Tapestry of the Past (26 page)

Damn. This was exactly why he hadn’t told her. “There’s some danger involved,” he admitted with reluctance, “but Harley is taking every precaution he can. This is the quickest, most expedient method of finding out who is behind the threat. And it’s my choice.”

“No, it’s my choice. I’m the one who’s being threatened.”

“You wanted expert advice and help. You’re getting it.”

“And if you get killed, what then? How am I supposed to live with the knowledge that your death was my fault?” She tried to wiggle her fingers free.

“I knew the risks going in,” he reminded her, tightening his grip. “If,” he stressed the word, “anything happens to me, it won’t be your fault.” Gabriel raised his free hand to brush her cheek with his thumb, a light, tender caress.

Kalesia
flinched.

Pain flickered across his soul. “It has to be this way. Time is growing short and we needed a solid lead.”

Her shoulders slumped and her eyes glittered.

Tears? God, he hoped not. He could handle anything but tears from his woman.

To his relief, no tears fell. The relief was short-lived when she got up without saying a word and headed up the stairs.

* * * * *

Kalesia
tossed and turned, aware of low murmurs from downstairs. Why wouldn’t Gabriel listen to reason? Didn’t he understand she couldn’t bear the thought of him saving her life at the risk of his own? Tears burned her eyes and a painful lump closed her throat. He’d been hurt so much already. It’d kill her to know she’d brought harm to him. Why couldn’t he see that?

She sat up and thumped the pillow before flopping back down on it, staring at the ceiling. The man could be so damn hardheaded at times. He also had an overgrown sense of protectiveness. He’d do anything to keep her safe.

Even at the cost of his own life.

A small sigh slipped out in the dark. If she were truthful with herself, she’d admit she’d known what his reaction would be. Gabriel wouldn’t back down from what he saw as his responsibility.
Kalesia
turned onto her side and punched her pillow viciously. A woman’s fears or tears wouldn’t deter him from what he felt he had to do.

Damn male honor code!

Men could be so blasted stupid at times. As if she wanted her safety at the cost of his own. She snorted, clinging to her anger so she wouldn’t burst into tears.

Sleep claimed her but it was a fitful rest until Gabriel slid into bed and gathered her close.

Hours later, she snuggled closer to his warmth, seeking a safe harbor from the images forming in her mind.

She turned, the hay rustling softly under her feet. He was waiting for her. A gun rested casually in his fist. It wasn’t pointed at her. Not yet. But it wouldn’t be long before the short, ugly snout spat a bullet that would rip through her. She couldn’t outrun death.

His hand lifted. Gold glittered in the muted light falling through the cracks in the barn’s roof.

A sharp crack split the air…

Kalesia
screamed and bolted upright, her breath catching painfully in her chest as her hand touched her ribs, expecting to find the wetness of blood.

Beside her, Gabriel surged up, alert, his hand reaching under the edge of the bed. “What is it? What’s wrong?” His head turned the barest fraction as he searched the shadows, the question a hard whisper that barely reached her ears.

Someone an arm’s length away wouldn’t have heard him. Light gleamed dully on the knife he held in his hand.

Kalesia
shuddered and stared down at her hand, unable to believe that her fingers were actually dry. “Oh God, Gabriel. It was awful.”

The bedroom door suddenly slammed open and Wolf came across the threshold, down low and fast. Badger and Sam covered his entrance from the doorway, guns drawn.

Kalesia
froze, afraid the slightest movement might trigger an instinctive response. Unable to speak, hardly daring to draw a breath, she waited.

“I counted a full eighteen seconds until you arrived. I suppose better late than never,” Gabriel drawled.

The tension broken, she dragged in a lungful of air, aware her fingers were shaking as she smoothed back the tangle of hair from her face.

Wolf tucked the small, lethal weapon into the waist of his jeans at the small of his back. White teeth gleamed in the dark as he retorted, “Be thankful for small favors. We could have caught you at a particularly vulnerable moment, deflating the mood as it were.”

Kalesia
felt her face flame. Thank the lord it was too dark for the men crowding her bedroom to see the heat searing her cheeks. “Enough! Both of you!”

“Yeah, where the hell are your manners? There is a lady present,” Badger objected righteously. He flicked on the overhead light and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “Ignore these two
uncouths
. Obviously, their mommas neglected an important area of their education.” He grinned maliciously at the two men.

Sam stood, arms crossed over his chest, enjoying the show.

“Badger, the day you can give me lessons in manners is the day you can…” Gabriel began.

“Why do I sense this conversation is about to become unfit for decent folks?”
Kalesia
muttered as it sank in that the men’s banter was meant to give her time to compose herself.

“This from the woman who tracked down the meaning of REMF?” Gabriel reminded her dryly.

“That was totally different.” She sniffed, an unwilling smile tugging at her lips as she remembered Gabriel’s reaction.

Sam cleared his throat. “If I might interrupt this fascinating conversation with a mundane question. Why the scream? It took years off my life.”

Her smile changed to a glare.

Wolf chuckled.

Gabriel shot the other man a dirty look. “No, it wasn’t what you’re thinking.”

Wolf grinned wider.

Gabriel bent over and replaced the knife in the scabbard secured to the underside of the box springs. “I’d like to hear the answer to that one myself.”

Kalesia
cleared her throat, uncomfortable. “I’m sorry for the uproar. It was nothing, really.”

“Tell me.” The demand was implacable.

Kalesia
chewed on her bottom lip. “It was my vision,” she admitted at last. Half-expecting ridicule from the now silent men, she lifted her chin and dared them to make a cutting comment.

“Was it the same as the last?” Gabriel asked, his voice gentle.

Stupid tears again burned her eyes. Lord, they were going to think she was a watering pot at this rate. Ducking her head, she drew random circles on the sheet by her thigh. “Yes, it was the same. I was shot.”

“Exactly the same?”

Her brow creased at his persistence. “I’m not sure.” She hesitated, then added, “I think so.”

“Tell us what you remember.” Gabriel reached over and stilled her hand. She twisted hers around until she could clasp his with desperate strength. His closed about her smaller one with reassuring firmness.

“It’s all right, sugar. Tell us everything you can remember.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

How to explain? To convey to men rooted in brutal reality the inevitable feel to her visions now, despite their fuzziness. “I remember hay under my feet. It made a rustling sound in the silence. I sensed I was no longer alone and turned. He was there, waiting for me.”

The quiet horror in her voice affected Gabriel as nothing else ever had. Over her head, he glanced at his friends and saw they were equally moved. Hardened, accustomed to violence in all its applications, they lived with it, used it, yet, still, he could see they found the idea of
Kalesia
touched by violence’s embrace, obscene.

“What did he look like?” Wolf inserted quietly. A muscle in his throat worked and he met Gabriel’s gaze, deadly promise in his.

Gabriel nodded, accepting the unspoken pact to keep
Kalesia
safe at all cost.

Her brows dipped and there was bewilderment in her huge, emerald eyes. “I-I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m really trying to remember but his features always remain blurred.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll find him. Go on,” Gabriel urged, restraining the urge to gather her close, protect her from outside forces. To hide from the truth would have devastating results.

“I saw the gun this time.”

“What did it look like?”

“It was small enough to fit in a jacket pocket. The bore was smallish. It had a clip.”
Kalesia
played with a fold in the sheet. “That’s not much help, I know.”

“Hey, every little bit helps. Tomorrow we’ll have you look at some pictures of pistols and see if anything rings a bell.” Badger gave her a confident grin.

“When he lifted the gun and aimed,”
Kalesia
drew an uneven breath before continuing, “I could feel the impact. I have the impression the bullet shattered. But that doesn’t make any sense.” She halted in obvious frustration.

“It does if the bastard used a soft point,” Wolf said, his gaze unfocused as if he were deep in thought.

“Soft point?”

“Or hollow point. They’re bullets designed to expand on impact, allowing for the maximum amount of damage. They are very effective, especially if they fragment.”

Kalesia
paled.

Gabriel sent Wolf a black look. “It won’t happen. I promised to protect you.”

She smiled wanly. “I know. It’s just so…so horrible. I trust you, it’s just hard to shake the effects of the vision.”

“You’re doing great,” Sam reassured her. “Now, get some sleep. We’ll start working on them in the morning.”

“You can trust them, you know,” Gabriel said as the door closed behind the other men.

“I do trust them. It’s just,” she hesitated, “it seems that no matter how my vision changes, one thing remains constant—my death.” Fine shivers raced beneath her skin.

Each one sliced into him. He looked down at his chest, half expecting to see blood. “I’ll stop him.”

* * * * *

“So, do any of them ring a bell?” Badger spread out a series of pictures.
Kalesia
studied each one but her gaze kept coming back to one. She tapped a photo. “That one. That’s the one I saw in my vision.”

The weapon she pointed to was a 9mm modified Smith & Wesson Model 39, what the Navy called Mark 22,
Mod.O
Pistol. During the Vietnam War, the Navy sponsored development of the silenced pistol for the Seals.

It had another, less formal, name—the Hush Puppy.

Wolf spoke up. “John Crump was killed with a 9mm.”

Gabriel’s expression grew even more grim, if that was possible. “Sam, what did you find out about the other murders?”

“That there were more than we originally thought. I found several outside the U.S. that match our M.O. It’s going to be hard to prove they’re our guy’s, though. The killings range wide, from South and Central America to Africa. Hell, for all I know, there might be more. All were killed with a 9mm. There are other similarities. All the victims were either involved in drugs or arms and all killed in the same manner. They were—”

“
Kalesia
,” Gabriel interrupted, “this is going to be a long morning. Why don’t you go make some coffee?”

It was patently obvious Gabriel was trying to protect her from the more gruesome details. While she appreciated his intent, she wasn’t about to be left in the dark. She pinned him with a level look. “I can handle it. I’d rather know the facts than have to imagine them.” Gabriel tried to stare her down. When she refused to look away, he nodded for Sam to continue.

“They were shot once, in the left eye.”
Kalesia
winced. “Their wrists were laced tightly together behind their backs and they were kneeling when shot. The really odd thing, though, is the marks on their cheeks. Three black slashes. More than one account likened them to a tiger’s stripe.”

Wolf made a sound. Sam stopped and tilted his head inquiringly.

Wolf ignored everyone except Gabriel. “Sound familiar?”

Gabriel’s lips thinned. He nodded shortly. “Yeah.
Quang
Nam.”

“What about
Quang
Nam?”
Kalesia
glanced from one man to the other. She’d never seen quite that expression on either man’s face before.

Wolf deferred to Gabriel. “Southeast Asia was a hotbed of drugs at the time of the Vietnam War. It wasn’t that unusual for some industrious soldier to start a sideline business. The military frowned upon such extracurricular activity but was virtually helpless to prevent it. There was this one operation the Army was determined to shut down. Every time they got close, however, someone wound up dead.”

A chill of premonition slid down
Kalesia’s
spine. “They were shot in the,” she hesitated, “eye after their hands were tied,” she guessed, keeping her voice steady with an effort.

“Not just tied but laced to the elbow, with parachute nylon. And they had three stripes on each cheek. And the caliber was 9mm. By my time, the story was equal parts myth and legend. Every so often, the barest hint of rumors would surface of similar murders in Africa and South America. I always put it down to someone resurrecting that old story and using it to scare gullible new recruits.
Kinda
like the Boogeyman.” Gabriel’s right hand slowly closed into a fist. “I should have put it together a lot sooner. Crump. I saw the coroner’s pictures, read the report and still missed it.” He slowly straightened his hand.

Kalesia
had the impression he wanted to crush something and was just barely controlling himself.

“Are you saying that after almost forty years, the same man murdered Crump?”

“He had the stripes and was bound to the elbows with cord. Nylon. There are too many similarities even to try to put it down to mere coincidence.” Badger answered
Kalesia’s
question.

“Damn.” The succinct curse hung on the air.

“What is it? What’s wrong, Wolf?”
Kalesia
demanded.

“The story Harley dropped. The killer is liable to believe Gabriel knows more than he does.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s coming after you, Gabe.”