Beautiful Beast. Dani Sinclair
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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