going to say? Just ‘no’?”
“I said all I had to say four years ago,” he told her with deceptive mildness. “Finish your cheesecake.”
Cassy shoved her plate aside. “I am finished.”
His eyes narrowed. He set down his fork with careful deliberation. “Then it’s time for you to leave.”
“You’re going to throw me out?”
“If you won’t go under your own power.”
He’d do it, too. She’d successfully roused the beast. Every instinct told her to get up and go, but she couldn’t. She hadn’t accomplished anything.
“I want what Beacher gave you.”
“We don’t always get what we want, Cassiopia.”
For a millisecond, it was as if she had a clear window into his troubled soul. A lonely beast prowled there. Cassy couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
He stood in a fluid motion that caught her unprepared.
“When you see him, tell your fiancé I want to talk with him.”
She could have refused to move. She wanted to refuse, but her legs were already drawing her to her feet. The menace in the room was too thick to ignore.
“You’re a real bastard.”
“Is it my turn to call you a name now?”
He didn’t smile.
“Goodbye, Cassiopia. Don’t come here again.”
Seeing no choice, she walked down the hall toward the front door, aware of him at her back close enough to touch. Desperately, she tried to think of something else she could do or say to change the situation, but nothing came to mind.
He opened the door without a word and waited.
“If even one of those vials is opened a lot of innocent people will die. I wonder if even you could live with that.”
Rage flashed across his expression. Cassy stepped onto the stoop, words of apology forming on her lips, but he closed the door in her face.
A chill breeze brushed her skin. Cassy shivered. She couldn’t help thinking Gabriel Lowe was innocent after all.
Chapter Three
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.
