Gabriel shook his head. "I'll lead. I--"
"You don't have my night vision. You don't have my stealth. Keep your gun out and stay behind me."
Gabriel stiffened at that, but Ricky ignored him and started moving, fingers over his flashlight beam to keep it low. He searched methodically...just like Liv obviously had. The moment he saw those Xs on the doors, he knew they were hers. When they found a room with manacles and leg irons, Gabriel marched over, ignoring Ricky's "Hold on." He grabbed the metal and, yep, once burned, twice not shy, at least if it was Gabriel in search of Olivia.
Ricky only sighed while Gabriel gave his reinjured hand a quick shake, as if the pain was a minor annoyance. There was blood on the wall, but Ricky could tell it was old. Gabriel had to check that, too, giving a grunt of satisfaction and then striding back into the hall. Ricky swung in front of him with "Uh-uh, fae in the rear, Cwn Annwn in the lead."
They continued down the hall. After about five paces Ricky said, "Once we find Liv, I'm going to ask you to do something, Gabriel."
A grunt from behind.
"I understand she's your employee," Ricky said. "But I'd like you to restrict your relationship to that."
Silence for at least ten seconds. Then, "What?"
"I'm asking you--no, I'm telling you--to back off. With Liv."
"I have never--" The indignant reply stopped short, and Ricky felt his breath hitch.
Why can't you finish that sentence, Gabriel? What have you done?
Ricky pushed back the lick of jealousy. Nothing had happened between them. He trusted Liv too much for that. Even if there'd been a slip, her guilt would have made her confess. Unless...
"You've never what, Gabriel? Never made a move on her? Is that what you were trying to say?"
"This is not the time--"
"So you did." He resisted the urge to glance back. Just keep moving. Play this out, but don't stop looking for Liv. "Let me guess...she was caught up in a vision and mistook you for Gwynn."
"If you have anything to say to me, Ricky, you can say it later. We're trying to find Olivia, and carrying on a conversation--"
"I don't want you to see Liv socially anymore."
"I believe that is up to Olivia," Gabriel said, his voice ice.
"Nope, it's not. She loves me, and I can make her choose, and we both know who she'll pick. She's mine. Even if she wanted to leave? Too bad. I keep what's mine."
Ricky could feel waves of hate and cold rage rolling against his back. He took three more steps and then said, "Are you going to shoot me, Gabriel?"
Silence. Then, "What?"
"You have a loaded gun at my back. Seems a little familiar, doesn't it?"
Gabriel said nothing, and Ricky continued fighting the urge to turn around.
"Liv told me about the vision. So I'm giving you a second chance."
"Second chance?"
"To kill me."
It'd been quiet before. Now the silence hung there, heavy, expanding, filling the corridor as Ricky stopped walking, his back still to Gabriel.
"Third chance, actually," Ricky said. "You had two in the psych hospital. First when I fell out of the belfry."
"I didn't. I wouldn't--"
"Then Tristan tried to make you do it. You didn't hesitate then--you wouldn't kill me for him. But the first time? Yeah, the first time, it took you a few extra seconds to decide to pull me up."
"I would never--"
"Right." Ricky turned around then. "You wouldn't. But that one moment where you considered it is driving you crazy. You can't forget that you imagined what it would be like. Kill me. Get me out of the way. Have Liv for yourself." Ricky lifted his hands over his head. "Go ahead and shoot."
Gabriel glowered at him. Then he bent, put the gun on the ground, straightened, and crossed his arms.
"So you won't kill me?" Ricky said.
"Never."
"Mmm, I wouldn't say never. If I lost my mind and threatened Liv, you'd kill me. I'd expect you to. But not for this. You would never kill me..." Ricky picked up the gun. "And I would never take her away from you."
Gabriel's eyes narrowed.
"Yeah," Ricky said. "I was just riling you up. Liv told me about the vision of those kids. The boys from the fifties. She was freaked out because she'd wanted you to see a good side of Gwynn, and instead you got that. I decided that you and I need to move past this. Prove that you aren't going to shoot me in the back or push me off a balcony. I'd say it's proving you aren't Gwynn, but that's bullshit. Gwynn wouldn't have killed Arawn. If he could have, that might have solved a whole lotta problems. But he wasn't that guy. Neither are you."
Ricky looked at Gabriel. "And yeah, you're probably thinking this really wasn't the time for this crap, but notice that I didn't stop moving until now. And I needed you distracted enough, worrying about Liv, not to question my acting. Now we need to find Liv. But before we do, I'm going to make you a promise, Gabriel, and I need you to make the same back. I will never interfere with your friendship with Liv. Ever. Now, your turn."
Gabriel's brow furrowed.
"Promise me that you'll never interfere with my friendship with Liv."
"With your relationship?"
"No, my friendship. Whatever happens with our relationship, you will not interfere with our friendship. I want your vow."
Gabriel gave it.
Ricky handed him back the gun. Then he took the cartridge from his pocket and passed it over.
"You'll need this," he said.
"The gun wasn't loaded?"
Ricky snorted and continued down the corridor. "I trust you, Gabriel. But I'm not crazy."
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The knife at my throat wasn't nearly as heart-stopping as it should have been. Okay, maybe my heart did skip a beat, but my body moved straight into survival mode, thanks again to Ricky's training. Also thanks to the fact that Melanie wasn't exactly skilled with a blade.
I grabbed her arm and wrenched it from my neck before she could do more than gasp. This time, though, she didn't release the knife. Her wrist flicked, the tip of the blade catching me. The bullet wound in my side blazed as I twisted, and blood from the knife slice welled up along my forearm, but I kept pulling her down, my other hand going to grab hers, both of us gripping the knife, her trying to slash, me madly struggling to break her hold in any way--
Bone snapped. Her wrist. She let out a howl of pain, and from somewhere through the next doorway I heard an answering cry. But we were already grappling on the floor, the knife knocked aside, the two of us locked in a hold, Melanie grabbing my hair with her good hand, me kneeing her as I gripped her broken wrist, squeezing until she yowled in pain and--
"Gods, Pepper," Melanie's voice said from some distant place. "Stop being such a baby. We all need to pull our weight."
I was standing in a room. Sunset glowed through the window. Melanie was getting dressed for the hunt, wriggling into a miniskirt, while Pepper watched and nibbled at her lip.
"I don't like him," Pepper said. "I'm sorry, Mel. I can't. Not him. Can't I go with you? I like that better. It's easier."
"This isn't about what you like," Melanie snapped. "It's survival. When you come with me, I do the work and you get to share the reward. That's not fair."
"Can we go back to how we did it before? I'm good at picking pockets. I bring in more money than anyone else. I do more chores, too. That's fair, isn't it?"
Melanie turned, sighing, and put her arm around Pepper. "I know, ee mikri mou. That is fair. But after nearly getting shot in that drive-by last month, I realized if I'm gone, you need to be able to take care of yourself--to feed yourself. We'll still mostly do it the old way. You bring in the money and do extra chores, and you can share my feedings. But now and then, you need to feed yourself. Show me you can do it."
Pepper nodded, her gaze dropping. "Okay."
Melanie hugged her. "I'm only trying to protect you. You understand that, right, Pep?"
Another nod.
"This guy is a creep, but he's an easy mark. Let him take you to his cabin for the weekend, and you'll get plenty of food with little effort." She winked and nudged Pepper. "Believe me, very little effort. Five seconds and he's done. Now get yourself dolled up and I'll see you on Monday."
The vision broke, and I found myself under Melanie, my fingers still around her wrist, hers still in my hair, both of us frozen.
"You sent Pepper to that guy," I said. "The one who hurt her."
Melanie's eyes went wide as she realized what I'd seen. Then she snarled, "That was my memory! You stole--"
"You set her up."
"No! I sent her on an easy job. He'd never done anything like that before. I would never have let her go if I had any clue--"
"But you still blame yourself. That's what all this is about. You did this to her, and now you're determined to fix it, at any cost."
"Melanie! No!" It was Aunika's voice, and I glanced up to see her racing into the room with Pepper, a cut rope still dangling from one of Aunika's wrists.
Pepper saw us and her eyes rounded. She let out a howl and raced toward us, and I braced for her to attack me, but instead she grabbed the back of Melanie's shirt, pulling her off me.
Still blinded with rage, Melanie lashed out with her good hand. The blow caught Pepper in the knees and sent her toppling backward. Her head struck the wall with a dull thwack.
Melanie scrambled off me and raced to Pepper's side. She dropped beside her, grabbing her limp hand and saying, "No, baby. No. Please. I didn't mean...I never meant..."
She kept apologizing as I scooped up the blade. Aunika lowered herself beside Pepper, checked her vital signs, and said, "She's alive," and Melanie collapsed, sobbing.
--
The guys arrived a few minutes later. Well, Ricky did, Gabriel not fitting through that crawl passage. Ricky took one look at the situation and said, "Everything under control?" and as soon as I nodded, he hugged me and whispered, "Better run and tell the big guy you're okay, or he's going to squeeze into that tunnel and get stuck."
I kissed his cheek, and then took off to find Gabriel.
--
Melanie was banished. Banished from Cainsville. Banished from Chicago. The Cwn Annwn agreed not to pursue her if she left the state altogether. Pepper would stay in Cainsville indefinitely and that was, for Melanie, both blessing and curse. She got what she'd wanted most...in the worst possible way.
Aunika returned to Chicago after a night in Cainsville and Dr. Webster making sure she was physically sound. Melanie had kept her healthy. Mentally, though? Her sister was dead, her brother-in-law was dead. Most of the lamiae she'd cared for were dead or exiled. If I could help her get back on track, I would, but this wasn't the time for her to plan a new life. First, she had to mourn the old one.
I'd refused to go to a hospital. That had not gone over well, but my reasoning was far more sound than "I don't like them." I'd been shot. I'd need to report that. If I was in serious condition, we'd have worked things out. But Ricky examined the wound and confirmed it was little more than a graze. Well, a gouge. A deep one. I was not in mortal or even serious danger, though, so they agreed I could be treated in Cainsville. We just didn't mention the gunshot part to Dr. Webster, and if she knew, she said nothing, just cleaned and plastered the gash and gave me painkillers.
The first night, I stayed at Rose's with both Gabriel and Ricky there, as if I needed three people to ensure I got my ass to a hospital if my situation deteriorated. Fortunately, it did not. I rested the next day. That night, I insisted on tending to the bodies in the tunnel, taking the lamiae to the forest and burying the boy in consecrated ground.
Afterward, Gabriel and I went to the Carew house, but without painkillers to keep me asleep I tossed and turned, plagued by memories and nightmares. When I woke with a nightmare-induced cry, Gabriel was in my room so fast you'd have thought I'd been shot again. I assured him I was fine--just startled by waking up in an unfamiliar place. I lay in bed long enough for him to fall back to sleep, then I slid out and crept down the stairs to the living room with a book.
I'd intended to grab a blanket and pillows from my room but forgot, and once I was down there, all I could do was collapse on the couch and stare out the window, book in hand. I'd been there a few minutes when I caught the squeak of bare feet on hardwood, and I looked up just as Gabriel was walking away, having apparently come to check on me and decided all was fine. Another minute later, though, he returned with a blanket and pillows, and I managed a smile for him.
"Thank you."
He nodded at the novel as he handed them to me. "You'll need light to read that. If you actually intend to. I certainly hope you don't feel obligated."
I glanced down to realize it was Patrick's book. "No, I'll try it. Which isn't to say I'll finish it, but I'll give it a go."
He motioned to the table lamp.
I shook my head and set the book aside. "Can't sleep, and I wanted to do something instead of just staring at my bedroom wall, but..." I shrugged.
"If it's the pain, you should take something. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't like relying on medication."
Another wry smile for him. "We're tougher than that, right?"
"No, simply more stubborn."
I laughed softly. "True." I looked over at him, his face cast in shadow. "I'll be fine if you want to sleep. But if you'd like to stay..."
I motioned at the other end of the sofa. He sat, and I moved my feet out of his way, but he lifted them and put them on his lap.
"If it's not the pain, is it the house? Or the case?" he asked.
"Of every murder we've investigated, I hate this solution the most. I mean, obviously, finding out Pamela was an accomplice to James's death hurt the most. But I understood it. This one..."
"You don't understand?"
"I do and I don't, and it keeps going around and around in my head, like a conundrum I need to solve, and I just can't."
"If you're at all concerned that Melanie wasn't responsible--"
"No, she was. The problem is how I feel about it. What she did. What Ciro did. Terrible things because they loved someone. Melanie to protect Pepper and ease her suffering. Ciro to get Lucy back and ease his own suffering. There was guilt there, too, in both. Melanie blamed herself for sending Pepper on that job. Ciro blamed himself for not getting Lucy farther away from the lamiae. I hate what they did. I want to write them off the same way I did Edgar Chandler and Macy Shaw and Tristan. Cold-blooded killers." I glanced at him. "You're right, you know."
"About what?"
"Motive. You said it wasn't important. It shouldn't be. Judge them for what they did, not why they did it. I know that isn't what you meant, but motive it muddles everything, and I want cut-and-dried. I want..."
"Monsters."
I twisted to look at him. "Yes, damn it. I want monsters."
Several long minutes of silence passed. Then he said, softly, "This isn't really about Melanie and Ciro. It's about Pamela."
I didn't respond. Couldn't.
"It would be easier if she were a monster," he said. "It would be even easier if she killed four monsters to cure you and could therefore be absolved. But there's James."
I nodded, my eyes filling with tears. "Whatever James did to me, he did it under compulsion, and he was never an actual threat. And there's you, too. What she tried to do to you."
He straightened. "Disregard that. It was a poor effort, and I survived it unscathed."
"No, Gabriel. I cannot disregard that. You may--I will not. Ever."
"She thought she was protecting you. And I believe the other cases feed into another, unspoken, aspect of it--that she blames herself. As Melanie and Ciro did. She bore a child, knowing her blood came with risks. That led to you having spina bifida. Then you were in danger from James and from me because of everything that's happened since you discovered she's your mother. That does not excuse what she did. But it is not as simple as 'Pamela Larsen is a monster.' "
/>
I went quiet, a distant clock ticking. "I don't know how to reconcile that," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I want to put her out of my life. I know I said I was fine with you handling her case, and logically I am, but emotionally..." I shook my head. "There's a reason I haven't done one single minute of work on it."
Silence. Then, in that same soft tone, "If I refuse to represent Pamela..."
"The chances of freeing my father plummet. I won't have that. I can't. I need to accept that setting my father free might also free Pamela."
"Yes." That's all he said. All that could be said.
"Can we talk about that?" I said. "Just talk. I know that's not really your thing--"
"I'm here, Olivia. For anything you need."
When I still hesitated, he put out his hand. I took it, and he tugged me to sit beside him, so I could lean back against his shoulder.
"Talk to me," he said.
And I did.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
A week later, I was back where it all began: in the clubhouse with Ricky. No business to attend to, just hanging out, playing darts and poker, drinking and having a good time. We stayed until it cleared out. Then we took off for the backwoods, one of the last times we'd get the chance before winter set in.
A hunt, a chase and sex, wonderful and wild sex. Afterward, I discovered this was no spontaneous trip. Ricky had left a care package out there--a blanket, sleeping bag, champagne, and an assortment of snacks ranging from strawberries to chocolate.
"What are we celebrating?" I asked as I sipped my champagne.
"Us."
Which was as good a cause as any, and we drank and ate and talked, and capped off the evening making love under the stars. It was as perfect a night as I could imagine, and when I woke the next morning, snuggled into his arms, he said, "I love you. You know that, right?" and there was something in his voice...
I looked up at him. "I love you, too," I said carefully.
"I mean it," he said. "This is like nothing I've ever had before. Like nothing I thought I would have."
I nodded, still feeling a buzz of uncertainty, that tone in his voice...
He shifted and tugged me on top, so I was looking down at him. "I thought I had it good before. Everything going according to plan. That was good. It was comfortable. And I was perfectly content. Happy, even. Then you came along and shot those plans out the door, shot that life out the door, and it's like skidding on the bike, when you know you haven't lost control yet but you're right there, on the edge, and it's fucking incredible and..." He exhaled. "Shit, I really suck at metaphors."
Betrayals Page 33
