Hidden Gabriel

by Pinder, Victoria

  She put her clenched fist in her mouth and bit on a finger. Then she covered her mouth and tried to stop her feet from rocking back and forth. If he answered that question, she’d believe him. All she needed was a rational explanation.

  20

  Late in the evening, Erica stood in the cold kitchen, and her hope slowly faded that he’d come back. She tried to relax, but Gabriel hadn’t returned.

  Outside, the night sky became darker, and the stars were the only bright things she could see from where the window was. Answers on how she’d tell weren’t forthcoming, though her shoulders were heavy. Her head spun. He had said he’d be back, but the house was so still. Eventually, she gave up and dropped her hands to her sides. She needed the missing puzzle pieces to figure this out herself. Gabriel had nothing to fear from her. If she stood around on the cold floor, she’d let the cold seep through her skin.

  She hugged herself and realized she had a room to search. Her fists clenched, then she turned toward the library. She swallowed and told herself she couldn’t be wrong about his innocence. A cold sweat broke out on her brow. She’d be in a whole lot of trouble otherwise.

  What was that thought?

  She headed back to the library and the secret room. Her thoughts were ridiculous. Gabriel was kind and sweet and perfect. Tiffany had hidden that news clipping, and there had to be more clues in her hideaway. If she had a secret place, she’d keep all her hopes and dreams in it.

  What happened to Tiffany, Alicia Hatfield, and Reilly O’Shea? All three people were dead, and Gabriel’s name had been mentioned multiple times as the main suspect. The weight on Erica’s shoulders was the opposite of the whispers in her heart.

  Yet he was here and not in jail. Murderers didn’t live at the scene of the crime. They went to jail. Unless, of course, there wasn’t enough evidence. No, she’d not go there.

  The man needed to answer a few questions, but he took a while to open up. Erica had never had much patience.

  Everything with him was almost perfect now. So what was wrong with her?

  She managed to silence herself. Then she took her first few steps into the warm room. She’d go mad if she waited around for the rational explanation that had to exist here. Her mind racing, she walked back to the library.

  What if he wasn’t what she hoped he was?

  Doubts had no place in her life.

  She pushed past the fireplace and its warmth of the library, headed right for the wall, and pushed it open. A sneeze escaped her nose. After a deep breath, she reminded herself to cover her face the next time she came in here. The dust swirled around. Then she coughed. She covered her face with her hands, though her eyes still watered. The shadow on the walls stayed, but everything else settled.

  A chill went down her back, and the tingle on the back of her neck returned. She rubbed her neck. Was someone here? This time the sense was stronger. It was like cold, metallic daggers boring into her neck. Someone hated her.

  No one was here, though. She squared her shoulders and headed farther in and toward the vanity, which had a second drawer.

  She opened it up. She found a few books and papers, and then her heart froze. Something didn’t add up here. The drawer was too shallow on the inside.

  With a knock at the wood on the ground, she heard the hollowness.

  Secrets. She picked the books and papers up and brushed her fingers against a false bottom. This could be the answer. With her fingernail, she traced the wood to find the groove, then picked up the switch.

  No! Her body twitched, and her breath caught in her throat. A gun.

  Erica’s hands shook. Why had Tiffany had a gun?

  Erica’s hands turned white. Her eyes wouldn’t blink. She closed her eyes and ignored the weapon. To keep warm, she hugged herself. How did Gabriel figure into this?

  Perhaps Tiffany had set him up. Erica’s theory might be right, and then Gabriel was innocent.

  The need for answers overwhelmed her, and she opened her eyes. She stared hard at the papers and book on the desk. She picked up the papers, rummaged through them, and found yet another news article that came off the same Internet site.

  Raphael Murphy, brother of Gabriel Murphy, was shot this morning at the Chateau Louis Ermons. The police have taken Gabriel into custody. Alicia Hatfield and Reilly O’Shea’s murders have not been linked yet, but share the same location and the same suspect. This reporter wonders when the arrest for the alleged murderer will take place. Tiffany Murphy has appeared publicly for the first time in over a year. She’s lost a lot of weight recently, but she’s vowed to close down the chateau. Raphael’s murder is the first in this series with a gun. Alicia fell down a flight of stairs, and O’Shea was poisoned. The murderer is growing bolder with every kill. Gabriel Murphy’s arrest will put this town at peace, though his lawyer, Quinton McDougal, states his client is innocent of all charges. Three murders near our sleepy town are causing a mass panic.

  The newspaper was scandalous and one-sided. The paper was clean and hadn’t yellowed as fast as the other.

  Gabriel had been arrested for his brother’s murder? How far did this go? Erica’s breathing became shallow.

  No. She’d not hyperventilate. She put her hands on her face to cover her nose and mouth and forced herself to take deeper breaths. Three murders. Plus his dead wife. Her pulse raced, and her brain, full of questions, took over.

  The woman might have had a gun to protect herself. It was a possible explanation. No one else would do this, though Tiffany might have been crazy. She had said multiple times Gabriel would kill her.

  The list of suspects for the police centered on the man who made Erica’s heart complete, but the diary entries also sounded like Tiffany had done everything.

  In war, the man had been captured and tortured.

  Erica rubbed her temples. She had a backbone in business, and she’d grow one here too. She stood and brushed her hands together to get the dirt off her. Had the events played out because of his posttraumatic stress and his inability to talk about it?

  The question swirled in her mind and her ears rang. To calm down, she locked her thoughts on her most likely suspect.

  Tiffany hadn’t cared enough about her husband to ask questions—that much had been obvious from the diary.

  Erica turned her head to the books on the vanity. She flipped one open and a receipt for a pharmacy fell out. At least seven different prescriptions had been purchased around the time of the murders. The name on them had faded out. Strange. Perhaps it had been rubbed out. The wrong dose of things could be a cause of death, at least according to celebrity death reports on her television.

  Or Tiffany had drugged Raphael into the entire affair. The diary had read “concoction to get him into bed,” hadn’t it? Erica rubbed her arms and wondered if the crazy thought was right.

  However, Gabriel had mentioned he saw a doctor, who had told him to work with his hands to keep busy.

  Erica’s mind swirled. She made a clicking noise in her mouth and decided the pills must have been Tiffany’s. This was her secret room, after all.

  Alicia had been poisoned. Erica flipped open the hardcover book of Murder on the Orient Express and blinked. Inside she found another diary, not the expected book.

  The first page told Erica plenty about Tiffany.

  The day of my wedding is when I saw my true love standing in the aisle. Raphael Murphy will be mine. Gabriel ships off to war in two weeks. I can pretend, then follow my heart. I pretended with Alan until I hooked Gabriel. His brother will be easier. He’ll check up on the lonely wife. Ha. I’ll set the groundwork for Mr. Sexy Brown Eyes when he comes over to help me out, and he’ll spend time with me. I guilted Gabriel into this marriage through one manipulation. Perhaps I can use a different approach with Raphael. I always get what I want.

  No woman in love wrote words like that. It would be so easy to blame her for Gabriel’s downfall.

  In his right frame of mind, Gabriel would have seen how manipulativ
e the woman was and divorced her. All of this could have been avoided if he had walked away.

  The man turned away from her countless times, so maybe he had learned his lesson.

  Another cough escaped her lips. Erica needed answers. The dust in the room made her nose itchy. Erica decided to take the book to her clean room and read there.

  A few minutes later, she closed the secret door in the library, and her throat and nose cleared. The fire crackled and the room was warm. Yet the back of her neck tingled. And the tension that someone stared at her dissipated the longer she stayed near the fire. Strange.

  Erica took a few more deep breaths, then let her shoulders relax. She found an empty notebook and a pen at a desk. Perhaps making a list would help her think more rationally.

  In a march, Erica returned to her bedroom. Then she shoved the book under her bed and went to the kitchen to start dinner and write up the list.

  Order helped her. She cooked, and the moment she put the chicken in the oven, she sat at the table with a pen.

  Could I love Gabriel? Yes.

  Can I forget my doubts? No.

  She bit her lower lip and wrote her next question. Do I want him in my life? Yes.

  Hmm. She shook her head. Next question. Can I accept murder in his past? No.

  In big letters, she wrote and underlined, GET HIS STORY.

  Tonight, she’d show him the room and the gun.

  No more delays. She’d get to the bottom of this. She’d push slowly with Gabriel. And she’d read more of the new diary. She didn’t expect him back soon.

  She lifted her chin and took the paper. Again the idea that someone was here remained her strongest instinct. Without a thought in her head, she went back to the library. Embers from the fire hypnotized her, and the feeling went away. The flames would destroy the paper in her hand. If some crazy ghost were here, they’d not get her list. She’d not leave anything to chance. She glanced around at all the walls.

  In a flash, Erica decided, and threw the paper to burn it in the fireplace. She watched the paper curl, and her words disappeared in the flames. No one would take that from her, not that anyone was really here. Ghosts were not real, and it wasn’t like anyone could sneak up the mountain. They were buried in snow. Outside, the snow couldn’t melt fast enough.

  Calmly, she went back to the kitchen. Gabriel’s footsteps echoed in the hallway a moment later, and heat rose in her body.

  He was back.

  She’d get her answers.

  21

  “I shouldn’t have walked away from you earlier.” Gabriel’s face had a tint of redness still. “I needed to think.”

  Erica gulped and kept her gaze on the oven even as he hugged her. But her smile spread. If she stared back, he’d see how much she cared for him. Then he kissed her cheek, and her heart raced. She’d never been stupid in her entire life until she came here. Now everything she thought about herself was false. Everything was turned upside down.

  She had no answer for what she should do, except her heart trembled near him. His hands on her stomach sent flutters throughout her body. Her head arched back the second he tugged at the loops on her jeans and sent hot embers of fire inside her.

  Again, he kissed her neck. A twinge raced through her. Then he murmured, “I need you, Erica.”

  “I need you too.” She sighed, and his hands held her so close. Despite everything, her heart begged for him.

  “Falling for you is dangerous.”

  “I like danger.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek; then his lower lip spread into a grin, like a sly boy’s.

  With a wink, he unzipped her pants, and his fingers traced her clit. Her cravings for him grew. He drew her pants lower, and he continued lower. She sighed as his hand grazed her curves.

  Her heat level rose, and he drew her farther backward.

  Finally, he picked her up and placed her on the kitchen table. She swallowed. Then he kissed her womanhood.

  Uncontrolled, her body convulsed and shuddered. His tongue joined in on the action, and she became heady.

  The second she arched her body, she spasmed and lost all control.

  Instinct took her, and her eyes rolled backward for a second time. He stood, unbuckled his jeans, and pushed his cock into her, holding her trembling body on the table.

  She reached out for him, and he pushed her backward. Finally, when he came, his release sent her into another earthshattering orbit.

  * * *

  Some time later, she tried to get up. He shook his head and kissed her bare stomach. “Stay there. I’ll get your dinner.”

  An unfamiliar satisfaction slowly left her body. Her lips twitched and she sat. She stared at him and licked her tingling lips. She stared at his naked body. He went to get the plates to put the food on. “Men like you don’t exist in real life.”

  He handed her a fork, and his huge bicep caught her gaze. She coughed.

  “Sure we do. We hide in the mountains, waiting for women to come to us.”

  “Funny.” She picked herself up and took a seat at the table. Falling in love with Gabriel was the easy part.

  Her body stayed limber, and she jiggled in her seat. He pushed the full plate in front of her and she raised her eyebrows. She stilled the second he leaned closer to explain. “You’ll need your strength tonight. Eat up.”

  “I will?”

  “I have erotic plans to eat you later.”

  Her mind screamed at her to stop this, but her heart had other intentions. She loved him, and she’d prove to herself she could trust her instincts. Without a care, she told him, “I’ve always wanted to role-play. You be the cop. I’ll be the bad-girl prostitute.”

  His eyes opened wide. “Damn, woman. Okay.”

  She ate fast, but she kept her stare directly at him. Now was not the time to think about love. She’d need the storm outside to end, so she had her options first.

  He winked at her.

  Her body stayed stimulated near him. And he ate decidedly slower with her rapt attention on him. She smiled and stared at him. She finished her plate. She stood to help clean her half, but he helped her rearrange her chair and, somehow, she ended up in his lap. She laughed, and he finished his dinner.

  The second he placed his fork down, he suckled on her neck. “Just a sample of dessert, Snowflake. Go put something on for our game. Meet you in the library, where you’re going to think you’re meeting a client.”

  A laugh escaped her throat. “And to think I used to be a good girl, in full control of my life.”

  “You were bored and waiting for me.”

  Hmm. That might be a very true statement, not that she’d admit that to him. “Going now. Go get ready to be the cop.”

  His eyes stayed on her departing form, and delightful wickedness coursed through her. She then ran out of the kitchen at full speed. She rushed into her room but in her haste, didn’t turn the light on. In the dark, she threw on a too-tight bra and a thong. Then she grabbed a pair of too-small red shoes and a shawl.

  Outside, lightning cracked in the air, followed by the growl of thunder. Erica jostled back for a second, and the move caused a huge crash in the closet. She surmised she’d started a chain reaction, and other shoes in her closet fell off the shelf in rapid succession.

  She checked the closet to see what she’d clean up later. Then she immediately glimpsed another news clip behind the shoes. That hadn’t been there before. Her heart pattered as she stepped into her room for light. Gabriel Murphy’s name was in bold letters.

  Her stomach tightened, and the food threatened to come up the wrong way. She clutched her belly and stumbled backward. She refused to faint. She caught herself and closed her eyes. She told herself everything had to be fine. Her body and soul craved that man in the library. These reports were lies. Erica picked up the small news article and forced her shoulders to relax. As she unfolded the article, her shoulders dropped and a smile returned to her face.

  It was a wedding announcement wi
th a picture. Gabriel was the handsome younger man. Erica’s fingers brushed against his shy smile in that photo. And Tiffany’s smirk in another red dress of hers spoke volumes. She had stood in his arms, but her reaction had not screamed happy. The picture spoke plenty. Erica became convinced. It hadn’t been a love match.

  Surely in an engagement photo a couple stood close together.

  Erica put it back on the shelf. She’d find it again and question him later. If he hadn’t loved her, why would he marry her? He didn’t seem stupid, so why didn’t he see who Tiffany truly was before the marriage?

  The lobby portrait of Tiffany played in her mind. Why would she have hung a picture of herself in a hotel lobby? And why was it still there? He’d have to take that portrait down.

  Erica wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and sauntered to the library. She spied him immediately with a new, button-down shirt on, and his hands tucked into his clean black dress slacks.

  She pasted a smile on. Her joking tone cracked a little. She said, “Are you looking for a good time, mister?”

  He raised his sexy, dark eyebrows. “What kind of good time, young lady?”

  Her shoulders tightened. Without intention, she glimpsed books on the floor. She must have not put everything back earlier. The weights in her stomach told her to tell him about the secret room now. Her knees weakened, though she forced a smile. Gabriel couldn’t find out about her doubts or the room the wrong way. She’d tell him right after.

  She hesitated, then met his gaze again, and her tensions dissipated. “The kind where we both get off.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Can you be more specific?”

  Her shoulder brushed up against him. To continue her charade, she dropped her shawl, smirked, and pressed into his body. “Your hard-on keeps on growing. For a price, I can take care of that.”