Game of Fear (8 page)

Gabe didn’t like where these questions might lead, but she had a right to ask. He’d brought up the connection. “To get help from my father. He was a cop. He was supposed to protect her.”

“Why not just go to the local New Mexico authorities?”

“She did, but they brushed her off. They thought the attack was random and her friends had skipped town.”

“Like Justin.”

Gabe nodded. “A . . . friend of hers . . . contacted my father and asked if they could come to Denver to hide. Shannon was gunned down when she arrived.”

He could see the speculation in her gaze. No doubt the wheels whirred in Deb’s head. She recognized there was more to the story. But in Gabe’s mind, his sister, Whitney’s, identity wasn’t relevant. Not really.

Deb bent over and tapped the folder. “There’s more in this accordion folder than just files on Shannon and her teammates. It’s way too thick. What else was your father looking into?”

Gabe took a deep breath. He so didn’t want to get into this now. He kept his gaze lowered. Deb saw too much.

“He identified a loose pattern of teenage disappearances, a few here and there, all across the country, over a period of several years. At first, I couldn’t see the tie-in. After all, a lot of kids run away at that age, but it was obvious my father obsessively tracked certain ones.” He sat back and sighed, shaking his head. “I always thought he was traveling down a rabbit hole. Until today.”

Deb sagged onto the couch next to Gabe. “Why today specifically?”

“Because the few disappearances he starred in the files were all supersmart kids who supposedly ran away, often with an equally brilliant friend.”

“Oh God. Ashley. Justin.” Deb reached forward and grabbed Shannon’s file. “I need to read these.”

“Wait—”

She flipped open the folder and gasped. Spread out before her were the horrific crime scene photos from Shannon’s shooting.

“Oh my God.”

Gabe snatched the folder from Deb’s shaking hand and closed it. “I didn’t want you to see those.”

“This can’t be related to Ashley.” Deb sat stiff, her entire body screaming
don’t touch me
.

Gabe ignored the message. He put his arm around her, and even though she pulled away, he tugged her closer, stroking her back, cursing his stupidity. Even her tour in Afghanistan hadn’t prepared her for the gruesome photo of someone who looked so much like her sister.

The problem was, if Patrick Montgomery was right, Ashley Lansing’s chances did not look good.

Ern
ie clutched the latest package in his hands. His jaw throbbed and his eye had swollen shut. Gasmerati’s thugs had given him another beating. Just for fun. He was tired of this life.

He limped down the narrow hallway as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to give anyone else a chance to pummel him.

Wishing he could just get the hell out of Denver, but without so much as a twenty to his name, Ernie sighed. No one would give him a job, except doing this crap for Gasmerati. He hitched up his pants. He was so hungry they hung loose. The food Gabe had given him had been the only decent meal he’d had in days. He’d never collected on his tip, but he might have to. Going near the bar terrified him, though. He still didn’t know who had been lurking in the shadows outside Sammy’s.

“I knew we had a leak!” Gasmerati’s bellow boomed in the hallway. “Why did it take this long to find out the traitor’s name?”

Ernie froze, his swallow so loud the gulp echoed around him. God, did they know about him? He sent a furtive glance right, then left, and plastered himself against the wall. If Jeff meant Ernie, he was dead. He couldn’t run far enough to escape the mobster’s thugs.

“I want Grace O’Sullivan silenced,” Gasmerati said. “I don’t care if I’ve known her all my life. Luke Montgomery has run too many newspaper articles using inside information. I can’t believe she’s the one who betrayed us. Her husband is our damned hit man. Call him. We’ll see if he’s really loyal. Hell, I might throw in Montgomery, too.”

Ernie tensed. Gasmerati was putting out a hit on Grace O’Sullivan—and possibly Luke, too? Gabe would pay big bucks for this.

“We should have known it was her,” another voice chimed in. “She had the hots for Steve Paretti before she—”

“Don’t speak that traitor’s name in my presence, Sly,” Gasmerati said.

Ernie shuddered. Sly made Gasmerati look like a choir boy. As Gasmerati’s enforcer, Sly enjoyed his job too much. Ernie did all he could to avoid the muscle man. Everyone did.

Gasmerati’s voice turned harsh. “Family doesn’t betray family. Find out who she called at WITSEC,” he ordered. “First the FBI looking into my business and now this. I want anyone involved silenced. I refuse to be brought down by a damn woman.”

Footsteps thundered toward the door where Ernie listened. Panicking, he hurried out the side door. He quietly shut it, then limped away, praying no one had seen him.

The Montgomerys would want to know about this. If Grace was Luke’s snitch, and the Montgomerys wanted to save her, they’d pay. Maybe enough to get him out of Denver.

For the first time in years, Ernie had hope that there was a way out of this mess after all.

Gabe stirred, his back, his leg, his whole body, sore and stiff. He opened his eyes, surprised to find he was still on the couch, the soft, warm body of Deborah Lansing tucked snugly against his side.

Outside, dawn was just breaking and the gray morning light filtered in through the blinds. Ice frosted the kitchen windows, so today would be another cold one. Gabe resettled the afghan his mother had knitted him for Christmas over his legs and Deb’s, then leaned back in the softness of the couch.

She’d fallen asleep in his arms, worn out by anxiety, fatigue, and unshed tears. Even now, she wrestled inner demons that disturbed her slumber. She wouldn’t like being this vulnerable to anyone. She prided herself in her strength. He’d learned that much about her.

And he found that spine of steel sexy as hell.

Gabe stroked her forehead gently and whispered soft words of comfort, like his mother had when he’d had a nightmare. Deb settled in and nestled closer, draping one arm around his waist.

Talk about sweet torture, and she didn’t even know what she was doing to him. How many times had he fantasized about having her in his arms?

He had several choices. He could kiss her awake or move away from her so she wouldn’t be embarrassed that she’d turned to him while she slept. He couldn’t bring himself to do either. He just wanted to hold her a little longer.

Unmoving, he ran several investigative scenarios through his head and by the time he’d settled on a plan for the day, Deb’s eyelids fluttered open.

First, her eyes widened, then she stared at him, then looked down at their entangled bodies.

“Oh, tell me I didn’t do this . . .” She flushed crimson and pulled out of his embrace. “Gabe, I’m so sorry. I never meant to fall asleep.” She brushed her hand across the front of his sweater.

He smiled gently, already missing the warm weight of her on top of him. “Actually I was thinking that the last hours were the best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

She stilled, her eyes wary. “You can’t be serious.”

“When a beautiful woman falls asleep in my arms, I call myself damn lucky.” The discomfort on her face told him he’d pushed his case enough.

“What time is it?” Urgency shoved her to her feet, her eyes searching for a clock.

“Too early to drive to Colorado Springs, but not too early for breakfast.” He rose and went to the kitchen, yanking out a few microwavable entrées from the freezer. “What can I interest you in? Breakfast burritos or quesadillas? Oh, there’s an ancient box of Pop-Tarts if you’re the daring type.”

He forced the conversation light. Today could be a really good day or a really bad day, but the foreboding in Gabe’s gut made him suspect the latter.

Hesitant footsteps revealed her reservation. He forced himself to relax when everything in him longed to hold her and make it okay. Trouble was, he couldn’t.

He threw the frozen entrées on the counter and grabbed the coffee pot. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not fun to be around before coffee. Want some?”

He turned, empty pot in hand.

Deb stood a few feet away, a bit bemused. “Um, coffee would be great. Look, Gabe—”

“It’s fine, Deb. I get the message.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“Today, we’re colleagues, right? Mixing business and pleasure breaks the rules.”

Her eyes widened in shock.

“Don’t look so surprised. I get it. I worked with a woman for years in SWAT. She was a sniper. She kept herself at a distance for a lot of reasons. That was one of them. Of course, now she’s married to my brother.” Gabe filled the pot with water and looked over his shoulder. Deb had given him the excuse he needed. As much as he could see himself seducing Deb Lansing, he liked her too much. It wouldn’t be a one-night stand with Deb, and he had an investigation to run. He couldn’t risk putting her in danger. “Business it is.”

A few minutes later the smell of coffee filtered through his house. He handed Deb a cup and she sipped the dark liquid gratefully. Gabe nearly groaned.

Her eyes finally cleared, their haze from only a few hours’ sleep vanishing. “When can we leave?”

“Nine is the earliest my contacts will be there. For now, eat up.”

She sat down at the table, and he doled out breakfast, adding a bowl of salsa to hide the frozen-food aftertaste.

A few minutes later, Deb licked her lips. “Frozen or fresh, I don’t care. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” She glanced once more at the clock and leaned forward in her chair, her expression solemn. “Thank you . . . for your kindness last night. For being there.”

Gabe ignored the small skip of his heart. “That’s what colleagues do. Right?”

“Yes. Colleagues.”

What an idiot. Gabe cursed his stupidity. Business was the least of the emotions he was feeling for Deb Lansing this morning and he’d given her the out. “Do you want the shower first?” he asked. “We have just enough time before we should go.”

She shook her head. “More coffee.” She poured a second cup.

Relieved, Gabe headed to the back of the house. His shower would be quick all right, and freezing cold.

Ten minutes later, he returned to the kitchen bearing fresh towels and a packaged toothbrush for her. Would she notice his lips were blue from the icy water he’d rained upon his overeager body?

Deb sat at the table, nursing her coffee. She looked more like herself now, alert, strong, and less vulnerable. More like the woman who could probably throw him onto his back and either stomp on him or have her way with him.

“Shower’s yours if you want it.” Gabe shifted. “I didn’t know if you wanted to take the time to go home before heading to Colorado Springs. I left some long-sleeved shirts and sweaters on my bed if you want to change. I don’t have any pants that would fit, though. Just sweats.”

Deb faced him, her face fully cloaked in the iron curtain he’d come to recognize. “Thanks. I’d feel a lot better after a run through the shower. I want to get going as soon as possible.”

By the time she returned, her damp auburn hair curling around her face and shoulders, Gabe truly wondered if he’d lost his mind. How could he have thought listening to a naked, wet Deborah Lansing taking a shower in his bathroom wouldn’t require him to shove snowballs down the front of his pants?

Damn. She was loyal, sexy, witty, and—

She interrupted. “Thanks for the loan of the clothes, etcetera. I’ll replace the toothbrush.”

He moved toward her. “You don’t have to. I have more.”

“Oh.” Her gaze lowered. “Yeah. Single guy. Who owns a bar. Of course you have guests.”

He stepped closer. Close enough to inhale the scent of minty toothpaste, shampoo, and clean skin. Somehow his soap and shampoo smelled a lot sexier on her. He tilted her chin up. “Deb, you are the first woman I’ve had sleep the night at this house.”

Her eyes rounded. “Really? Then why . . .”

“My mother.” He brushed the hair back from Deb’s face. “After raising six boys, my mother was used to buying for an army, so when I moved in she gave me a care package—or twenty. I could supply every person in the city of Denver with a toothbrush and still have some left over. Don’t even get me started on how many boxes of condoms she threw in. Then she yells at me for not giving her grandchildren. I think she’d better make up her mind.”