CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

I had a few sunrise spots—places Dad had found where he could drive and enjoy some peace without leaving the city. This one was on a bluff. As we drove up, Gabriel peered around the darkness.

“Yes, I know,” I said. “It looks like a make-out point.”

“I was thinking more a convenient location for the exchange of illegal goods.”

“I’m sure it’s both at the right time of night, but at this hour it’s always empty. My dad used to bring me up here for hot chocolate before my early morning skating practices.”

“Figure skating?”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were. You are trying and failing to picture me in a tutu on ice. With good reason. It was my mother’s idea. Some mornings, if Dad and I got to talking up here, he’d conveniently lose track of time and I’d miss my lesson. When my mother finally realized I wasn’t getting better at skating—shockingly—she let me quit. Then I got to take up rowing, which was a compromise. It wasn’t quite as feminine as she’d like, but it was a suitably upper-class pursuit. What I really wanted to do was horseback riding.”

“I didn’t think one could get much more upper-class than that.”

“Exactly my point. But she said she had a friend whose child died after being thrown from a horse. Years later, I found out she’d just watched Gone with the Wind too many times.”

“So you never went riding?”

“Not until I was old enough to do it on my own, and by then I was driving. Horses don’t have quite the same . . .”

“Horsepower?”

I laughed. “Exactly.”

He ratcheted back his seat, getting comfortable. I waited until he was settled, then said, “I’m going to have to ask, you know. About tonight.”

He grunted, stared out the windshield, and sipped his coffee.

“If you don’t tell me, James will.”

Another sip of his coffee before he put the cup into the holder. “I made a mistake.” A pause. “I made several tonight. I’m not quite sure how that happened. They seemed to . . .”

“Snowball? Yeah. Mistakes are like that. So he called you after I left?”

Gabriel glanced at me as if surprised.

“I know you didn’t just randomly go over there and confront him. He must have called.”

“He did. We had words.”

“I bet you did.”

“The call was relatively civil, but it became clear that no matter what I said, he was not going to stop trying to contact you. I decided a personal visit was in order.”

“So you snuck past the gate.”

“I wouldn’t say snuck . . .”

“You found an alternate entrance. You rang the bell, presumably, since the breaking and entering charge was dropped. You then intimidated James into not calling for help.”

“I wouldn’t say—”

“You made him feel that calling for help would be cowardly.”

“I’m beginning to think I don’t need to tell you this story after all.”

“I’m saving time. You confront him. You ‘have words.’ He makes the boneheaded move of hitting you in the jaw, so you gut-punched him—”

“Gut-punch is a strong—”

My look silenced him. “Do I have the basics right?”

“You do.”

“Good. Anything else I should know?”

He considered, then said, “I am more concerned about him than before. No matter what I do—threats, blackmail, intimidation, or even civilized requests—the situation seems to deteriorate. I will admit that I’m not quite certain how to proceed. I could act on my blackmail threats . . .”

“The McNeil business?”

“No, that was merely a decoy. Morgan plugged the hole while I focused my attention elsewhere.”

“Is he really that dirty?”

“He’s a successful businessman. He has vulnerabilities. Mostly business problems that were resolved with a bribe to the proper parties. That’s common enough. It would, however, damage his political chances.”

I sighed and slid down in my seat. “If you’d told me he’d pull this crap a month ago, I’d have said you were delusional. The big question now is how this will affect you.”

“I’ll resolve it easily enough. It’s simply an embarrassing footnote to my career.”

When silence fell, I said, “To completely change the subject, I talked to that Huntsman tonight. The one who gave me the tusk.”

I told him what happened. Well, most of it. I didn’t explain exactly where I’d been or what I’d been doing when I met him. I also didn’t tell Gabriel what the Huntsman had said about him.

“It sounds crazy, right?” I said.

“It does.”

“What if it is? If I’m being set up with some crazy-assed scheme? Oh, look, I’m a special snowflake, and dark supernatural forces are fighting over me. Maybe I’m just unbalanced enough these days to actually fall for it.”

“While I wouldn’t eliminate the possibility it’s an elaborate scheme for some criminal purpose, that does seem unlikely. And you aren’t unbalanced. At least, not enough to fall for such a story.”

“Thanks,” I said.

We exchanged a smile and then lapsed into silence, watching the sunrise.

—

We were about to leave when James phoned.

“I’m going to answer,” I said. “Otherwise, he’ll keep calling.” I picked up with a warm “Hey, there,” which earned me a full five seconds of silence.

Then James said, “I take it you haven’t spoken to Richard.”

“Ricky? Sure. Thanks for letting me know about Gabriel. He’d have been in that cell until morning if you hadn’t called.”

More silence. Then, “I’m guessing that’s sarcasm.”

“Irony, actually, but close enough. I am glad I got the heads-up to bail him out, though I’m not nearly so impressed that you put him in there in the first place.”

“That I put him in there? The man put me in the hospital.”

“A punch to the stomach for a right hook to the jaw. You reap what you sow. I hope you’re okay, but I’m not going to pretend it isn’t your fault.”

Another five seconds of silence. “What has happened to you, Liv? Is this his influence?”

“Yes. Completely, because I was such a sweet little doormat before.”

“I’m concerned about you, Liv.”

“You don’t need to be. Now—”

“There are people out there who are very worried about Gabriel Walsh and his influence on you.”

I gripped the phone. “Who?”

“It’s not important. I’m calling because I regret what happened, and I want to make amends. I’d like to drop the charges.”

“I would appreciate that.”

“Good. Then you’ll join me for dinner?”

“Um, no. It’s over, James, and as much as I regret how that happened—”

“Do you want those charges dropped, Olivia?”

It was a few moments before I could reply. “That sounds like extortion.”

Gabriel’s head whipped my way, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course not,” James said. “I’m just saying—”

“That you’ll drop the charges if I go to dinner with you.”

“No,” Gabriel said. “Absolutely not.”

“Is that—?” James began.

“Of course it is,” I snapped. “You called at two in the morning to tell me he was in jail. Do you think I’m just going to bail him out and take off? If this is about getting me away from Gabriel, it was a dumb-ass move, wasn’t it? The more you threaten him, the closer I’ll stick to watch out for him.”

“And the same for threatening you,” Gabriel rumbled. “Tell him I don’t want the charges dropped.”

“James? I’m sure you caught that.”

No answer, but I swore I could hear him seething.

Gabriel continued, “Tell him that dropping the charges suggests they had merit, and that he was coerced into withdrawing them. I will get them dismissed instead. The only question is whether he wishes to go public with them.”

“Hell, yes, I’m going public,” James said as I put the phone on speaker.

“Excellent. I will save you the trouble and place the calls myself.”

“So you can lie to the press?”

“No, so I can tell the truth. About the harassment my client and employee is receiving at the hands of her ex, and how my attempt at a private discussion, following a documented late-night call from him, resulted in a physical altercation. I regret what occurred, but I would strongly suggest that the other party seek counseling, as he presents an obvious danger to others, most alarmingly the ex-fiancée who is struggling to rebuild her life after the tragic revelations of the past two months.” He paused. “How does that sound?”

“If you—”

“If you run with your story, they will contact me for a quote, and that is the one I will give. Now, it’s late. Or early, as the case may be. Good day, Mr. Morgan.”

I hung up.