"I'm sure you would. The answer, as I said, is no."
"Let me rephrase, then. I insist you stop contacting her or I will obtain a restraining order, which I will publicize."
"If you do, I'll tell my side of the story, and it will be clear who is the victim here. I will also send a copy of that file to every reporter in my contact list."
Gabriel took out his phone. "In that case, I'll e-mail you my list of journalist contacts. Please send copies to all of them. Some would be very put out if they were excluded."
Morgan studied him, squint-eyed. He probably thought it made him seem tougher, but he only looked as if his contact lens had slipped.
"Don't bluff, Walsh," he said. "I'll call you on it."
"Go ahead. What you'll discover is that most reporters have heard every allegation in that file. While I'm sure most suspect there are kernels of truth, rooting them out has proven too much trouble. It is established fact that I have been persecuted and maligned by false accusations since I passed the bar exam. Unless you have a video of me bludgeoning prostitutes to death--and expert witnesses to guarantee the veracity of the recording--no one's going to touch it. But I'm sure you know that. So let's discuss your backup plan."
"Backup plan?"
Gabriel lowered himself onto the sofa. "Don't play coy with me. If you are an expert at this game, as you claimed, then you know exactly what I'm talking about. The file is the decoy; as was my threat about McNeil. Naturally, you have more, as do I."
Morgan's squint deepened. "You're saying that if I send out the file, you'll retaliate with some other blackmail."
"Certainly not. I gave you permission to send the file. The difficulty comes if you refuse to leave Olivia alone. Then I will be forced to reveal what other intelligence I've gathered on you."
"I will not leave Olivia--"
Gabriel sprang
to his feet and had Morgan against the wall before the man could blink. He pinned him there, feet barely touching the ground, his shirtfront gathered in Gabriel's fist, pressing into his windpipe.
"You will leave her alone. If you harm her, in any way, you will wish to God for blackmail, because you can recover from that."
"Is that a death threat?"
"I would never be so unimaginative."
Gabriel dropped Morgan but stayed where he was, effectively keeping him pinned there, unable to move more than an inch.
"You tell me you love her, but this isn't love," Gabriel said. "It's anger and it's wounded pride. Your history is open to anyone with a laptop, Morgan. You had another woman you planned to marry, but she was dull and insipid. Olivia is neither. You dumped the old girlfriend. You pursued Olivia. You won Olivia. Now you've lost her. And that looks bad."
"You think this is about politics? Her biological parents--"
"--are convicted serial killers. Now about to undergo an appeal, which may set them free. And you stuck by Olivia the whole time. You believed in her. Except . . . she wasn't grateful. Now she's run off with a biker. A biker. How humiliating. You should walk away. But you can't. You want her to grovel. You want her to pay."
"I would never--"
"No? Look me in the eye and tell me this is about love."
Morgan's jaw worked, and Gabriel eased back to watch him squirm. He noticed the movement a split second too late. His own fault, really, the smug satisfaction that he'd intimidated Morgan into impotence. Then the blow to his jaw that sent him reeling.
Gabriel recovered and slammed his fist into Morgan's gut. He caught Morgan's expression when he saw the blow coming. Shock, as if he couldn't believe Gabriel would pull such an ungentlemanly move. Again proving the man was an idiot. On the streets, there's no place for fairness. You put your opponent down fast, by any means possible.
Morgan crumpled to the floor, doubled over, his eyes bulging as he gasped for breath.
"You might want to see a doctor about that," Gabriel said. "I believe Olivia was telling me just the other day that Harry Houdini died from an untreated blow to the stomach."
He walked into the hall. As he did, he heard the pounding of Mrs. Morgan's footsteps on the stairs.
Gabriel looked up at her. "May I suggest you teach your son not to strike a man significantly larger than him. It rarely ends well."
She started shrieking threats. Creative threats, actually, making Gabriel suspect she would have been a far more worthy adversary than her son. He continued to the door as she hurried down to tend to her wounded boy.