Betrayed by Blood: The Shelton Family Legacy : 1

by L. A. McGinnis

  Not surprising, given the amount of information we had to process.

  That’s what I was doing right now. Processing.

  Dawson’s hard as a rock sofa was doing a number on my sore back, although I snagged a pillow off the matching chair. How I’d ended up here was somewhat of a mystery. Gabriel had offered up his penthouse, and I’d been about to accept when Henry quickly intervened, saying he and Dawson would like the company. They’d hurried me out of there, before Gabriel or myself even thought to protest.

  So here I was, uncomfortable as hell, trying not to listen for bedsprings creaking overhead when that’s pretty much all I was doing. Human nature, I guess. We’re a curious lot.

  Funny thing was, I hadn’t so much as thought about leaving New York in the past few hours. Aside from the sheer amount of information dumped on me, I still felt oddly hopeful. I hadn’t felt hopeful in Seattle. I’d felt trapped. Caught between Knight and Bennett and trying to eke out a living on my own, somehow, I’d lost my zest for life.

  I finally had it back; all it took was me almost getting killed in prison and having my deepest, darkest secret revealed. But oddly enough, I felt freer right now than I had my whole adult life.

  Whether Gabriel had anything to do with the way I felt… I didn’t know. I thought he probably did, but my feelings for him were so complicated that every time I explored a memory, it only led to more. I did know I had faith in him. I trusted him, and I wanted to see this through. With him.

  Which was, in turns, wonderful and frightening at the same time.

  Not trusting anyone puts you in an irrevocable position of power. Nobody can hurt you, and nobody can ask anything of you. I liked that. Leaving it behind made me feel unbalanced.

  My phone, which lay on my chest, vibrated. I picked it up and smiled when I saw the name. Nerddevil1.

  You up?

  I am now, thanks.

  Don’t lie to me. I know Dawson put you on the antique settee.

  Look at you, all fancy. Seeetteeeeee. I refrained from texting him the word over and over, which would be sure to annoy the crap out of him.

  Did you know she has a fully appointed guest room upstairs?

  Not going up there. They might be… doing it.

  So what if they are? Wouldn’t you rather be comfortable?

  By the time I read his last text, I was already on my feet and heading for the stairs. The house had wood floors, which creaked horribly, but I found the guest room with no problem, along with a note from Dawson:

  We’re taking bets on how many nights you spend on the couch.

  Don’t let me down, I had five. Henry has three.

  How many nights did you bet I’d spend on the couch? I texted to Gabriel, settling into the soft-as-a-cloud bed. After the week I’d had, the feeling of comfort was indescribable.

  One, hence the inside info.

  You are such a gem. I typed, erasing the fucking asshole I’d typed in first and replacing it with gem before I hit send.

  Also, there’s a bolo out for your arrest, filed by a Detective Martin Bennett, first class.

  I stared at the phone screen, my comfortable surroundings forgotten.

  He is so not. Third class, at best. I typed quickly, adding, Why would you tell me this, right before I fell asleep?

  Sorry, just thought you should know before you venture out tomorrow morning.

  Okay, so I’ll give him that. Looking out for my best interest and everything, but fuck, now I wouldn’t sleep a wink.

  I woke the next morning to the smell of bacon, pulling me out of my warm bed with its salty-fatty siren’s song. And freshly ground coffee, which Dawson swore she didn’t have.

  It was still dark outside, but Henry was already flipping pancakes, a towering pile of bacon on the sideboard, and gestured toward the coffeepot with his spatula. “Just made it, help yourself.”

  He went back to flipping pancakes, putting his back to me. Which was fine, for about the first five minutes. After that, it got weird.

  “Bet you’re happy to be back home,” I finally said, figuring he wasn’t much of a morning person, despite the appearance he’d been up for hours. “Coffee’s good,” was my second attempt at human contact. Nothing.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?” Nada.

  “Morning baby,” Dawson crooned as she glided into the kitchen, her bright fuschia robe and slippers not a surprise at all. She wrapped her arms around Henry for a morning snuggle, then jerked when she noticed me.

  “Wow, you’re hurting my eyes,” I needled, sipping my coffee as I watched their PDA. “Just a little too early for all of… this.”

  “You’re still here? You haven’t told her, have you?” Dawson accused, pulling away. “Henry, you promised you would. You know I don’t want to deal with this.”

  “Tell me what?”

  Dawson’s slippers made a hissing sound against the floor as she crossed to get her own cup of coffee, taking the seat opposite mine. “He was supposed to talk to you this morning. About Gabriel.”

  “He certainly had his chance,” I said, a little bit miffed that he’d just ignored me for like five whole minutes. “What’s up with Gabriel? He looks like he’s got things well under control.”

  “It’s not him,” Dawson snapped. “It’s you.” She looked over the rim of her cup with narrowed eyes. “We don’t want you to screw things up for him.” She frowned, trying to pick better words. She wasn’t successful. “He’s at the top of his game. You aren’t. We know you have a bad track record when it comes to relationships.”

  “I had Lincoln,” I protested, unsure how my morning cup of coffee had somehow turned into a full-blown intervention. “I’m great with people. Great.”

  “You’re a walking disaster who drags her problems everywhere she goes. Did you know that detective is still in town? He has a bolo out for you, and if he catches you, it will mess up years of planning. Not to mention what it will do to Gabriel’s reputation.” Her voice softened when she said his name, right about the time I realized what this was all about.

  I set my cup down carefully. “You’re trying to protect Gabriel. From me.”

  “It’s not like that, not exactly. Gabriel’s practically a son to us. He’s worked hard to get where he’s at,” Henry said, finally turning to face me. “We just don’t want to see him get hurt.”

  “What makes you think I’ll hurt him?”

  Dawson snorted into her coffee, and they traded a sideways glance, one that said, You are dangerous, and we’re not allowing you anywhere near our boy.

  “He’s all we have,” Dawson finally admitted. “We never had children and Gabriel… he’s filled that role for us. It’s our job to protect him… a parent’s job is to keep their children safe.” She and Henry shared a long, meaningful look. “Everything in our lives was perfect until you showed up.”

  “Does this have anything to do with me being a Shelton?” When neither answered, I took that as a resounding yes. “Everything was just peachy until you found out who I really was.”

  “Andy,” Henry said gently, “you show up out of the blue, hiding who you really are. We only know your reputation, through Lincoln’s stories. You have to admit, the timing is… suspicious. And Lincoln’s dead.” His gaze hardened slightly. “According to the bolo, you’re the prime murder suspect. Use your PI skills. This doesn’t look good.”

  “I didn’t kill Lincoln,” I snapped. “Nor am I about to hurt Gabriel.”

  “Told you she’d take it badly,” Dawson murmured as Henry set the heaping plate of pancakes between us. “You should have done this yourself.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered,” Henry pointed out with a trace of regret, taking his seat and acting like I wasn’t even here. “The message is still the same.” But then he lifted his eyes to mine, and I clearly saw the warning in them. Stay away from Gabriel.

  “Message received,” I told them, dumping my coffee in the sink. “Loud and clear.”

  With
out another word, I headed for the door, and neither of them stopped me. Hunched against the pre-dawn chill, I walked to the train station with no particular destination in mind, but I did have twenty dollars, which I figured would get me to the city. I spent the ride into Manhattan weighing my options, which were, amazingly, even fewer than they’d been when I arrived in this godforsaken city.

  It was barely dawn, and the rays streaming between the buildings gilded the windows bright pink and gold. For being so tainted with bad memories, the sun, at least, made the city look magical.

  Something strange happens when you’re abandoned as a child. All you really want, for the rest of your life, is for people to like you. Dawson and Henry definitely didn’t like me, and that hurt. But worse was the idea that I wasn’t good enough for Gabriel. My own self-esteem issues aside, I would have liked to decide that for myself, rather than hear it come out of someone else’s mouth. One thing was for sure, I wasn’t staying somewhere I wasn’t wanted.

  I waved to ham-sandwich guy as I passed, and he raised a bagel to me in salute. “Still calling you ham-sandwich guy,” I murmured as I pushed through the door, only to find an empty, cavernous space. All the machines were dark, and somehow, without the hum of disc drives, the place felt abandoned.

  I crossed to the table where Gabriel usually worked, skimming my hand across the bare surface, then sat down and tried to pull out the top drawer. It was locked. I’d half-hoped my credentials might be lying in plain sight, and it would be easy for me to pick them up and leave. I figured I could lift a wallet and have enough cash for a bus ticket. Once I got to Cleveland, I’d figure out what came next.

  Then there was the real issue surrounding my new ID.

  Gabriel had set up my new identity, which meant he could track me—anywhere, anytime—and I didn’t know how I felt about that. Part of me figured it was repayment for me leaving him high and dry all those years ago. Part of me kind of liked the idea of him being able to find me, if he wanted.

  Not that he would, but he could, and that outside chance gave me hope that, maybe, someday, he actually would.

  “What are you doing here, Andy?”

  His voice, still gravelly with sleep and sounding sweetly unguarded, pulled me out of what I was doing. Which was sitting at his desk and rifling through his belongings. I lowered my gaze back to the empty desk, all the better to not ogle his wet, naked body above a hastily wrapped towel.

  “I’ve come to get my things before I go,” I whispered, not mentioning the fact that I’d pretty much been ordered to leave by his surrogate parents. “I know I said I’d help you, but the situation’s changed.”

  “Changed how?” he asked, brushing wet, tousled hair out of his face. “Because you promised me three days.” He drifted closer while I gripped the edge of the desk. For somebody who’d sworn off New York and sex, both of them were definitely testing my willpower today.

  “I didn’t technically promise you anything. You asked me to stay and I grunted,” I corrected him, not able to take my eyes off that sleekly muscled torso. Damn, when had he gotten so hot?

  “Did you?” He rewrapped the towel, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the dark trail of hair that disappeared into the snowy white towel. “I’m pretty sure I remember you nodding at two days?”

  “Yes, fine, it was two days, but I’m reneging.” I couldn’t help the needy tone that crept into my voice, and then I looked at him. Fuck it. If I was never going to see him again, then I was going to look my fill, damn it.

  After a moment, I lowered my gaze. No use pining after something you can never have, was my motto. Better to know your limits, than wish for things to be different.

  He reached out and tapped a small device on the desk, and the drawer I couldn’t open popped free. Inside lay a neat stack of bills, and beside those, a passport and PI license. “When you accused me yesterday of not keeping my word… I wanted you to know… you were right.”

  I didn’t answer, just looked down at those documents like they led to a prison, instead of freedom.

  “There’s everything I owe you, just like I promised.”

  “I should go,” I said, picking up the stack of identification and stuffing the money into my pocket. He opened another drawer and pulled out an AMX card. On the front was emblazoned “Jessica Edwards.”

  “No limit, no payments, and no strings,” he said as I stared at the card he offered me like it was covered in anthrax. “Go ahead and take it, don’t be an ass. You’ll need capital to set up in a new city, and you earned this.”

  I shook my head, even though I knew he was right. “I’ll get by.”

  Angrily he strode forward and slipped the card into the pocket of my jeans. “Just take the damn thing and stop being a little baby. You always were too stubborn for your own good.”

  “And you’ve come a long way from playing dungeons and dragons in my basement, Gabriel.” I indicated the hardware around us, which was all his. “What you’ve built here is… amazing.”

  “I missed that when you left. The games. The laughing. You always were my very best opponent, Andy.”

  “That’s because no one else would play you, you big doofus.” We both laughed softly before stopping quickly, as the silence between us went from comfortable to tense.

  “Why are you really leaving?” he asked curiously, setting his towel-wrapped ass on the desk right in front of me. Oh Lord, please give me strength. “Yesterday you seemed all in.”

  “I was exhausted and not making good decisions yesterday. Today I realized that me staying would only complicate matters.”

  “Complicate how?” Gabriel slid closer and covered my hand with his as my mouth went dry.

  “I can’t help you with this, Gabriel.” I pulled my hand out from under his. Henry and Dawson were right. He was too good for me. He had a bird’s-eye view of the world from his high tower, and here I was, trying to duct tape my life back together with twenty dollars and false documentation.

  “What changed, Andy?” he urged again, his tone turning more dominating than curious. “Or rather, who changed your mind?”

  Since answering that would only stir up a hornet’s nest, I rose and edged away toward the door. “Can I pee before I go?” I asked, the coffee finally hitting me.

  He wordlessly pointed me toward the bathroom, and I left him sitting there on the desk, hair still dripping wet, looking like a Greek god from the waist up as I tried not to imagine everything beneath that damn towel. I knew I’d get a few wet dreams out of this encounter and hated that that was all I’d be getting.

  While I peed, I decided he was right. I was being stubborn. I’d take the card. I’d take the credentials, and I’d call it a day. Union Station was barely a half mile away on foot, and I could get a train to Cleveland with no problem. My flimsy resolve hardened into something a little more concrete.

  Just for shits and giggles, I pressed the button on the edge of the shower and watched as the window turned white. “Huh. So, I flashed all of New York yesterday. Good riddance.” While I was washing my hands, I heard Dawson’s loud greeting outside the bathroom door. Oh well, they’d just have to deal with me being here.

  Thankfully, I was on my way out, which should make her happy.

  30

  “Miranda had to leave, dear.” I clearly heard Dawson explain, her voice tinged with just the right amount of sympathy. During the long pause, I pictured her patting him on the back. “She said she was sorry, but she couldn’t stay. I think prison traumatized her.”

  Wait, what?

  “When, exactly did Andy tell you this?”

  “Right before she left. We gave her some money for the train, because she was in a hurry. I expect you’ll never see her again.”

  During the silence, I imagined Gabriel’s scathing look as he raked her up and down, knowing she was lying. What can I say? My imagination’s pretty good when I can’t see anything that’s really happening.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” D
awson said, and I caught the hint of worry in her voice. She really did care about Gabriel. Maybe she was right to have reservations about me, but Gabriel and I were two adults, and I’d known him far longer than they had. Longevity, even interrupted by fifteen years, had to count for something.

  “I was taking a shower,” Gabriel said, his voice unnaturally loud. “Let me get dressed and we can talk more about this.”

  I didn’t hear him coming because bare feet on concrete don’t make noise, but I stepped back in preparation for his entrance. It was dramatic, and when he slammed the door behind him, his gaze immediately locked with mine.

  “Now would you care to revise your earlier statement, Miranda?” he crooned, stepping closer, crowding me into the shower. “Or should I tell you what’s going on?”

  “I know perfectly well what’s going on, D,” I muttered as that defined chest closed in on me until all I saw were his pecs.

  “Let’s play a game. I’ll guess, and you can tell me if I’m wrong.” He leaned a hand against the wall, effectively caging me in. “Dawson and Henry, under some misguided notion of protecting my character, decided you and I should not work together.”

  “You always were succinct, Gabriel.”

  “You know what pisses me off the most about this?” he went on, not moving a muscle while I tried to figure out if I could outrun him to the door. Probably not, his legs looked every bit as defined as his chest. “That you let them chase you off. Nobody ever would have told you what to do, back when you were a Shelton.”

  I stared right back.

  He was almost right. When I was a spoiled little rich kid, engrossed in myself and my fancy life, no one would have dared tell me what to do. Suddenly, the idea that I’d been ready to go along with Dawson and Henry seemed… absurd. Maybe I was turning into a wuss in my old age.

  “But wait, there’s more,” he said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You were leaving because you didn’t want to deal with the fact that I know who you are. You can’t hide from me anymore.” He was so close his breath skimmed my face.