hellcat 05 - come hell or high water (10 page)

After thirty lengths in the pool, she dried off and changed into leggings and a crop top, replaced her knee and ankle brace, and hit the weight circuit.  Kimberley stayed a safe distance away and simply watched in silence.  Gabi was into the third round of the weight circuit when a fit, middle-aged man of medium height, with dark hair just beginning to grey, pushed through the doors into the gym.

“Ah, now I see why the men are avoiding their weight training this morning,” he said, striding towards Gabi with a grace and ease of movement that belied his appearance.  He nodded a courteous greeting to her before his Werewolf senses warned him there was another live body in the room.  He turned to take in the quiet form of Kimberley leaning against a spin bike.  “You would be Kimberley?” he asked, checking for confirmation from Gabi rather than waiting for the Doppelganger to acknowledge this herself. 

Gabi released the leg press she’d been holding, letting the metal weights clank together noisily, and nodded.  “Kimberley, this is Patrick, Julius’s daytime head of security,” Gabi introduced the two as she sat up. 

They exchanged wary smiles.

“Kimberley is shadowing me today,” she told Patrick, probably unnecessarily, as Patrick almost always knew exactly what was going on in and around the Estate, Julius and, by extension, Gabi too. 

Patrick’s eyes narrowed as he wove through the gym equipment towards her and noticed the amount of weight she’d been pressing.  “Gabi, you shouldn’t be pushing that knee and ankle so hard yet,” he admonished.  “They’ve barely had time to heal.” 

Gabi suppressed the urge to stick her fingers in her ears and chant ‘Lalalalalala’ until he went away, but in the spirit of acting more like an adult, she restrained herself and instead reached for the towel on the floor next to her. 

“Hey, I’m wearing the stupid braces, aren’t I?” she retorted, lifting her leg to show him the two separate braces; an Aircast strapped snuggly around her ankle and tucked into her gym shoe, and a more complex, hinged brace encasing her knee.  They weren’t quite as bulky as the first full-length brace Ian had fitted her with, but still restrictive enough that she was itching to lose them completely. She would be visiting Ian in the next couple of days to give them back to him. 

Patrick’s mouth narrowed in irritation, but he didn’t pursue the matter. Maybe a trace of her earlier close call with Red Rage was still palpable in the air. 

“You wanted to see me?” he said instead.

“I need you to arrange a round-the-clock watch on my place while Julius is away,” she told him, rising to her feet and putting effort into not showing the pain that flared in her knee as she did so.  “I won’t be there, but my housekeeper and her niece will be around to take care of the place and the pets.”  Patrick had never been into her home, so hadn’t met any of her pets except for Razor, who tended to accompany her on a regular basis, but Gabi had no doubt that he knew of each of them, the man had a military background and was obsessively detail orientated.

“Of course,” he replied with a sharp nod.  “Are we expecting trouble?” 

Gabi dried the back of her neck with the towel.  “I’m not sure,” she told him honestly, “but the fact that a sniper took a shot at me on the road leading to my place tells me that someone out there knows where I live, and I’d rather not have Rose or her niece take a bullet meant for me.”  A small shudder ran down her spine at that thought. 

Patrick’s face softened just a little.  “I’ll make sure good men are put on it,” he assured her.  “Consider it one less thing you need to worry about.” 

She smiled gratefully.  “Thanks, Patrick.  Now go away so I can go to the change rooms without you watching me for a limp.” 

He snapped her a sarcastic salute and a last narrow-eyed look before leaving. 

“Right.” She glanced across at Kimberley.  “Time for you to see how a Dhampir eats.”  She was ravenous.

********************

The test that night was fairly simple: two Gabis in the entertainment room, the judges simply had to figure out who was the real one.

When Kimberley stalked into the room to join Gabi, who’d arrived first, Gabi nearly dropped the wine glass she’d just filled.  Dressed in a pair of skintight, black leather pants, one of Gabi’s leather jackets and a spare pair of Gabi’s boots, the resemblance was mind-bending.  Gabi actually caught herself wanting to move a hand to check that she wasn’t actually looking in a mirror.  Though, in truth, it was obvious this wasn’t a mirror, Kimberley wasn’t a mirrored reflection, and there were subtle differences when Gabi could look at her own face head on.  Kimberley stared back at her, a haughty expression on Gabi’s features, her mass of auburn curls pinned into an untidy bun on her head. 

“Your gift is amazing,” Gabi finally said, dragging the wine glass to her lips and swigging the contents of the glass down quickly.  Feeling off kilter, she was keenly feeling the absence of Nex’s blade nestled between her shoulder blades.  A replica sheath and sword for Kimberley to wear had been commissioned from Savannah, but they hadn’t arrived yet.  Gabi had also removed the giveaway ankle and knee braces and intended to take a double dose of anti-inflammatories and painkillers, so as not to give herself away with a limp or grimace of pain, but Kimberley had told her not to bother, she would be emulating Gabi’s injury as well as everything else.

“It has it’s uses,” Kimberley said dismissively, in a voice utterly in contrast to her usual attitude, striding into the room and taking a wine glass from the bar counter before pouring a generous helping of Pinot Noir. 

Gabi blinked and then mentally slapped herself awake. She had to play her part as well, and astounded onlooker was not her role.  She sent a quick text to Kyle’s phone to let them know the test was on. 

The rules were simple.  They had three minutes, no touching, no asking trick questions that only Gabi could answer, and there would be no discussion or collusion between them.  At the end of the time they had to know for sure which one was the real Gabi, any indecision on their part was classed a win for Kimberley.  If the Vampires and Werewolves who knew Gabi the best could be tricked, then unsuspecting members of the Princep Court would stand little chance of recognising the impostor.

Alexander was the first through the door, a jovial grin on his face, though he paused as he took in the sight of the two of them. 

“Hellcat,” he greeted loudly.

“Lex,” Gabi’s voice replied in droll simulcast. 

Alexander’s grin grew wider.  “Well, fuck me sideways, this is going to be fun,” he enthused.  “I can’t wait to see Julius handle two of you.” 

CHAPTER 6

Three out of five was a pass, Gabi reminded herself as trepidation swamped her.  Only Kyle and Julius had been able to pick the real Gabi with confidence.  In the end this was an extreme test: in close quarters, with people who knew Gabi well, the fact that Kimberley had three of them doubting their own senses was a solid case for the Doppelganger being able to fool those less familiar with Gabi.

Gabi blew out a breath, the air puffing out her cheeks. The girl would pull it off, and Julius and the rest of them would be back in just a few days, she told herself firmly.

As long as no one actually tried to attack them, of course, another part of her mind gleefully reminded her.  And her anxiety was back full force.  It was true, there was no way to train Kimberley to be the natural fighter Gabi was in just twenty-four hours.  If something physically came at Kimberley or Julius, she would give herself away in an instant. 

“Stop focusing on the ‘what ifs’,” Julius told her, taking her face between his hands and tilting it up towards his own. He closed his eyes as he leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead.  His calmness and strength washed across her senses, bathing her as it had the last couple of hours that they’d spent together.  Just the two of them—no phones, no disturbances, not even sex.  They’d barely spoken, just touched.  And soaked in each other’s existence. 

When the sun set and the blinds over the windows rose, Gabi watched as Julius showered, changed and packed.  By unspoken agreement Gabi wouldn’t be seeing him off at the private airport where his jet waited.  “I’ll be back soon.  Behave yourself while I’m gone,” he said as he drew away from her.  “Keep them all in line, but try not to kill anyone, okay?”

A feeble attempt at a chuckle escaped her and she nodded, folding her arms tightly around herself as she watched him open the bedroom door and place his bags into Maximillian’s waiting hands. 

The empty space on her ring finger was an uncomfortable void.  She’d had to hand the ring over to Kimberley to completely authenticate the look, and she was astounded by the way its absence disturbed her.  She was entrusting the ring, her reputation and Julius’s life to a woman she barely knew.  A woman who’d once betrayed her own people in the quest for material wealth.  A woman who would have to share Julius’s room and bed if credibility was to be maintained.  Every second of the next few days was going to seem like hours. 

********************

Gabi was trying hard not to mope. There was no excuse; it had only been a few hours.  She was pathetic.  There was so much going on that she shouldn’t have had time to worry about not feeling Julius in her mind.  She’d spent most of her life without the emotions of another person intruding on her own thoughts, and just a few short months experiencing the inexplicable connection that she and Julius shared, but the absence now left her feeling bereft and alone.

She spent the first hour angry.  Angry that he’d lied, angry that he’d kept things from her, angry that she’d had to agree to stay behind in order to get the truth from him.  She’d cursed him, and then she’d cursed herself.  And then, when the anger ran dry, she’d had to admit that she couldn’t expect him to be fully committed to a relationship that she wasn’t yet fully committed to.  She was still holding back, not taking the final step to fully integrate her life with his.  Stubbornly keeping her own house, using the pets as an excuse to keep from moving into the Estate, making both their lives infinitely more complicated.  So she spent another hour wondering why she was unconsciously trying to keep him at arm’s length, and searching within herself for answers.  Which led to moping.  She’d heard about moping, seen it in movies and on TV, and she’d always thought it was ridiculous.  Well, she still thought it was ridiculous, but now she understood it as an actual emotion.

Ian popped in to check on her a short while ago before his shift started at the City’s main hospital.  Getting rid of the cursed knee and ankle braces should have had her celebrating, but she could hardly raise even a hint of enthusiasm.  He’d left her with a prescription for sleeping tablets and orders to use them, apparently she looked tired.  That was less embarrassing than lovesick, she decided.

She plunged her hands into her hair, tugging slightly to try to relieve the hint of a headache that was beginning to form inside her skull.  She should be going over the email from Patrick detailing his proposals for upgraded security measures, but she couldn’t raise the interest required, so she mulled over whether to find some gym shoes or a swimsuit.  For the first time in months she regretted not being an SMV Hunter. If there wasn’t an assignment to track down or apprehend, there was always the ‘course’.  At the SMV training centre the Hunters and some trainers had set up an interactive, variable obstacle course.  It was fun and challenging and always good for letting off some steam.  With a mental coin toss, she marched towards the door, only to have it open a second before she reached it. 

Alexander stood there with a wicked grin on his face and two key chains complete with car fobs dangling from one finger. 

“Bet you mine is faster than yours,” he challenged, tossing her keys at her. 

She caught the set of keys without even looking at them. Her eyes narrowed speculatively at Alexander as she assessed his words.  “Maybe at nought to sixty, but on the open road,” she countered, “the McLaren will smoke your pert, little Ferrari ass.”

Her grin mirrored Alexander’s as they raced for the underground garage. 

The drivers toyed with each other as they travelled the narrow residential streets towards the motorway.  Gabi’s McLaren 12C purred as she gentled it along. It was an amazing piece of machinery, as comfortable on a country lane as on a race track. It lacked the masculine grunt of her previous automotive love, her beloved Ford Mustang, but the McLaren was growing on her, and its acceleration and top speed were almost unparalleled.  One of its few rivals was the car sitting right on her tail as they swooped passed a city taxi on a late run.  Alexander’s Ferrari 458 convertible growled as he revved the engine playfully. 

By the time they reached the open road, her foot was itching to stamp downward.  At this hour of the night, this far from the City’s centre, the traffic would be light, and the chance of a cop in the area negligible.  Even though the chances of a cop car catching them were non-existent, they were trying to keep a low profile for a couple of days.  Gabi cruised onto the motorway, waiting just long enough for Alexander to come up level with her; then she turned her head, gave him an evil grin, pressed the button for sport mode and floored the accelerator.

The car responded unquestioningly, roaring exultantly to life.  The giant rev counter on the dash exploded in a bright red arc as the engine hit top revs and six hundred and fifteen horsepower hurled the car forward hard enough to force Gabi back into the hand-stitched leather seat.  The adrenalin surge that washed through her was poles apart from a fighting rush; instead of being hit with sense-enhancing fury and single-minded intensity, she was infused with euphoric excitement and genuine, unadulterated pleasure. 

The cars flew down the four-lane highway, hugging the curves like a pair of synchronised ice skaters.  Sometimes the McLaren would pull slightly ahead, but then Alexander would coax something more from the Ferrari, and it would edge back level with her.  They barrelled past the occasional late night traveller, unerringly splitting to change lanes and swooping back together after each one.