Cainsville: Visions Part 54

"I would agree," he said. "For now."

"Until we figure this out, it's like living in enemy territory. Maybe that's being dramatic-"

"It's not. That's why I suggested you quit at the diner. You are accepting their protection and their hospitality, which puts you in their debt now that you realize it."

"I'll take a few days off at the diner. And away from here. I'll grab a hotel room while I sort this out."

"You can, if you insist, but I have a better idea."

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE.

I stood at the wall-sized window in Gabriel's fifty-fifth-floor condo and fought the urge the press my nose against the gla.s.s. The night view was amazing. I swore I could see the entire city, lit up.

Gabriel poured drinks behind me. Two, judging by the tinkle of gla.s.ses. I suspected he might need one, and not because he could have died in a fiery crash tonight. That was, I think, easier than bringing me up here. But he'd survived both. So far.

He had suggested I stay at his place. He needed someone to check him in the night, and he'd already imposed on Rose with my fever last night. If I was willing to help him with that, he'd be happy to share his apartment for a few days.

I'm sure "happy" wasn't quite the right word, but even as my gut had seized up, everything in me saying, "h.e.l.l, no, I won't go through that again," I'd seen in his expression that he was genuinely offering. More than that, he wanted me there. Which didn't mean that I thought I'd actually make it through the door before he changed his mind. But as he'd waited for my answer, I realized it didn't matter if he went through with it or not. This was about him, not me. I couldn't make it about me. He wanted it. He was trying. That was enough.

So I'd agreed. I'd packed a bag while he went over to ask Rose if she'd keep TC for a few days. Gabriel drove my car so I could call Ricky, on the chance he'd hear about the crash and the shooting before I talked to him tomorrow. Then we'd arrived at Gabriel's condo, came up the elevator, through the door, and ... I was here. Looking at this amazing view while Gabriel fixed me a drink.

When he went quiet behind me, that sinking feeling started again. He was having second thoughts. Trying to think of a way to get me out, as politely as possible. I took a deep breath and lifted my gaze. I could see his reflection in the gla.s.s. He was just standing there, holding the gla.s.ses, watching me.

"Earlier," he said as I turned. "At the crash site. You did know I was awake. That I had the gun."

"Hmm?"

I took my drink from him. Scotch. Hard stuff, but I'd earned it.

"When you agreed to crawl back into the car. You knew I'd get the jump on her."

It wasn't a statement but a question, even if he didn't phrase it that way.

"Mmm, not exactly. But I had a plan."

A lousy plan. One that almost certainly wouldn't have worked in my favor. But I didn't say that because I could tell it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Good," he said on a breath of relief, before taking a sip of his whiskey. Then he lowered the gla.s.s and caught my gaze. "Don't put yourself at risk for anyone, Olivia. Ever. It isn't worth it."

That's what he said, and while he meant it, what he was really saying was, "Don't put yourself at risk for me." I remembered when we'd faced Chandler's goons, and Gabriel had wanted me to get to safety. Don't stay for me, he'd said. I wouldn't do it for you.

I'd believed him. And I hadn't cared. Whether or not he'd have stayed, he'd put himself at risk for me many times since. Yet he didn't want me doing it for him.

I'd said to myself once that Gabriel preferred a life where he felt as little responsibility for others as possible. That was true. But even more true is the fact that he preferred a life where others felt no responsibility for him.

"Quid pro quo," Patrick had said when I first met him. You scratch my back and I scratch yours. Gabriel might have inherited that sense of fairness, of balance, but it went further with him. You stay away from me, and I'll stay away from you. Do nothing for me, and I'll do nothing for you. A clean slate was easier to balance than any acc.u.mulation of debts.

How do you have a personal relations.h.i.+p with someone who thinks that way? You just do. You accept it, and you understand it, and you don't take offense, because none is intended. You read actions and ignore words.

Gabriel said he wouldn't have stayed for me. But he did, and he didn't just stay, he came running whenever I needed him. Same as I'd do for him, and as long as we both pretended otherwise, he could accept that.

"There's still Tristan to worry about." I walked to the sofa and sat at one end. "He wanted me to know about the changeling switch and about Cainsville. Now that I do, there must be some response he's expecting. I'll have to deal with that."

"We'll deal with that," he said, sitting at the opposite end.

I nodded and twisted, sitting sideways, knees pulled up, gla.s.s resting on them.

"I also had a call from the state attorney's office this evening," he said. "About your parents' case. Things are finally moving on that. They want to speak to us."

"Lots to do, then."

"Yes, lots to do. Lots to talk about."

"Should we start now?"

"In a few minutes," he said as he eased back onto the sofa. "No rush."

I smiled, curled up, sipped my drink, and relaxed. Plenty to do another day. For now, we had this, and it was enough.

After Gabriel went to bed, I lay on the sofa, lost in a warm fog of Scotch and happiness. I shouldn't be happy. I had a hundred reasons not to be happy, and maybe it was fifty percent Scotch and fifty percent ebbing adrenaline from the evening's events, but d.a.m.n it, I was happy. And that's when I remembered Todd's letter. That's when I decided to read it. Yes, it would ruin this fuzzy-headed bliss, but this was the right time-when I was alone, feeling good and feeling safe and feeling a little tipsy. When whatever that letter brought might not hurt me as much.

I took it from my purse. Then, not wanting to turn on a light in case Gabriel saw it under his door, I walked to the window, sat with my back to it and opened the letter by moonlight.

It was a single sheet, written in that familiar hand, a little blocky, a little oversized, as if by someone without much experience putting words on paper. Or perhaps by someone whose only experience writing to me had come at a time when I needed those big, blocky letters.

Olivia.

That's how it started. Not to Eden, but to Olivia. Not to a child, then, but to a woman. I relaxed a little and leaned back against the cool gla.s.s before continuing.

I'm sorry.

There's no way to start except with an apology, though I suspect it's not what you want to hear. You know I'm sorry. I'd be a monster if I wasn't. But I still need to say it. I'm sorry for so many things, and I won't list them here or this letter will go on so long that you'll crumple it and toss it aside. So I will say only that I am sorry.

I'd like to see you. I know you've been to see Pamela, and maybe you've gotten whatever you need from her. I have to presume that you don't want to see me. That you don't need to, and maybe it's easier, just facing one of us, and she is your mother, so I understand that. But I would like to see you. I would very much like to see you.

I've hesitated to write and say that because I know you're going through so much, and you don't need this on top of it, and if you've decided not to see me, that's your choice and I will respect it, but I know Pamela made her plea in the papers, and so there is the chance that you haven't come because you aren't sure I want to see you, so I have to speak up and say yes. Unreservedly yes. I want to see you.

I promise I will make this visit as easy on you as possible. It can be as short as you need it to be, and if it is not repeated, I'll understand that. I just want to see you.

I know I said I wouldn't list all the things I'm sorry for, but I need to say one, before I sign off. The one thing I am most sorry for.

I am sorry for leaving you. I told you so many times that I never would, and then I did, and whether it was by choice or not doesn't matter. I made a promise and I broke it, and I am so, so sorry.

Love always, Todd.

Todd. Not "your father." Not Dad. Like the opening, so careful and so respectful. It didn't matter. I read that letter and I heard his voice and I didn't see "Todd" at the end. I saw the first words I'd ever learned to read, on a surprise gift he'd given me. To Eden. Love always, Daddy.

I folded the letter and started to cry.

Don't let the story end here ... have you read Kelley Armstrong's 'Nadia Stafford Trilogy'?

EXIT STRATEGY.

Nadia Stafford is an ex-cop fired after she shot a child killer. She now works for one small mafia family: the way she sees it, no one innocent is getting hurt.

But then a serial killer starts murdering innocent people in the style of a hitman. The police investigation threatens to unmask several professional hitmen, including Nadia. So she bands together with five other hitmen, including her mentor, the mysterious Jack. Together they decide to hunt down the killer but perhaps that's just what he wants. Are they walking into a devious and brilliantly planned trap?

MADE TO BE BROKEN.

To the outside world Nadia Stafford is a smart, good-looking, law-abiding citizen. Well, two out of three's not bad ...

An ex-cop with a legal code all her own, Nadia has a secret life as a world-cla.s.s a.s.sa.s.sin. She works only for one New York crime family, who pay her handsomely to b.u.mp off traitors. But when a troubled teenager and her baby vanish in the woods near her home, Nadia's old detective instincts and the memory of a past loss compel her to investigate.

With her enigmatic mentor Jack to support her, Nadia unearths sinister clues that point to an increasingly dark and deadly mystery. As her obsession over the case deepens, Nadia realises that the only way she can right the wrongs of the present is to face her own painful ghosts or die trying. And so she sets off on the trail of a young woman no one else cares about and a killer who is bound to strike again ...

WILD JUSTICE.

Ex-cop Nadia Stafford has a dark secret. After taking the law into her own hands she was kicked off the force ... and entered the shadowy world of guns for hire. She has her own strict code works only for one crime family, only kills the really bad guys. But when a hit goes tragically wrong, Nadia is devastated. Is it time to leave the business for good?

Before she has time to decide, Nadia discovers that her own life is under threat. And worse that terrifying events from her past may have triggered the attacks. With the help of Jack, her enigmatic mentor, Nadia is forced to upon a dark path towards the truth and towards her final destiny.

And why not start at the very beginning with Kelley Armstrong's bestselling original series, the 'Women of the Otherworld':

BITTEN.

Book One in the Women of the Otherworld series Elena Michaels didn't know that her lover Clay was a werewolf until he bit her, changing her life forever. Betrayed and furious, she cannot accept her transformation, and wants nothing to do with her Pack a charismatic group of fellow werewolves who say they want to help.

When a series of brutal murders threatens the Pack and Clay Elena is forced to make an impossible choice. Abandon the only people who truly understand her new nature, or help them to save the lover who ruined her life, and who still wants her back at any cost.

'It's terrific. The heroine is the most appealing I have come across in ages. It's clever, quirky, hip and funny, skating between genres with style and grace. More please!' Joanne Harris, author of Chocolat

STOLEN.

Book Two in the Women of the Otherworld series Elena Michaels is a wanted woman. Ten years ago she was transformed into a werewolf by her lover. Her transformation makes her powerful. But in the wrong hands, it also makes her deadly.

And now, just as she's coming to terms with it all, a group of scientists learns of her existence. They're hunting her down, and Elena is about to run straight into their trap. But they haven't reckoned on Elena's adoptive family, her Pack, who will stop at nothing to get her back.

They haven't reckoned on Elena, either. And that's a very big mistake ...

'A taut, sensual thriller that grips from the first page. Elena Michaels is at once sublime and sympathetic, a modern heroine who shows that real women bite back' Karin Slaughter

DIME STORE MAGIC.

Book Three in the Women of the Otherworld series Paige Winterbourne is a witch. Not that you'd notice no warts, no green skin, no cute little wiggle of the nose whenever she casts a spell. No, most of the time she's just a normal 23-year-old girl; works too hard, worries about her weight, wonders if she'll ever find a boyfriend.

Okay, so she does have an adopted teenage daughter, Savannah, who wants to raise her black witch of a mother from the dead. And who is being stalked by a telekinetic half-demon and an all-powerful cabal of sorcerers. But other than that, Paige has a really ordinary life.

That is, until the neighbours find out who she is, and all h.e.l.l breaks loose. Literally ...