Triple Threat

by AK Leigh

  ‘We are not currently at liberty to answer that question.’

  Another deft avoidance. She was good.

  As the questions continued, Gabe’s gaze shifted toward Elizabeth. She kept her eyes straight ahead, unwavering. Whenever the camera flicked to her, it seemed as though she was looking right at him. He smiled. The following day at the university, he could see her again … if he came up with a decent enough ruse. He grinned as a thought shot to the front of his brain. Luckily, he had the perfect excuse to see her. His stomach knotted from the anticipation.

  ***

  Lizzie stared straight ahead. She was trying to concentrate on the questions and answers firing in Nina’s direction, but thoughts of the man she’d met earlier in the day kept invading. Gabriel Montcoeur. She hadn’t told her sisters about him yet. They would just tease her about it, and besides, she wasn’t sure this was going anywhere other than friendship. He was still, technically, only an acquaintance.

  No matter what her body seemed to be saying.

  Her mind replayed their meeting. He’d told her he had something he wanted to discuss with her. It had turned out to be … wait a minute, she never did find that out. Was that the reason he’d asked to see her again? He hadn’t called it a date … and he hadn’t specified a day or time either.

  Hmm. She frowned. It was hard to tell if he was interested in her on a more-than-friend basis or not. ‘Seeing each other again’ was a term she used with her own friends.

  She ran through their conversation thus far: he’d flirted with her in French, hadn’t he? Well … no, they’d conversed. Everything tended to sound a tad playful and/or seductive when said in French. Maybe she was reading too much into it?

  She exhaled and grabbed a peek at her watch. How much longer was this press conference going to last? She needed to get her mind occupied on something, instead of standing about idly. It was giving her too much time to focus on Gabriel Montcoeur.

  ***

  He paced his apartment, staring at the business card in one hand and his phone in the other. She’d left the press conference moments earlier. It would be the perfect time to call. When she wouldn’t be focused on work. Even though he’d come up with his ruse to see her the next day, he’d been unable to settle his urge to talk to her again. He drew in a deep breath—yes, he was doing this—then hesitated again.

  Was it too soon? They’d seen each other less than three hours ago. Wasn’t there normally a three-day rule before you called a woman? If he called now, would she think he was being too pushy?

  A more important question came: was he rushing into this too quickly, like he had so many times before, and risking his heart?

  Maybe he should send a text instead of calling? That seemed to be the more casual and accepted way of communicating these days.

  He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to organise a first date that way. And stuff the supposed rules and the fear of moving too fast. He liked this woman; he wasn’t going to wait and let some other man snap her up because he’d been too slow to ask her out. After all, there was that man at the café she’d been with yesterday …

  This is for business not pleasure, remember, Gabe?

  He sighed. Sometimes he hated how practical and linear his brain could be. There seemed to be a war waging between the relaxed and romantic side to his nature and the more serious and logical part.

  This time, the latter won.

  It was true. The whole point of this move was meant to be for business. Specifically, to put his past to rest. Elizabeth had not made one remark about a date, so why should he assume that’s what it was? He’d asked if they could ‘see each other’ again. Friends did that, so did colleagues. He would keep things between them professional and informal. His heart would thank him for it.

  With that decided, he dialled the number on the card.

  All thoughts of being able to maintain a platonic relationship went out the window when the woman in question answered with a simple ‘hello’ that burrowed deep inside his chest.

  Chapter 7

  Don Silkstone

  Don clenched his hand into a fist and switched off the television news report. Damn the Farris triplets and their meddling. If they thought they were going to interfere with his plan, they were sadly mistaken.

  Maryann’s murderer wasn’t behind bars liked he’d wanted, but the constant media scrutiny had sufficiently ruined Clay Baronie’s life to make it miserable. The same way Clay had made Maryann’s life miserable. He’d spent the day—no, a month!—on a natural high when the man had been run out of town.

  It didn’t matter to him if Clay had actually done it or not. He was still guilty of killing her. Slow, torturous heartbreak counted as murder in his eyes. There was no way he was going to let the man get away with his crimes. He had to pay. He’d made a vow to Maryann before she’d died.

  If the police hadn’t been so incompetent, Clay would have been in prison already. How much evidence did they need to convict someone? They knew about his affairs; they knew about Maryann’s plans to divorce him; they knew she was wealthy; they knew the will stated he would get nothing if certain conditions weren’t met. His freedom would have been severely restricted. What better motive did the police need? It was so clichéd, it should have been an open and shut case.

  But the man was still walking around free. Carrying on with the slut who had caused Maryann countless hours of tears and distress.

  He took a gulp from the champagne glass in his hand. By the time he’d swallowed it down, he was determined once more to do whatever was necessary to put, and keep, Clay Baronie in prison this time around. Maryann would have her revenge in death no matter what he had to do … even if it meant he had to pay someone to take out the Farris sisters one by one.

  Or do it himself.

  Chapter 8

  Gabe was still amazed that she’d agreed to see him again so quickly. He swallowed the last piece of the well-done steak he’d ordered and looked across the table at Elizabeth. Her gorgeous blue eyes sparkled back at him like newly cut Ceylon-sapphires. She flashed him a close-mouthed smile as she lowered her fork to the almost finished pesto pasta on her plate. The moist, hot pink colour of her lipstick evoked a flurry of erotic images through his brain.

  To distract himself, he said, ‘I saw you on the news earlier.’

  She scoffed, ‘Apparently, I looked bored.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s been comments on social media. There’s even a hashtag for it: hashtag-things-Lizzie-Farris-would-rather-be-doing.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘I wish I were.’

  ‘Doesn’t anybody have a life?’

  She grinned, ‘Precisely my sentiment.’

  He caught her gaze, and teased, ‘Were you bored?’

  She laughed, ‘No. I was … distracted.’

  ‘About?’ He saw visible hesitation fleck her features. That was probably too personal, too soon. They barely knew each other. Even with the tidbits of personal information they’d shared already. ‘Sorry, none of my business.’

  She shook her head, ‘It’s okay. I had some things on my mind. Papers I need to mark … and other things.’

  She gave him a strange look when she said the last part. It sent a wave of heat through his chest. Was she referring to him? The idea that Elizabeth Farris had been thinking about him, possibly in the same way he’d been thinking about her, made his whole body pulse. He smiled at the pleasure it caused.

  Visible shock filled her eyes. She looked away.

  It felt like his body deflated. What had happened? For a moment it seemed like they were connecting on a deeper level. Now there seemed to be a wall between them. A memory stirred. She’d done it to him earlier too. When they’d been speaking in French and she’d asked him to switch to English unexpectedly. Had he crossed some kind of line he had no idea about? He sensed she would baulk even more if he pressed her for an answer.

  He’d spent months
dreaming about this moment. It wasn’t about to be ruined by whatever had just happened. He changed the direction of the conversation, bringing up the excuse to see her again that he’d thought of earlier, ‘You know, I wrote a few articles on the Baronie case.’

  She peeked up, ‘You did?’

  ‘Mm. I lived in Perth before I moved out here.’

  She propped an elbow on the table and let her chin rest on top of her palm, ‘How much do you know about it?’

  He smiled. He’d managed to crack the wall a little. ‘I keep all my articles. Would you like me to have a look through my files? See what I can dig up for you?’

  ‘That would be fantastic. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Elizabeth.’

  ‘Oh, all my friends call me Lizzie.’

  He thought for a moment. ‘Lizzie’s beautiful, but I prefer Elizabeth. Is that okay with you?’

  ***

  Elizabeth. There was something about the way it sounded coming from his mouth; the way his lips formed when they said the name; and the way it seemed there was more to his words. Shivers of electricity shot through her. The way they had earlier when she’d confessed she’d been distracted during the press conference, and he’d looked at her that way. The emotions that had erupted in her had all been so confusing. She’d felt herself shut down and pull away from him. Her natural self-protective instinct? The one her sisters always accused her of having.

  She refocused on Gabe and offered him a warm smile as she gave her permission, ‘That is fine by me.’

  He smiled, ‘Great,’ and returned her eye contact.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled Lizzie’s attention away. Part of her grieved the loss as she looked to her right. A male waiter stood beside her, trying to hide a smirk.

  ‘Are you interested in a dessert menu?’

  ‘Um.’ She glanced at Gabe.

  He nodded, ‘I’ve got room for something sweet. What about you?’

  ‘I think I could too.’

  They ordered quickly—chocolate mud cake to share—then the waiter left them alone.

  She wanted to go back to the staring into each other’s eyes thing again, but asking would be awkward. The instant the thought came, their eyes seemed to take over. She was looking into his blue eyes and feeling all fluttery in the stomach.

  One realisation flashed through her mind. This was not friendship. It felt stronger than mere acquaintances. At least from her end.

  How did he feel?

  The unspoken question made her stomach clench tight. Sometimes the men she’d dated had been interested in the fantasy of being with an identical triplet, but not the reality. Was Gabe the same? Did he even want to pursue something beyond friendship? The look in his eyes told her he was, but …

  He withdrew his gaze. She watched him lick his bottom lip. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  She swallowed to make sure she could speak, ‘Sure.’

  ‘Do you normally work on more than one case at a time?’

  ***

  He could see the question took her by surprise.

  She recovered quickly, and answered, ‘Not usually, why?’

  He frowned. This meant there was no chance the Farris sisters would be taking on his case.

  Before he could stop himself, he blurted, ‘How long do you normally wait until you take on another one?’

  She frowned, and pulled back in her seat, ‘You know, for someone who told me he isn’t writing a story about me, you sound an awful lot like you’re writing a story about me. Is this what this is? You’re using me?’

  Hurt played out in her tone and across her face. Had she been used a lot in the past?

  He softened his features, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to change this to such a businesslike conversation so abruptly. I promise these questions aren’t for a story. It’s to do with the reason I wanted to speak with you this morning.’

  The hurt remained locked into position on her face. She didn’t believe him. She thought he was using her.

  He switched to French, ‘Je ne vous en utilisant, Elizabeth.’

  I am not using you, Elizabeth.

  She paused and assessed him.

  He offered her a reassuring smile and saw her features soften.

  A second later, she answered, ‘To answer your question, the time between cases varies. We took a six-month break after the last one, because it was so emotionally draining on all of us. It always is when kids are involved.’

  His brain flicked forward the details of the case that had brought Elizabeth Farris to his attention. A child had been murdered. The known-to-be physically abusive father had gotten into a disagreement with his estranged wife over the alleged sexual abuse of the child by the father’s brother. He’d half-decapitated the woman with a kitchen butcher’s knife, then brutally beaten and killed the son when he’d been unable to stop screaming and crying at the sight. The murderer had managed to arrange an alibi, which the Farris sisters had proven to be false.

  ‘So you don’t normally take on cases with children involved?’

  ‘We do. But that one was especially horrific. I’d say it’ll be a while before we can do another one like it.’

  His heart felt like it hit the restaurant floor. The suffocation death of his baby sister would be classified as horrible by most standards. ‘Right.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s going on here? Why did you ask me to come? Why all the questions?’

  There was no way he could ask her. Despite what she’d just told him, something inside him told him she would do it if he asked, but he couldn’t do that to her. He cared about her too much.

  He looked away so he could fumble a lie without feeling guilty, ‘Actually, I’ve been seeing you around the campus for a few weeks, and this was my lame attempt at discerning how much free time you have … for a proper date.’

  Silence. Uh-oh.

  He dared to look over.

  A faint smile played over her pink heart-shaped lips, ‘That is actually pretty sweet.’

  Hope filled his chest. ‘Does that mean you’d be interested in doing this again sometime? But as an official date?’

  Her smile widened, ‘Oui, monsieur.’

  The way she said it, with such certainty and desire, struck him in the chest. He swallowed as an abrupt understanding filled him. Je suis complètement abruti avec cette femme. I am completely besotted with this woman.

  Chapter 9

  ‘Who else has died?’

  Lizzie laughed at Carrie’s pessimism. ‘Nobody. I’m calling you both because I have news. Good news. I hope.’

  Nina took a guess, ‘You like Malcolm after all?’

  ‘Um. No.’

  ‘Quelle surprise.’

  Before she could respond, Carried joked, ‘You’re dating an identical triplet and you want to set us up with his brothers so we can all be part of a massive stereotype?’

  Lizzie frowned. If they were already teasing her, how seriously would they take her interest in Gabe?

  Carrie butted into her thoughts, ‘Come on, Lizzie. Spit out whatever you have to tell us. It’s getting late.’

  Lizzie glanced at her watch. Almost midnight. She’d somehow managed to spend almost three hours with Gabe. It had only felt like half that. Was this what people meant when they talked about losing time when they were with someone they deeply connected with?

  She smiled. That was the first time it had ever happened to her. ‘I’ve met someone. I know what you’re going to say, but I really like him. I mean, really like him. I think this could be something different.’ Silence sliced over the line. Too much silence. ‘Hello?’

  Her sisters replied together, ‘We heard you.’

  ‘Okay … and, what do you think?’

  ‘I think, as long as he makes you happy, I’m happy for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Neen’s.’

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Sorry, slip of the tongue.’ Nina hadn’t always hated the nickname t
hey’d given her in childhood. In fact, everybody had used it. After her first love broke her heart, Nina had put a stop to the name. Of course, she would deny the connection if questioned, saying simply she had ‘outgrown’ it, but Lizzie knew better. The nickname reminded her of him. Lizzie said to their little sister, ‘You’re being awfully quiet there, Carrie.’

  ‘I wish you every happiness too.’

  Not as convincing as Nina’s, but Lizzie would take it. ‘Thank you.’

  Nina added, ‘Can you give him a proper chance this time? Look past all the little things that normally irritate you. Pay attention to the way he treats you. Is he good to you? Does he listen to you? Is he kind? That sort of thing.’

  ‘Pfft. Don’t listen to Nina. All that matters is whether he’s good in the sack.’

  Lizzie chuckled, ‘Thanks for your input. I will keep all of it in mind. It’s really new. We just met today actually. Well, technically yesterday, but—’

  Nina said, ‘Whoa. Yesterday?’

  Carrie added, ‘That was fast.’

  ‘I know.’

  She was shocked she’d decided to give him a chance so quickly too. It usually took her several weeks to warm up to a man, and by that time she’d realised he wasn’t right for her. But something about Gabe was different. He made her feel … something she had never felt before. Something that made her want to take a risk and see what happened.

  Nina asked, ‘So, who is this guy?’

  ‘His name is Gabriel Montcoeur.’

  Carrie snorted. ‘Mountain heart? He’s a hippie!’

  ‘No, he’s a journalism teacher at Cairns Uni.’

  ‘Journalism?’ The suspicion oozed out of Carrie’s voice.

  ‘I know. But it’s not what you think. He’s not after a story.’

  ‘Just be careful.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And give him a decent shot.’

  Lizzie grinned, ‘I will, Nina. Oh, and … he asked me out again. Though he didn’t specify a day, I—’

  ‘Wait. Again? What does that mean?’

  Lizzie laughed at Carrie’s remark. ‘We kind of went out after the press conference. I only got back about ten minutes ago.’