Penumbra (14 page)

She glanced ahead and saw that Wetherton's office was only two doors away.
Damn.
She looked back to Gabriel. “Who's watching me tonight?”

He hesitated, then said, “Alain.”

“After which?”

“Jessie takes over. Though since we now might be having lunch, I'll probably step in and let her rest.”

“You're expecting a bit much of your sister and her husband, aren't you? They have their own lives to live, too.”

“No one in my family has their own life. Everything revolves around the Federation.”

The edge of bitterness is his voice surprised her, but she didn't question him about it. He wouldn't tell her anything. When it came to family, he was tighter than a clam. “But I'm not involved in this Federation of yours.”

Hell, even though she knew the historical facts about the Federation's origins—that it was formed to protect the political and legal interests of nonhumans after the Race Wars—she had no idea what it truly did these days. The few things he had said about it, however, suggested that not only were they still very much involved in protecting the interests of nonhumans, but they were also some kind of undercover, independent spy agency.

His gaze met hers briefly. “No, but who you are, and what you are, might very well affect the Federation and its operations in the future. So, in that respect, you warrant Federation involvement.”

“So why hasn't Stephan assigned other—” She paused, remembering what Jessie had told her. The urge to grin was almost overwhelming, but she somehow kept a straight face. Which didn't mean she could resist the temptation to pull his chain a little. “He doesn't know you've assigned me guards, does he?”

“No.”

“So, you're having me guarded twenty-four hours a day against your brother's direct orders, but you refuse to admit there might be anything more than professional interest motivating you?”

He glanced at her. “That's about it.”

Anger rose so fast she could barely restrain it. He
knew
there was something between them, something that needed to be sorted out. Something that was more than just a fluke of DNA. Why couldn't he give her at least
that
tiny crumb of admission, even if he never intended to pursue it?

“You're so full of shit, Assistant Director, that it's almost scary.” Sam stopped as they reached the front of Wetherton's office building. “And you know what? Call off your guards now, or I'll let Stephan know what you're up to.”

Annoyance flashed through his eyes. “But Hopeworth—”

“As I've already said, let them come. I want answers. I want this mess sorted out so I can finally get on with the rest of my life.”

“There may not
be
a ‘rest of your life' if Hopeworth grabs you!” His anger all but seared her senses. But underneath it, there was also fear. “If they kidnap you, we may not be able to find you, let alone rescue you. The whole Wetherton operation last night went to hell, so it's possible this will, too.”

“Your brother isn't a complete fool. I have trackers on me, so they can find me no matter where I'm taken.”

“But the danger—”

“Walking across the street during rush hour is dangerous, but I do that every damn day. Back off, Assistant Director. If you wanted to be involved in this operation—and my life—you shouldn't have pushed me away.”

“That is beside the point…”

“No, it's not. It is precisely the point. I have no desire—and no need—for a babysitter. Especially when that person isn't courageous enough to get over the past and get on with his life.” And with that, she turned around and walked into the building.

G
ABRIEL SWORE TO HIMSELF AS
Sam walked away. No one looking at her slender figure right now would guess at the steel and determination hidden within that slight frame.

Or the depth of sheer, damn foolhardiness.

There was a
huge
difference between acting as bait and walking into a situation seriously underprepared. No matter what she or Stephan thought, she
couldn't
handle this sort of job alone. There were just too many angles they could neither guess at nor cover.

As for her last jibe, where the hell did she get off accusing him of cruising through life when she was basically doing the same thing? God, at least he had a family…

He stopped the thought. That was hardly fair. And she couldn't exactly be blamed for her reluctance to have backup. She'd been abandoned as a teenager and, for all intents and purposes, had grown into adulthood alone. She'd spent half her life having few friends and depending on no one but herself. It wasn't entirely surprising that she would reject his offer of help now.

What was surprising was the fact that she still wanted to see him socially, even after all he'd done to her.

He blew out a breath, then he spun on his heel and hitched the collar of his jacket up in an attempt to stop the rain from dripping down his neck as he walked across the street. He'd spotted Alain as he'd followed Sam from O'Hearn's office earlier, and the big man had been their distant shadow ever since. He was glad Sam hadn't spotted Alain. Undoubtedly, that would have made the situation worse.

Lightning split the wet darkness—a blinding, ragged streak whose power seemed to echo right through him. He frowned. When he'd stepped out into the storm earlier, he'd felt the energy in the night. It was a sensation similar to walking underneath high-voltage power lines—the crackle of electricity was very audible, and static had caressed his hair and skin. If he
had
been standing under high-voltage lines, and if he
were
stupid enough to climb the pylons, he could have touched all that power, felt it running through him. And died in the process.

The storm had felt like that—power that was both enticing and dangerous. Power he could reach out and touch if he wanted to. Power that would kill him if he tried.

He glanced at his hands. There were no burn marks, despite the fact that he'd shoved them into the middle of the lightning strike. Neither he nor Sam had been hurt, and that in itself was a miracle.

Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just another sign that Karl was right. She'd used the storms before and was certainly no stranger to that sort of power running through her. Maybe touching her had somehow protected him.

Or maybe, as Karl had stated, he and Sam had a bond in which the storms were a major component—one they couldn't yet understand, and maybe never would.

For someone who didn't want bonds of any kind, he seemed to be gaining more than his fair share. And there wasn't much he could do to stop it. Ignoring the bond—and trying to push her away—hadn't worked.

Actually, he pretty much suspected that, despite her words to the contrary, he'd only made her more determined to force the issue.

And he wasn't actually sure how he felt about that.

He didn't
want
bonds of any kind; he'd been telling himself that for half his life. Yet part of him now hungered for it. Hungered for the closeness his brother and sisters had.

Maybe the lightning
had
affected him. Short-circuited a brain wire or two.

He hurried inside the small café where Alain had settled. His brother-in-law sat at a table to the left of the entrance, out of immediate sight but with a full view of the road and Wetherton's building. Gabriel took off his coat and shook it out as he walked over. Droplets of moisture scattered over the nearby chairs and tables, but since the café was almost empty, it didn't really matter.

“I ordered you a coffee,” Alain said, sliding one of two steaming cups across the table.

“Thanks.” Gabriel slung the coat over the spare chair and sat down. “You saw what happened?”

Alain nodded. “It was pretty damn scary, too.” He glanced down, his gaze skimming Gabriel's hands. “You don't appear to be suffering any side effects from the strike. How did Sam fare?”

“Much the same.” Gabriel shrugged, not wanting to get into explanations when he really didn't have them. “But we have a bigger problem.”

“What?”

Alain picked up his coffee and sipped it, but there was the faintest touch of amusement in his brown eyes. Which, knowing the man as well as he did, suggested to Gabriel that his next comment would come as no surprise. “Sam knows we're following her. She wants you both to stop, or she says she'll call Stephan.”

“So what are you planning to do?”

“Nothing. I want you and Jess to keep watching as planned. Except for tomorrow. I'll take over the day shift.”

“Will she go through with her threat if she sees us?”

“Most likely, so you need to be careful.”

Alain raised a bushy eyebrow. “Stephan will not be happy if he discovers what we've been up to.”

“Undoubtedly.” Gabriel picked up his coffee and gulped down some of the steaming liquid. “But I don't care.”

“So, basically, you're saying the only thing you
do
care about is Sam's safety.” Alain paused, a grin stretching his lips. “One could take that as an indication of emotional interest.”

“Or professional interest. Especially if she proves to be our link to Sethanon.”

Alain put down his cup and crossed his arms. “And do you believe that she is the link? After all these years of successfully avoiding us, do you seriously think Sethanon will come out of hiding for one woman?”

“Seriously? Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't believe he would have placed a watch on her if she was of no use to him.”

“True.” Alain paused. “But he might have intended to cultivate her, as he had her partner.”

“No. Kazdan's orders were to watch her, to keep her safe. That implies interest, not cultivation.”

“And yet Kazdan was trying to recruit her.”

“For himself, for his own takeover bid. Not for Sethanon.”

“You can't be sure of that.”

Yes, they could, because that was exactly what Kazdan had told Sam. She believed it, and so did he. Still…“We can't be sure of anything until we know for sure who she is and where she came from.”

“Is that why you won't admit to feeling anything for her?”

Gabriel snorted softly. “No, I'm not admitting anything because there is nothing to admit.” And even if that wasn't the entire truth—even if there
was
destined to be a bond between them—he'd successfully contained the link with his twin and he had every intention of doing the same with Sam. No matter how much a part of him might wish it otherwise.

The truth was, while he couldn't deny his attraction—at least to himself—he would
not
break his vow to never get involved. He wouldn't do that to someone ever again. And if, as Jessie predicted, he became a sad and lonely old man, so what? He could at least rejoice in the fact that he'd actually lived long enough to become sad and lonely. That another human being hadn't been killed simply because he had made her a target.

“So,” Alain said thoughtfully, “that look of horror and panic on your face when she was hit by lightning had absolutely no emotional basis whatsoever?”

“None at all.” Gabriel couldn't actually remember much about that moment, because when the lightning hit her, it had echoed through him, burning away all thought and emotion. He'd reacted instinctively, without really knowing what he was doing or saying until his hands had touched her.

But before he could actually reply further, his wristcom rang. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks for the timely intervention. No matter how he answered Alain, his brother-in-law would have twisted his words.

He retrieved his phone from his coat pocket and hit the receive button. “Agent Stern.”

“Hey, Boss.” Illie's usually cheerful expression looked subdued. “We've got a problem.”

“Just one? That would be a minor miracle.” Gabriel rubbed his eyes wearily. “What's up?”

“You remember Kathryn Douglass?”

“It was only yesterday that we visited the Foundation, Illie. I may be older than you, but I am not senile.”

His would-be partner snorted. “Yeah, well, the SIU just received a call from the State boys. It appears Kathryn Douglass has been murdered.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It happened last night, at her home. State called us because there was no entry or exit point. They're saying there's clear nonhuman involvement.”

Gabriel glanced at his watch. “I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes. Did you manage to interview Pegasus's security guards?”

“Some, but they weren't able to add anything to what we already know.”

“Have you scheduled time with the others?”

“I have. See you in fifteen.” And Illie hung up.

Gabriel looked at Alain. “I've been called to a murder scene. Make sure you keep out of Sam's sight.”

Alain gave him a grin that held very little humor. “I've been doing this for more years than she's been alive.”

“Yeah, but she's a whole lot cleverer than most of our usual targets.” Gabriel drained his coffee and stood. “If anything happens, call me immediately.”

“Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to your lady.”

Gabriel didn't dignify the comment with an answer. He just turned around and headed back out into the weather.

Sam leaned against the elevator wall and watched the numbers roll by. Wetherton, despite his supposed fear of heights, had moved his office from the third floor to the twenty-fifth floor, claiming a good third of the top floor for his boardroom, office and waiting area. If anyone in the government or press thought this was outrageous—or out of character—they weren't saying anything. Maybe they were just so used to the excesses of government ministers that they simply didn't bother questioning them anymore.

Or maybe Wetherton was simply paying off the right people. It certainly wouldn't be the first time something like that had happened.

The elevator stopped and she walked out. The standard blue carpet in the lobby gave way to a plusher, more luxurious plum once she'd pushed through the doors leading into the minister's suite.

A buxom blonde looked up and gave her a practiced but totally false smile. “Good afternoon. How may I help you?”

Sam dug out her badge and showed it to the woman. “Samantha Ryan, SIU. I have an appointment to see the minister.”

“Ah, yes. If you'll just have a seat, I'll let him know that you're here.”

The blonde picked up the phone. Sam sat on the nearest pale lemon couch and let her gaze roam. The first thing she noticed was the security camera in the corner to the left of the reception desk. It was pointed at her rather than at the doorway, meaning that someone was probably watching her.

Or maybe
all
visitors were scrutinized this intently. Paranoia surely was uppermost in the life of a clone who was trying to masquerade as the genuine object.

Or did the clone actually
think
he was original?

If, as she and Gabriel had theorized, someone had successfully found a way to transplant a brain, then it was certainly possible—especially if you believed the brain was the center of not only personality and memory, but also the soul. Maybe the real Wetherton
was
inside that clone somewhere.

But if he was, why the abrupt change in personality?

It was certainly a line they needed to explore—particularly since it was obvious that whoever was making these clones had successfully traded one of his creations for an original, and had tried to do the same with the Prime Minister himself. If Sethanon was involved with Hopeworth, as Gabriel and the Federation presumed, then these attempts to replace government ministers weren't going to end here.