Читать книгу Beautiful Beast - Dani Sinclair - Страница 10

Anger would get him nowhere. Gabe snagged his coat, pulling it on as he left by the kitchen door. Swiftly, he moved around the side of the house only to find he needn’t have hurried. Cassiopia trudged down the sidewalk slowly, her posture showing her dejection.

Unless that, too, was part of her act.

He didn’t have time for this. His first commission was waiting on the worktable downstairs. If he wanted it completed on time, he had to finish shaping the clay tonight.

He knew little about Cassiopia Richards beyond the fact that she had a quick temper, made a laughable burglar and was a poor liar. If she and Beacher were engaged he’d eat all his works in progress.

How had she known Beacher had given him anything?

The minute his friend had showed up last night Gabe had known there was trouble, but Beacher had put him off. He’d handed Gabe a small package and asked him to hold it without questions until he returned.

“Don’t open it, okay? I’ll explain tomorrow when I come back.” His expression had been grim. “I don’thave time to explain right now. There’s someone I have to meet and I’m running late.”

He wouldn’t say who or what was in the package and, as of yet, he hadn’t returned with explanations. How had Cassiopia known?

Beacher knew Gabe’s house was searched on a regular basis. He wouldn’t have asked Gabe to hold something that would get them both tossed in prison. Not when, at the cost of his own reputation, Beacher had stood by Gabe when no one else would. There was no one Gabe trusted the way he trusted Beacher so he hadn’t pressed for answers. He regretted that now.

Something was wrong. Beacher should have shown by now. He’d give his friend until morning, then he was going to see what Beacher felt needed to be hidden from the irritating woman.

She stopped beside a small coupe and looked back at the house. Gabe stilled, willing her to see him as just another shadow once more.

Slapping the roof of her car in frustration, she climbed inside and started the engine. As she pulled away from the curb he made a mental note of the license plate and hurried to his backyard, bypassing his truck. The motorcycle started with its usual roar. He picked her up a few minutes later, traveling at a sedate rate of speed on the city streets.

Gabe hung well back. If she knew about his habit of going to the gym in the evening, she knew he rode a motorcycle. Following her was probably a waste of precious time. He’d take bets she was on her way home and not on her way to meet Beacher, but he had to be sure.

It was a bet he would have won.

When she turned into the parking lot of a row of modest town houses, he pulled over on the main road and waited. She took her time exiting the car. He used that time to survey the area.

Something moved furtively between two parked cars. Cassiopia had climbed out and was heading in that same direction, a large cloth handbag she hadn’t had earlier slung over one shoulder.

Instincts screaming, Gabe kicked the bike to life. He roared into the lot as the crouching figure leaped from between the cars and rushed her. Cassiopia went down. The pair struggled briefly before the hooded figure took off, disappearing around the corner of the building with her bag.

Gabe sent the bike onto the sidewalk in pursuit. Grass and dirt spun under his wheels as he tore after the fleeing figure, only to come to an abrupt halt at a privacy fence blocking his path.

Spotting a gate, he leaped off the bike. The gate was locked or jammed, but the attacker hadn’t had time to go anywhere else. Gabe scaled the wood fence. Abruptly, light flooded the small enclosure on the other side. A shape appeared in the sliding glass door holding a gun.

“Police officer! Hold it right there.”

Gabe swore under his breath. From his perch on top of the swaying section of fence he saw something moving in the enclosure next door.

“A woman out front was just accosted,” he told the cop. “I chased the suspect back here. He’s in the yard next door.”

“Get down. Slowly.”

This cop already had his suspect. Gabe was dressed in black and wearing a helmet. Until the cop knew for sure what was going on, he wasn’t going to listen to anything Gabe said. Jaw clenched, he dropped to the ground, careful to keep his hands in plain sight.

“Flat on the ground,” the man ordered. “Hands above your head.”

With a sigh, Gabe obeyed. His helmet made the position more uncomfortable than it would have been otherwise.

“Could you at least have someone make sure Cassiopia’s okay? I think she was only knocked to the ground, but I saw a knife when he took her purse.”

“You know Cassy?” he asked suspiciously.

Not nearly as well as he was going to know her.

“She was just attacked out front.”

He suffered through the pat-down and rose slowly when the officer told him to get up. By then they could both hear the approaching siren. The attacker had had plenty of time to disappear.

“Okay to remove my helmet?”

“No.”

This man was no rookie. A helmet could be thrown.

Minutes later Gabe was relieved to see Cassiopia standing out front with a pair of neighbors. She appeared shaken, but unhurt. A marked police cruiser, lights flashing, pulled up. The female officer exchanged greetings with the man at his back.

“You can take it off now,” the cop told him.

Gabe removed the helmet slowly and waited. They didn’t seem to notice Cassiopia’s shocked surprise at seeing him. The cop at his back spoke before she could say anything that would have landed him in handcuffs.

“Cassy, do you know this guy?”

Instead of denouncing him, she nodded.

“Gabriel Lowe. He went after the man who grabbed my purse.”

Gabe sensed the officer putting away his weapon.

“You can lower your hands now.”

Faces continued to appear in windows as a second cruiser joined the first. A small crowd gathered to listen while Cassiopia explained what had happened. Then it was Gabe’s turn. The cops eyed his scar and treated him with wary respect as he explained his assumption that the person had gone in through the nearest gate and jumped the fence into the next yard.

“I only saw you,” her neighbor stated.

A third unit pulled into the parking area.

“He’s probably long gone, but we’d better do a sweep,” the female officer suggested.

Eventually, Gabe was allowed to retrieve his bike from the side yard. As he walked it back to the parking lot Cassiopia strode over to him.

“You followed me home!”

“No need for thanks.”

“Thank you?” She bristled.

“You’re welcome. And you might want to lower your voice unless you want to explain to the cops how we know each other.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Gabe waited.

She fumed, but lowered her voice. “Why did you follow me?”

“To see where you were going. Do you know who attacked you?”

“Of course not! You heard me tell the police he was wearing a hooded sweatshirt with a scarf over his face.”

There was no use pointing out that the one didn’t negate the other.

“Is your roommate home?”

“I don’t have a roommate.” She blinked in sudden comprehension. “Oh. The hair dye. Betsy moved out last month. She got married.”

He scowled. He didn’t like thinking about Cassiopia alone and vulnerable inside that town house.

“You might want to stay somewhere else tonight.”

“Why? He already got my purse. The house is safe. My keys were in my hand so he didn’t get them. It all happened so fast I didn’t have time to go for his eyes with them.”

She would have done it, too.

“You believe it was a simple purse snatching?”

“Of cour—”

Her eyes turned to saucers. Her voice dropped even lower.

“No one knew I was going to your place tonight.”

“Not even Beacher?”

“You think that was Beacher?”

Though obviously shocked by the idea, her words were barely above a whisper.

“No.” Gabe shook his head decisively. “Too thin. Most likely a teenager or a woman.”

“A woman!”

Gabe shrugged. “Who else knew your plan tonight?”

“No one.”

Unfortunately, he believed her. “Then someone is watching you, too.”

A flash of fear.

“What do you mean? Why do you assume this wasn’t—?”

“Ms. Richards?”

CASSY SPUN TO FACE the approaching officer. In the woman’s hand was her large cloth purse. The cut strap dangled limply.

“You found it!”

“This is yours, then?”

“Yes!”

Thank God. Gabriel had been wrong after all. It had been nothing more than a simple purse snatching.

“It was on the ground behind one of the units out back. You want to check to see what’s missing?”

The bag was already open. She dug around inside a second before looking up.

“My wallet’s gone.” No surprise there.

“How much money did you have?”

“A twenty, two fives and seven ones.” She knew the exact amount down to the sixty-seven cents in change.

“Credit cards?”

Cassiopia rattled off the name of her cards while the officer wrote the information in a small notebook.

“Driver’s license?”

“No. Fortunately, I keep that in a separate folder with my health insurance card. They’re still here.”

The officer nodded. “You’d better notify your credit card companies right away.”

“Yes. Was there any sign of the person who took it?”

“No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

So was she. Had they caught the person, Cassy would have felt better. Gabriel’s suspicions had made her jittery. When the officer finally had all the information from her and left, Cassy turned back to Gabe.

“See? Just a purse snatching.”

His expression didn’t change. “Maybe.”

“You’re trying to scare me.”

“You aren’t stupid.”

“I’m not paranoid, either.”

His lips twisted wryly, but he gazed at her with a dark frown. “You can come back to my place if you want.”

The grudging offer widened her eyes. “Why?”

He remained silent.

“You don’t think it was a purse snatching. You think he’ll come back.” What if Gabriel were right? “But I don’t have anything.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

Shaken, she shook her head. “You’re in more danger than I am. You’re the one holding whatever Beacher gave you.”

GABE COULD SEE it was pointless to press her. He’d warned her. That was all he could do.

“I can’t go with you,” she insisted.

He replaced his helmet.

“I’m not afraid.”

His jaw tightened. “You should be.”

She stepped back on the curb as he kicked the bike to life. Cursing Beacher and everyone remotely connected to the missing toxin, Gabe turned for home.

Probably, she’d be fine. Tonight’s attack could have been exactly what it appeared to be, a kid out to rob whomever fate placed in front of him.

On the other hand, it could have been something else entirely. He hoped he was wrong. He also hoped a little of his paranoia would rub off on Cassiopia. It would be a shame for all that feminine fire to end up extinguished on a morgue slab somewhere.

He didn’t doubt for a moment that this was connected to what Beacher had given him to hold. His friend had some major explaining to do.

Halfway home he detoured to Beacher’s apartment. He’d only been there a handful of times, but he knew which unit was his friend’s. No lights showed and there was no familiar car in the parking lot.

Gabe used his cell phone and called Beacher’s number anyway. The answering machine picked up on the fourth ring. Next he tried Beacher’s cell phone and was immediately sent to voice mail. Gabe left pithy messages on both and text messaged his friend for good measure. There was nothing more he could do now except worry. He’d had years to perfect that ability.

As he neatened his kitchen several minutes later he debated getting the package and opening it without waiting. The size and shape were about right to hold a hard drive and a few other things, but if Beacher had found the missing toxin after all these years, surely he would have told Gabe. Either he trusted his friend or he didn’t.

Gabe went down to the basement and hesitated only a second before turning away from his display room to his workroom on the other side of the stairs. He trusted Beacher. He would wait.

The nearly completed piece he’d been commissioned to do sat on one of several worktables under a cloth. Working with his hands generally freed Gabe’s mind for thinking, but he had to force his thoughts to concentrate on the rose bush and not Beacher.

The bush was proving to be a real challenge. The pair of chipmunks beneath the bush were finished to his satisfaction. So was the general shape of the bush, but Gabe had never tackled individual leaves and roses this small before.

As his fingers stroked a small petal to life his thoughts returned to Cassiopia. Not a day had gone by that he and Beacher hadn’t tried to learn the truth of what had happened four years ago. Together and independently they had spoken to, or tried to speak with, everyone connected with the toxin. Beacher had always felt Cassiopia might know something useful, but it had been only recently that she’d agreed to talk with him.

Beacher was nothing if not persistent and knowing him, Gabe suspected his friend had begun to date her in an effort to get her to open up. She was an attractive woman and Beacher liked attractive women—but not enough to get himself engaged to one.

Cassiopia was definitely attractive. Slimmer now than he remembered, her features were more refined, but she hadn’t lost any of that temper even if she did have it under better control.

A tiny rose blossomed to full beauty beneath his stiff fingers. Pleased, he moistened his hands and worked another.

Even if they were dating, Cassiopia should have known better than to make such a ridiculous claim. Beacher engaged? Never happen. Not even to someone as interesting as her. Beacher’s little black book was filled with beautiful, interesting women. He had more listings than some telephone directories.

Gabe tackled a series of delicate leaves, marking each vein with careful precision.

How had she known Beacher had given him that package unless Beacher had told her? She’d made no secret of the fact that she’d been watching Gabe. Had she also been following Beacher?

Gabe was so used to being watched and followed he barely paid any attention anymore. Open surveillance was part of the government’s harassment tactics so Gabe ignored them. That was probably why he’d never noticed her.

His finger flew as he mulled that over.

Cassiopia had implied the package contained the missing vials of toxin. Did she really believe that?

Did he?

Only desperation would have sent her into his home tonight. Surely she knew he was still being monitored by all the forces Homeland Security, the FBI and the United States Army could bring to bear on him.

Was it possible?

He screwed up a leaf in a moment of frustration and had to start again.

He would not give in to paranoia. Beacher would explain everything when he showed up. And he would show up. Eventually. For now, Gabe needed to keep his mind on his work.

The bush was coming together better than he’d anticipated. Rochelle Leeman would be pleased. He only hoped his creation wouldn’t prove too intricate for Denny and the Bailin Brothers to mold and cast.

Gabe had been fortunate to stumble on Denny Foster when he’d gone looking for someone to teach him how to turn his sculptures into finished bronze pieces. The garrulous moldmaker had been a font of knowledge and connections.

Gabe still wasn’t sure how he’d let the old man talk him into showing his work to Rochelle. Even more puzzling was how the stunning gallery owner had managed to convince him his work would not only sell, but sell for big bucks.

The trill of the telephone startled Gabe from his working concentration. The clock on the wall told him it was already 1:40 a.m.

Beacher! Finally.

He wiped his hands while checking the caller ID. A cell phone number, but not Beacher’s. Gabe answered anyway.

“Lowe.”

“Go ahead and say I told you so,” Cassiopia began without preamble.

His stomach gave a lurch at the sound of her stressed voice. “You okay?”

“Yes. I’m outside your front door. Is your offer of a safe haven still open?”

“I’ll be right up.”

He disconnected and retrieved his gun from its hiding place under a nearby workbench before taking the stairs in twos. Not bothering with lights, he went to the window to check the street before going to the door. Cassiopia’s car wasn’t in sight and there were no unfamiliar vehicles parked along the street. Neither of those meant a thing, but only one figure was visible on his stoop. He opened the door cautiously, weapon ready.

Cassiopia stared from the gun to him.

“If you plan to shoot me, forget it. I’ll go to a motel. I probably should have done that anyhow.”

He yanked her inside. “You’re alone?”

“No, the marching band is down the street.”

“Where’s your car?”

“I parked on the next street over. I didn’t want anyone to see it in front of your house.”

He couldn’t decide if she was playing him. “Were you followed?”

“Of course not! I was watching for that.”

Given her earlier performance, she wouldn’t have the ability to spot a professional tail.

“Stay here.”

She gripped his arm. “Where are you going?”

He gave her a hard look. She dropped her hand and followed him down the dark hall to the kitchen.

“Wait,” he commanded, heading for the door.

“Sit. Stay. We’re really going to have to work on your people skills.”

Wanting to smile despite the situation, Gabe slipped out the back door. A thorough search of the neighborhood turned up two prowling cats, one brazen raccoon and a deer munching a neighbor’s azalea bush. Cassiopia’s car was exactly where she’d said it would be. There were no signs that anyone human lurked nearby.

Returning to the house, Gabe found her still standing in his kitchen muttering under her breath. Once again, she eyed the gun in his hand.

“You took long enough. I kept waiting for shots.”

If it hadn’t been for the slight tremor in the hand she used to pull back a thread of hair, he’d have thought her annoyed but calm. She wasn’t calm. He slid the weapon into his waistband.

“Relax and tell me what happened.”

“The two are mutually exclusive.”

“Try.”

She made a face, then sighed. “I couldn’t sleep. It was your fault. I kept thinking about what you said. You know, that maybe someone would come back? So I decided to go downstairs and get a glass of wine to help me sleep. Only, instead of going to the kitchen I walked to the window that looks down on my backyard.”

She shivered.

“Someone was standing there looking up at my bedroom.”

He hated that he’d been right.

“You didn’t call the police?”

“I started to. I had the phone in my hand, then I realized how much attention that would focus on me.”

And why would that worry her?

“I went back upstairs, grabbed a couple of things, slipped out the front door and came here.”

She shivered again despite a long dark coat that exposed a pair of slim white calves. Bare feet had been stuffed into a pair of slip-on deck shoes. He couldn’t help wondering exactly what she was wearing under that coat. Her hair was a loose, velvety mass that fell around her face and shoulders. In one hand she had a death grip on a plastic shopping bag. The item sticking out of the top appeared to be her broken purse.

He flipped on the kettle.

“I don’t want any tea. Thank you,” she added as an afterthought.

Gabe shrugged. “No wine.”

“That’s okay, I’m not thirsty.”

He didn’t want her here. Even though he’d made the initial offer, he hadn’t expected her to accept and now he was stuck. He could always turn her loose. But he knew he wouldn’t.

“I’ll show you the spare room.”

She didn’t move when he turned toward the stairs.

“Are you going to bed?”

Despite the darkness he saw her trepidation. It wasn’t an act. She was afraid.

“No.”

“I’m not sleepy, either.”

Inwardly, he cursed. “I have to work, Cassiopia.”

“That’s okay. I’ve never watched an artist work. I won’t get in your way.”

It wasn’t okay. She would be in the way. She’d be a distraction and he couldn’t afford to be distracted any more tonight.

He thought of several responses but dismissed them. She was scared. So was he.

Someone had three vials of a toxin so deadly it could wipe out a city full of people in a matter of hours. The knowledge had eaten at him for nearly four years. Knowing that the authorities were concentrating on the wrong suspects had made it that much worse. Few people knew that all the toxin and all the documentation relating to it were missing.

The removable hard drives and Dr. Pheng’s research notes had vanished from inside a locked vault on the base. Only a handful of people had access to that secured area and he and Beacher had been two of those people.

They had discussed this over beers in his workroom many nights. The way they had it figured, Gabe had been the designated patsy from the start. Most likely, he’d been intended to die in the explosion along with Dr. Richards. If Major Frank Carstairs hadn’t died of a heart attack that same night, maybe they could have proved their suspicions, but as things stood, they had no living suspects, no proof and no trail to follow.

“Did you call Beacher?” Gabe asked her.

Cassiopia hesitated before nodding. “He isn’t answering his phones.”

So she had called Beacher first—if she wasn’t lying. Gabe didn’t think she was lying. Her fear was real. He scowled. Reluctantly, he motioned her to follow him.

CASSY GAVE AN EXASPERATED sigh as she tailed Gabriel’s broad back down the stairs. She shouldn’t have come. It was obvious he didn’t want her here. She had plenty of friends she could have called. Why hadn’t she?

Because he’d offered. And none of her friends would know what to do if someone came after her again. She couldn’t place any of them at risk.

But she could have called the police.

She turned the thought aside as she carefully picked her way down the narrow staircase in his wake. “Forget to pay your electric bill?”

He reached the bottom without making a sound.

“Sometime you’re going to have to tell me how you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Step on that third step without making any noise.”

She suspected he smiled, although she couldn’t see his expression as he led her off to the left. She’d turned right before.

His workroom was cluttered and brightly lit. Her gaze instantly fastened on the clay taking shape on the largest table and she inhaled audibly. Even incomplete, the piece was magnificent.

“You have so much talent.”

Looking embarrassed, he indicated the ratty old couch and un-upholstered wood chair in the far corner of the room next to an ancient, badly scarred desk and a battered filing cabinet. Exactly what she had been looking for. But if the toxin was hidden in this room, he wouldn’t have led her here now.

“I have to finish this tonight.”

“Okay.” She ignored his impatience and stared around curiously at the crowded workspace. “Go ahead and work. You won’t even know I’m here.”

RIGHT. CASSIOPIA RICHARDS was the biggest distraction Gabe could imagine. How was he supposed to work with someone in the room? Whenever Beacher came over, Gabe always stopped, got a beer from the basement refrigerator and sat down to talk with him. He didn’t have that sort of time tonight.

“There’s beer,” he told her gruffly with a nod toward the refrigerator.

“Thanks, but what I’d really like is a bathroom.”

“Through there.” He indicated the door at her back. She turned, still clutching her bag, and disappeared inside. For a moment he wondered if he should have searched the bag. He dismissed that thought as true paranoia and replaced the gun under the table. He must be insane.

He was working when she finally emerged with the coat slung over one arm. Whatever she’d been wearing beneath it had been replaced by the jeans she’d had on earlier tonight and a sweatshirt. Her hair was now clipped behind her ears, flowing down her back to emphasize the graceful curve of her neck.

Right. He was going to have no trouble concentrating now.

Without a word, she crossed to the refrigerator, hesitated over the selection and came out with a bottle of imported beer. Carrying everything to the worn green sofa, she sat on a sagging cushion.

A ton of questions crowded his mind, but the clock discouraged him from starting the sort of conversation they needed to have. He’d be lucky to complete the piece tonight as it was.

True to her word, Cassiopia remained silent. At first it was disconcerting to have her watch, but amazingly, his fingers continued to work, quick and sure, while his thoughts tumbled chaotically. After a while he was lost in the rhythm of his work.

His muscles had started a serious burn of protest by the time the final rose took shape beneath the tool in his tired fingers. It unnerved him to realize Cassiopia had been right. As impossible as it seemed, he had been able to ignore her presence.

Looking up, he found her with her head pillowed on her coat, fast asleep. Strands of silky hair covered most of her face. The partially emptied bottle of beer was on the corner of the desk, in danger of falling at the slightest jar.

Gabe rolled his shoulders to stretch tensed muscles and washed his hands before crossing the room to rescue the beer. It was warm and flat. He was too tired to be drinking alcohol, but he finished it, watching her sleep, and tried to ignore the faint stirring of desire.

She wouldn’t appreciate his interest. Cassiopia had made her opinion of him clear. She had a lot in common with a rose. Soft and lovely to look at with plenty of thorns.

He couldn’t see her with Beacher. Beacher liked his women delicate, plentiful and quick to fade. The thorny ones tended to get tossed back fast. Even ones as appealing as her.

Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose and carried the empty bottle to the recycle bin. Eyeing the finished piece critically he decided it was good. It might even be one of the best things he’d done.

For a moment he debated removing the tiny bee he’d added at the last minute. Somehow, it seemed a little too symbolic sitting on a petal, staring at an unopened bud as if wishing for what it couldn’t have. But knowing he couldn’t remove it without disturbing the work, Gabe began cleaning up. Cassiopia never stirred, even when he ran the shower in the bathroom next door.

Dumping his dirty clothes in the washer, he wrapped a towel around his waist and called to her gently. No response. There was no way he could carry her up two flights of stairs tonight. He wasn’t sure he could carry himself to bed, as tired as he felt. It was going on five and he had to be at Denny’s with the bears that were currently cooling in his open kiln by eight.

In the laundry room he found a clean sheet and used it to cover her. A good host would go up and bring her down a blanket. He could live with being a lousy host.

He left a light on for her and headed upstairs. If she decided to search his basement when she woke, she wouldn’t be the first. Like the others, she’d be doomed to disappointment.