“What are you doing here?” she muttered, unable to keep the hint of annoyance from her voice. “And how did you find me?”
A dark eyebrow rose. “Haven’t you heard? The SIU knows all.”
So she’d guessed right; he was with the spook squad. “Let me see some ID.”
He reached inside his suit jacket and drew out a small ID card. She studied the photo and eye scan, and then glanced down at his name. Gabriel Stern. Assistant director, no less. Which was better than being confronted by Hanrahan, the formidable man in charge of the spook squad, she supposed, but it still begged the question—what was it about either her or her case that required involvement by the squad’s upper echelon?
She handed back the card. “Not a good photo, Mr. Stern.”
“They never are. And please, call me Gabriel. I prefer less formality.”
She raised an eyebrow. He’d have to be the first SIU officer in history to ever say that. Most were sticklers for regulations, and regulations said no first names. She’d never understood why. She doubted if anyone else did, either.
“So why didn’t you back up my story about Jack and that creature? You were chasing the thing, for Christ’s sake.”
His eyes gained an intensity she suddenly found unnerving. Her breath caught in her throat and, for an instant, it felt as if she could simply reach out and touch his thoughts, his soul.
And, for some reason, she found that a more terrifying thought than anything else that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
“I have my reasons,” he said after a moment, and looked down at her feet.
She suddenly found herself able to breathe again. Damn, maybe she did need more psych tests.
“These are some pretty bad burns,” he commented into the silence.
The men from the SIU were observant, no doubt about it. “No kidding. And here I was thinking about running a marathon.”
He glanced up again. This time the slightest hint of a smile touched his full lips, softening the impact of his eyes. “Maybe tomorrow.”
He seemed in no great hurry to move, which was odd. She knew from past experience that SIU breezed in and out of situations before you had time to blink. Him squatting at her feet simply didn’t make sense. Unless, of course, he had a motive for doing so.
Her heart began to beat a little faster. Maybe they’d discovered something about Jack’s case, something that implicated her. But if that were the case, why didn’t he simply arrest her?
Swallowing to ease the sudden dryness in her throat, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
He rocked back on his heels slightly. “Direct. I like that.”
“I don’t care what you like, mister. Just answer the damn question.”
If her tone was less than civil, who cared? If he was here on official business, she had the right to know. And if he wasn’t … well, what in hell did he want?
The slight smile tugged the corners of his lips again. She had an odd impression it was something that didn’t happen often. Which would be a pity, since even a slight smile transformed his angular features into something worth a second look.
“The SIU have assigned me as a temporary guard. We believe your life might be in danger.” He glanced up the stairs, then back at her. “It looks like we were right.”
“Yeah, except you’re just a little late.” She paused, her gaze narrowing. “Why the hell would an assistant director be assigned such a menial task?”
“Because the squad is stretched to the limit and there is no one else. And we’ve never claimed to be perfect.”
She snorted softly. The squad might well be short on people, but she had a feeling this man was here for reasons other than that. “Right. Am I able to get back into my apartment?”
He nodded. “I haven’t set the monitor yet.”
So he had been waiting for her. Interesting. “How bad is the damage?”
He shrugged. “Structurally, nothing much.”
Which surely meant there was a shitload of damage to everything else. “I want to see.”
He didn’t argue, simply rose to his feet and held out his hand. She grabbed it gratefully. His fingers were warm against hers, his palm slightly callused. He wasn’t just a simple desk jockey, then, which again was odd. There weren’t many assistant directors who could claim that.
But then, there weren’t many ADs who opted for bodyguard duty. Again, she had an odd sensation that someone was setting her up. But for what?
She’d barely stood when the pain hit her, sucking away whatever strength her muscles had left.
“Oh, Christ,” she muttered, knowing she was falling but unable to do one goddamn thing to prevent it.
He caught her before she hit the ground. “Want me to carry you?” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her upright.
And place all control in his hands? Not likely. “I can manage,” she said tightly. But the longer she stood here, the more the pain swam through her senses and sent them reeling.
Before she blacked out entirely, she had to get the com-unit.
“Only offering.”
He shifted his stance slightly, moving around to her left side. She noted a little wryly that he had to bend quite a bit to accommodate her height—or lack thereof. The top of her head barely brushed his chin.
She took a deep breath, gathering whatever strength she had left, and hobbled toward the next set of stairs. Though Gabriel was almost carrying her by the time they got to the top, it still felt as if she’d crawled to hell and back.
“Stop,” she managed to gasp.
He eased her to the ground. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, trying to drag enough air into her lungs and ignore the shaking in her limbs. Maybe Jack’s motto of doing unto others wasn’t such a bad idea. Right now, she’d love to give the bastards who’d shot her a taste of their own medicine.
“The scabs have broken open,” Gabriel said. “You really should have treatment for those wounds.”
She opened her eyes. He was squatting near her feet again, his eyes as remote as his expression. A man well versed in hiding his feelings, she thought suddenly. “I just want to get home.”
“What’s left of it.” He studied her, the green specks in his hazel eyes glittering like jewels in the dusky hall light. After a moment, he asked, “Ready?”
She nodded. He lifted her up again and helped her walk the rest of the way to her apartment. When she got there, she could only stare.
She’d been to more than one bombing, and she knew firsthand the damage they could do. But this time it was different. This time it was her belongings, her privacy, that had been invaded and destroyed.
Pain momentarily forgotten, she pushed away from Gabriel and hobbled into the living room. Everything was either gone or severely damaged. All the books she’d gathered over the years, all the small bits and pieces she’d collected to remember the changes in her life. All gone, or unsalvageable.
Clenching her fists, she glanced to where the com-unit had once stood. Even the sketch of her mother had been destroyed. All that was left were small shards of glass that glittered brightly in the soggy remains of the carpet.
“It’s going to be a few days before State releases these rooms for cleanup,” he said into the silence.
She knew how long the State Police would take, for Christ’s sake. Unable to decide whether to swear vehemently or simply sit down and howl, she did neither, hobbling into the bedroom instead.
Even this room had not escaped destruction, though here, at least, the damage was more from smoke and water. The smell of sodden boxes and wet carpet churned her already agitated stomach. She ran a hand through her sweat-dampened hair, fighting a sudden feeling of despair. God, it would take her days to clean up this mess. And years to replace all that she’d lost. If she could replace it. Her gaze touched the stack of boxes that hid her second com-unit. They looked undisturbed, and relief surged through her.
She looked
over her shoulder and met Gabriel’s gaze. He stood in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets, his stance casual yet strangely alert. The feeling that this man, her supposed protector, was far more than what he seemed hit her like a punch to the gut. He might have saved her life last night, but she knew absolutely nothing about him, let alone whether she could trust him. And as she stared at him, she again got the impression that he was here for reasons other than his official watchdog duty.
“I’ve arranged accommodation at a small hotel down the road.” His voice was soft, almost soothing, as if she were fragile glass about to break.
The only hotel down the road was the Rosewater, which was posh and very expensive. Well beyond the usual offerings for someone under protection. “And who’s picking up that tab?”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “The SIU, of course.”
The SIU obviously had a hell of a budget. “I’ll get some things together.”
She limped to the wardrobe and opened the door. The clothes inside reeked of smoke, and she screwed up her nose. Still, she could hardly keep wearing the things she had on, and smoke smell or not, these were her only option. She grabbed a duffel bag from the top of the closet and shoved in enough clothes to last a week. Surely it wouldn’t take any longer to clean up this mess.
But what if it did? And what if, by some vicious quirk of fate, they actually charged her with Jack’s death? What would she do? God, if the captain didn’t believe her, a courtroom filled with strangers certainly wouldn’t.
Panic flashed white hot through her body, and for a moment, even the simple act of breathing seemed difficult. She couldn’t go to prison. Couldn’t be locked up like that. Not again.
She frowned at the thought, wondering where in hell it came from. The only time she’d been in prison was to question suspects. And she wasn’t going to go to prison now. The truth was out there, and so was the evidence that would prove her innocence. All she had to do was find it—or at least hope they gave her the time to find it.
With the bag almost full, she hobbled across to the stack of boxes that hid her second com-unit. After thrusting the sodden mess to one side, she bent down and disconnected the portable unit from the wall, then put it inside the bag, hiding it underneath her clothes.
When she turned around, Gabriel was at the door, watching her.
“Need a hand?”
Anger surged, but she bit it back, knowing it was futile. He might say he was here to protect her, but the fact was, she was still under suspicion for Jack’s murder. There would be other cops out there, cops she couldn’t see, also watching her.
She tossed the duffel bag across to him. He caught it deftly, a hint of surprise flaring briefly in his eyes.
“I’m not leaving anything of value here. I know for a fact a cunning enough criminal can get past those scanners.” Jack could have, for a start.
And she didn’t even want to think about what the hirsute stranger had said. That maybe Jack was alive.
Gabriel nodded toward the sea of sodden boxes. “What about these?”
She shrugged. “Just books and junk I’ve collected over the years and never gotten around to throwing out.” She’d have to now, though. The water and smoke damage had seen to that.
“Anything else you want?”
“Handbag, if you can see it.”
He turned around, his gaze scanning the front room. She slowly hobbled across, and then stopped beside him. “There,” she said, pointing to the leather strap barely visible beneath the half-destroyed sofa.
He walked across the room. The bag came out in one piece, which she hoped meant everything within it was intact as well. He slung both bags over his left shoulder. “Ready to go?”
She nodded. Weariness rose like a tide, and suddenly it was all she could do to stand there. Pain was beginning to beat through her brain again, and she just wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, to rest.
He walked over and tucked his arm around her waist. It felt good. Safe. Obviously, the last twenty-four hours had affected her worse than she’d thought, because nowhere was safe right now.
“Let’s go,” he said, and guided her out of her apartment.
By the time they reached his car, he was almost carrying her. Everything ached so badly, all she wanted to do was lie down and die.
He opened the door of the standard-issue dark gray Ford and eased her inside. She clipped the seat belt into place and let her head fall back against the rest. Sweat trickled down the side of her face, but she couldn’t drag up enough energy to wipe it away. Closing her eyes, she struggled against the lethargy beginning to take hold, knowing she had to stay awake, stay aware and in control. Trusting no one was a motto she’d lived with for half her life—or at least, the half she could remember. Only Jack had broken through the barriers she’d raised—and, living or dead, Jack had now betrayed her.
“You okay?”
His soft question ran through the mist encasing her mind. Energy rose from somewhere, and she opened her eyes. He’d seated himself in the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. She’d heard neither event.
“I’m tired, that’s all. Just go.”
A slight hint of concern cut through the intensity of his gaze. He nodded and drove off. As if from a great distance, she watched the streets flit by. Within seconds, it seemed, they’d stopped again.
He opened her door, then bent down and unclipped her seat belt. “I’m calling a doctor about those wounds on your feet.”
She rubbed her head wearily. God, even her fingers hurt. “Just get me upstairs and let me rest. I’ll be fine.”
“Like hell you will.” His mutter ran past her ear as he slipped his arms round her body.
She didn’t protest as he lifted her out of the car. Didn’t have the energy. She just wanted to rest, let it all slide away. But not until she was safe. Not until she was alone.
She rested her head against his shoulder as he walked the steps to the hotel lobby. The warmth of his body seeped across her skin, chasing the icy chills from hers. He smelled good, too, his scent a pleasant mix of sage and exotic spices. But a nice smell and a warm, taut body didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Gabriel Stern had an agenda, and it wasn’t the one he had told her about. Until she knew what his motives were, she had to be extremely cautious around the man. No matter how pleasant some parts of her might find him.
A thin man, his expression slightly alarmed, met them in the lobby and escorted them to the elevator. The doors swished closed, then they were heading up and up. The elevator finally came to a stop and she closed her eyes, fighting another bout of nausea. Then she was being lowered, and Gabriel’s warmth left her. She forced her eyes open and looked up.
The edge of concern was stronger in his gaze. “Your two bags are at the end of the bed. I’ll be in the next room, making a few calls. Do you need anything?”
“Just rest.”
He frowned slightly, then nodded and walked from the room, closing the door behind him. She forced herself upright, reaching for the strap of her handbag and dragging it toward her.
The wristcom was still there. She held it up to the light, looking for any sign of damage. Moisture glistened on the metal surface, but these things had been designed to function underwater, so a bit of liquid wouldn’t have harmed it. There was no other sign of damage, which was a relief. If she were alone, she would have started it up, but with Gabriel in the next room, she didn’t dare take the chance. If he saw it, he’d confiscate it—of that she had no doubt. And probably charge her for theft in the process. The SIU boys were sticklers when it came to the rules, no doubt due to the fact that Hanrahan had been known to demote personnel who didn’t follow the letter of the law. Hell, according to rumors, he’d sacked people for not dotting their “i”s correctly in reports.
As she put it back, an odd clinking sound caught her attention. Opening the bag wider, she saw several large shards of china.
She reached in and pulled one out and pain wel
led up—pain greater than anything she’d ever felt before. She stared at the broken piece of the mug, her gaze suddenly blurred by tears. Everything she’d ever valued was gone. The bomb had destroyed the few precious mementos she’d had of her past, and now it had taken this—the very first Christmas present she’d ever remembered getting.
She flopped back on the bed and rolled to one side, raising her knees and hugging them close as she finally let go. Tears fell like hot rain down her cheeks to the sheets, slowly spreading out in an ever-widening circle of grief.
A SOFT KNOCK AT THE door jerked Gabriel awake. He pushed the hair back out of his eyes and glanced quickly around. Nothing had changed in the brief time he’d slept. Darkness still held court in the room, but through the windows, the bloody flags of dawn were beginning to stain the horizon. He rose from the sofa and walked over to the door.
“Yes?” he said, one hand on the knob, the other reaching for his weapon.
“It’s Karl. Open up.”
He would have recognized that gruff voice anywhere, but even so, caution prevailed. He switched on the security camera and looked out. The man standing on the other side of the door could only be described as a square—almost as wide as he was tall. Wearing baggy jeans that looked half a century old, a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt, and a red bandanna that barely restrained his wild brown hair, he looked more like an escapee from the circus than one of the country’s top herbal healers.
Gabriel unlocked the door. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“I didn’t know if I would,” Karl replied. “Stephan has some major problems.”
Something clenched in his gut. Stephan wasn’t just his brother; he was also the driving force behind the Federation. Destroy him, and you’d come damn close to destroying the organization. And yet, less than a dozen people knew who Stephan actually was, and only four had constant access to him.
“What sort of problems?” He relocked the door and moved across to the window. The street below was empty of traffic, and no one lurked in the shadows of the park across the road. They were safe from discovery, at least for the moment.