To Take Up the Sword (2 page)

Smythe was once Niccolo Gueraldi’s right-hand man and his favored hired killer for knife work. Gabe was sure Judge McCoy knew it. The jury knew it, but the law demanded evidence to prove Smythe’s involvement. There was none, or at least not any longer since the diamonds that would have sealed his fate had never been recovered. The judge stared the defendant in the eye, knowingly. Worst of all, Gabe was sure Ashton Smythe knew he’d be acquitted. Legally, the court’s hands were tied. Sometimes he hated the law he fought so hard to uphold.

The courtroom fell silent as the judge slammed his gavel on the wood block for order. “Now, listen here. I’ll have order through these proceedings or the room will be cleared.” The judge turned toward the jury. “Mr. Foreman, how do you find the defendant?”

“We find him…”

He sat behind the prosecution and waited for the verdict to be handed down. Gueraldi had ordered Serena Roarke’s death and died for it, but Smythe had a hand in it just the same. He had to pay for that. Gabe held his breath and prayed a miracle would happen.

“Not Guilty.”

The words echoed in his head, through his heart, and shattered it.

Chapter 2

Lea fished her keys out of the pocket of her windbreaker and unlocked the front door of her sweet little house. Uneasiness swept over her for the second time this morning. Turning, she scanned the empty street behind her. Nothing looked out of the ordinary as far as she could tell. At six-thirty, it was too early for the school bus riders in her neighborhood to be waiting outside. She’d be at her desk in her warm classroom if she hadn’t forgotten the graded test papers. Those really needed to be added to the signed papers she sent out over the weekend.

Though it was an hour before she’d have to report to her first class, she’d go in at seven o’clock to catch up on grading homework. The smell of Dunkin Donuts’ coffee and sweets lingered on her jacket, beckoning her back to the car. She just had to get one thing she’d forgotten.

Opening the door, Lea froze.
Oh my God!
What had happened to her house? She picked her way over the broken glass of an old vase in the foyer and looked into the living room. Couch cushions were ripped apart, stuffing all over the floor. Mirrors, shattered lamps tossed into corners. As she picked her way through the destruction of her home, down the hall she found her office and bedroom the same way. Completely trashed. She’d never get the blood out of her clothes or mattress.

Were the criminals who’d done this still here? Why would they want to attack her home? Unless... This was about Serena’s statue. Lea thought back to the last meeting with her sister here in her home.

“Lea, I need a favor, a gigantic one.” Lea watched Serena’s red curls bounce around her face as she emphatically pleaded with her sister.

“Sissy, calm down, I’ll do it if I can.” Lea noticed Serena kept her back to the wall, alternately looking between the windows and her watch.

Serena thrust a statue into her arms. “Keep this safe and with you always. Never let anyone know you have it. When I need it I’ll come back for it.”

Lea looked at the cheap trinket curiously and shook it, but it made no sound.

“I will, because it’s important to you. Can you tell me why?”

“No, I can’t. I will return for it, Lea.” A chill went through Lea and she hugged her sister so tightly she could scarcely breathe. “I love you. I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I have no one else to trust.”

“Not even your husband? You’re scaring me, Sissy.”

“Especially not Jack, his life depends on it. I know you’re scared. You need to be. If I don’t come back or you find you’re in danger, go to this man and only him. Promise me.” She grabbed a ballpoint pen off a nearby table and scribbled something on the back of a small white square. Serena gave her Gabriel’s business card. “Tell him who you are. He will help you. I’d trust him with my life, and in a way I guess I am.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Lea asked.

“I don’t know...” She paused as she opened the door. Her eyes were grave as they met Lea’s gaze “Tell no one I was here. We’re estranged. You don’t know me. No one does, not anymore. Take care, I love you.”

The next time she’d seen Serena was in a casket.

Whoever had done this must have been looking for the statue. Thank goodness she kept it with her, even on her morning donut runs. She took stock of the damage. In her bed, on her pillow, covered in blood was a mannequin’s head that bore a striking resemblance to her.

Get out now!
Serena’s voice flitted through her mind.

What the hell?

Hurry! Run! Find Gabriel!

Covering her mouth with her hand, she backed into the dresser. Lea dug through her lingerie drawer and found the small cloth bag with stars on it she’d hidden there after Serena’s visit. Checking the contents, she found the roll of twenty-dollar bills she’d saved, one of her two credit cards and all her identifying papers. She switched her flats for tennis shoes, ran back to the front door and said goodbye to her house.

* * * *

October fell on northern Alabama with a hopeful chill to the air. Most of the maples and oaks still had their leaves, while a few had begun to change color. Gabe admired the different hues of them as he drove down the tree-lined dirt road leading to the little cabin he’d rented on Bear Lake. It was country quiet, which meant something was always chirping, skittering or bounding through the woods.

He had no close neighbors unless he counted the deer or occasional raccoon. The creek flowing behind the cabin made him watch for snakes and other things that liked to live in or around water. He kept his pistol handy if he went out, but with his training he’d have done so in any case. The nearest house was about a mile down the road and set back in the woods, and empty. He enjoyed the solitude, if not the climate. No wonder Serena had chosen to spend her adult life here too; she loved the outdoors.

He’d found himself back in Alabama after the trial of Niccolo Gueraldi’s right hand, Ashton Smythe. He needed to be out of Washington, and though the heat was pure unadulterated hell and the town so tiny it had three gas stations and a school but no grocery, it seemed like the perfect place to hide away for a while.

A jury of his peers had found the knife-wielding, but seemingly innocent, old man
not guilty
. Smythe had played his appearance and regal British demeanor to the hilt, and without sufficient evidence against him, they had not been able to convict him.

Serena Roarke had stolen diamonds from Gueraldi, and had kept them for Gabe as evidence. Smythe checked each piece before culling or passing the diamonds on to his boss. His prints would have been all over them. Serena had been killed before turning them over to the FBI. The court had let Smythe go free.

He’d failed again, failed to secure the evidence he needed to convict her killer, not once but twice. Gabe had been unable to find even the tiniest hint of where she might have hidden the diamonds, and he’d lost his second chance during the raid on Gueraldi’s estate. By the time Gabe had calmed Olivia Corrigan down and handed her off to another agent, Smythe had rid himself of any damning evidence.

Pulling into the gravel drive, he got out of the bright yellow Jeep he would have never thought about owning in DC. The traffic and upkeep wouldn’t have been worth it to him, but out here a decent shopping center was a good twenty-mile drive away. Used to the finer things, his inner city boy shuddered at the thought of living off the land.

A slight breeze caught his hair, sending waves of it everywhere. He ignored it and with eyes that were deceptively calm scanned the trees and house for anything that might have been out of place, but found nothing to set off an alarm. No one knew where he was, but Smythe was free. Gabe had been instrumental in building the case that should have put the criminal on death row. Smythe could use the opportunity to come after him. Even after all this time, he had to remain wary.

He unlocked the front door, carried the bags inside, and began to put the contents away. God, he missed Serena. They’d become close when she’d been his partner while undercover, pretending to be his fiancée and a master jewel thief, at one point spending two months in Paris with him and away from her husband. It shouldn’t have happened. He should have seen Serena was too deep undercover and cut her loose. She’d fallen in love with him. He’d cared for her, wondered what it would be like between them, but that was as far as it had ever gone. As far as it could go. Call him old-fashioned, but he had a code of honor.

The radio on top of the fridge beeped, announcing the tornado watch he’d been expecting since early that morning. He folded the empty paper bags and stuck them in a drawer next to the sink. Wonder was a dangerous thing. Afraid he would allow too much grief to show and cause her family more pain, he hadn’t attended her funeral. So he’d never actually seen Serena after she’d died. Her family had wanted a closed casket anyway, which was odd. Could she have faked her death? No. Not even to save herself.

* * * *

Lea clutched her oversize purse close to her chest as she ran through the woods, afraid the precious contents would be lost. Her rental car was in a ditch a half a mile down the road where those two goons had shot out her tires. Knowing she was almost where she wanted to be, she’d made a run for the cabin where Gabriel Spiller was supposed to be staying.

Ignoring the squishy feeling of water in her sneakers, she jumped the small creek bed and twisted her ankle on the landing. A loud
pop
cut through the air around her. Something struck the tree next to her head. Were they shooting? At her?

It had taken time to track this Spiller down. Now Lea hoped he could help, before she got herself killed. What did she know about being on the lam? Was that even what she was supposed to call it? The statue was ugly. Maybe she should just give it to them. She knocked on the back door of the wood cabin. A Jeep was parked out front, so he had to be here, or at least someone did.

A moment later, the door opened.

* * * *

The knock on his back door sent Gabriel’s senses into overdrive. He’d heard no vehicle. No one should have been out here on foot, unless they didn’t belong. He checked the SIG Sauer resting in its holster at his side, gripped the butt of the pistol, and peered through the lace curtains of the kitchen window. If Smythe had found him, he intended to be ready.

Fiery red curls winked through the curtains. He had to be seeing things. Throwing open the door, a single word uttered from his lips before he dragged her inside. Pinning her to the door, Gabe kissed her with all the passion he shouldn’t have for another man’s wife.
Serena.

Gabriel raised his head to look at the woman melting in his arms. Something was wrong. She had the same wild, curly red hair, same lush green eyes, but those eyes were soft when they fluttered open on a sigh and held none of the harshness that dominated the Serena he knew. Her face was more heart-shaped and now that he had her up close and personal he realized she was taller, too. Almost tall enough to look him directly in the eyes. She wasn’t Serena. So who the hell was she?

The woman fluttered her eyes and sighed. Her fingers brushed across her lips. “Thanks, handsome, but that’s not the sort of help I’m after. Are you Special Agent Gabriel Spiller?”

His heart stopped. Serena’s voice, her smile, but not her kiss, her body… Just what was going on here?

“Yes, but you’re not Serena. Who are you?” This time when he grabbed her shoulders, it was with force, not care. Her blurred eyes focused on his and gradually began to clear.

“You look like an angel, Gabriel, but you tempt a body like Lucifer himself.”

“Answer the question.” His blood raced, but whether from anger or passion he wasn’t sure.

She gave him a folded card out of her jeans pocket. “You probably never heard of me. I’m Leannan O’Neil. My sister said if ever I needed help to find you.”

Gabriel released her and pointed to a chair, then opened the folded card and read the words scribbled on the back.

I’m trusting you with my treasure. Have a care, Angel. I love you, Serena.

His hands shook. Her treasure? He rubbed his thumb across the words as if he could reach out and touch the woman who’d written them.

“How did you find me, Leannan O’Neil?” His voice was hard now, no warmth or passion.

“That was the hard part. The FBI isn’t free with information, you know. I showed them the card and they acted like they’d seen a ghost. I’m Serena Roarke’s sister.”