by Debra Dixon
The only thing stopping her from running to him was the fact that her legs wouldn’t move. She’d never been more thankful to see anyone in her entire life. As they got closer, she tried to spot bloodstains or any sign of weakness.
“I heard the shot. I thought—I was sure—”
“Nothing is ever sure, Emma. Which is why I’d like to introduce you to Joe Honeycutt. You can stop right there, Joe. Is he the one?”
Emily studied him, trying to find any feature that struck a chord. But there was none of the apprehension she’d felt in the bar. None of the recognition. Unexpectedly, a crushing disappointment filled her. The horrible waiting, Gabe’s risk, it had all been for nothing.
“No. It’s not him.”
“Didn’t think it was.” Gabe lowered the rifle. “But I couldn’t take a chance.”
Joe turned, dropping his hands but not his voice. “You are a lunatic!”
“Maybe, but I’ve got the gun.”
Joe settled himself down, moderating his voice. “I told you the lady wouldn’t know me. Give me my stuff like you promised.”
Gabe tossed him a wallet, which he caught with one hand. “I don’t think I can give you the rifle.”
“You don’t think you can— Do you know what that piece cost? What the scope cost?”
“Almost to the penny.” Gabe motioned for Emily to circle around and come to his side. “You want it back, Joe? Check at the police station in Rock Falls. You can claim it there. As a favor, I’ll report having found it leaning against a tree.”
“How the hell am I going to explain how I lost a rifle?”
“I don’t know,” Gabe said with what sounded like genuine concern. “Would it be easier if I took you to the ranger’s station? How much explanation do you think they’ll need?”
That shut Joe up long enough for Emily to ask, “What’s going on?”
Gabe systematically ejected the cartridges from the rifle. “Mr. Honeycutt is loaded for bear. Literally. Black bear. There’s a certain internal organ that’s a prized Oriental medicine component. Worth a thousand dollars. Then there’s the pelt and the meat.”
“He shot a bear? You mean he’s not—”
“No,” Gabe interrupted before she could say anything more. “He’s not. He’s just a bad shot with too much gun. Damn bear was probably groggy as hell, waking up just long enough to forage for food, and Joe here missed him anyway.” Gabe handed her the rifle and pulled his Beretta. “Go away, Mr. Honeycutt. My wife has a fondness for bears. I don’t want to keep her upset over this mess.”
The hunter was red with rage, but walked away. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are.”
“A concerned citizen.”
Gabe put his arm around Emily. She didn’t object. She needed some reassurance after that morning’s emotional roller coaster, and she doubted he’d ever offer again. Not after she told him about Patrick. Later, she promised, later, when she was calmer. When they were home.
After Honeycutt disappeared into the trees, she shivered. The cemetery, surrounded by the wilderness, was too quiet again. Honeycutt might have been harmless, but he was a reminder nevertheless that she was someone’s prey. A hunter was stalking, a hunter who wanted her dead.
“Are we through?” she asked. Emily pulled the pad out of her pocket and handed it to Gabe.
“No,” he said, an odd expression on his face. He lowered his head until his lips met hers. Awareness rushed through her, a chain reaction of feeling that erased the last of the numbness inside her. The kiss was deep and hard and quick.
Gabe pulled away and said, “We’re not through, but we can go.”
Neither of them spoke much on the way back to Rock Falls. Gabe thought Emma needed some time to come to terms with what had happened in the cemetery. This time they were lucky, but they both knew that luck ran out eventually.
True to his word, he stopped by the police station to turn in the rifle. “This will only take a minute,” he promised. “I’ll tell ’em why I’m here and then come back for the rifle.”
“Take as long as you need. I’m fine.”
Gabe didn’t believe that for a minute. Her voice was hollow, as if she operated on automatic. Her eyes totally confused him though. Fear, even terror, he expected to see, but not guilt. Once more he promised, “I won’t be long.”
The station was a little busier than yesterday, but not much. Willis was pointing out something in a folder to another officer. He handed the file off and waved Gabe over. “What brings you back so soon? Another rock?”
“No, my luck’s changing. I found a rifle in the woods up by my cabin. Expensive gun, with a scope to die for. I’m hoping no one will claim it.”
Willis snorted and finger-combed one of his sideburns. “Some rich hunter laid it up beside the tree and forgot it. He’ll be calling every official between here and Tacoma.”
“That’s what I figured too. I’ve got it out in the truck. Didn’t want to surprise you guys by walking in with a rifle. I’ve found out I don’t like being shot at in my old age.”
Looking around him, Willis spotted Emma in the truck. He straightened and grinned at Gabe, a sly grin. “That’s not all you got in that truck. Who is the babe?”
Gabe didn’t like his tone and didn’t like the way he leered. “Emma Gabriel. My not-so-ex-wife.”
“Message received.” Willis laughed and threw his hands up in a mock attempt to push Gabe back. “Bring her in. I’d like to meet her.”
“She’s shy.”
“She’ll be frozen by the time we finish with the paperwork. Come on.” Willis’s words were softly spoken, more invitation than order. “Bring her in.”
Gabe knew he’d made a tactical error. He should have dropped Emma at the bar first, but he hadn’t wanted to leave her alone that long. Their “couple” cover was designed to fool people who really didn’t care. Willis, on the other hand, was in the business of turning over rocks just to see what was under them. Trotting their act out in front of him would be like putting a show on Broadway without a rehearsal.
In this situation he didn’t have much choice but to raise the curtain.
“I’ll ask her,” Gabe told him.
“No, no.” Willis clapped him on the shoulder and walked out to the truck with him. “I’ll ask her. Then she can’t say no.”
The wiry young officer strolled out of the police station right behind Gabe, clapping him on the back and laughing at a joke of some kind. As soon as she saw the officer, Emily choked back a giggle and thought, Oh, my God. Elvis lives!
The urge to laugh faded the moment the officer approached the truck and gave her an oddly confident smile. By then she could see his eyes—blacker than dark brown but still not jet black. They seemed out of place and much too old for a cop several years younger than she. His face smiled, but those eyes didn’t. Those eyes were busy picking her apart and alarmed her much more than the stiff frown on Gabe’s face.
Gabe hauled open the door and nodded approval to the other man, who opened her door. “Emma, this is Derick Willis, one of Rock Falls’ finest. I’m going to have to answer some questions about the rifle, and he was afraid you’d be too cold out here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Derick leaned an arm casually against the edge of the door and held out his hand to help her down. “We couldn’t have a fatality in the parking lot of the station. You come on in, and I’ll get you a cup of coffee while you wait.”
Without Gabe having to tell her, Emily knew to tread carefully with this cop. Nothing she said would completely erase the suspicion she saw in the officer’s gaze. It seemed a natural part of the man, just like the badge. But the right attitude would soften his suspicion and turn it into simple curiosity. So “Emma” heaved a great big sigh of relief and threw herself at Derick as she scrambled out of the truck.
“Oh, thank you. I am so glad there is at least one man in this town who has the guts to stand up to Gabe. God knows why I married him, but the reason I divorced him
is coming back to me.” She spared a displeased look at Gabe—making sure Derick had a good view of the way her lip curled. “It was plain and simple jealousy.”
“Was it?” Derick shot Gabe a speculative glance. “I never figured Gabe for the jealous type. I never figured Gabe for the marrying kind either. He told me once he was a confirmed bachelor.”
Bingo, Emily thought. That’s why Derick was so pushy about her coming in. He’d caught Gabe in a lie.
“Ha!” she exploded, aiming her comment at Gabe. “Doesn’t that just figure. If the man had his way, he wouldn’t mention me to anyone. He’d keep me locked up in a room somewhere.” She crooked her finger for Derick to come closer, and prayed that Gabe would do his part. “The man is positively stone-henged.”
“That’s stone-aged,” Gabe snarled at her. “Stone-aged. If you’re going to insult me, then at least get it right.”
“Whatever.” Emily waved off his correction as if this were a longstanding argument.
Gabe grabbed the rifle and slammed the truck door. Looking pointedly at Derrick, he said, “See? And you wonder why I divorced her?”
“No, sir.” As Derick shut her door, he was smiling again, but this time it was with enjoyment. He liked seeing Gabe in a situation the former SEAL couldn’t handle. “I’m wondering why she married you.”
Emily circled her arm in Derick’s and tossed a victorious smirk in Gabe’s direction. He was waiting, and none too patiently, by the station door. She intended to add one last touch to her performance as the talkative, outspoken Emma Gabriel. But the performance ended as soon as she met his hungry gaze.
The attraction that was always between them, always lurking beneath the surface, flared to life. Her easy smile faltered, then disappeared completely as she realized her emotions went beyond sexual attraction. Gabe easily had as many flaws as he had virtues. Right now he was the only thing real in her life. The only person she could trust.
“Look at him,” she said softly, covering her confusion with the flip personality of Emma Gabriel. “How could a girl not marry him?”
Derick grinned at Gabe’s discomfort. “Mrs. Gabriel, I certainly like having you around.”
With that pronouncement of approval, the subject of their relationship seemed to have been satisfactorily covered. After the introductions around the squad room, Emily faded into the background. Taking her coffee from Derick with a murmured thank-you, she sat quietly in the extra chair he’d dragged over to his desk.
Questions about the rifle were short and simple. The coffee was surprisingly good. No one at the station paid any attention to her. And she paid very little attention to them until Derick dropped the bomb.
“That’s it on the rifle, Gabe, but I thought you’d want to know I got another report from my buddy. He’s still working with the marshals on that disappearance. Rubbing it in every chance he gets.”
Shock caused Emily’s throat to constrict, and she choked on a mouthful of coffee. Both men swiveled to check on her as she grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth. Gabe put his hand on her arm and squeezed gently as a warning while he made a production of banging her on the back. “You okay?”
Coughing and her eyes watering, she nodded. “Just went down the wrong way. Sorry,” she rasped. “Go on. I’m fine.” She was anything but fine, but she tried not to show it.
Derick leaned back in his chair. His gaze stayed on her long enough to make her uncomfortable. Finally he looked back at Gabe. “Well, there’s another little wrinkle. Something that happened before the pro turned up missing. Seems they’ve misplaced a witness. They got two marshals down at a safe house. Both dead. One of ’em went down hard.”
Emily held her coffee cup tightly with both hands, trying to steady it. A wave of nausea hit her as she silently pleaded, Not this way. Don’t let it be this way. Gabe would never forgive her if he found out this way.
“Two marshals down?” Gabe asked with a whistle. He let go of her arm, and leaned back in his chair too. “No wonder the Justice Department is pushing on this one. Sort of makes them all look like the boy wonder on a bad day. Who went down? Surely not experienced men?”
Why hadn’t she told him in the cemetery? Because it wasn’t the place. There was too much death there already, too much fear. Not that her reasons would matter now. It was too late. Emily closed her eyes and waited for her lies to unravel.
“Nobody’s saying who they are,” Derick said, “but how green could the guys have been? You don’t pull witness security detail if you’re fresh off the farm.”
For a few seconds the words made no sense at all, and then they suddenly clicked. Relief rushed through Emily so fast, the room swam. She had to fight a sigh. Derick didn’t know! He couldn’t tell Gabe.
“No, Justice doesn’t like ’em green,” Gabe agreed. “They like a little mileage on their men.”
“Well, they don’t like mileage on their witnesses and this one seems to have put the pedal to the metal. Popular opinion is that she’s still alive. She’s a rabbit going to ground.”
“Say a few prayers and maybe she’ll hop toward Washington and you can snare her.”
“No such luck, man. For the foreseeable future I’m filing reports and writing tickets. If it comes to that, they’ll call in the county mounties. Not me.”
Gabe got up. “Come on by the bar tonight. I’ll buy you a drink to cheer you up.”
“Just might do that. I want to have a chat with Sawyer Johns and Clayton Dover. A friendly chat.” Derick turned and nodded at her. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Gabriel.”
“Oh, call me Emma, please.” She struggled to pull herself together. She couldn’t blow it now. “All my friends call me Emma. Come to think of it—only women call me Emma. I don’t have any male friends, because no man has ever survived Gabe’s screening process. Maybe you could be the first?”
“He’s not interested, Emma,” Gabe informed her.
“See! The man is a ne’er-do-well.”
“Neanderthal,” Gabe corrected her. “Ne-an-derthal.”
Emily waved at him. “Whatever.”
Gabe groaned and dragged her by the arm. “We’re leaving now. Say good-bye, Emma.”
“Oh, sure. I find a new friend, and suddenly we’re leaving! See? Bye, Derick!”
She let herself be hauled toward the door, but another argument erupted before they got out the door, continuing unabated until they’d pulled away from the station.
“Not bad, Mrs. Gabriel,” Gabe said as they turned the corner. “Not bad at all. We might survive this yet.”
Emily let her head rest against the seat, a strange exhilaration welling up inside her. “I can’t believe I was in a police station, talking about me, and they didn’t even know.”
“Safest place to hide is in plain sight.”
Straightening up, Emily shoved her hair back from her face. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d gone to pump him for information? And what was he talking about? Why am I another wrinkle?”
“Yesterday, all he knew was that Joseph Bookman disappeared in transit.”
“W-what?” Emily held herself very still, as if that would change his answer to something she liked better.
“My guess is that when the marshals found out about the farmhouse, they tried to move Bookman. Or that Bookman found out that the attempt on you failed; probably figured he was next. So he struck a deal, and they moved him for security. Whoever got to you probably had the juice to get to Bookman even in jail. The only question seems to be whether or not Bookman’s dead.” He paused. “No bodies have turned up.”
“And that’s bad?” Emily asked, knowing in her heart that it was.
“Yeah. If Bookman’s not dead, he’s looking for you too.”
“He won’t stop until he finds me. Will he?”
“No.”
She tried not to let it bother her. What was one more gun pointed in her direction? Seemed like everyone had a gun. Everyone wanted to kill her.
Emily stared ou
t the window. It bothered her. It terrified her. And so did what she had to do next. She had to tell Gabe.
When the bar loomed in front of them, the liquor distributor’s truck was backing up to leave. Gabe wheeled into the parking lot and jumped out almost before they stopped rolling. In the end he had to bribe the guy into hanging around long enough to unload. He was obsessively attached to his schedule, and Gabe had already kept him waiting fifteen minutes.
Emily left Gabe to deal with the driver and disappeared upstairs. She paced until her gaze found the mess of files on Gabe’s desk. To give herself something to do with her hands, she began straightening pages that stuck out of the folders at every angle imaginable. Each time the steps creaked, she caught her breath, afraid that the time had come to face Gabe and confess. When Wart jumped off the pool table onto the floor behind her, she startled so badly, the file went flying out of her hands, scattering papers everywhere.
“Oh, damn. Now see what you’ve done?” she asked him as she knelt down to gather up the pages. Wart kept butting his head against her hands, oblivious of the havoc he’d caused. “I am not in the mood for this, cat. He’s going to be mad enough. These are his supplier faxes, and they’re all dated, which means I’ve got to put them back in order before—”
The document in her hand was dated the day she’d arrived, and it was addressed not to a supplier but to Patrick.
Who was already dead before the fax was sent.
She read it twice, telling herself that it was coincidence. That Gabe never really sent it, or the special Christmas present he mentioned was a set of golf clubs or maybe a microwave for Patrick’s mother—any present that would be tough to wrap. But there wasn’t a present in sight.
Only her.
She wasn’t certain how long she sat there before she heard Gabe’s familiar footfall on the stairs. She was certain, however, that the only man she could trust couldn’t be trusted at all.
No one could.
Her parents had wanted a child only so they could shape and mold her into an Olympic gold medalist, a dream they hadn’t been able to achieve for themselves. Her coaches had used her talent to launch careers. Her corporate sponsors wanted her face, but at least they had offered to pay for the privilege. The government wanted her as leverage. Everyone had an agenda.
