She pointed at Dylan. “You tell me what’s going on.”
“Gabi, you need to listen to me.” Etienne’s voice held a pleading quality. Likely he wanted to cajole her into listening to his explanation, but she’d had enough. She wanted to know what was going on, and she intended to get answers, one way or another. The best way to do that was to bypass all the family drama and hear it directly from her bodyguard.
“Do I need to call Samuel, and get him to tell me why I need a hired babysitter?”
“Honey, I’ve been called a lot of things—babysitter ain’t one of them.” Dylan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. His expression held mild amusement, and her hand itched to wipe the smirk off his handsome face.
Where had that thought come from? And did he call me honey?
“Start talking, Dylan. You said Samuel called you. Why?”
“Because he thinks—as do your brothers—somebody is after you.”
She shook her head before he’d even finished his sentence. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” He paused for a moment, simply staring at her, and she nearly started squirming in her chair. Because he was there when somebody shoved me this morning. Had he seen who did it? No, he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have let them get away. Deep in her gut, she knew he’d have stopped them one way or another.
“Sweetheart, do you think we’re blind?” Etienne leaned forward in his chair, his tone icy. “The phone calls? The texts you’ve been getting?”
Dammit, she thought she’d covered her tracks pretty well. Guess she should have remembered two important things—her brothers were always up in her business, and they were trained professionals. They worked investigative cases every day. Her eyes narrowed when she realized how they’d found out. They’d somehow had Stefan Carlisle, Carpenter’s computer guru, tag her phone.
“Guys, it’s nothing. I swear.”
“How long has this been going on, Gabi? And when did it start?” Dylan’s gaze met hers across the table, and the rest of the restaurant, even her meddlesome brothers, disappeared. Somehow, even with her two overbearing, overprotective brothers sitting right there, Dylan made her feel…safe. And she hadn’t felt that way in forever.
“How many times do I have to say it? I’m fine.”
The corner of Dylan’s mouth kicked up. “Indeed you are, darlin’, but still doesn’t answer the question.”
“Dude, that’s my sister.” Etienne’s voice came out in a strangled choke. “Don’t even go there.”
“I’m doing my job.”
“Great, now I’m a job.” Inside, she deflated like a balloon. Quite a blow to the ego, she thought, her eyes darting from one man to the next.
“Can we please get back on point?” Etienne leaned back in his chair, and raked a hand through his dark hair. “Gabi, we’ve known for a while something’s wrong.”
“Not all of us, jackass.” Bas shot a heated glare at his brother, which could have melted steel. “I didn’t find out until today, thank you very much.” Leaning toward her, he latched onto her hand, holding it between his. “Sis, talk to me. What’s going on? And don’t say nothing’s wrong. You’ve been getting threats. Apparently your tires were slashed, your car keyed—which you can bet we’re going to talk about later. You’re getting creepy texts. And today you nearly got hit by a car.”
Gabi felt herself shiver with the recitation of each event, her skin growing clammy. Truth be told, they didn’t know the half of it. And she couldn’t—wouldn’t—tell them, because the fewer people involved, the less chance somebody might get hurt. Or worse.
“Wait a minute. What happened to my car?” She glared at her brother. “I didn’t know anything about my car. But you can bet I’ll be asking Ranger for all the little details he’s apparently been keeping from me.”
Etienne glanced at Dylan. “Somebody got into the garage at Ranger’s apartment and keyed the hood and doors of your car. Where you’d parked it, the security cameras didn’t pick up anything. Ranger didn’t notice it for a couple of days, because the baby was sick and he was preoccupied. His wife was the one who noticed, because of the flat tires.”
“When?”
“When what?”
“The tires, the damage, when did it happen?”
Etienne refused to look at her, instead staring at the tabletop. “About a week ago.”
Huh. She’d thought she’d covered her bases pretty well, keeping her brothers out of the loop, when they’d known something was wrong anyway. Good thing she hadn’t followed the rest of the family into the spy business; she’d be a total failure.
“My business, guys. Mine. I’ll handle things myself. I appreciate your concern, but I’m a big girl and can take care of myself. Next time, don’t hide things from me, like my car. I’ll get it taken to the shop first thing in the morning.”
“Gabi, don’t be like that. Anyway, Ranger already had it towed in, and it’ll be ready in the morning.” She watched her brother, Bas, slap Etienne in the back of the head, and shoot him a glare, along with the silent communication thing they seemed to have perfected.
“I’m done.” She tossed her napkin onto the table and looked at Dylan. “Thank you for dinner. Oh, and you’re fired.”
Standing, she grabbed her purse and turned, but before she had taken more than a step, a hand latched onto her arm. The grip was gentle, but firm enough she couldn’t break it easily.
“A, you can’t fire me. I don’t work for you, sweetheart. And B, I’ll make sure you get home okay. We’ll talk in the morning, and go over what happens next.” Dylan’s voice whispered the words in her ear, and she nodded. From the short time she’d known him, she realized he was determined and stubborn enough to follow her home anyway, so she might as well let him accompany her. She wasn’t stupid, regardless of what her brothers apparently thought, and wouldn’t foolishly put herself into a dangerous situation.
“Sis…”
“Not now, Etienne. I’m too pissed to deal with you tonight. We’ll talk later.” Without a backward glance, Gabi strode toward the exit, Dylan right behind her.
The walk back to her apartment seemed tortuously long and silent. Dylan seemed to understand her need not to talk, allowing her plenty of time to think about her brothers’ actions. While she understood their protectiveness, she wanted to handle things herself, not allow her family to step in and solve her problem. Besides, the fewer people who knew what she was up to, the better. Lives depended on her silence, and she’d given her word—and she had no intention of going back on her promise.
Gabi glanced at Dylan’s face when they stood at the entrance to the apartment, her keys in her hand. The noisy nightlife of the French Quarter echoed loudly through the alleyway, and the scents and sounds of the city comforted her. She loved everything about the Big Easy. The jazz and zydeco music, the seafood and beignets, the frenetic pace and continual party atmosphere of New Orleans, and yes, even her nosy family. But tonight, they’d gone one step too far, and it looked like she was going to have to cut the family apron strings once and for all, even if it meant losing a relationship before it even got a chance to begin, which was a damned shame.
“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Dylan’s deep voice was pitched just loud enough to be heard over the music. He leaned in close and she tilted her head back to stare into his gaze.
“I can’t.”
He did a slow blink before nodding. “I’ll be back in the morning. Because this isn’t over. You’re still in danger, and whether you want to admit it or not, you need my help.”
She shook her head, wanting to deny his words, but knowing them for the truth. But first, she needed to make a few calls, including one to Samuel. He might own one of the most exclusive high-end security companies on the planet, and be like a big brother to her, but he’d stepped over the line this time.
“Go on inside, Gabi. Things will look different in the morning.” He took the key from her hand, and i
nserted it in the door, before turning to face her. “Sweet dreams.” With a gentle touch, he traced his fingertip down her cheek, and her eyes drifted closed at the sweetness of his touch. When he pulled back, she felt bereft, wishing things were different.
“Good night, Dylan.” She cracked the door open, waved, and watched him walk away, fading into the darkness of the alleyway. Fighting the urge to call him back, she leaned against the doorjamb, and ran her fingers against the cheek he’d touch, reliving the moment, before looking up at the sky.
“Sweet dreams to you too, Dylan.”
7
“Oh, no!” Gabi couldn’t take her eyes the central wall in her living room. Everything downstairs, including the kitchen and the doorway to the New Age shop, looked exactly the way she’d left it earlier before heading out to dinner with Dylan. Nothing out of place. Nothing to indicate the nightmare she walked into when she’d climbed the stairs to the living area.
What if whoever trashed the place is still here?
Spinning, she rushed back downstairs, through the kitchen, and out the door, sprinting around the side of the building toward the lights and the people milling around the popular and crowded French Quarter. Out of breath, she stopped, leaning against the brick and mortar façade of a building, the breath soughing in and out of her overworked lungs.
Wrapping her arms around her middle, her eyes scanned every person passing by, her brain on overload. Was it him? Or him? Maybe her? Everyone was a suspect, because she had no clue who’d broken into the apartment and trashed it.
Digging into her bag, she pulled out her phone, and dialed nine-one-one. After explaining to the emergency dispatcher what she’d found, they assured her police were on their way. Closing her eyes, she drew in a ragged breath and forced it out again. Almost without thinking, her fingers found another number in her contact list, and hit call.
“Gabi? What’s wrong?”
“Dylan? Can you come? I…I need you.” She hated feeling like a whiny baby, but she was scared. No, scared seemed like such a timid word for the riotous emotions racing through her. Terrified. Haunted. And guilty, because she’d tried to play things off earlier as not being a big deal, even though she’d known every word she’d told Dylan and her brothers had been a lie.
With the passage of each day, things seemed to be escalating out of control, and now this break-in could only mean one thing. He’d found her—him or one of his hired thugs. The thought sent a chill skittering down her spine, and she rubbed her hands up and down on her bare arms, feeling the chill bumps under her fingers.
Dylan’s voice pulled her from the deep morass of her thoughts. “I’m only a couple blocks away. I’ll be right there. Talk to me, sweetheart. What happened?”
The sound of people’s voices reverberated in the background. Nighttime in the French Quarter got boisterous and rowdy, even on a weeknight. Raucous feminine laughter echoed a few feet away, the tinny sound through the phone a reminder of the tourists flooding the Big Easy, eager to see the sights and indulge in the gluttony the city provided. A twinge of guilt ate at her consciousness. She didn’t have any right to call Dylan. After the debacle with her brothers at dinner, she’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t want or need a babysitter. Yet at the first sign of trouble, what did she do? Call the man who was, for all intents and purposes, a complete and utter stranger.
Except he didn’t feel like a stranger. Meeting him earlier that morning, not knowing he’d been hired by Samuel to be her guardian and protector, had been the first honest connection to another soul she’d had in a long time. Figures the first time she gave in to her gut, she’d end up with a bad case of you just got screwed—and not in the good, fun way
“Gabi, talk to me. What’s happening? Everything seemed fine when I walked you to your apartment.” Dylan’s voice echoed with a command she couldn’t ignore. Besides, she’d been the one to call him, practically begging for his help. The solid confidence in his tone, his command and take charge quality, instilled a feeling of trust she couldn’t explain.
“Somebody broke into the apartment while I was gone. Everything is topsy-turvy. I panicked and…ran.”
“Good. Call the cops.”
She huffed out a shaky laugh. “Already did. The police are on their way, should be here any moment. I wasn’t sure if whoever broke in was still there, so I split.”
“Where are you?”
“Down the street from the apartment. In front of the Triple X girls show.” Seriously, Gabi? You couldn’t pick a better place to stop? Let’s stand around and have all the skeevy perverts staring at you.
“Okay, hang tight, I’m almost there.”
The seconds seemed like hours, and the queasy, jittery feeling in her gut intensified by the crush of bodies jostling through the crowded streets. Moments later, she felt a hand clasp her arm. Without thinking, her elbow rammed backward into the midsection of whoever had snuck up behind her. Ow! That hurt. Whirling around, she caught Dylan bent over, heard the wheezing sound as he exhaled.
“Dylan! I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize it was you.” She absently rubbed her hand against his midsection, silently taking note of the solid muscles bunched beneath her hand. “Did I hurt you?”
The look he shot her almost made her chuckle. It would probably take somebody a hell of a lot bigger than her to make a dent in a guy the size of Dylan.
“I’m fine. The cops get to your place yet?”
Before she could respond, she spotted a pair of uniformed officers about thirty feet away, heading toward her apartment. She nodded and pointed toward them, and Dylan took her arm again, and they headed over to meet the police officers.
“Are you the person who called about the break in?” The officer asking the question stood a few inches taller than Gabi, her dark hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun. Her hazel eyes held warmth and compassion, which put Gabi instantly at ease. Of course, having Dylan by her side made things a little easier, too.
“Yes. I’m Gabi Boudreau, and this is Dylan Roberts.”
“Okay. My partner and I are going to go in, take a look, and see if anybody’s still around. I need you to wait here. Don’t come back inside until we come get you. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The other woman’s mouth quirked up in a smile and Gabi realized she’d ‘ma’amed’ her, even though she couldn’t be more than a year or two older than her own twenty-four years. But her underlying southern roots and her momma’s teachings were ingrained in her, like her Cajun accent, and didn’t go away just because she might forget they were there sometimes.
Another shiver rocked through her, and Dylan’s arm slid around her shoulder, pulled her close against his warmth. Rather than protest the familiarity, she welcomed it, burrowing closer against his chest. There it was again, a feeling of safety and security she’d noticed earlier. The sensation wasn’t totally foreign, but she hadn’t felt anything like it in a long time.
“What did you see when you went upstairs, Gabi? When I dropped you at the back door, I didn’t notice anything amiss.”
She pulled back a little, leaning in his arms until she could look up into his eyes. Such gorgeous eyes, the sapphire color so rich and vibrant, even in the semidarkness surrounding them. The plaintive wail of music spilled into the streets from the various restaurants and clubs and shops lining the street in front of the New Age shop fronting borrowed apartment. The familiar sights and sounds helped her quash the feeling of impending doom, the one hovering in the background of her consciousness every day.
“I locked up after you left and went upstairs. Even before I’d gone halfway up, something felt…I don’t know…off kilter. When I reached the top step, the first thing I spotted—” She stopped talking, remembering the hateful words scrolled across the living room wall. The deep vivid red of the spray paint, little rivulets trailing from the words, resembling dripping blood.
“It’s okay, Gabi. I’m here. Tell me what you saw.” His voice was
gravel-tinged, rough, and menacing, but she knew his controlled anger wasn’t directed at her. If he found out who’d left the ugly message sprawled across the wall, he’d hunt them down and make sure they never hurt anybody ever again. How she knew this, she wasn’t sure, except in an overtly alpha way he reminded her of her brothers, and that’s exactly what they’d do. And heaven forbid her daddy found out, because he’d tear the city apart until he found—him.
“The police will tell you anyway. There was a message spray painted on the living room wall. A message meant for me.”
“What did it say?”
“Tell me where she is or you die.” The acrid taste of bile rose in the back of her throat, and she swallowed against the wave of nausea accompanying it. The reality of what happened settled over her like a shroud, an impending sense of despair accompanying the terrifying thought Tarik Amir had found her. Coming back to New Orleans hadn’t been her brightest idea, but she’d wanted to come home. Be near her family and her friends.
“She? Who are they looking for, Gabi?” The arm resting against her back pulled her closer, a band of solid muscle keeping her grounded and focused. Because there would be no more running. No more hiding the truth. She’d known the consequences of her actions might return to bite her in the butt, but she’d made her choice and she’d do it again in a heartbeat, because it meant her best friend, Salem, was alive and hidden from the black-hearted bastard who’d almost cost Salem her life.
“It’s a complicated story, and I promise I’ll tell you everything. But let’s deal with the police first. I need to answer their questions, and figure out what comes next.”
“What comes next is I keep you safe from whoever is after you.” His steely-eyed gaze stared deep into her, and it felt like he saw to the very depths of her soul. Heck, maybe he could. She’d been born and raised in New Orleans, woo-woo capital of the world, and she’d been around enough people with extrasensory gifts to know a few who’d been bestowed with a little something extra. Lagniappe, as they say in The Big Easy. Even her brother, Ranger, had been blessed with the ability to dream walk, and it had come in handy in rescuing his wife’s sister when she’d been held hostage by a madman.
Guarding Gabi - Kathy Ivan Page 4
