Deceptions (Cainsville 3)

"Then you are mistaken. Hurt her, and you will regret it."

"Regret it? That's all? I expected 'I'll hunt you down and kill you' at the very least."

"Death is quick. Regret is not."

The gun pressed harder into my neck, as if the man was leaning forward. "Clever, Mr. Walsh. I'm sure Ms. Jones is very impressed. Her knight in tarnished armor. Impressionable young women must find that very hard to resist."

"They may," Gabriel said. "Unfortunately, we don't have any here at the moment, so you'll have to trust the threat is for your benefit alone."

"Chivalry and flattery. Are your knees weak yet, Ms. Jones? Oh, and do put away the gun. Please."

I hesitated, then lowered it into my bag.

"Now remove your hand from your purse, Ms. Jones."

I did.

The man continued, "I'd like to believe modern young women wouldn't fall for Mr. Walsh's act, but the very fact you are with him proves otherwise. We'll have to chat about that later. For now, you'll come with me, Ms. Jones, while Mr. Walsh releases my confederate and then stays where he is until we are out of sight. If he follows, you will pay the price. Understood, Mr. Walsh?"

My assailant dug the gun barrel in hard enough to make me wince. Gabriel punted the other man's gun under the cars and then released him with a shove. My assailant took hold of my arm. When he lowered the gun, I stabbed him in the side, having palmed the switchblade from my purse. He fell back, and I grabbed for his gun arm. I missed. Gabriel didn't.

Gabriel wrenched the man's arm up. His partner crawled after his lost weapon, but when I told him to stop, he saw the gun back in my hand and decided to listen.

Gabriel threw my attacker to the ground. It was another guy in a suit. Bald. Thirties. He immediately started rising, one hand clutched to the knife wound. Gabriel calmly punched him in the side of the head. The guy dropped, unconscious, to the pavement.

"There's blood on your shirt," I said.

Gabriel glanced down and sighed.

"You can put it on my bill," I said.

He shook his head and walked over to the first man, who had started inching toward his gun again. I'd noticed, but at the rate he was moving, he'd be lucky to make it there by lunch. Gabriel grabbed the guy from under the car, flipped him on his back, and put one Ferragamo loafer on his chest.

"I've decided to speak to you instead of your partner," Gabriel said. "Tell me now if I've made the wrong choice."

The man wriggled, as if testing how tightly he was pinned. When Gabriel leaned forward, he gasped and lay still.

"I'll presume that means I did not," Gabriel said. "Prove me wrong, and I'll break every rib in your chest. Is that understood?"

The guy looked offended. Coming after us with guns was fine, but God forbid we should fight back.

"Olivia, could you please keep an eye on the elevator and the entrance lane? It's after rush hour so we're unlikely to be interrupted, but it would be inconvenient."

"Got it."

I moved past the unconscious man and the growing pool of blood at his side. I wondered if I should do something about that, but he seemed to be breathing comfortably.

I took up position about fifteen feet from Gabriel, where I could see anyone driving into the garage or coming off the elevator.

"Who hired you?" he asked our captive.

No answer. Then a gasp, as Gabriel presumably applied pressure--literally.

"We were hired to speak to Ms. Jones," the man said after Gabriel let up a little. "By someone who is extremely concerned about her welfare. She's in a very precarious place right now and--"

"James," Gabriel said, the name a growl.

The man continued, "As my associate said, it's obvious you've positioned yourself as her protector. She's vulnerable and alone. You provided a shoulder to lean on and, in doing so, you've influenced her perception of reality to the point where she can no longer see the truth. It's our job to counter that influence."