Gabriel started to run again, still clutching the phone, not bothering to hang up. Three blocks to go—he just prayed there was still time. He’d only just found her, and he’d be damned if he was going to lose her now.
* * *
“I tried to do this before, you know. Twice in fact.” His eyes were slightly unfocused, the sheen of sweat on his brow indicating he wasn’t as calm as he’d have her believe.
“What do you mean?” She asked, playing for time, trying to figure out how to get to the foyer and her gun.
“The first time was in the operations room. Do you remember? I closed the blinds. I intended to do it then, but that computer boy interrupted.” He frowned, and took a step toward her, and she forced herself to hold her ground. “But I heard you say you were going to Jeremy’s. So I followed you there, and waited in the apartment across the way. It should have gone down easy, but you moved faster than I’d expected. And then Gabriel Roarke showed up.” He spat the name out as if it tasted bitter. “You’re a lucky girl. But I’m afraid your luck has finally run out.”
“Your son was the CEO of Bluemax. That’s why you killed the others. An eye for an eye.” It was all starting to make perfect sense—in an insane kind of way. But then that was the type of mind Madison was used to dealing with.
“Right answer, wrong quotation. The gods visit the sins of the fathers upon the children. Euripides. They took my son, so I took theirs.”
“But why me? My father had nothing to do with Vrycom.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew the answer. “Cullen. This is about Cullen, isn’t it?”
Kingston shrugged. “He has no children, but he loves you like a daughter. The loss will be as great.”
“But it won’t bring back your son.”
His eyes hardened, clarity returning with a vengeance. “No, it won’t. But I can at least assuage my anger and exact a bit of revenge.”
“Like you did with the others.” She was staring down the barrel of a gun, and still she wanted a confession. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, she’d have laughed.
“I killed them all. And I wouldn’t have been discovered if it hadn’t been for Cullen’s meddling. That’s when I decided to bring you in. Make things a little more personal. I was the one who convinced Cullen that you should be a part of his famous Last Chance team. And I was the one who kept them running in circles.”
“With a little inside help. Did you know about Nigel?”
His smile was slow. “Nice bit, that. At first I didn’t know who it was. But then when I realized where his loyalties lay, it made sense. And quite honestly, I couldn’t have recruited a better partner. Poor bastard had no idea how much he was helping me.”
“You killed Schmidt.”
“Yes. I had to. If you’d found him alive, he’d have screamed his innocence, and with a little digging you’d have been able to verify the fact. It wasn’t part of the plan, but I couldn’t afford to take the chance.”
“But in killing him, you risked discovery.”
“Believe me, my dear, no one on your little team is going to connect the dots. It’s too obscure.”
“Gabriel will figure it all out. He’s close to the truth now. He’ll catch you in the end.”
“Doesn’t matter to me. All I ever wanted was to avenge my son. And with your death, I’ll have completed the task.”
He leveled the gun, and she heard the click as he sent a bullet to the chamber, the sound indicating that she had mere seconds to move. The obvious thing was to dive for cover, but then she’d still have the disadvantage of his being armed and her not. Her weapon was still lying in the foyer, the fifteen feet or so she’d have to travel to retrieve it a death trap.
Better to immobilize the threat. And it was now or never.
Without waiting to analyze further, she dived for Kingston, feeling a bullet tip through her shoulder before she even heard the hissed report. As she crashed into him, she swung her arm upward trying to dislodge the gun.
They fell to the ground, each struggling for control, and Madison grabbed his right wrist, slamming it hard on the floor. The gun, finally freed, spun off to the left, and slid under the open drapes. Not much help, but at least it leveled the playing field.
Kingston was surprisingly fit for a man his age, his maneuvering a sign that he’d studied martial arts somewhere along the way. Wrapping his arm around her neck, he managed to lever them both to their feet, her body locked against his.
Swinging backward with her left leg, she hooked it around his knee, simultaneously swinging her elbow back into his diaphragm. The quick release of breath signaled that she’d hurt him, and she took full advantage of the moment, twisting free, scrambling toward the window and the gun.
But Kingston was faster, grabbing her hair and yanking her back to her feet, his fist making contact with her chin. Her vision swam for a moment, but she managed to turn and get in a blow of her own, the contact sending her adrenaline rushing.
Locked together, they did a macabre dance around the living room, each of them trying to maneuver toward the gun lying beneath the drapes. She tried again to bring him to his knees, but he twisted his hands in her hair, yanking back her head with enough force to make her dizzy.
Ignoring the pain in her head and shoulder, she kicked out again, making contact with his knee. The pop was audible, and he screamed in pain, falling backward, his hold on her tightening as he continued to fall.
Their combined weight shattered the window and Kingston slid through the broken glass, pulling her with him. For a moment she felt weightless, and then as she grabbed for a handhold on the windowsill, Kingston’s body pulled taut as his fall was broken by his grasp on her calves.
The pain in her shoulder was searing, and her left hand slipped, causing her to list to the right. Kingston’s grip loosened slightly with the surprise of the movement, and she took advantage of the fact, regaining her grasp on the window and kicking her legs against his hold.
One hand released her, and closing her eyes in concentration she slammed her right leg against the side of the building, taking his hand with her. He yelped in pain but held firm, his other hand trying to find purchase. Again she swung her legs, this time both of them, the impact against the building sending shards of hot pain searing through her body.
But the result was worth it. Kingston screamed again and then released her, the relief of the reduced weight on her arms making her feel suddenly stronger. Holding herself as still as possible, she looked down in time to see him shatter the atrium window below, his body impaling itself on the point of the statuary adorning the fountain.
Kingston Sinclair was dead.
And unless she found a way to get herself back over the sill, she was going to follow suit. Her shoulder was strained beyond the point of endurance, and she could feel the muscle beginning to shake, the fingers of her left hand starting to go numb.
She tried to pull herself upward, but her left arm simply wasn’t following her brain’s command. She could see people moving in the gym below, but by the time they reached her it would be too late.
There were no balconies on this side of the building. Nothing protruding that might serve as a ledge to break her fall. The windows on either side of her were closed tightly and probably too far away to reach even if they were open.
The cold wind whistled around the building, and she felt her hand start to give way. She was out of options, and the only thing she could think about was the fact that she wouldn’t see Gabriel again. Wouldn’t be able to make things right, to make certain he understood how very much she loved him.
Her left hand slipped farther, the bulk of her weight now pulling against her right hand. She swallowed her fear, knowing that it was an enemy, and that if she was going to use these last few moments productively she had to keep a clear head.
Fear helped her hang on longer than she’d have thought possible, but she could feel the blood dripping down her arm, and knew that her left arm was
soon going to be completely useless, and that her right arm simply wasn’t capable of supporting her entire body as she hung from the sill.
People were screaming below her now, pointing upward, watching with the horrified fascination that comes from realizing the inevitable and knowing there is nothing one could do about it.
She gave one last attempt at getting her left hand to perform, the fingers responding to the effort by releasing the sill altogether.
She wanted to continue fighting, but she simply didn’t have the strength….
Something grabbed her free hand, her heart registering the reality before her brain, and she shot a look upward, expecting angels but finding Gabriel instead.
He grasped both of her wrists, the determination on his face beyond anything she’d ever seen. “Hang on,” he mouthed and began to inch her upward. Her brain finally clued in to the situation, and using her feet, she helped him “walk” her up the wall, until she was halfway in the window, and with a final jerk, he pulled her over the sill and onto the floor.
Their hearts beat in tandem as Madison enjoyed the simple act of breathing, not even the pain in her arms and shoulder dimming the pleasure of the process.
“You all right?” Gabriel had rolled over to cradle her in his arms, his hands stroking and exploring, trying to assess the damage.
She nodded, smiling up at him, content for the moment just to be in his arms. “I thought you’d never get here.”
His smile was crooked and endearing, the love in his eyes humbling and exciting all at the same time. “I thought you didn’t want my help.”
“I guess I changed my mind.” She leaned up to kiss him, savoring the feel of his lips against hers, knowing that, no matter the obstacles, they belonged together.
Now and for always.
Epilogue
“Here’s to my goddaughter.” Cullen Pulaski refilled Madison’s glass with champagne, and she smiled up at him lovingly. He’d certainly made sure she had the very best. A private hospital room with a view of New York that rivaled the best apartments.
Harrison and Payton stood on one side of the bed, while her father and Cullen stood at the end. Gabriel sat on the opposite side, holding her as close as her cast would allow. The surgery on her arm had been a success, and with physical therapy and some TLC she’d soon be good as new.
“Here’s to Last Chance, Inc.” Madison held her glass high. “We might have been slow out of the gate, but you have to admit it was a hell of a finish.”
“A bit too close for me,” Gabriel said, pulling her closer, his breath teasing her hair.
Harrison raised his glass, echoing both sentiments. His gaze met Madison’s, the relief there almost palpable. “I’m just glad you’re here for the celebration.”
“Me, too.” Her whispered response brought a cluck of concern from her father. He’d flown back from Belgium as soon as he’d heard, and wouldn’t have left her side for a minute if Gabriel hadn’t insisted they be allowed at least a few minutes alone now and then.
“Well, it’s all in the past now,” Cullen said. “The summit is on, the negotiations occurring even as we speak. If things continue going so well, I fully expect a signed agreement by the end of the week.”
“So a winning situation all the way around.” As usual there was a mocking edge to Payton’s voice, but his smile was genuine.
“I still don’t understand how Kingston was able to manage the variations in M.O.,” Harrison said, reaching for the champagne to refill his glass.
“That one’s actually pretty easy,” Payton said. “Turns out Kingston did two tours in ’Nam. One as a sharpshooter, and the other in medevac. So his skills covered the gamut. And especially in the beginning, he had the element of surprise. The victims trusted him.”
“Well, it’s over now,” Madison’s father said, with a wave of his glass. “That’s all that really matters.”
“Yeah, time to get back to our real jobs,” Harrison concurred. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve got a pile of work waiting for me.”
“Not us,” Gabriel said, shooting her a wicked smile. “We’re set for a little R & R. Right after I get her to the justice of the peace. I’m thinking Hawaii, or maybe a deserted island in the Pacific somewhere.”
“As long as there aren’t any cell phones,” Madison agreed, laughing, her heart soaring at the thought of spending the rest of her life with Gabriel.
“I’m still miffed I won’t be here for the wedding,” Payton frowned playfully.
“It’s not our fault you got called off to the wilds of South America,” Gabriel said, his expression turning serious. South America was all Payton had been willing to divulge of his next assignment, and they really weren’t even certain he was telling that much truth, but Madison knew she had to be content with not knowing. Payton would always have secrets, but he would also always have a place in her heart.
“I don’t know that any of you should be making those kinds of plans just yet.”
Almost in unison the four of them frowned at Cullen, suspicion raising its ugly head.
Cullen took in their expressions, and answered with a benign smile. “It’s not my fault you all did such a bang-up job. And it isn’t my fault that the president called this morning to say that there’s been a bit of a problem at the border. Something to do with a Mexican cartel. DEA’s been on it for years with no success.”
“Don’t tell me,” Gabriel said dryly, his gaze meeting Madison’s. “It’s a ‘last chance’ situation, and no one else is equipped to handle it like we are.”
Cullen’s smile broadened, his eyes twinkling with the success of a battle won. “Exactly.”
More of Dee Davis’ Last Chance series
Enigma
Exposure
Escape
Visit Dee at www.deedavis.com or catch up with her on Facebook at facebook.com/deedavisbooks or follow her on Twitter at twitter.com/deesdavis.
Cold Sight
by Leslie A. Kelly
Cold Sight
Extrasensory Agents Book 1
Aidan McConnell once used his special psychic abilities to help find the missing. But after the media made him the scapegoat for a child’s death, he retreated from the world and became a recluse. Lexie Nolan is a small-town reporter with big vision. She was the first to connect a series of disappearances among teenage girls to a serial killer…but nobody will listen to her.
Lexie is in desperate need of help from the sexy psychic who’s an expert in finding people. And even though Aidan loathes the media, he can’t help being drawn in to the passionate, beautiful reporter. Nor can he resist helping her on this particular case. Because he knows the latest missing girl.
And he knows time to save her is running out.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Description
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Want More?
Prologue
Twenty-Nine Years Ago
“The lady’s crying. He’s hurting her. Somebody stop him!”
Gretchen Babbitt awoke from a deep sleep as a child cried out from the next room. It took her a moment to get her bearings. She wasn’t in her own cottage up on the mountain, but in a cream-colored bedroom, in a bed twice the size of her own at home.
“Sue’s house,” she said, remembering she’d arrived for a visit just yesterday. Her eighty-five year old mind might be a bit slow waking up, but once it got going, she could recall her p’s and q’s all right. Not to me
ntion her ex’s and long-ago-but-still-appreciated O’s.
Popping in her false teeth, she reached for her thick glasses and looked out the window. Still dark. But there was the faintest tinge of pink on the horizon that said it was almost dawn.
She wasn’t a bit surprised. It was the lightening hour, when folks like her were most vulnerable to their abilities. And, she was convinced, folks like her great-grandson.
“No, don’t do that, mister!” he cried.
Slipping out of the bed in the guest room that she used whenever she came to visit her granddaughter and the girl’s stupid husband, she hurried as fast as her creaky bones would take her. So far, the child hadn’t awakened his parents, which was just as well. Although she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t just having a bad dream, she doubted it.
No, dreams could no longer be used as an excuse. But if it was what she suspected, she already knew how his straight-laced father was going to react to the news.
Not well.
“Don’t hurt her no more, please!”
“Shh, angel,” she crooned as she made her way to his twin bed, with its cartoon Transformers spread. The room was filled with comic book heroes and baseball stars. They were typical little boy things that said just how much his parents—mainly his father—wanted him to be completely normal. Whether the boy liked it or not.
He probably didn’t. Because she seriously doubted this boy was normal. She’d seen the signs—the caul over his face at birth, the way, as an infant, he would stare at nothing anyone else could see and whimper. The night terrors that had plagued him since before he was old enough to verbalize what was wrong. Poor little mite.
Her granddaughter had tried to hide these things, the evidence of her son’s unique gifts, but Gretchen had a way of knowing. That was why she’d come here yesterday, somehow certain she had to. It was time for the child to understand and receive some empathy, and training to deal with his powers. If his parents would give him neither, by golly, his great-granny would.
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