by Dee Davis
"It's not you I worry about." Their gazes met and held. "I had the men you're working with investigated. A bunch of hotheaded daredevils. According to the information I got, they're not exactly play-by-the-rules kind of guys."
"They walk the line, I'll grant you that." She fought to keep her tone even. No sense starting a fight. "But they're trained professionals, and Cullen's worked with them before."
"Cullen wants what he wants." Her father waved a dismissive hand. "But that doesn't give him the right to put you in danger. There's a murderer out there, Madison, and now, thanks to Cullen, you're in the line of fire."
"I can take care of myself." She sighed, silently counting to ten. "If you'd pay any attention at all, you'd realize that I'm not a little girl anymore. This is what I do, and it doesn't matter if it's for the FBI or Cullen Pulaski. Either way, the job is the same. I'm out there to stop the bad guys. An honorable ambition, surely."
"Not if it gets you killed." Her father had crossed his arms, his expression mutinous.
"I'm not going to get killed. And I'm not going to quit the team, either. So you might as well give it up. Nothing you say will make a difference."
"What about your mother? Shouldn't you be thinking of her?"
Leave it to her father to try every angle. "Mother doesn't care what I do. She's far too busy fighting for the Ganges mountain beetle or whatever cause she's adopted of late. Besides, unlike you, she's accepted that I make my own decisions."
"Well, I don't know why that should surprise me. She never did have the sense God gave a goose." Despite their divorce, Madison's parents were actually quite comfortable with each other. Time, it seemed, did in fact heal all wounds. "And just because she doesn't see the risk doesn't mean it's not there."
"Dad," Madison ground out, her patience stretched to the limit, "I'll be fine."
"What about this Gabriel Roarke person? He sounds just like Rick."
There were similarities to her ex, but Madison wasn't about to discuss them with her father. Besides, she was beginning to think that maybe she'd underestimated the man, and quite honestly, she wasn't about to admit that, either. "It's not the same. For one thing, I'm not involved with Gabriel." At least not yet. The thought caught her by surprise, the accompanying rush of heat telling. "He's a colleague. Like Harrison."
Her father's expression said it all. In his world there could be only one relationship between a man and a woman—a horizontal one.
"I'm not interested in Gabriel Roarke. And even if I were, it has nothing to do with my ability to do my job." She loved her father, really she did, but sometimes she wanted to throttle him.
"I just want what's best for you, Madison." There was real concern in his eyes now, and Madison felt a rush of guilt.
"I know you do, Dad. But you've got to accept that I'm not going to change my mind about what I do."
"Maybe not. But it's my duty as your father to make sure you don't get in over your head. Even if it makes you angry."
"I'm not quitting the task force." They were at an impasse again. God save her from overbearing men.
"Fine." Her father stood up, his face flushed with anger. "Then I'll just have to talk to Cullen."
"Do what you have to do. But it's not going to change anything." She was wasting her breath—he'd already pushed past her, heading for the door. It swung open and her father barreled right into Gabriel. The two men stopped for a moment, assessing each other, and then her father shouldered by him, dismissing Gabriel with the gesture.
"Not a happy camper." Gabriel's dark brow arced upward, his expression amused.
"My father," Madison admitted, crossing her arms to hide the fact that they were shaking. "It seems the two of you have something in common." She fought against her anger, knowing it wouldn't solve anything, but she'd simply had enough. "He wants me off the task force, too."
Gabriel shook his head. "I never said that I wanted you off the team. I just don't like the idea of sharing command."
"It's more than that and you know it," Madison snapped, common sense taking a back seat to her indignation. "You think what I do is a waste of time. That I'm nothing more than a woman with a crystal ball."
"Don't put words in my mouth." He frowned, his anger rising to match hers. "I'll admit I'm a bit skeptical about profiling as a valid tool, especially with regard to terrorists. But that doesn't mean it doesn't have a place."
"In the back room of some flophouse."
"Madison," he reached out to take hold of her shoulders. "I don't know what's going on here, but you're mad at your father, not me."
Her anger deflated like an old balloon and she blew out a long breath. "You're right. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. It's just that I get so tired of having to prove myself over and over again." She was talking about more than just her father now.
"Then don't do it." Gabriel's hands burned into her skin, and she fought the urge to throw herself against him, to seek comfort in his arms.
Stupid notion.
"Look." He lifted her chin with a finger, their gazes locking. "The most important person you have to please in life is yourself. And if your father can't live with the choices you make, then so be it. You can't spend your life trying to gain his approval—" she opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off "—or trying to shock him into paying attention. Either way you lose, because you're not living for yourself. You're living for him."
"You sound like you're talking from experience," she grumbled, not completely comfortable with the fact that he seemed to read her like a book. That was supposed to be her area of expertise.
"I'm not. At least with regard to parents." He shrugged, the gesture calculated to camouflage any emotion. "I didn't have any."
"Everybody has parents." The words were out before she could think better of them.
Gabriel's smile was hollow. "My father, whoever the hell he was, didn't stick around long enough for introductions, and my mother died when I was born. Too damn young to be having a baby."
"How awful." She stifled the urge to smooth the pain from his face, knowing he wouldn't appreciate it.
"It was what it was." He shrugged again with the same sense of overly orchestrated bravado. "I spent most of my life as part of the system. Foster care and juvenile homes. It wasn't until the army that I really found my niche."
"Regulation as a substitute for family." It was a predictable outcome for someone who grew up more or less on his own. And it certainly fit his profile.
"Don't analyze me, Madison, I don't fit into a box."
She believed that. Gabriel Roarke was definitely one of a kind. But it still explained a lot. "I'm not profiling you. It's just that a lot of kids from broken homes find comfort in the structure of the armed forces."
"My home wasn't broken. It didn't exist." His words were sharp, edged with long-ago pain. "And we weren't talking about me. We were talking about you—and your father."
"And how alike the two of you are." She couldn't resist the barb, but he ignored it.
"I've had experience with my share of overbearing commanders who thought they knew what was best for me."
"But they didn't?" She couldn't help the question.
"Not by a long shot." His steely gaze skewered her. "The only person I really trust, Madison, is myself."
"That's a lonely way to live."
"Maybe." He shrugged again. "But I find it's safer that way. And I think maybe you understand more about it than you're letting on. I don't think you trust people any more easily than I do."
Again he'd nailed her. And she didn't like the feeling. "I trust my father. I just choose to disagree with him. And there are others I know I can count on. Harrison, for one."
Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, the two of you looked thick as thieves earlier." There was an undercurrent to his words, and she wrenched away, angry at the implication.
"Harrison is my friend. Nothing more. And if you'd get your head out of the gutter, you'd realize that."
"Well, then you're blind." She wanted to move away, but held her ground, not wanting to let him get the better of her. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
"Of course you didn't." His smile bordered on wicked, and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture sending rockets of fire racing through her.
Damn the man.
"I just meant that I'm not involved with Harrison. I'm not involved with anyone." She was babbling now, and the more she talked the deeper it got. He had a way of discom-bobulating her with only a word, or a look.
"Good." He'd moved even closer, his gaze dueling with hers, his breath teasing her cheek.
She stepped back, more because she needed to breathe than because she was running away. This was not how things were supposed to go with Gabriel Roarke. She was supposed to be able to manage him hke she'd managed everything else in her life. Or at least compartmentalize him.
Not that Gabriel was the kind of man one could relegate to a back burner.
"We've got work to do." She reached for a file on a nearby desk and started flipping randomly through it, hoping he'd take the hint.
"It's late." His voice was gruff with an emotion she was certain she didn't want to identify. "Maybe we should call it a day."
Her gut twisted as her mind presented a picture of the two of them naked, tangled in the sheets, body-to-body, as he stroked her, filled her. "You go on." She set down the file, trying frantically to pull her thoughts to safer ground. "I think I'll stay for a bit."
She kept her gaze on her hands, determined not to look at him, to face the challenge she knew was reflected in his eyes. It would be so easy to give in, to let her baser instincts take control...
She raised her head, drawing a breath to change her mind, but before she could utter the words, she realized the room was empty.
Gabriel Roarke was gone.
"You're burning the midnight oil." Kingston Sinclair walked into the operations room just as Madison was yawning over an autopsy report. Truth be told, she hadn't gotten as much done as she would have liked, her thoughts centering instead on the abstruse man she shared command with. But she wasn't about to tell Kingston.
"What are you doing here?" She put the report on the table, tipping her head back so that she could see him better.
He was older than her father by about ten years, but that hadn't hindered their friendship. Kingston had been a part of Madison's life as long as she could remember. Never as much of a family member as Cullen, but still someone she knew and trusted.
"I was meeting with Cullen, and saw the light on. Figured it was probably you." His smile was tolerant. "Do you ever sleep?"
"Not when there's a killer out there."
"I was shocked to hear about Candace." Kingston sobered. "And then Cullen told me about today's fiasco."
She winced at his choice of words, knowing that at least part of the fault lay with her. She'd ruined any chance they had for taking fingerprints off the window. "It could have gone better."
"You really shouldn't put yourself in danger like that." He had moved closer, his face reflecting his concern.
"It sounds like you've been talking to my dad." Madison grimaced.
Kingston shrugged. "I will say he's furious with Cul-len. He thinks the two of you are in cahoots."
"Right." Madison shook her head, frustration cresting. "He and I got together to try and find a case that would put me front and center dangerwise just to piss off my dad."
"Hey," Kingston laughed, holding up his hands. "I didn't say it. Your father did."
"Well, he needs to lay off. I'm a grown woman. Not that he ever notices."
Kingston walked over to the window. "Honey, he notices. Believe me. That's why he worries. And it wouldn't hurt you to be careful, you know."
"I am careful. And besides, if anyone needs to be cautious, it's you. You know as well as I do, you're high profile when it comes to the consortium and the accord, and that makes you a target."
Kingston laughed, reaching over to pull the blinds. "How's that? Protecting my back."
"I'm not joking. You need to be careful. You and Cul-len both."
"I know." His expression turned thoughtful. "It's getting down to the wire. The summit is just around the corner. If someone is really trying to stop things, he'll be full out now."
"We'll find him."
Kingston studied her for a moment, as if considering the possibility, then sighed. "I'm sure you will. That's why—"
"Oh." Harrison drew to a stop as he walked through the door. "I didn't know anyone would be up here. Sorry to interrupt."
"You're not interrupting a thing," Kingston said. "I was just trying to get Madison to take care of herself. Her father and I rather like having her around."
"They're up in arms because I went up on the roof today," Madison explained.
"I just wish I'd been there." Harrison sounded like a petulant child. "The computer guy never gets to have any fun."
"Like you haven't handled your share of cases." Madison rolled her eyes. "He loves to play geek. But no one's buying."
"Well, you've both got more energy than I do." Kingston's smile encompassed them both. "And on that note, I think I should be heading home." He headed for the door. "Keep me posted. And watch your backs."
Harrison frowned. "Optimistic guy."
"He means well. But I'm afraid he's been listening to Dad more than he should." Madison sighed, rubbing her temples. "I'll be glad when this is over."
"Me, too." He walked over to one of the PCs. "Thought I'd take another crack at the Homeland Security computers."
"Still hoping to find an alias?"
"Yeah. Payton and I were talking and he thinks I should be trying translations of the name. Maybe it's got a correlation in another language." He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture making him look like a kid. "There's got to be something. Nobody exists in a vacuum."
"Maybe not. But sometimes it's damn close."
"You going home?" Harrison was already typing. In another minute he'd be lost in his own little world of bits and bytes.
"No." She was feeling restless, and an empty apartment was only going to magnify the problem. "I thought I'd swing by Jeremy Bosner's. I told Gabe I'd talk to him about beefing up his security. And now seems as good a time as any."
Harrison swiveled around to look at her. "It's almost ten o'clock."
She looked at her watch, surprised that it was so late, then shrugged. "Better safe than sorry. Besides, Jeremy's always been a night owl. He'll be up."
"You and Gabriel all right?" The question came from left field, and Madison worked to cover her surprise.
"Everything's fine, why?"
"Because he stormed through the hotel lobby, just as Payton and I were heading to the restaurant And based on your earlier encounter, I figured maybe the two of you had gone on to round two."
"We talked," Madison said, knowing full well they'd done a hell of a lot more than that. "I might have hit a few sore spots."
"If his glower was anything to go by, I'd say more than a few."
"He'll survive." She shrugged. "Besides, he got no more than he deserved." That wasn't exactly true. He'd scared her. But not with words. In fact, it had been his gentle perception that angered her the most. She didn't want to be understood, and she certainly didn't need advice from Gabriel Roarke.
The man had nothing she needed.
Nothing at all.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The bar was crowded, the kind of place that only Nigel could have sniffed out. Molly Malone's was as close to a British pub as one was likely to find this side of the pond. At the moment, Nigel was bellied up to the bar having a spirited discussion with the bartender about a soccer match on television.
Payton sat in the corner, nursing the same beer he'd ordered an hour ago, while Gabe, sitting across from him, was well in
to his third whiskey. Probably not a strategic move, but at the moment, it suited his mood to dull his brain, twelve-year-old Bushmills being his weapon of choice.
The bottle sat open on the table and he stared at the amber liquid as it glowed in the lamplight. "Why the hell did you tell Madison about Iraq?"
If he'd had one less drink, he probably wouldn't have asked, but it irked him that Payton had shared secrets with Madison. Partly because he wanted that part of his life dead and buried, and partly because he didn't like the idea of Payton sharing anything with Madison.
Payton twirled his beer glass idly, considering the question. "I didn't tell her anything she didn't already know."
"Then how did..." He trailed off, realizing immediately where the information had come from. "Cullen."
"So she said. Look, in her defense, she's just trying to understand you." Payton's expression was inscrutable, the shadows of the pub hiding even his scar.
"Me?" Gabe choked out a laugh, remembering her earlier dismissal. "Believe me, that's definitely not what she's doing. More than likely she's trying to profile us. Identify all our little idiosyncrasies and then categorize us—tying everything up in neat little boxes."
Payton raised his eyebrows, not saying a word, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I hope you didn't tell her anything." Gabe could no more explain his anger than he could explain his attraction for the woman, but at the moment both were undeniable.
"Of course not." Payton's expression darkened. "I don't talk to anyone about what happened. You better than anyone should understand that." He finished the beer, slamming the glass back on the table. "I told you I just confirmed what she'd been told."
"I'm sorry. I overreacted."
"The woman gets to you." Payton's lips quirked upward again. "Anyone can see that. I kind of like knowing you aren't immune to the species."
"She pisses me off, if that's what you're talking about. But beyond that I don't give a flying fuck what happens to her as long as she stays the hell out of my business." At the sound of his rising voice, the couple at the next table turned to look at him, and Gabe felt heat rushing up the back of his neck.