Lust (19 page)

“I decided to take some time off,” Tom said, slapping a piece of paper down on top of a pile. Gaia felt as if he'd just slapped
her.
Her father taking time off? Was this some kind of new, previously unexplored reality? Before she could even formulate a question, her father paused and folded his hands in front of him, flattening a stack of what looked like contracts. “In fact, there's something I wanted to talk to you about,” he said with a smile. “How would you feel about making a new start?”

“What kind of new start?” Gaia asked slowly.

“Should I . . . ?” Jake asked, motioning toward the bedrooms.

“No, stay,” Tom said with a laugh. “I just wanted to ask Gaia how she'd feel about doing a little shopping this weekend.”

Gaia's jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly and
snapped it shut again. That was definitely a phrase she'd never thought she'd hear. Not from her father, anyway. The things she heard most often from him were phrases like, “Stay off the radar,” “I'll try to be in touch some time next month,” and “Aim for the solar plexus.”

“Shopping?” Gaia asked, slumping back in her seat. “For what?”

Please don't let him say bras or something like that
, Gaia thought.
Like he suddenly wants to make up for not being there and for my not having a mother.

Gaia didn't blame her father for his many disappearing acts over the years—at least not anymore—not now that she knew what he'd been doing on all those excursions and why. He'd been fighting the good fight. Protecting her—protecting the free world. It had taken Gaia a long time to accept that and move on. She couldn't handle it if he decided to take on the role of guilt-ridden father now.

“New furniture,” Tom said. “Everything in this place belongs to Natasha and Tatiana. I think it's time we get some of our own things, don't you?”

A little stirring of excitement came to life in Gaia's chest. She hadn't thought of it that way, but her father was right. This place was going to be their home.
Their home.
She and her father hadn't had one of those in years. Why would they want it to be decorated by their evil archenemy?

“Really?” Gaia said, too unaccustomed to the idea of doing something as normal as furniture shopping with her father.

“Yes, really,” Tom said, standing. He moved over to the end of the hallway and looked off toward the opposite end—toward the room Gaia once shared with Tatiana. “We can get rid of those two beds and get you a double . . . move out that old fashioned desk—I'm guessing it's not your style,” he added with a grin.

Gaia liked what he was saying, but the way he was saying it was still odd. Almost manic. He was too excited about the prospect of shopping.

But maybe he should be
, Gaia thought.
Maybe he wants some normalcy in his life as much as I do.

She sat up straight and squared her shoulders. “Okay, I'm in,” she said.

“Good,” her father said, squeezing both her shoulders from behind. “We'll go over to Seventh tomorrow and hit the stores.” He turned, hands in the pockets of his khakis, and looked around the living room. “It'll be a whole new start. Out with the old, in with the new.”

Gaia smiled slightly and looked up at Jake, who was already staring right at her. She felt a flutter in her heart as their eyes locked.

A whole new start
, she thought.
Out with the old, in with the new.

Rejection

OLIVER SAT IN ONE OF THE FEW CHAIRS
in his brownstone in Brooklyn, staring at the telephone on the table next to him. A half-empty bottle of scotch reflected the glow from the desk lamp that afforded the only light in the room. He took a swig of his drink and braced himself as the warm liquid burned down his throat.

It's just a phone call
, he told himself.
You've taken phone calls from the president of the United States in your day. Just get it over with.

He set the tumbler down, picked up the receiver, and quickly dialed Gaia and Tom's number. He had no idea why he was filled with such trepidation. Yes, there was a lot of bad history between him and his brother and niece, but that had all changed. They had fought side by side in Russia. They had escaped together. And even if he and Tom had been at each other's throats half the time, going through that experience together had brought them closer. He could feel it. Tom must have been feeling it too.

The phone rang a few times and he finally heard someone pick up at the other end. Oliver started to smile.

“Tom Moore,” his brother said stiffly.

“Hello, Tom. How are you settling in?”

Silence. Oliver's heart thumped almost painfully.

“Tom?”

“I don't want you calling here again,” his brother said, his tone impossibly cold.

“Tom . . . please, I just thought you and Gaia and I could get together,” Oliver said, sitting forward in his seat. “Talk things over . . . maybe have a meal—”

“Until I know with absolute certainty that you had nothing to do with my kidnapping and with the threats to Gaia's life, I have nothing to say to you. And I don't want you contacting her,” Tom said. “Do you understand me?”

Oliver struggled for words—a unique experience for him. Usually he could be smooth under any circumstances, could sweet-talk anyone and everyone he came into contact with. It was all part of his CIA training. But this . . . this flat out rejection from his only brother—his twin—was too much, even for him.

“Tom, I—”

“Stay away from my daughter, Oliver. Don't test me on this.”

And with that, the line went dead. Oliver held the receiver against his face for a few moments, unable to move. He hadn't expected Tom to jump up and down and do cartwheels over the phone call, but this completely inhumane treatment was uncalled for. After everything he'd done to bring Tom home safely, everything he'd done to help his brother and his daughter, he certainly didn't deserve
this.

Hand shaking, Oliver slowly lowered the receiver
onto the cradle. He took a steadying breath and lifted his drink again, downing the rest of it in one quick gulp.

It's going to be okay
, he told himself, bracing his forearm with his other hand to stop the shaking. To stop the hot blood that coursed through his veins from pushing him toward the edge—toward anger.
He'll come around eventually.

But his words were cold comfort to him, alone in his dark, unfurnished home. What did he have to do to get back in Tom's good graces? How many times would he have to prove himself?

To:
Y

From:
X22

Subject:
Prisoner 352: Code name: Abel

There has been a security breech in subsector K. Prisoner 352 is AWOL. Unconfirmed reports state that a young woman, believed to be Genesis, along with two men were instrumental in the liberation of 352/Abel. They are believed to be en route to the States, if not already there. We await your orders.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Simon Pulse edition September 2003

Copyright © 2003 by Francine Pascal

Cover copyright © 2003 by 17th Street Productions, an Alloy company.

SIMON PULSE

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

Produced by 17th Street Productions,

an Alloy company

151 West 26th Street

New York, NY 10001

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

For information address 17th Street Productions, 151 West 26th Street, New York, NY 10001.

Fearless™ is a trademark of Francine Pascal.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2003106558

ISBN: 0-689-85766-7

ISBN 13: 978-1-4424-8945-5 (eBook)