Endgame (Last Chance Series)

by Dee Davis

  MADISON SNUGGLED AGAINST Gabriel, aware that morning was near and there was reality to be faced, but just for the moment, she wanted nothing more than the feel of his arms around her, and the solidarity of the two of them against the world.

  It was a silly notion. A romantic fallacy. But somehow with him next to her everything seemed possible. Of course the world couldn't be held at bay long, and there were repercussions to everything, but she wasn't going to think about that now.

  "You're awake." His voice rumbled through his chest, and she snuggled even closer.

  "I was wishing we could keep the world out for just a little bit longer." Reluctantly she sat up, pushing the hair out of her face. "But I guess we can't."

  He rolled onto his back, his hand still linked with hers. "Maybe we can't stop the world from coming in, but that doesn't mean we can't be together."

  "No." She smiled down at him, her eyes soft. "But it makes it harder. I mean, if you were a plumber and I was a teacher, we'd buy a house and a ring and make two-point- five kids. But that's not who we are. We've said it before. You spend months at a time pretending to be someone you're not, and I spend my time trying to second-guess monsters. What kind of life is that?"

  His fingers tightened on hers. "Our life. For better or worse, it's who we are, Madison. And I don't believe that, just because we're outside the norm, we can't find happiness."

  She moved so that she was on top of him, his breathing matching the rhythm of hers, their bodies fitting like two halves of a whole. "I want that. But I'm afraid."

  His laugh was harsh, his gaze intense. "So am I. But I'm also determined to take the chance. To take a leap of faith. To believe in you—in us. It won't be easy. We're both headstrong, and reckless, and dedicated to our careers. But lots of couples are like that."

  "Most of them don't take their lives in their hands on a daily basis. You'll want me safe. And I won't be."

  He reached up to stroke her hair, pulling her head down against his shoulder. "I will want you safe. There's no question about it. But I also want you happy. And I know that to do that, you have to follow your heart, even if it leads you into danger. Just as I have to follow mine. Can you really say you would prefer that I take up plumbing?"

  She laughed, her heart feeling lighter. Whatever was in store for them, they were at least starting in the right place—with trust and understanding. It was a heady feeling. She lifted her head to kiss him, loving the feel of his morning stubble against her chin, his breath hot against her cheek.

  They made love leisurely, learning about each other, giving and taking, hearts and bodies joined, keeping the world at bay for just a little longer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  "HE'S ON HIS WAY?" Madison pulled Gabriel's comb through her hair and gave a last quick look in the mirror. She'd had a shower, and was wearing her sweater as a shirt, abandoning the suit jacket and blouse from yesterday, but she still felt as if she looked the part of lady ravished. And despite their talk, she wasn't certain she was ready to face the world with it written all over her face.

  "Yeah. Payton and Harrison are with him." Gabe looked rested and refreshed, the only outward sign of their nocturnal activities the gleam in his eye.

  Despite herself, she smiled, and catching sight of her face in the mirror, he pulled her back against him, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, the gesture comforting and sensual all at once.

  She turned so that she was facing him, searching his face. "You sure you're okay with this?"

  His eyes darkened, his thoughts turning to Nigel and his betrayal. "I have to be. There really isn't a choice."

  She nodded, reaching up to kiss him. "So let's do it."

  They broke apart, and Madison immediately missed the contact, but knew it was time to shift gears, to prove to herself she could be professional, even in the presence of the man she loved—especially in his presence.

  A knock at the door signaled that the time had come, and with a last glance at Gabriel, she took a seat on the sofa, ready for the inquisition to begin.

  Payton and Harrison looked as if they'd been up all night, and Madison was almost grateful to see that Harrison hadn't had time to change clothes, either. Nigel, on the other hand, looked as dapper as always.

  "What's with the tag team?" Nigel asked without preamble, his eyes hooded, suspicion coloring his expression. "Frick and Frack here hardly gave me a moment to piss. And unless I'm mistaken, I had a bodyguard well into the night, even after I retired to my room."

  Harrison shot a look of surprise in Nigel's direction and then sat down in the chair in the corner. "How'd you know we were there?"

  "My dear fellow," Nigel said, his accent seeming exaggerated, "it was hard to miss you. I wouldn't advise a career in surveillance."

  Harrison's ears turned red, a sure sign Nigel's barb had hit home, but he didn't say anything.

  "If you'd played it straight with us, there wouldn't have been the need for a baby-sitter." Payton shrugged, the gesture overly casual, but like Gabriel there were fine lines of tension etched into his face. "Did you kill Ernhardt Schmidt?"

  Nigel frowned, his gaze darting first to Payton and then to Gabriel. "Is that what this is all about? You think because I was there before you that I killed Schmidt?"

  "Did you?" Gabriel's tone brooked no small talk.

  Nigel swallowed visibly. "No."

  Gabriel nodded, and leaned back against the window sill, his arms crossed over his chest. If she hadn't been watching him so closely she'd have said he almost looked calm—but with close examination she could see the muscle ticking in his left cheek, the line of his mouth tight against clenched teeth.

  "We know about W. Smith, Nigel," Payton said. "It must have been one hell of a surprise when Harrison produced the real thing."

  Nigel eyed Payton coldly for a moment, shot a look at Gabriel, and then shrugged, dropping down to sit beside Madison. "What the hell. I could deny it all, but if I know Gabriel, you'll have proof in triplicate by now."

  "Why?" The word cost Gabriel a lot, but only Madison recognized the fact.

  Nigel shrugged again. "Because Downing Street wanted it that way."

  "You could have just declined my request."

  "And let Chinese commerce fall into American hands? My dear boy, that's not bloody likely."

  "But people died because of you." The words were out before Madison could stop them.

  Nigel turned to her, his expression scornful. "So what are you, fucking Pollyanna? In our world, winning costs, my dear. A couple of lives is nothing at all, believe me. I'd have thought you were made of sterner stuff."

  Anger flared, and then she saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. Nigel was posturing. Making the most of a very bad situation. She refrained from answering. Whatever he said now was purely in defense, and she'd not let him goad her into a response.

  "Well, the game's up now." She could have just imagined it, but she thought that she heard an additional edge of anger in Gabriel's voice. "And we need to know what all you've done."

  "If I tell you, I'll be handing you victory. And I don't think that's exactly in my best interests, do you?" Nigel had regained at least a semblance of calm.

  "Damn it, Nigel, cut your losses. Tell us what you know, and we'll make sure you're safely on British soil before the brass hears about this."

  "Cullen Pulaski?" Nigel's laugh was more like a hiss. "I hardly think I need to fear him."

  "Don't underestimate the man," Gabriel said, his eyes shooting sparks now. "And don't underestimate me."

  Nigel blanched, his face suddenly pale beneath his tan. "Are you threatening me?"

  "Let's just say I'm calling in all favors."

  "This accord means that much to you?" He frowned as he tried to understand. Then he shot a look at Madison, a small smile playing at his lips. "Or is it her? Has she brought out a streak of decency? Imagine that—after all these years." The smile turned to a sneer. "I'd have never pegged you for a sap, Gabe."r />
  Gabriel's fists clenched, and Madison willed him to see Nigel's words for what they were—bravado and bluster.

  "It's about honor among friends, Nigel. That's why we're even having this discussion," Payton said, obviously sensing the impending explosion, and cutting it off before it could begin. "We were under the mistaken notion that we owed you this much. I'm beginning to think we were wrong."

  "You hacked into the system and left the trail to Virginia," Harrison said, cutting through the building tension to bring things back to the issue at hand. "What I need to know is what else you did to the system."

  "Nothing that you haven't already found," Nigel said. "That was the whole point, and you performed admirably—beyond expectation, actually. Which is more than I can say for Payton." He shot a wry look in the other man's direction. "I hadn't counted on you remembering the attempted assassination. I assumed you had your mind on more mercenary objectives."

  "And Lin Yao didn't help matters, did he?" Payton asked, his tone light, belying the anger reflected in his eyes.

  "Well, at first, he played into my hands, actually, but then, in your usual thorough manner, you managed to throw things off, but I rallied with that bit of intelligence. You'll have to give me credit for that much." They might as well have been discussing the home farm over tea.

  "Enough with the recap," Gabriel boomed. "I need to know what else you've done."

  "I think you've managed to nail it all, old boy." Again the English accent was put on a bit thick, as if it were a shield; but then again, maybe it was.

  "What about Schmidt?" Madison asked.

  "What about him?" Nigel turned his banal gaze on her. "I've already said I didn't kill him."

  "Did you see the killer?"

  "No. And I would tell you that." His eyes softened ever so slightly. "I was sorry about your friend Jeremy."

  Madison bit back a retort. There was no guarantee that they could have stopped his murder even if Nigel had played fair. "How about at the first apartment—the ghost?"

  "Me, I'm afraid." Nigel grimaced. "Left a print, too. Although so far, Payton, you've missed calling it."

  "You wanted us to think someone was there." Madison was speaking to herself as much as Nigel, but he responded anyway.

  "That was the general idea. Look, I was just supposed to keep you distracted. Let things take their own course." His gaze met Madison's. "Even if people had to die. As I said, it's the price of doing business."

  "Well, the cost is too high." She knew she sounded priggish, but there had to be a line, didn't there?

  "Maybe." For a moment Nigel lost his buoyancy, his face almost gray, the strain obvious. "But it wasn't my choice to make."

  "What about the cell phone records?"

  "That was easy." He waved his hand in dismissal. "You wanted information fast. So you didn't really question it." Again he shot a look at Madison. "Except you."

  "But I didn't know."

  "Yes, you did. I saw it in your face." He smiled. "The pieces of the puzzle just weren't in place yet."

  It was an odd compliment, but she accepted it with a nod, feeling like she'd fallen down the rabbit hole along with Alice.

  "So where does this leave us?" Harrison asked, clearly as perplexed by the situation as she was.

  "It leaves me on a plane home, I suspect." Nigel shrugged. "And it leaves the rest of you a tad off your game. But I've no fear that you'll put it all right in no time. After all, the pieces are still the same, you just need to reassemble them—throwing out the bits I added, of course."

  "You'll need to talk to Cullen. Tell him what you've done." Payton sounded as if he'd rather pull teeth. Which wasn't a bad analogy, really.

  "Not me, mate. I'll exercise my right to a get-out-of-jail-free card. I'll not deny any of it if pressed, but I won't talk until I'm safe on British soil, as you so eloquently put it, Gabe." He stood up, straightening his collar and tie, his image as dapper Englishman restored.

  "You've already packed, I take it?" Gabriel asked, his face still shrouded with a combination of frustration and anger.

  "In the likely event that I'd need a fast getaway, I never really unpacked. And with the night's baby-sitters—" he tilted his head toward Harrison and Payton "—the writing seemed to be on the proverbial wall. So I guess this is it." He stuck his hand out "All's fair and all that?"

  Gabe ignored his hand, and refrained from comment.

  Nigel's face tightened at the affront "So it's to be like that, is it?"

  Gabriel's gaze met hers, and she tried for encouraging, but wasn't sure if she succeeded. There simply wasn't an easy fix for a situation like this. And despite the fact that she abhorred what Nigel had done, she also could see the strain between the three men, and understand their pain.

  "Right, then." Nigel dropped his hand. "I'll just be off." And with his head held high, he walked out of the room.

  Silence followed, heavy like a blanket or the first fall of snow, and Madison shivered in its wake.

  "So he just gets away with it?" Harrison said, his voice not much more than a whisper.

  "He'll be reprimanded. I called Langley this morning. They'll have already begun negotiations with the British. There'll at least be an attempt to save face. Nigel will get the brunt of it no doubt." His face was impassive, but the muscle in his cheek was ticking again.

  "He was lucky you let it go at that," Payton said.

  The two men exchanged glances, then Gabriel turned to face the window. "We need to reconsider the facts and come up with a new theory. And then we'll have to present it all to Cullen."

  "I can do that," Madison said, determined to shoulder some of the burden. "He'll listen to me."

  "We'll do it together." Gabriel turned around with a sigh, lines of exhaustion creasing his face. "But first let's figure out where the hell we are. There's still a murderer out there, and we've got to find him."

  *****

  "IF IT ISN'T the Chinese, then who the hell are we looking for? We've already identified at least twenty-five groups that have reason to want the accord to fail." Payton stood up to stretch, his attention still on the white board, and the list of names they'd written.

  "Well, we know it wasn't Ernhardt Schmidt, and that could possibly rule out any of the groups he worked for," Madison offered.

  She looked as tired as Gabe felt. What he'd like to do was pick her up and carry her away from all of this. To take her to bed and never come out again. But he couldn't allow himself to deviate from the mission. He needed to stay focused.

  "Right," Harrison was concurring. "We found a Walther WA2000 in his apartment, along with enough ammo to blow away half of New York."

  "But Jeremy's killer used a lighter gun," Payton said. "Maybe an M-16 or a Bushmaster. The cartridge was .223."

  "And Schmidt's rifle takes .300 Win Mag," Gabriel finished.

  "Isn't the Bushmaster the gun that was used by the Washington sniper?" Madison asked, her nose scrunched up in thought.

  "Yeah. I think so, why?" Harrison turned to look at her, recognizing as Gabe did that she'd come to a conclusion.

  "Well, it's probably nothing. But consider Schmidt. We're all agreed he's a pro, right?" She waited for everyone to nod, then continued. "And he had a Walther—what was it?"

  "WA2000. One of the best sniper rifles made." Gabriel was watching her now with interest.

  "Exactly. And expensive, no doubt," she said.

  "Something along the lines of ten grand, I'd guess, without any modifications." Payton looked to Gabriel for concurrence. He nodded, keeping his attention on Madison.

  "So, on the one hand, we have a professional killer, with a ten-thousand-dollar rifle and, on the other, we have a murder committed with a six-hundred-dollar rifle that could have been bought at almost any gun store in America."

  "So what are you saying?" Harrison frowned, trying to follow her logic.

  "Well, it's certainly not Schmidt. Even if we didn't have other evidence, I'd have to go off
the gun itself. Professional killers rarely change their choice of weapon. Stock-in-trade and all that. And they certainly don't use garden-variety weapons."

  "So you're saying the killer wasn't a pro? But if that's true how did he managed to off Schmidt?"

  "That's a bit of a puzzle, but leaving that aside for the moment, I think we can safely say that we're not dealing with a highly trained professional. Which could mean two things. First the person who hired our killer doesn't have or doesn't want to spend top dollar. And second, he quite possibly doesn't have the expertise or contacts to hire someone of Schmidt's caliber."

  "It's easy to hire a hit man, but quite another thing to find a mercenary. Is that what you're getting at?"

  "Yes." She nodded, shooting him a smile. "And that tells us something about our killer. He's not organized at an international level. He has enough money to hire someone, but isn't willing to take it to the level of someone like Schmidt. And none of that sounds to me like organized dissidents or terrorists."

  "So what is it?" Payton asked, his frustration cresting.

  "I don't know. But I think we need to take another look at our victims. Maybe in the wake of Nigel's deception, we've been on the wrong track. Maybe there's something else. Something besides the accord that links them together."

  "It's worth a shot." Gabriel trusted her instincts. He'd seen them in action on more than one occasion.

  He'd like to believe he would have eventually come to the same conclusions she had about Nigel, but the fact remained she got there first and she was dead-on. And with sudden conviction, he had a gut-level feeling that she was right this time, as well.

  "Harrison, let's dig deeper into their lives. Everything you can find about them. They're all public figures, it shouldn't be hard to put together a complete dossier. We're looking for commonalities. Anything in their pasts that might make them the target of this kind of violence. Payton, you help him. And in the meantime, Madison and I will go break the news to Cullen."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  "SO YOU JUST LET HIM walk away?" Cullen's voice was pitched so low, it was almost impossible to hear him, the vein beating at his temple threatening any second to explode. Gabe had to hand it to him, he was reacting better than expected. Or at least managing a modicum of control.