. ‘Gabrielle, goddammit,’ he said, pulling her arm up, twisting it behind her back so that she cried out. ‘Are you crazy?’
No, she thought. Maybe she had been, but not now. ‘Let go of me, damn you!’
He pulled her arm higher. Pain shot from her wrist to her shoulder.
‘You heard what Townsend said. Vitale ’
‘Did you think I’d make it easy for you?’ She was panting now, her hair fallen over her face in disarray, and she tossed it back. ‘Well, I’m not. I’m not going to just…’
He hauled her against him, pinning her arms to her side with his embrace. She could feel the hard, angry beat of his heart. His jaw jutted forward as he pushed his face to hers.
‘What will it take to make you listen to reason? I don’t care what kind of sugar-daddy Vitale’s been to you. He wants you dead tonight.’
Gabrielle twisted wildly against him. ‘What kind of man are you, James? How could you agree to do this?’
He laughed. ‘A damn good question, baby. It was my idea. Can you believe that? I volunteered.’
‘Volunteered?’ she whispered.
‘I told Townsend I’d keep you alive, and I will—even if you’re too pig-headed to believe your “uncle” has decided to pull the plug.’
Gabrielle went still in his arms. I told Townsend I’d keep you alive…
Townsend, the federal prosecutor?
‘Do you hear me, Gabrielle?’
I told Townsend I’d keep you alive, and I will…
James wasn’t a criminal, he’d told Townsend he’d keep her alive.
Who was he, then?
Nothing made sense, she thought, staring at him. His face was carved in steel, his eyes unreadable.
‘Are you going to behave?’ he asked.
She swallowed, then nodded. His hands fell away from her and he stepped back.
‘Stay here, be quiet as a mouse. Whatever happens, don’t leave this room.’
‘James. You have to tell me who ’
‘Do you hear me? I don’t give a damn if the house starts to fall down around your ears, Gabrielle. You don’t open that door once it closes after me. Have you got it?’
She looked from him to the dark hallway. Fear turned her blood to water as the reality of what was happening settled on her. Someone was coming to kill her.
And James was going to stop him, he was going out there to face a killer, he was going to risk his life.
‘No.’ Her voice sounded unnaturally loud. ‘James, don’t. Please.’
There was a sound from the rear of the house, tinkling glass and then a soft thud. Gabrielle’s eyes grew wide; she opened her mouth but James shook his head.
He put his lips against her ear.
‘Remember,’ he breathed, ‘quiet as a mouse.’
‘Where are you ?’
He put his hand over her mouth. ‘Later,’ he whispered.
She sighed his name against his skin. He made a sound in the back of his throat and then he pulled her to him. His mouth fell on hers with a bruising passion—and then he was gone.
She stared at the door as it closed after him. Stay here, he’d said, but how could she, when somewhere in the darkness a killer waited?
A killer.
Tony Vitale had sent someone to end her life. Gabrielle sank onto the edge of the bed.
Scenes from her life flashed before her. Her father, kind and loving. ‘Uncle’ Tony, generous to a fault. One a chauffeur, the other a union official— so she’d believed.
Had they been something different? Had it all been a sham?
And the past days, with James. Had it all been nothing but a lie?
She sprang up, every nerve-end alert, as she heard the sounds of scuffling in the hall. Flesh thudded against flesh; someone grunted in pain. Gabrielle ran across the room and leaned against the closed door, hands spread against the wood, feeling the shuddering blows as if they were being struck against her own body.
James’s name was a silent cry on her lips. Stay here, he’d said, but she couldn’t. She had to know what was happening in the hall. Suppose he needed her help? Suppose… ?
Something thudded heavily against the door, then slid to the floor.
Silence fell over the house.
A moan broke from her lips.
She could feel her heart stop, then begin to gallop like a runaway horse and she fell back as the door opened…
James stepped into the room and she sobbed his name and ran into his open arms.
The lights came on, pushing away the darkness.
“Oh, James,” she whispered, as she looked up into his face.
It was bloodied, but more than that had changed. There was a glittering coldness in his eyes..
‘You’re hurt,’ she said.
Slowly, he let go of her.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Your cheek is cut. You’re bleeding.’
He touched his hand to his face. His fingers came away crimson. He stared at them blindly, then shrugged and wiped his hand on his shirt.
‘It’s nothing. A couple of stitches pulled open, that’s all.’ He looked at her again, then shouldered past her to the bed and sank down on it. ‘The police are on their way.’
She nodded. There were sirens slashing the night—she had not really heard them until he mentioned it, but now she realised she’d been listening to their wail in the distance for the past few seconds.
‘It took them long enough,’ she said slowly, her eyes searching his face.
James leaned back against the headboard. ‘You know the old saying.’ He gave her a quick smile. ‘There’s never a cop around when you want one.’
Gabrielle looked into the hall. A man was lying sprawled on the floor. He was enormous. A shudder went through her when she saw the knife lying beside him.
‘Is he… ? Did you… ?’
‘Yeah,’ he said tonelessly, ‘he’s dead.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Maybe you want to go take a look at him. He might be someone you know.’
Her face paled. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Come on, it’s not hard to figure. I doubt if Vitale could get outside talent to do this job. Since he was indicted, nobody wants to touch him.’ He jerked his head towards the hall, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘That guy may turn out to be an old friend.’
Gabrielle swallowed. ‘I don’t think that’s very funny,’ she said. Her voice quavered, and she swallowed again. ‘If it’s true, if Vitale sent him…’
He laughed. ‘If? If? What the hell does it take to convince you, lady?’
Didn’t he understand? She was beginning to know the truth—perhaps she’d always known it, deep in her heart.
But admitting it to herself was painful. Vitale had been the only family she’d known. And her father—the pain of accepting the truth about him was more than she could bear.
‘James,’ she said, holding her hand out to him, ‘try to see it through my eyes. Please.’
His voice was flat. ‘That’s just what I’m doing, Gabrielle. Seeing it through your eyes, hearing it through your words…’
‘What do you mean?’
‘All that stuff on the phone with Townsend…’’
‘What stuff’ she said in bewilderment.
His hand cut through the air in impatience. ‘Come on, don’t play coy. I heard you, remember?’ His voice mimicked hers cruelly. ‘“He isn’t like that. I know him.” His mouth twisted. ‘How long are you going to go on kidding yourself?’
Was that why he was so angry? The frantic conversation with the federal prosecutor came back to her in bits and pieces; she remembered the things she’d said,
and she knew how they might have sounded, but she’d been talking about James, not Vitale,
She’d said those things when she still thought James was…
How could she tell him that? How could she tell him she’d thought he’d been sent to kill her?
‘It’s—it’s hard to explain,’ sh
e said slowly.
James’s eyes bored into hers. ‘Try.’
She opened her mouth, then shut it. She barely understood it herself. She had fallen in love with him, then feared him, but her doubts about him had fallen away in his arms. She had known James could not be evil.
And then that middle-of-the-night call…
It had been disorientating. There’d been no time to think or reason, there’d only been time to react.