had started. Across the floor, grab the gun, roll, face the front door, and wait for the woman to expose herself in the doorway, which she would have to do in order to shoot at Gabrielle.

  Gabrielle hunched up in a ball, getting her feet under her, ready to explode into action. Her heart was thundering now, hurting her chest.

  "Just don't flub your lines, Ellie," she whispered.

  She powered into action, driving herself across the living room floor. She heard the woman immediately sprint across the verandah, alerted by the sound of Gabrielle's feet pounding on the floor.

  Fast, she was so fast! Gabrielle thought, alarmed.

  She slid into Tyler, her knee ramming into his shoulder, pushing it up. That helped more to lift him than her left hand on his shoulder. She thrust under his back for the butt of the gun and closed her hand over the familiar square grip. She pulled. The gun snagged. She pulled again with a grunt and it came free.

  She was already rolling sideways, letting her left shoulder take the weight, keeping her eyes on the gun, sliding the safety off as she rolled along the entry passageway. She tucked her knees to her chest as she rolled so that her feet would be the first to touch the ground as she came over.

  All the stunt work she had done, all the trainers explanations whispered to her now as she flipped herself along the passageway.

  Her feet slapped the sisal mat and she thrust with her thighs, straightening her legs. She brought the gun up, already cocked and out in front of her. The safety was off.

  The woman that stepped into view was tiny. Not even five foot. Gabrielle fired immediately, aiming for the chest, dead centre. She was barely three feet from the door by the time she came to her feet, and with the glass already shattered there was nothing between her and the Scorpion. The impact of the forty-five caliber bullet sent the tiny Asian woman in kitchen whites staggering backwards until she came up against the balcony railing.

  Then she slowly stood up, lifted up her finger, waggled it at Gabrielle and shook her head.

  Kevlar vest. And Gabrielle had gone for the sure shot.

  The woman was bringing up her own gun.

  "On the other hand," Seth said. "I'm aiming for your temple."

  The woman glanced to her left.

  Gabrielle couldn't see past the door, but the woman lifted her hands into the air in the classic surrender position. Seth had to be standing on the ground, three steps down. But the Scorpion was watching Gabrielle.

  Something Barty Evans had told her echoed in Gabrielle's mind. "Don't ever put your gun down, lassy. Not until the bad guy has had his taken away, been put in a cell and a straight jacket and been knocked out with a chemical restraint, if he's a real bad guy. Even then, sleep with one eye open. Because the bad guys, the real bad guys, they never give up. They keep coming at you with teeth, nails and bad breath. Giving up isn't part of their vocabulary."

  Gabrielle kept her gun up, watching the Scorpion now, because there was a look in the woman's eye that made her uneasy. Yes, the woman had put her hands in the air, but it was too easy.

  Seth stepped forward, just coming into Gabrielle's view. The Scorpion reacted. Her gun dropped down, swinging toward Seth.

  "Seth, watch out!" Gabrielle cried. She lifted her own, aiming through the closed door, firing over Seth's shoulder at the single eye of the Scorpion that she could see.

  Then Gabrielle got to see what happened to people in the real world when a forty-five caliber bullet hit them in the head from a very close range.

  She clutched at her stomach and disobeyed Barty Evan's golden rule. She dropped her gun.

  Seth threw open the shattered door. "Ellie!"

  She slithered against the wall, her legs useless, unable to speak and unable to look away from what was once the Scorpion.

  "Ellie," Seth said again, trying to pick her up.

  "I think I'm going to be sick," she moaned. And was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Seth stripped her and cleaned her, wrapped her in her robe and propped her on the bed. He opened a can of soda and gave it to her.

  "For the shock, right?" she said, her voice hoarse.

  "Right." He opened another can and handed it to her father, who sat in the chair at the end of the bed. Then Seth sat on the other side of the bed next to Gabrielle.

  "I figure we've got about ten, maybe fifteen minutes before the Mounties land on us. Then perhaps another forty or so minutes before my own people get here. After that, who knows how long before the rest of the world is going to want its own pound of flesh over this," he told them. "Cameron, there's something you need to tell Gabrielle. Now is your chance, before it all comes out in public."

  Cameron flinched. "How did you know?"

  Gabrielle shuddered, staring at her father. He looked suddenly old, like he had been given too many blows tonight. "Daddy, what is he talking about?"

  Seth was smoothing the bed cover. "You said 'blackmail' when you were talking to Ronny earlier. The Triad had leverage and it was to do with Gabrielle, or they would not have tried to kill her as a way to get you to pay up."

  Cameron gripped the can of soda tightly. "I...don't know if I can do this." He sighed.

  "I don't think you have a choice," Seth said softly. "Ellie nearly died over it. The information will come out in the investigation anyway." He got to his feet. "I'll wait outside."

  "No, Seth. I think you should stay," Cameron said quickly. "You deserve that much, for what I've put you through." He put the can down with a grimace and took a breath.

  Gabrielle put hers aside too, and wrapped her arms around her, suddenly afraid. Her father was looking at her with an odd expression. With...guilt.

  "Please, Daddy," she whispered.

  He closed his eyes. "Oh god," he sighed. "Gabrielle, I love you so much. Know that, honey, okay?"

  She sat, stunned. Her father had never told her he loved her. Never. Tears filled her eyes. Now her fear flooded her. She reached for Seth's hand and he folded her hand in his big,
warm one.

  "A long time ago, Gabrielle...thirty years ago...I met a woman. A beautiful woman." He took another breath, struggling to speak. "We fell in love," he said, his voice hoarse. "Desperately, madly, deeply in love. I would have died for her, Gabrielle. I think for a while, I went a little mad with my need for her. The French call love the troubadour's madness. I understand that now."

  Gabrielle stared at her father, the father she had thought she knew so well.

  Her father looked at her. "You look so much like her, Gabrielle, that sometimes it breaks my heart."

  Gabrielle moaned. "No, Daddy..."

  "She was your mother, Gabrielle."

  Gabrielle closed her eyes, brought her knees up against her chest and tried to block out the truth. But her father kept speaking in his steady, precise voice and she kept listening to him, as she had been listening all her life.

  "Her name was Gabriella."

  Gabrielle jerked, like she had been touched by a live wire, at her father's mention of the name. It was not the first time she had heard it. But her father kept speaking, giving her no chance to reaction.

  "She was half Spanish, half French," he told her. "I know you have always despaired of your temper and your wild ways, Gabrielle, but you are just like your mother. When Gabriella found out she was pregnant, I was overjoyed, but she refused to break up the family. My family. Gabriella was, I learned, more stubborn than me. Just as you are, Gabrielle."

  Gabrielle held her knees more tightly, biting her lip. She pushed her face into the dark space against her knees. This could not be happening. Her entire life could not be a lie! Tears stung her eyes.

  "It might have remained an unsolvable dilemma, but Gabriella died in a traffic accident when she was thirty-five weeks pregnant. You were born by emergency caesarean section."

  Gabrielle looked up then, horrified. "Oh, Daddy..."

  Her father's eyes had tears in them, even though his voice had remained even. He pushed the heel of his hand into his eyes, clearing them.

  "Your mother—I mean, Elizabeth...well, she became your mother than night. She took one look at you and declared that we were taking you home. There was no argument. And there has never been any discussion or dissension since. You have been our daughter since that night." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "Elizabeth has always known about Gabriella. And she has never spoken a word about her. And not once have I ever detected a difference in the way she raised you from the way she raised any of your sisters, Gabrielle."

  Gabrielle stared at her father. "You always scoffed at love, Daddy."

  He grimaced. "I didn't want you to see through me."

  "So my birth certificate, with Gabriella listed as my mother, and all that stuff you and Mom said about Mom's real name and stage name...that was to avoid the truth?"

  "Yes."

  She hung her head. "Is there anything else I need to know before we go out there?"

  "No. But I need to know something," her father said.

  She looked up.

  "Can you forgive me?" His voice was hoarse.

  Gabrielle tried. She wanted to. But the words wouldn't emerge. She wiped her eyes. "Maybe later, Dad," she said stiffly. "When we've got this behind us. But I just shot a woman's brains out a few moments ago, thanks to your secrets, and now I have to face the Royal Canadian Mounted Police because of it and live down the paparazzi for yet another day."

  Cameron Sherborne tented his fingers. "Well, aren't you pleased that for once you can point at me and say it's my fault?"

  The laugh caught her by surprise, given that it came right in the middle of her tears. She put her hand over her mouth, unable to believe the sound had emerged from her mouth. Then she leaned against Seth's shoulder and closed her eyes. "Just shoot him for me and I'll pay you the million dollars."

  Seth chuckled. "I think you've proved you can do that yourself. Come on, Lady Croft, time to face the music."

  * * * * *

  The ambulance crew was loading Tyler onto the cart as they stepped out into the sitting room and two RCMP officers turned to face them. Sam lifted her brow. "I was just explaining you'd be about now," she said to Seth.

  "Thanks," he murmured. "How's Tyler?"

  "He'll live," Sam said. "Shoulder and graze over the hip. He was mostly faking it to draw her in, until Ellie went Rambo on him." Sam rolled her eyes at Gabrielle.

  "If he's so lively, why are there three med-techs working on him?" Gabrielle asked. "He was bleeding from the mouth, Sam. That was no hip-graze he had."

  Sam licked her lips and looked at Seth, who shrugged.

  "Collapsed lung. They re-inflated," Sam said softly. "The first is just a shoulder." She glared at Gabrielle.

  The RCMP officers cleared their throats and Sam stepped aside. "This is Staff Sergeant Edwards and Inspector Green. They would like a word with you about today's events."

  Gabrielle glanced at her father and could almost hear his thoughts. And so it begins.

  Four hours later, Gabrielle's voice was hoarse from talking. She had repeated her story to at least a dozen different people and gradually saw a pattern emerging. The authority of the people she was speaking to was getting heavier as time went on. As the gravity of the events she was describing was understood, the buck was shoved upwards. Finally, a man in a somber black suit settled on the coffee table in front of her and studied her. He smiled, the smile not reaching his eyes.

  "You look tired, Ms. Sherborne."

  "I haven't eaten in twelve hours, and going to the bathroom requires international diplomacy skills," she said. "But thank you for noticing. And you are?" She smiled brilliantly at him, while her father squeezed her hand between the cushions warningly.

  Seth, who seemed to be able to move freely around the cabin, came into the room. He saw the man and came over.

  "Sir, you made good time."

  The man got to his feet and shook Seth's hand. "You'll be reporting in as soon as possible, I understand."

  Seth hesitated. "Sir?"

  "There's a plane waiting for you right now. I've arranged for you to navigate around the local authorities on the understanding that you be debriefed in Ottawa. The Mounties will have full access to your debriefing notes and they're happy with that."

  "Yes sir." Seth glanced at her and away.

  Gabrielle drew in a breath to speak, but her father's hand squeezed her elbow. "Just shut up, Ellie," he said softly.

  She shut up.

  The man in the black suit patted Seth's shoulder. "Well, plane's waiting, Captain."

  "Yes sir," Seth said again. He moved away, slowly.

  Gabrielle realized she was trying to get up and go after him when she felt her father's hand holding her down. The man in the black suit was watching her with his sharp eyes and she sat heavily.

  Seth moved out of the room. She heard the front door shut.

  That was the last time she saw him that year.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gabrielle came down the stairs, eight weeks later, with some trepidation. Her father stood on the Spanish tiles of her L.A. home, watching her descend, his hands pushed deep into his pockets.

  He's nervous, she realized. "Is this the mountain coming to Mohammed?" she asked. "It's February. I thought nothing short of C4 would blast you out of Miami at this time of year."

  "Then you underestimate your own worth, Gabrielle." He ran his eye over her critically. "You've lost weight."

  "And you look wonderful, too," she said dryly. She looked up at him. "Why are you here?"

  He smiled a little. "It's time. The media roar has died down to occasional squibs. Invite me to dinner, Ellie. We have some talking to do."

  She shook her head. "I can't, Dad. I don't have the energy for this now. I know you mean well, and I appreciate it, but—"

  He held up his hand. "Fine, I'll cook."

  "You flambé toast," she pointed out.

  He won, of course. He coaxed her into sliding on a dress and high heels and just a li
ttle make-up, not much. But of course, as soon as she saw her face in the mirror, a little makeup wasn't nearly enough, so by the time she was done, she was ready to face the paparazzi at full strength and he knew it.

  They went to their favorite restaurant. She kept her chin up as they braved the cameras out the front. She discovered that her father, as always, was right. She was no longer the seventh wonder of the hour and for that, Gabrielle was sincerely grateful.

  Once inside the restaurant she slipped into her seat and let her heart settle, while her father ordered a bottle of wine. She even let him pour her a glass, and enjoyed his look of surprise when she said yes.

  Gabrielle sipped and the act of sipping brought tears to her eyes. She had managed to go nearly an hour without thinking about Seth. Now his absence was like an ache, pounding at her head, sawing at her heart.

  "What is it, Gabrielle?" her father asked.

  She shook her head and took a breath, then looked at him. "So...give me the news."

  He shook his head. "I'm not here to give you the news, Ellie."

  She clenched her fist in her napkin at his use of Seth's name. "Then...?"

  "I'm here to tell you about your mother."

  She bit her lip. "Why?"

  He smoothed the already perfect tablecloth. "I loved her, Gabrielle. And there's no one left in the world who cares to know that...except maybe for you. I want you to know about her. Love should be cherished. Not left to wither and die."

  Her throat hurt, so she took a sip of her wine. "All right then," she said.

  Her father began to tell her about her mother, Gabriella Martinique, a photo-journalist. That made Gabrielle start, but she gripped her wine glass and listened hard, and soon found herself lost in the tale of her mother's short life, as the waiters moved around them, bringing dinner, clearing the table, pouring coffee, serving cheese.

  Her father dug in his jacket and brought out a flat leather case and slid it across the table. "This is for you. I had it duplicated." He sat back.

  Gabrielle put her hand on it, but suddenly didn't want to open it. She knew what would be inside. A photo of Gabriella.