PHONE ISSUES

When Gabriel’s phone rang, he did not snarl at it. Did not need to fight the urge to hurl it into the wall. He simply opened one eye and waited for it to stop. When it did, he opened the other and looked down at Olivia, curled up in his arms.

He liked this. Liked it more than he would have imagined. The touching, the entwining, the closeness. The heat of her body, the smell of her skin, the soft whisper of her breathing, the pound of her heart. It made him feel…He wasn’t sure what word fit best there. Secure? Comforted? Quieted? The choices all seemed odd, when applied to a lover. But he felt all that, curled up with her.

It was not dissimilar to the sense he used to get at the end of the day, when he closed the door and shut the world out and could just relax, be himself in his one safe spot. Something had been amiss, though, adding a restlessness and dissatisfaction that he’d never been able to pin down. Now he realized what it’d been. Loneliness. The sense that the only thing better than being alone would be to be with someone who made you feel as safe and comfortable as you did when you were alone.

He rose on his elbow to look down at Olivia. To savor the image of her in his bed. The realization of yet another fantasy he’d indulged in more times than he cared to recollect. It seemed an odd thing to fantasize about, compared to all the other, more active scenarios. But this was one of his, like seeing her wearing his shirt.

He’d had a taste of this particular fantasy already, letting her take his bed when she stayed the night. Again, he’d enjoyed that more than he ought to. There was a primitive quality to the fantasy, the idea that even if she’d been with Ricky, she’d been sleeping in his bed.

A little more proprietary than he should admit to. Not a sense of property, but a sense of place—that having Olivia in his bed said she held a spot in his life no one else could breach. She was important enough that he’d give up his most private sanctuary to her.

His phone started again. That did get a growl from him, less at the interruption than the reminder that it really was time to get up.

He eased Olivia aside, crawled from bed, and picked up his phone just before it went to voice mail. Only as he hit the Talk button did he see a number he didn’t recognize and grunt, annoyed that he hadn’t checked first. In that light, his greeting may have been even more curt than usual.

“Uh, sorry?” Ricky said. “Bad time?”

“No. I didn’t recognize the number.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Phone issues. You know.”

Gabriel did know. Or, rather, he did not know specifically, because he was not supposed to know specifics, only that, on his advice, at any time the Saints were doing particularly sensitive business, they switched to prepaid phones.

Ricky continued, “The new number might also explain why Liv didn’t pick up. I’ve left messages. Is she okay?”

“We were visiting Todd earlier. She may have left her phone in the car.”

Gabriel did not for a moment consider saying that Olivia was asleep in the middle of the day. That would have been cruel. Gabriel had seen Ricky’s face when he spotted the discarded clothing in Olivia’s parlor, and no matter how many times Ricky had assured him he’d be perfectly fine with whatever happened, his expression confirmed that “perfectly” was a gross exaggeration. Even “fine” might be overstating the matter.

“I presume you’re calling to say you have business that won’t allow you to speak to Ioan?” Gabriel said.

“Nah. That’s all good. I’m just on call.” Ricky paused. “Unless you’d rather speak to Ioan with Liv instead.”

“No, I have other business to attend to. I can drop her off wherever you like. I’d only ask that you get her some lunch, before or after the meeting. She’s had a busy day and hasn’t eaten.”

“I’ll make sure she does. But who’s going to make sure you do?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Wrong answer.” The sound of a door opening. “I’m in the city, running an errand for Wallace. How about I pick up lunch and swing by? You’re at the office?”

“My apartment. I needed clothing because—”

“—the elders have grounded Liv. Right. I’ll grab takeout and be there in thirty.”

Thirty minutes did not allow both Gabriel and Olivia to shower and then dry their hair to erase the evidence that they’d bathed. Which led to Olivia making the perfectly rational suggestion that they share the shower. In her defense, she did seem to presume it would be uneventful, given the exertions of earlier. That was not the case, and Ricky was rapping at the door as she was finishing blow-drying her hair, his still wet. He towel-dried it as best he could before joining them in the dining room.

Lunch ended, and they were about to leave when Ricky said, “Shit,” and “Can I talk to you a sec, Gabriel?”

“I’ll get these dishes in the machine,” Olivia said as she started clearing the table.

When she went into the kitchen, Ricky said, “I brought the bike. If you’d rather I picked up a car at my dad’s—or you drive Liv to Ioan’s—that’s cool.”

Gabriel understood the problem. As progressive as the Saints might be, they still held to the old traditions, one being that the woman riding on the back of a bike was sleeping with the guy on the front.

“That’s fine with me,” he said.

“You sure? I totally get it if you—”

“It’s fine.”

By the time Ricky and Olivia left, Gabriel was already on the phone, working through his own to-do list. Rose hadn’t heard from Seanna. Neither had Patrick. Yet Gabriel could not be completely certain either was telling the truth, and he was considering what to do about this as he walked from his apartment and found two fae in his hallway. Two dryads, to be precise.

“We have solved the mystery,” Alexios announced.

“Well, one of them,” Helia said.

Gabriel closed the door behind him, his hand still on the knob. “While I’m glad to hear you’ve made progress, coming to my home is not the appropriate way to communicate it to me.”

“How else were we supposed to tell you? Olivia forgot to leave us a phone number.”

Gabriel suspected Olivia had not forgotten. She didn’t trust them—understandable after their experiences with helpful fae. Nor did she quite seem to know what to make of them. They were far too flighty for Gabriel’s tastes, but the Gwynn part of him understood that this was the way of dryads and accepted it with only minor exasperation, as if they were cousins he would not choose as friends but would grant respect and consideration.

Yet that did not mean he wanted them at his home.

“My office address is listed,” he said.

“It’s Saturday,” Helia said. “No one’s there. We went by.”

“There is a message service.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you, Gw— Gabriel?”

“One would think you’d be pleased with our keen detective work,” Alexios added. “Your home address is not listed. Finding it—and getting inside the building—wasn’t easy.”

“I will provide you with my cell phone number. Please use it.”

“Next time. We have important news. We’ll go inside and discuss it.”

Helia nudged Alexios, subtly shook her head, and said, “That fancy car of yours is in the garage, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“We’ll talk in there. While you drive.”

“And where would I be driving?”

She grinned up at him. “To your mother, of course.”

Gabriel did not blithely follow the dryads to his car. He and Olivia had been betrayed by two fae in the last few months, and both times he’d felt no more than the usual mistrust he did with 99.99 percent of the human population. He needed time to think this through and plan a safe course of action.

He told the dryads he had work to do at his office, and they could either wait for his call or accompany him. They seemed completely unperturbed by his lack of urgency regarding his mother. He suspected any urgency in their own lives was like that experienced by the average toddler—a sudden and burning need to have something right that moment…forgotten as soon as a distraction presented itself.

The dryads happily accompanied Gabriel to his office and then decided to play legal assistant while they waited, offering to file papers, answer e-mails, whatever task he might like to set them on. Again not unlike a small child who thinks household chores are great fun…for about five minutes. Gabriel put them to work tidying the supply closet. It seemed relatively harmless, and he wasn’t about to turn down free labor.

On the drive over, he’d weighed his options. He did not consider refusing to follow up on the dryads’ lead, no more than he or Olivia had ignored mysterious messages they had received, knowing they would almost certainly lead to a trap. It was rather like having an enemy invite you to tea—you know your Earl Grey will likely contain a lethal dose of arsenic, but if you refuse the invitation, he’ll only find another method of attack, perhaps one you won’t see coming.

The answer, then, was to take backup. The obvious and preferred choice was Olivia. Ricky ran a somewhat distant second. Yet both were off on an important task of their own, and Gabriel hated postponing a call to adventure. Which, perhaps, proved he shared more blood with the dryads than he cared to admit.

Gabriel weighed his choices. Then he made a call.