by Dee Davis
"Nonsense." He stood up, too, moving over to the cart. Madison could smell something wonderful, and to her consternation, her stomach rumbled happily in response. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smile. "The robe is fine. It covers more than an overcoat."
She wasn't completely convinced of the fact, but it was warm and comfortable, and she'd already spent a lot of time crying on his lap wearing the thing. Surely a little bit longer wouldn't hurt anything. And truth be told, she was famished.
She sat down on one of the chairs he'd pulled up, waiting expectantly as he pulled the lids off various dishes. It was as if she'd landed in the middle of a feast. French fries, hamburgers, pasta with some sort of vegetable sauce—and waffles. "You thought of everything." She grinned up at him, their gazes locking, and she immediately looked down again, not willing to accept the invitation she saw in his eyes.
Or thought she saw. As overwrought as she was, it wouldn't be impossible for her to be seeing something where nothing existed at all.
"Hopefully something here will appeal." He waved a hand at the table, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.
"It's marvelous," she said, surprised at how very much she meant it. "I'll have the waffles. They're my favorite." She took a bite and sighed. "When I was really little I lived with my mother. And every Sunday she'd make waffles. It was sort of our special thing. No one else was ever invited. Just the two of us. And ever since, when things have been tough, I have a craving for them. Like they're some sort of panacea, I guess." She regretted sharing the minute she opened her mouth. Gabriel didn't care about her childhood desires.
"French fries always do that for me. Preferably McDonald's." He reached for the plate of French fries, his smile warm and encompassing. "Are you still in touch with your mother?"
Madison shook her head and swallowed a mouthful of waffles. "Only a couple times a year. She and my stepfather live in New Mexico on a ranch. It's just too far away from New York for regular visits." Put that way it sounded silly. Planes did fly both directions. "I was just a kid when I went to live with my father, and I'm not sure that Mother and I really ever reconnected."
"It happens." Gabriel shrugged. "But at least you still have her as a part of your life."
"I didn't even think about your parents. I'm sorry. You must think I'm awful. My mother is a free spirit. And it's always been hard to pin her down for visits and the like. But she loves me. I know that. And I am grateful to have her around." It wasn't absolutely true. If she were honest, she'd have to admit she'd spent a lot of time wishing her mother was more accessible and her father was less demanding. Maybe if she'd spent more time accepting what she did have rather than trying to change what she couldn't...
"Everyone has to look at life from their own perspective, Madison. You of all people should know that. Just because I didn't have parents doesn't mean you can't be angry with yours." As usual he'd read her like an open book, the idea at once infuriating and intriguing.
"When you come right down to it though, for someone like you, my life must seem pretty damn easy."
Gabriel shrugged, reaching for a hamburger. "Everyone makes their own hell."
It was an innocuous statement, almost throwaway, yet she had the feeling it was also very telling. A defining statement that ought to give her insight into the man sitting in front of her. But for once her intuition came up empty.
She wrote it off to exhaustion, but a part of her recognized that maybe she was just too close to be objective.
"I agree with that, I think," she said, leaning back to look at him. "But there's more to it than that, isn't there? The key is what one does next that determines character."
"You mean whether they have the courage to claw their way out?" His crystalline gaze was assessing, and she shivered under the examination.
"Something like that. There are people who can't escape. Who only compound the problem, making it worse." She ate another forkful of waffle, turning her thoughts over in her mind. "And there are others who wallow in it. Taking pleasure from their own pain. So, yes, I guess I think the winners are the ones who find a way out."
"And what if there isn't a way out? What if the homemade hell is so deep and dark that there is no hope?" His gaze was intense now, as if the answer mattered very much.
"There's always hope." The words were out before she could stop them, and she watched his face darken. "No, wait." She held up a hand, stopping his retort. "I really do believe that. I think sometimes you have to search for it. And that it doesn't always present itself in the way you'd like. But I do believe that it's always there."
"Hope springs eternal." Cynicism colored his voice.
"Maybe not eternal, but often." She smiled, the gesture a peace offering. She hadn't meant to debate the fundamentals of life with him. "Maybe it's just a matter of knowing where to look."
He nodded, setting down the hamburger. "And maybe sometimes, it's just too much effort to find it."
They sat in silence then, and Madison wondered how she could feel so intimately connected with him, while at the same time knowing that he had withdrawn completely. It was maddening and compelling all at once.
Gabriel Roarke was a paradox. And though there were parts of him she frankly couldn't stand, there was a lot about the man that appealed to her on the most primitive of levels. Soul-to-soul.
Despite the differences in their backgrounds and personalities, there was a similarity she couldn't deny, and he recognized it just as clearly as she did, both of them simultaneously entertaining thoughts of running for the hills—even though neither of them was going to give an inch.
*****
"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL is my daughter?" Philip Merrick spat at Cullen, pacing the Turkish carpet like an enraged sultan. His eyes were narrowed to slits, his mouth drawn into a tight line, his voice strung tighter than a Stradivarius.
"I've told you, Philip, I don't know." Cullen's voice wasn't exactly tranquil. The events of the night were quickly spiraling out of hand. First the near-miss with the purported hacker, then Jeremy's murder, and now Gabriel disappearing with Madison. "Gabriel just called to say that she needed a little time. He'll watch out for her."
"Like hell he will." Philip's voice had risen to a shriek. "You know as well as I do he's far more likely to use her and then leave her high and dry like that prick she married. You said the bastard called. Where did the call come from?"
"I don't know, he wouldn't tell me." Cullen did not like being put on the defensive, even when it was Philip. Especially when it was Philip. They'd been friends for a long time, but there had always been an air of superiority about the man that had irked Cullen. And there'd been times when Cullen quite cheerfully would have paid good money to see Philip being taken down a peg.
But now wasn't one of those times. Not when Madison was involved. On one thing they absolutely agreed, and that was their shared love of Philip's daughter. "He's not going to hurt her."
"You don't know that." Philip had calmed a little, if only so that he could think. "Did you star sixty-nine him?"
Cullen shook his head. "It didn't occur to me. I trust the man, Philip."
"Do it now." Philip was already looking around the room for the telephone.
"I can't. I've received other calls."
"Well, check the caller ID," he demanded.
"I'm not going to second-guess my command team just because you feel like you've lost control of your daughter." Cullen shook his head regretfully, knowing his friend was about to explode.
"Goddamn it." Philip didn't disappoint. "I want to know where my daughter is."
And so they'd come full circle.
"She'll be back in the morning. Gabriel said so. She just needed time to sort through what happened. She was there when Jeremy was murdered. And you know as well as I do that she'll be feeling guilty about it."
"It wasn't her fault," Philip snapped.
"Of course not, but that's not the way she'll see it. Gabriel's been through this k
ind of thing before." He reached out to pat his friend, an obviously ineffectual way to placate him based on the glare he got in return. "He'll know how to help."
"I don't want him to help her. I don't want him to do anything to her." This last was said through gritted teeth.
"I know that, Philip. But she's a grown woman, and she has to make her own choices."
Philip sank down on the sofa, burying his face in his hands. "I should never have let her get involved in all of this."
"You couldn't have stopped her." Cullen sat in the chair across the way, exhaustion gnawing at him.
"But you could have." Philip lifted his head, his eyes flashing with accusation. "It's your fault she's part of this. You used her."
An unaccustomed wave of guilt crept up the back of Cullen's neck. "Maybe so," he acknowledged on a sigh, "but she came willingly. And she's not the innocent you pretend she is, Philip. She's an FBI agent, along with all that entails. Furthermore, she's good at what she does. Quite possibly the best. And I need her expertise, it's as simple as that."
"It's not that simple and you know it. She's your goddaughter, for God's sake. You're supposed to care about her." His voice was rising again. "But instead, as usual, you've put your interests ahead of everyone else's. Has it occurred to you, Cullen, that she could have been killed tonight?"
"Of course it occurred to me." He clenched his fists, fighting the emotions rippling through him. "And scared the hell out of me, as well. But again, I remind you, it was her choice to put herself into the line of fire. Not mine."
"And how do you figure that?" Philip asked, his voice deceptively soft.
"She's a professional. How many times do I have to say it? If she wasn't here, she'd be off on some other case, and for all you know it could be even worse."
Philip stood up, crossing over to the chair, towering over Cullen. "If anything happens to my daughter, Cullen, I swear on everything I hold holy that I'll kill you myself. Am I making myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Cullen said, holding himself together by the most tenuous of tethers.
Philip strode from the room, anger radiating with every step. Cullen could almost smell the rage. Or perhaps it was fear.
His fear.
Nothing was going as planned. Everything seemed to be falling apart.
Dear God, what had he done?
*****
"I'M SORRY, I didn't mean to sound so philosophical. Guess it's just the morbidity of the evening," Madison apologized, pulling the robe closer about her shoulders.
Gabe pushed away the last of his burger, and tried not to stare at the expanse of skin exposed by the vee of the robe. She'd hit a nerve. Several in fact, but he wasn't about to reveal more than he'd already let slip. If concentrating on her more salacious assets would keep his mind occupied and his mouth shut, then so be it.
"It was just talk." He shrugged, managing to keep his voice light, almost flip, but he could tell she wasn't buying. "You get enough to eat?"
She glanced down at her plate, looking almost surprised to see it empty. "I'm fine."
"There's still dessert." He lifted the lid on a piece of chocolate pie, his mind already picturing her savoring it.
"No thanks." She smiled, her expression suddenly guarded. "I think I've already had enough."
He wondered if there was really subtext to her words, or if he was merely projecting his emotions onto hers. Either way he needed to pull back. This wasn't what he wanted. If he couldn't still see the signs of her exhaustion, the barest hint of pain, he'd be heading for the nearest bar.
But he couldn't leave her on her own.
She needed someone with her. And if her father was out, so was Cullen. And he sure as hell wasn't going to leave her with Nigel or Payton. They were his friends, but he was also more than aware of the fact that they were full-blooded males, and Madison in a terrycloth robe would try the sexual patience of a saint.
And his friends weren't exactly deity material.
Harrison Blake was even worse. Just a friend. Yeah, right. Not unless the man was a eunuch. Gabe frowned, emotions swirling inside him with the force of a whirlwind.
"Are you okay?" Her face was creased with concern, the expression sending his heart hammering. If she only knew....
"I'm fine. I was just thinking about the case. About Bosner's murder." As soon as the words left his mouth he willed them back.
Her face tightened and she wrapped her arms around her waist, the combined gesture making her seem all at once lost and frightened.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
She shook her head, visibly pulling her emotions into control, or at least keeping them well masked. "Don't be ridiculous. It's our case. We have to talk about it. I don't know why I'm letting it get to me this way. I know better."
She said it as though she could control the emotion, but Gabe knew better. Guilt was an insidious thing, whittling its way deep inside you, twisting around your gut until it was almost inextricable.
"You can't control what you feel, Madison."
"Of course I can." The words were uttered with enough gusto for four people, but it still didn't sound as if she believed them. "I don't have a choice really, do I? Not if we're going to figure out who's behind all of this. One thing's for certain, I don't want Jeremy's death to have been for nothing."
He had to admit she had spunk. Still, he worried that suppressing it would only make it all that much worse later on. Not that there was a thing he could do about it. She had to find her own way. He, more than anyone, recognized the truth in that.
"They'll go over the apartment and the building across the way with a fine-toothed comb. If there's anything to find, we'll find it."
"That's just the problem." She chewed on her lower lip, a sure sign she was wrestling with something. "Whoever our assailant is, he doesn't make mistakes."
"Everyone makes mistakes. We just have to find them."
"Maybe." She was frowning now. "But it's almost like two different things are happening here. First the murders. And then the hacker and our attempt to catch him."
"What are you getting at?" Gabe asked, intrigued.
"I'm not sure really." She leaned forward, the robe gaping open a bit, but Gabe forced his mind to stay focused on her words. "The murders, even in the beginning, have been performed with a certain degree of skill. At first in an obvious attempt to avoid being caught, and then with the proficiency of a hit man."
"Right. You said earlier that it almost seemed like two different killers."
She nodded, her brow still furrowed in thought. "I think that makes sense. But what I'm talking about here would be a third player."
Gabe's eyebrow shot up in question, his disbelief palpable.
"Not a third killer," she clarified. "But I'm not convinced the hacker is related to our killer. At least not directly. I mean, look at the merry chase he's been leading us on. It's almost like he wants us to catch him."
"Which is the exact opposite of the killer. But maybe he's playing two games with us. A blatant attempt to confuse."
"Maybe." She tilted her head and sighed. "But it doesn't feel right to me. Why would he make the effort?"
"To distract us? Or maybe it is a separate person. Someone who is part of the same group and therefore honestly playing the role of decoy."
She sat back, playing with a now cold French fry. "It's possible. Maybe even makes sense. Especially since the diversion—if that's what it is—didn't start until we were on the job. But I'm still thinking the explanation is something more than that." She shook her head. "But I'll be damned if I know what."
"Payton and Harrison are working on finding something to tie W. Smith to a flesh-and-blood person. And if he's one and the same as the killer, we're in business. If not—" Gabe shrugged "—then maybe he'll be attached to our terrorists and through that link we can find the killer."
"All of which takes time." Madison stifled a yawn. "And that's something we simply don't have."
"In ten days. Which means that the Chinese are likely to go ballistic when they hear about Jeremy's murder. And unfortunately, there's not a lot we can do to soothe their fears. The truth is, someone out there is murdering people faster than we can process them. All of which spells trouble for both the consortium and the accord." She paused, her eyes saying what her mouth could not.
Cullen and the others were in immediate danger. And for Madison at least, that was more frightening than anything else the killer might hope to accomplish.
"Cullen knows how to take care of himself. I've seen the man in action, remember?"
"But you had his back." She was chewing her lip again, the strains of the day clear against the pallor of her face.
"I've got it again." Her face hardened, and he immediately amended the statement. "We've got his back." Unless Cullen was the one pulling the strings. Gabe didn't want to believe that, but it wasn't something he could ignore, either.
"We don't know that he's involved." Madison sighed, the lines around her eyes deepening. It seemed they were now communicating without words. A heady thought.
"All we can do is examine the evidence. You know as well as I do that eventually it will tell us what we want to know."
She nodded, but looked so forlorn, he reached out to touch her hand, not certain whether he was doing it for her or for him. He just knew he needed the contact.
Fire danced along his skin. He almost jerked back, but she turned her palm, her fingers closing around his.
"We'll make this right." It was as much a question as a statement, her eyes begging for reassurance.
His hellcat had a softer side, and the idea warmed him all the way through, her humanity lending her an air of vulnerability that he found enticing.
Hell, downright sexy.
Unfortunately she was also nearly asleep on her feet, which meant that her needs superseded his. So for the moment, it seemed, he'd been given a reprieve. Although it sure as hell didn't feel like one.
