Midnight Crusader Read online

  "They look great, don't they?"

  "You've done a remarkable job,” Naomi admitted. “Now if we just had someone capable of putting it all together."

  The girls saw her then, and the number came to an uncoordinated end as one by one they rushed to the edge of the stage to all talk at once.

  "Did you hear about Miss Parsons?"

  "What's going to happen to the show?"

  "Are we going to be able to open on time?"

  "That bitch. Wouldn't you know she'd pull something like this at the last minute."

  Naomi held up her hands to halt the verbal barrage. “Ladies, we're working on it. You just keep working on what you have to do."

  "Miss Bright, I finally got that kick."

  She smiled at Grace with the pride of a parent. “I knew you could do it. How are you feeling? Did you get that bite taken care of?"

  The girl looked confused, then put her hand to her neck where only the faintest of marks still showed. “I forgot all about it. I feel fine. I went through a sack of burgers and about twelve hour's sack time."

  "Alone?” Molly chided.

  "Yes, alone."

  Naomi did a quick head count and frowned when the numbers didn't add up. “Where's Jeannie?"

  "She called in sick. The flu or something. We've been working around her."

  "I hope it's nothing serious.” That's all she needed. Another problem to solve.

  "Her boyfriend got that job in the kitchen. They were probably out celebrating a little too enthusiastically.” Molly demonstrated with a graphic triple pelvic thrust.

  Molly's conclusion seemed logical. Naomi only hoped it was something that simple. She could use simple about now.

  Rita climbed up onto the stage and did some limbering stretches. “Come on, ladies. Time's a wasting. Gabe, Nomi needs some R and R. Why don't you take her out for a walk, and I'll put these gals through their paces."

  Just like that, all Naomi's anxious worries about how to approach the subject of being alone with Gabriel were gone. And he didn't seem to mind the matchmaking one bit. He snapped up his colorful shirt and waved to the dancers.

  "Work hard, ladies. Don't try to think about me out there having fun while you're in here straining your little buns off."

  Several rude comments made him grin, not at all as shocked as Naomi was by the blatant and colorful vulgarity.

  "Sticks and stones, ladies."

  "If we had them, we'd throw them,” Marty replied with cheerful malice.

  When Gabriel hopped down off the stage, the reality of spending time with him hit Naomi like the push of desert air upon leaving the climate controlled hotel. It took her breath and left her gasping. But she didn't resist when his fingertips lightly capped her elbow. She waited for the usual rebellion to a man's touch to rear its objecting head, but no protest came. Her defenses lay strangely silent.

  "Shall we?"

  She preceded him up the aisle, aware of the girls’ speculative and envious gazes. Aware as well of Marcus's hulking presence in the shadows and of the feel of his disapproval. Was he aware of who Gabriel really was? Of what their employer had asked her to do? How could she ever feel comfortable with Marcus again if he did?

  As they walked through the cavernous lobby, she fielded the questions and comments from more than a dozen workmen before they finally escaped. Out in the sapping heat of the night, she expelled a grateful breath.

  "Out of the pressure cooker and into the fire?"

  "That obvious?"

  "Where would you like to go? I'm at your disposal."

  Oh, if only that were true.

  "Someplace to unwind. Someplace I've never been before ... which should be easy since I've never been anywhere."

  He whistled down a cab and whisked her inside, not speaking after he directed the driver to the end of the strip. She sat stiffly beside him, studying her side of the street with a fierce intensity. What was she going to say to him? Did Zanlos expect her to seduce him? To pump him for information? She had no idea how to go about either thing. With men, when she wasn't issuing orders as their superior, she was completely at a loss. And Gabriel McGraw didn't look like the type to take orders.

  How did I get myself into this?

  Up ahead, she could see the orb of the Stratosphere soaring above the strip atop its impossibly high tower. Was that where they were going? A trickle of alarm shivered through her belly as they grew too close to see the top of the 1,149-foot tower. Gabriel paid for the cab and handed her out.

  "Are we going up for a drink?” Apprehension tightened her voice. Because she didn't want to admit to a crushing fear of heights, she could have told him she didn't drink. But he smiled at her, and the power of speech suddenly left her.

  "No questions."

  While she waited by the elevator, he stood at one of the ticket windows. If he thought she was going to be catapulted into space on the Big Shot...

  "Ready?"

  "As I'll ever be,” was her cautious reply.

  In a matter of seconds, the express elevator had them at the top.

  And Naomi saw what he had in mind.

  The High Roller. The roller coaster that looped around the pod of the Stratosphere.

  "You did say something you'd never done before."

  "I didn't mean dying."

  "Trust me."

  And he put out his hand to her in a gesture that suddenly meant more than a few loop-de-loops one hundred stories up. And he smiled again as her palm slid over his.

  Strapped into the car, perhaps the very worst moments came with inching ahead as the rest of the seats were filled with the daring and gravity defiant. With her pulse hammering in her ears, each hard thrust shooting adrenaline through her the way they'd soon be hurtling through the night, she gripped the safety bar until it grew slippery. Then Gabriel's hand slipped over the top of one of hers. The cool comfort of his light squeeze gave her a final instant of calm before the cars rocketed forward toward outer space. Of course, at the last second, they whipped into a tight curve so only her liver went sailing into the blurring heavens.

  Wind stung her face, forcing tears from the corners of her eyes. She could hear the screams of those around her but didn't think her voice added to theirs. She was too busy trying to remember to breathe through clenched teeth as momentum flattened her against Gabriel's side. She heard his words shouted into her hair.

  "Open you eyes and fly."

  For a moment, all she could see was a smear of colors upon a dark pallet. Then the distinct pattern of constellations appeared. She was flying, her spirit riding currents of air with a freedom unlike any other.

  How wonderful. How delightful.

  Then all too soon, they were slowing, surrendering back to the pull of reality.

  She turned to Gabriel. His hair spun wildly about his head as if a mixer had been applied, and his eyes glittered with exhilaration. That gaze quieted and deepened as it fixed upon her own. Their stares mated in a strangely communicative silence.

  Did you enjoy it?

  You know I did.

  There's more to come.

  I'm afraid.

  Don't be.

  "Why are you here?” she demanded suddenly, never expecting an answer and especially not the one that stole her senses all over again.

  "I came for you."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eleven

  I came for you.

  Before she could process his answer through the sensory overload stirred by the ride, their car was stopped so they could exit on shaky legs. While part of her was afraid to pursue what his comment quickened within her, another had to know what was behind it. What was this past they shared? She wasn't thinking about Kaz Zanlos and his covert orders. She was focused upon the emotions left quaking by Gabriel's simple response. Raw feeling was the only force strong enough to subdue the power of Zanlos’ commands.

  For you.

  She couldn't let it alone. She had to know.
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br />   "I think I need a drink."

  When they were seated in the elegant revolving restaurant with its 360-degree panorama of the jewel box city below, Naomi's agitation returned. Self-consciously smoothing through the tangle of her hair, she ordered a white wine and leveled an unswerving stare upon her companion.

  "Who are you?"

  "Gabriel McGraw. I'm a former cop from D.C."

  If he'd said anything else, the evening would have been over, and she would have known him to be the liar Zanlos claimed him to be. But this first truth left her hopeful that more would follow.

  "Former?"

  "A slight conflict of interest between my job and my conscience. I took a leave of absence to take care of some unfinished business."

  "And that business would be?"

  She clutched her wine glass in both hands. One of his layered over them. His touch was cool yet sparked fires of yearning from a source she didn't recognize. A self-preserving panic cried out for her to pull away, but his touch soothed more than it upset, just as his reply did.

  "You and me, Naomi. I couldn't let so much go unresolved. I had to follow."

  "But I don't know you.” Anguish tore through that claim. His answer only deepened the riddle.

  "Don't you? Don't you feel the bond between us? The pull you can't resist? Naomi, you are my soul mate, and even if you can't recall the circumstances surely you remember the feelings. I know you do.” More of a plea than a prompt, he spoke with a passion as unsettlingly direct as his dark stare.

  "I remember the feelings but not the facts.” With that admission, she drew her hands away and gulped the wine. But there was nothing as potent as the urgency of his gaze. He waited, wanting more, more than she could give him. “What were we to each other? Lovers?” She blushed as she asked it, but she needed to hear his reply.

  "Regrettably, no."

  Disappointment speared her heart. She hadn't realized until this moment how much she'd wanted there to be some healthy, normal link between her and this enigmatic man. But nothing in her life was normal.

  "Why not?"

  He smiled faintly at her demand. “Not for lack of interest, that's for sure. Call it bad timing.” And he chuckled as if that was some great sad joke. “You might say we were courting."

  Courting. How quaint. How sweetly satisfying.

  "You trusted me, Naomi."

  Her neck prickled warily. “And was that a mistake?"

  "Perhaps. But only because I wasn't completely honest with you."

  "And you'll be completely honest now?"

  His smile took a skewed bend. “No."

  "I see."

  "I can't be. Not yet. But you can trust me, Naomi. Trust in what you feel."

  "I feel confused and afraid and uncertain."

  "And love?"

  "I don't know."

  That wasn't what he'd wanted to hear but he recovered well.

  "I'm patient."

  Why did that claim frighten her so? Had she expected him to give up and go away? Was that what she wanted, or did she secretly thrill to the thought of his pursuit?

  "Why don't I remember?” Frustration tore through her voice.

  "What has Zanlos told you?"

  Her gaze lowered to the empty glass she rolled between her palms. “He said I had a nervous breakdown. He brought me out here with him and helped me get better."

  "And did he?"

  "Yes.” Defensively stated, but in the back of her mind, she wondered. Was she better? Was knowing nothing better than finding the strength to accept the truth, no matter how ugly that truth might be? “I was suicidal."

  "That's what he told you.” It wasn't a question.

  Challenged by his tone, she said, “It's the truth. I don't know where I'd be without him. Probably in some state institution somewhere. He saved my life, Gabriel.” She met his stare fiercely. “I won't let you harm him."

  He was silent for a moment, thinking of how to continue. He approached the subject cautiously. “He's not one of the good guys, Naomi."

  She'd always known that, so there was no surprise in her response, just the same dogged insistence and loyalty. “I don't care. He's made me feel safe."

  "Safe? He's made you a prisoner to his plans. Who is he working with, Naomi? Who's partnered in this plan of his?"

  "I don't know."

  "Don't know or won't say? Or can't say?"

  That last provoking question bothered her because of what it implied. “I'm not afraid of Mr. Zanlos. I've never seen him do anything wrong, so don't expect me to help you with your harassment.” She began to push away from the table, so he leaned forward, hoping his earnest look would slow her.

  "Naomi, he's behind what's wrong with you."

  She stared at him, aghast then angry. “He's helped me."

  Gabriel rose up at the same time she did. His stare burned into hers. “He's made you his slave."

  Her head jerked from side to side. “No."

  Her head began to pound—hammer on anvil behind her eyes. She reached into her bulky purse for the pills she wasn't supposed to take. But they helped, the way a little more truth and a lot less stress would help. She swallowed two down with the last of her water. One stuck half way, forcing her to cough and gratefully accept his untouched glass of Chardonnay. She gulped it down until her windpipe opened, allowing her hoarse objection.

  "You don't know what you're talking about."

  But she heard Rita's prophetic claim. They can't take advantage unless you allow it. Angrily, she emptied the contents of the glass. The thudding between her ears became an annoying buzz, like whispers behind turned heads and shielding hands. The buzz of gossip, the pitying glances. She tried to deny them with a shake of her head. The pain was almost unbearable.

  "You know I'm right, Naomi. You just can't admit it to yourself. He's used you. He's lied to you."

  "No.” Strength gave way to a deeper confusion as she tried to reject the destruction of her orderly world. She couldn't let him chip away at the cornerstones to her sanity.

  He was the liar.

  She couldn't breathe. She had to get away. While he was left to pull bills from his wallet to satisfy the check, she rushed from the restaurant. Stumbling blindly, she sought a saving calm to the turmoil in her head. Panic beat against her temples. Sound roared within her ears. Not even when she staggered out into the chill wind on the open air observation deck, did the fever cool within her brain. Escape. She had to escape the jarring noise and sudden blur of visions streaking across her view like scenes playing out in fast forward. For an instant, she saw Kaz Zanlos, but before she could focus upon his image, it bled to become another—a monster of blazing red eyes and feral teeth. She gasped, trying to draw air into the constriction of her chest. It wasn't the truth she saw. It was the nightmare that pursued her. The madness returned by Gabriel's relentless words.

  She bumped into the first restraining rail and clutched it with quaking hands. Beyond was another fence then darkness, cool darkness broken by the tiny glowing dots of suburbia as she faced the mountains instead of the city. She saw only freedom from the crushing pressure of sound and sight, the blissful freedom she'd experienced on the ride only minutes ago. She strained for a taste of that sweet release, leaning, lifting her face toward the beckoning heavens.

  A hand touched her elbow, a voice called her name. She began to turn toward the dizzying smear of visuals, seeking a focal point upon which to cling. But the features that crystallized out of the mist of memories and dreams didn't offer salvation.

  They promised hell.

  Her nightmare had found her.

  Shrieking, she lunged backwards. Momentum sent her tumbling over the rail to fall between the two barriers.

  "Naomi! Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

  Naomi! Fear me not. I mean you no harm.

  Choking on the bitter bile surging up to burn her throat and nose, she scrambled to her feet, thinking only to evade the hands reaching for her.


  Hurtful, pawing hands.

  She whirled and flung herself over the next rail.

  And was free.

  Darkness and an oblivion that was her friend. She spread her arms wide to embrace it, to give herself to that cold, final peace.

  Until a sudden remembrance shocked through her heart and mind.

  Gabriel, my love!

  Before she had a chance to scream out in objecting terror, he was there, strong arms encircling her, cinching her up tight to his solid form. There to save her.

  This time.

  The burn of the wind rushing by her face eased to a gentle caress. Time slowed to the pace of shared heartbeats, hers rapid with amazement and fright, his anything but steady as they spiraled down with the graceful loops of blossoms entwined upon a light evening breeze.

  And while he held her and listened to the raw pulls of her breathing saw across the edges of his heart, he could see again and again in damning slow motion the flutter of her skirt and the disappearance of her slender ankles and sensibly clad feet as she went over the edge.

  Again.

  Because of him.

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” he repeated in a broken litany that could never assuage the horror of that instant when he witnessed the event that had previously writhed only in his imagination.

  How fragile her psyche. How damaged the spirit that had evolved through centuries without redemption. And the blame was his just as the responsibility was his. His task was to bring her peace. He'd thought it could be done through a mending of their torn destinies, that reuniting their lives as one would make her whole and him forgiven.

  But he'd been wrong. So wrong he'd been shocked almost into inaction when she flung herself over the rail to face death rather than the truth he represented.