"Thank you, counselor. Anything more?"
"You had motive and opportunity. The third part is means. You're big enough to overpower James, and you only needed your hands to strangle him. Finding the knife used to inflict the postmortem wounds isn't necessary, is it?"
"No," Ricky said. "But some form of evidence is. That's the wild card."
As they continued talking, I withdrew into my thoughts. I'd still hoped this was just a trumped-up case that would shatter on impact. But this wasn't some small town where the sheriff could throw you in the drunk tank for being a smart-ass. This was Chicago, and the guy being charged was a crackerjack defense attorney. The SA's office would never have accused him without concrete evidence. Which meant someone was framing Gabriel.
I now believed that James had been compelled to stalk me. Compulsion meant Tylwyth Teg or Cwn Annwn. In other words, whoever set James on Gabriel was very much determined to separate us . . . and might have the ability to conjure up evidence.
No matter how determined I might be to stay away from the fae and the Huntsmen, others were equally determined to pull me in. At any cost. Including getting rid of anyone who stood in their way. In the end, maybe all that would really protect them was to do exactly what Pamela said.
"Maybe if I go somewhere, this will stop," I said.
Gabriel turned those cool blue eyes on me and said, "It's a little late for that."
I blanched.
"He doesn't mean--" Ricky began.
"Of course I do," Gabriel said. "What good would it do her to leave now? This isn't a civil suit. The charges can't be withdrawn."
"I--I'm going to step out," I said, getting to my feet. "I need some air."
"I'll go with you," Ricky said.
"No. Please. I'll just be a few minutes."
Gabriel said, "You shouldn't be wandering about on your own."
"Why not?" I said. "No one's stalking me now. James is dead."
I shoved my chair aside and made my escape.
--
I sat in the coffee shop with an untouched black coffee, lost in my thoughts.
"You said a few minutes. I gave you twenty." Ricky leaned forward to look in my mug as he sat. "They don't have mocha?"
"I didn't feel like one."
He nodded and left and returned with a coffee and a cookie. He put the cookie in the middle of the table. "For whenever you do feel like it."
I looked at him, at the smile on his lips belying the worry in his eyes, and I thought, How did I get so lucky? Also, How the hell can I keep screwing up the life of a guy like this?
"Your dad was right to be worried," I said. "He thought I'd be trouble for you, and I am. I should go away for a while. The situation keeps getting worse--"
"I pursued you, knowing your life isn't exactly sunshine and roses right now. I wasn't coerced or seduced, and I'm insulted at the insinuation I'm not mature enough to make my own choices. No one made me go after James that night. I'm responsible for what happened. Fucking harsh lesson, but it's still mine to learn."
"I--"
"Yeah, you don't need this shit when you're already kicking yourself. But that's exactly why you need it. Reassurances aren't helping. So I'll be a dick and say that if you run off to protect me, we're through. Also, I love you."
"Wh-what?"
"Yes, I know, it seems like a completely inappropriate time to say it. But if I say it before sex or after sex or, worse, during sex, then it could seem like I'm caught up in the moment. Endorphins and all that shit. If I say it now, when I'm pissed off, obviously I mean it."
"Unless you're saying it so I'd feel even worse if I did leave."