Deceptions (Cainsville 3)

"That's what I did." That flash of annoyance Gabriel knew well. Ricky's don't-treat-me-like-a-child look. Which was never what Gabriel intended--he simply didn't trust anyone else's intelligence, which was perhaps equally insulting. Ricky's intelligence, like his maturity, was just fine. Unfortunately.

"Never mind," Ricky said. "You're right. We'll do it again. Reverse order this time. Starting up here. You search rooms while I stand in the hall. That way there's no chance she'll get past us accidentally."

While there was a niggle in Gabriel's gut that wanted to amend the plan, simply for the sake of amending it, he did as Ricky suggested, searching room by room, checking behind every item that could hide Olivia, unconscious. He didn't hear so much as a rat scuttling until he reached the belfry. That's when he caught a moan, half stifled, as if it had escaped unbidden, Olivia injured and gritting her teeth, trying not to cry out. Which is exactly what he'd expect of her, so much so that he didn't pause. He loped straight for the ladder and climbed up, ignoring Ricky's "Hey!" below.

Ricky's boots pounded as he ran into the room below the belfry. Gabriel was already at the top. The room was bigger than he'd expected, perhaps eight feet square. And empty. Completely empty.

He heard the moan again. Coming through a hole in the opposite wall. He started toward it.

"Whoa!" Ricky said. "Stop!"

Gabriel rocked there, shooting a look back at Ricky.

"Hey, don't glower at me, big guy. I'm not trying to stop you from finding her. I'm saving your ass again. Look down."

Gabriel did. Like

the stairs, the floor was rotted, boards missing or half broken.

"I heard--" Gabriel began.

"Yeah, so did I. But you're a good thirty pounds heavier than me. Which means I'll be the one crossing the rotting floor and hoping I don't plummet to my doom."

He wants to rescue her. He wants to be the first face she sees.

Which was ridiculous. The floor was clearly rotted. Ricky was smaller. He'd stopped Gabriel from hurtling into danger twice and now offered to take the risk. Any competition existed only in Gabriel's mind, and he was ashamed of that.

He's doing it on purpose. Showing you up.

Gabriel growled softly and shook his head.

That was Gwynn. The part of him that was Gwynn ap Nudd. As Gabriel, he could look at Ricky and see someone he respected, trusted. An ally who could even be considered a friend. Then he'd think of Olivia, and jealousy would surge, sometimes more than jealousy, something bitter and hard, almost like hate.

That's not me.

Or is that just an excuse?

"You got my back?" Ricky asked.

"Of course."

Ricky started picking his way across the floor. The boards groaned and creaked with each step. One gave way, but he jumped off it fast enough. Then, as Ricky was still leaping over the broken board, something flew from the hole in the wall. Something bright and fast, flying toward Ricky, his switchblade rising with a "What the hell?" The thing hit him in the neck. Blood spurted. Ricky fell.

No, Ricky was pushed. Shoved hard toward the front railing. He hit it and it shattered, wood exploding as he fell through.

Gabriel lunged toward him, but the first plank he hit gave way, his foot falling into the hole, enough for him to stumble, and when he recovered, he could see Ricky's hands, grasping the edge of the floor.

"Gabriel!"

"Hold on. My foot . . ." He wrenched his leg. His foot was wedged into the hole. He bent and pulled at his shoe.

Are you sure you want to help him? This time the voice came, not from his head, but as a whisper, right at his ear. He turned and saw no one there.

Look at him. He's barely hanging on. He's bleeding badly. It's a four-story drop. The fall would likely kill him, and if it didn't, he'd bleed out before help came. All you need to do is stay right where you are. Or better yet, walk away. No one knows you were up here.

Gabriel managed to get his foot free. He took one careful step, calling, "Just hold on."

Is that really what you want? You're right. You aren't Gwynn. You don't have the balls to be Gwynn. You pride yourself on being a man of resolve. You see what you want and you go after it, everyone else be damned. This is what you want. Ricky, dead. Olivia, yours. And all you need to do is turn around and walk out.