speed of her movement took him so off guard, he automatically reached behind him, toward the .38. She flew at him, her hands clawing at his face.
“You’re lying to me!” she screamed. “You did something to them yourself! You’re the one who killed them!”
He gripped her arms and forced them down, slapping his fingers over her mouth to cut off her words before they had the chance to go any further. Above his hand, her eyes were huge.
“I did not kill your family,” he growled. “Why would I stick around here and wait for you to show up then tell you what I’d done? Does that even sound remotely logical?”
Instead of answering, she tried again to scream. He squeezed her jaw with the barest of force, shaking her slightly. “You don’t want to do this,” he warned. “You don’t want to make problems for me. Do you understand?”
Her body trembled, vibrated, in fact, like a string on a violin that had been drawn too roughly. Finally she blinked, then blinked again. He took that for a reply, but he didn’t remove his hand as he spoke.
“Problems for me mean problems for you. You do not—I repeat—do not want anyone to know you even came here tonight. Your flight records have already been erased and the car you came in is gone. I had it moved the minute you stepped inside here.” He took a deep breath, her scent reaching him before he could ignore it. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
This time he did ease his fingers, but he didn’t take away his hand. She started to speak, her mouth moving against the inside of his palm, sending a sensation into his gut.
“I called the police—”
“No, you didn’t,” he said.
It took her a stunned second to understand. “But I went to the center. I talked to the guard—”
He removed his hand, but kept his grip on her arm. “He’s been taken care of. Did you talk to anyone else, see anyone?”
“No…I…” She looked dazed, almost as if she was slipping into shock, her touch with reality slipping as well. “Ju-just the neighbors…” she said with distraction.
“They’ve been dealt with, too.” Locking his stare on hers, he spoke again. “Now all we have to do is take care of you…”
NUMB WITH DISBELIEF, Alexis watched the man gather up her things. He worked quickly and efficiently—he’d done this kind of thing before. Glancing into the dining room from the living room where she stood, she saw that he’d already removed the extra place setting from the table. If she bothered to look, she was sure she’d see that the linens in her bedroom were back in the closet as well. Within moments, he was finished. Glancing down at her watch, she was shocked by how quickly the minutes passed since she’d come back into the house.
He walked into the kitchen. She lifted her eyes to his face but she already had the details memorized; she could live to be a hundred and she’d never forget what he looked like. Wolfish eyes and thick black hair. Broad shoulders and a muscular body. A square jaw. A cruel mouth.
Cold. Stony. Callous.
His voice was clipped, his demeanor unreadable. Alexis had a fine ear for languages and she’d recognized the barest hint of an accent, something British, maybe Irish.
“It’s time.” The burr sounded again. “Let’s go.”
“Where—”
“Where doesn’t matter!” Until this point, his total calm had been almost eerie, his attitude colder than she could comprehend. Now she heard frustration, got a hint of anger.
He took a step toward her. “Don’t you get it? I’ve got to remove you and we’ve taken way too long already.” He jerked a thumb toward the street. “I can’t guarantee what’s going to happen if we don’t get out of here and soon.”
He headed toward the back door then turned when she didn’t follow. His eyes bored a painful path into her. “Don’t do this,” he warned.
Alexis shuffled toward him, her legs weak, her brain whirling with all the questions she had. How did she know this man was who he said he was? She certainly hadn’t recognized the badge or the name of his agency. And his story… God, it was crazy! She could be walking straight into something horrible instead of fleeing danger. Grief and terror mixed inside her with confusion and alarm. What should she do?
Her panic blossomed. She picked up the photo she’d looked at earlier. Then she tensed her body, pivoted and ran straight for the front door.
Her fingertips were brushing the doorknob when he grabbed her from behind.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” He twisted her around to face him, his breath hot against her cheeks. “Are you crazy? Do you want to die?”
“Let me go.” She pushed at his hands, but for all the good it did, she shouldn’t have bothered. His fingers were steel bars wrapped around her arms. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want—”
“Good God Almighty! I thought you were bright.” He shook her slightly, his tone so toxic she stopped her protests. His grip tightened. “Your father told me you had your mother’s brains. Was the poor man daft or was he lying to me?”
Alexis froze. Her father had teased her with those words a million times, his smile as wide as the gold band on his finger, the wedding band he, just like her mother, never removed. Ever.
One by one, the details added up and Alexis’s heart sank from the weight of them.
The man read her reaction immediately. He jerked the small frame from her fingers and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Then he turned and headed for the back door, yanking Alexis along behind him.
GABRIEL PICKED a no-name motel on the edge of the interstate three hours away. The place was run-down and deserted, which was exactly why he’d picked it. Paying cash, he then drove the van to the last room at the back of the low concrete-block building and parked, turning to look at Alexis as he switched off the engine. She was sitting on the floor of the vehicle and barely seemed aware of where they were. Her entire life had just been turned upside down and he was the one shaking the globe. If she ever found out the truth, the glimpses of resistance he’d witnessed earlier would pale in comparison to what would follow.
He pushed his thoughts aside and climbed out of the van. With one hand on his weapon, he let his eyes sweep the parking lot. As they’d escaped through the back of the Missions’ house to the van, he’d thought he’d heard a car drive by the front, but his men had told him to leave and he had, without looking back. He studied the empty blacktop before him now, then he twisted the door handle and reached inside. “Let’s go.”
She didn’t resist. Climbing out of the vehicle without a word, she walked beside him to the door of their room. The fact that his hand was wrapped around her upper arm assured her cooperation. He kept a steady hold on her until they stepped inside and he’d thrown the lock behind them.
The tiny room was clean, but that was all Gabriel could say about it. A small table in one corner was propped up by a telephone book, its lamp askew, the chair beside it worn and threadbare. Gabriel knew nothing about decorating, but the last time he’d seen a spread like the one stretched over the
