When the will defies fear, when duty throws the gauntlet down to fate, when honor scorns to compromise with death—that is heroism.
18
Someone was following me. He was a he ... at least, I was pretty sure of that. And he was driving a black sedan. That’s all I knew at this point. It was early, predawn, too dark to get a good look at his face. When we stopped at a light, he managed to keep his face hidden in shadow.
I toyed with the idea of driving to the police station. Instead, I called Gabe.
“What’s up?” Gabe asked, sounding awake and alert, and surprised to be hearing from me so early.
“Please tell me you’re back in town.”
“I’m back in town.”
“And tell me you weren’t sleeping.”
“I wasn’t sleeping. Why?”
“Good. I’m being tailed.”
“Where are you?”
“Down the street from your place.”
“I’ll be waiting outside.”
“Thank you.” I kept checking the rearview mirror as I drove, wondering if my stalker would give up. He didn’t. He followed me right to Gabe’s place.
Gabe was standing on the porch when I pulled into his driveway. Before I had the seat belt off, he was loping toward the black sedan, parked on the street.
I got out and started toward Gabe.
“It’s your father,” he said. “It’s a good thing I met him last week, or he’d be on the ground right now. Unconscious.”
Wow, did I feel stupid. “Oh, shoot. Sorry about that, Gabe. I didn’t recognize the car. He usually drives a Navigator.” I peered inside the open window. Sure enough, it was my father.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Gabe asked, looking uncertain. “I was going to head to work early.”
“I’m fine. I’ll be in shortly. I owe you for this one. Sorry.” I shooed Gabe away with an apologetic smile.
Dad waved. “Didn’t mean to cause any worry. But it’s reassuring to see you’re aware—”
“Oh, I’m aware, all right.” When my father unlocked the door, I opened the passenger side and sat. “What’s going on? Why are you tailing me at five-thirty in the morning?”
“I need to talk to you. About your mother.”
“Now?”
Dad shrugged. “Why not? You’ll be busy later. So will I. Can you think of a better time?”
“Fine. What do you want to talk to me about? I’m not thrilled to be in the middle of your problems.”
“I just need one small favor.” From the look on his face, I was guessing his definition of “small” would probably not coincide with mine.
“What ‘small favor’?”
“I just need you to get her to come to the country club, where we’re going to be married.”
“You mean where you
were
going to be married. Past tense. You cheated on her. She’s not going to marry you now.”
“Please, Sloan. Bring her to the country club?”
“What am I supposed to tell her?”
“Tell her you’re taking her golfing.”
“Neither one of us plays golf.”
“Then tell her you’re taking her for lunch at the club.”
I glared at him.
He gave me a goofy grin. “Please, Sloan? After everything, you don’t owe me a thing. I realize that. But I’m asking you to do this for your mother’s sake.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why do you want me to take her there?”
“I need to talk with her.”
“She’s going to make a scene.”
“I’m prepared for that.”
Silence.
I thought about it for at least sixty seconds. Maybe longer. As much as I wanted Mom out of my apartment, I didn’t like what my father had done. And I wasn’t going to encourage Mom to go back to him. As the old saying went, “Once a cheater, always a cheater.”
“To be honest, I don’t want to be a part of this. I don’t condone what you did, and I don’t want my mother thinking I do.”
He nodded.
He sighed.
He stared out the windshield. “I understand.”
Assuming the conversation was over, I reached for the handle. But I hesitated for some reason. “You made a really big mistake. Do you realize that?”
He didn’t speak, just nodded. Finally he said, “There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
“Your TV show. I found someone who loves the idea. I set up an appointment for you and Elmer to meet with her.”
“Really?” Now that was good news.
Great
news. “Thank you.” Naturally, I felt indebted to him after this.
He pulled a business card out of his pants pocket and handed it to me. “The time and date are on the back. She asked for you to call if you need to reschedule.”
“Thank you.” I fingered the card. Inside I battled with myself. A part of me wanted to smack the man in the head and scream at him for being such a fool. The other part could see the pain in both their eyes. Did I want my little baby brother or sister being raised like I was? By a single mother who periodically became lost in her own bizarre world? If nothing else, my father might provide some stability for the child—something I wished I’d had growing up. “I’ll see what I can do about Mom. But I’m going to make it clear to her how I feel about what you did.”
“Thank you, Sloan.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a cheerful expression. “I can understand why you don’t trust me. But I swear to you, I have only your mother’s well-being and safety in mind. She’s all I think about. Your mom. The baby. You.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have cheated,” I blurted out. Then, “I’ll call you if she agrees to come. But I’m not lying to her. I’m not tricking her into going anywhere. If she comes, she’ll know it’s to meet you.”
“Fair enough.”
“Bye.”
Feeling conflicted, I stepped out of the car. Gabe was there, at my side. I gave him one look and he tossed an arm over my shoulder and steered me toward his house.
“You look like you need a drink. Or three.”
“It’s not even six in the morning... .”
“Coffee, then. I’m not taking no for an answer.” He half-walked/half-nudged me up his front walk and into his house. This was the first time I’d been in his place. It was bigger than the typical bachelor pad. Considering who his father was, Senator Wagner, that was no surprise. It was very nicely decorated, with modern furniture and tasteful but contemporary accents. The den he eventually led me to was slightly more cozy and inviting than the other rooms. The furniture was more substantial; the seating was cushy. “Have a seat.” He turned on the ginormous flat-screen TV hanging on the wall, handed the remote to me, then went to the kitchen, which was open to the den at one end.
“What’ll it be?”
“Coffee. Lots of it. I thought you were going to work early?”
“I was. But then an old friend of mine looked like she could use some help. So I decided I’d stick around, just in case.” He filled a mug. “Sugar? Cream?”
“I think I’ll go with black for the first round. Thanks.”
“Black it is.” He handed the full mug to me.
I sipped. Good coffee. “Delicious.”
“Thanks. Do you want anything to eat? Bagel? Muffin?”
“No thanks.” I sipped again while he poured a cup for himself.
He sat beside me, tossed an arm over the back of the couch, angling his body to face me. “Are you as frustrated and irritated by our case as I am?”
“Probably more,” I said after taking another drink. “I can’t help wondering where the babies have gone.”
“Do you think they’re alive?”
“They were all within a couple weeks of their due dates, meaning they would probably survive if they were delivered, as long as there weren’t any complications. But unexpected things happen all the time. If one did need some support, it would require specialized equipment. IVs. Incubators. Respirators. Would our unsub go to such lengths to keep an infant alive or ... ?”
“Assuming she would, because I don’t want to think about the alternative, who would have access to those kinds of things?” Gabe asked.
“Only employees of hospitals. And we’ve already checked all the local hospitals.” I sighed.
Gabe sighed too. He set his mug on the glass-topped coffee table. He took my hand in his.
Alarms started ringing in my head.
My heart started thumping against my breastbone.
My face started burning.
“Sloan, I’ve been waiting for this chance for so long—”
I tried pulling my hand away. “Gabe, please don’t. We should get to work.”
“We aren’t kids anymore,” he continued, ignoring my protest. “We’re adults.”
“Adults with complicated lives.” I twisted my wrist to the right.
“Yes.”
“Adults with responsibilities.” I twisted it to the left.
“Of course.”
“Adults with other priorities.” I jerked my arm. Still, my hand didn’t pull free.
“Adults with needs.” With his other hand, he cupped my cheek and stared into my eyes.
“Adults with ...” The words flew from my mind as Gabe’s mouth inched closer. I knew what was happening. I had no doubt he was going to kiss me. And my brain was 100 percent sure it didn’t want that. But my body, everything but the gray matter in my skull, decided to roll out the proverbial red carpet. My pulse quickened. Parts of my body tingled. My thoughts centered on the sensations buzzing and zapping along my nerves.
His mouth hovered over mine. His breath puffed over my lips, which felt too dry. I moistened them and let my eyelids shut out the sight of those amazing, mesmerizing eyes of his.
“Sloan, if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop,” he whispered.
“Don’t kiss me then,” I answered.
“I want to.”
I wanted him to. Maybe. No, I didn’t. Yes, I did.
“Neither one of us needs this now.”
“Don’t speak for me. You don’t know what I need,” he said. Generally, you’d expect those words to sound defensive, maybe even angry. But not this time, not now, not coming from a man who seemed to be on the verge of losing control.
They sounded sexy.
I told myself to lean back, but I didn’t listen. I lifted my hand, which he wasn’t holding hostage, to his face, instead. I palmed his cheek and let his curls wind around my fingertips.
That was definitely a bad idea.
“Okay, I don’t need this now. I need a friend,” I said.
“Friends kiss.”
“No, they don’t.”
His lips touched mine. It was a fleeting contact, hardly a touch at all. But oh, how devastating that not-quite-a-touch was.
All the air left my lungs.
The circuits in my brain shorted out.
My heart went berserk, thumping so hard I could count the beats.
And still I managed to do something smart. I jerked backward, away from temptation. My hand flew from his face. He caught my wrist before it had come to rest anywhere. Now he had both hands. He brought one up to his face; this time, he flipped it over. After releasing the other hand, he uncurled my fingers one at a time, exposing my palm.
“You want to know what I think?” he asked.
“No.”
“I think you’re scared.”
“Scared of what?” I twisted my arm, trying to pull it out of his grasp. “I’m not scared of you, if that’s what you think.”
“I think you’re scared of trusting people, trusting men. Though considering your close call with JT—”
I yanked my hand away, swinging it at his face. “Don’t go there.” I missed, intentionally, but I let him know he’d crossed the line.
I guzzled what was left in my coffee cup; then I handed it back to him. “It’s time for me to go.” I stood. “Thank you for helping me out. I appreciate it.” I headed toward the front door as fast as I could.
Gabe followed me. “Sloan, I’m sorry. I’m an ass.”
“Yes, you are. But we both knew that.” Standing in his foyer now, I softened the blow my words might have delivered by giving him a smile. I grabbed the doorknob and turned to face him. “I’m not mad. Don’t worry.”
“You’re a rotten liar.”
“So I’ve been told.” I was in an awkward position, thanks to my out-of-control, raging hormones. I’d sort of led him on by not shutting him down right away. And yet I was constantly telling him, “No, no, no.” Mixed messages. I released the doorknob and crossed my arms over my chest, fully aware of the message my body language would be sending. “Look, since we’ve been working together for the PBAU, we’ve managed to turn what had been a somewhat hostile relationship into something close to a friendship. I’d rather not end up sliding backward.”