The Last Mile, page 29
For hours after Edge left, Abby mulled over his words. Edge was right about one thing. She was a risk-taker, and so was Gage. It was one more thing they had in common.
By six o’clock, she had made a decision. Abby went in and showered, brushed out her hair, put on a pretty yellow dress and a pair of open-toed high heels. Khaki cargo pants and a T-shirt might have made her point better, but she was only willing to go so far.
Either Gage loved her enough to take a chance on them, or he didn’t.
It was the end of May, and the temperature had reached the seventies. The sky was sunny, with just a few fluffy clouds. Abby drove her little Fiat over to Gage’s apartment and pulled into a space near the rear alley entrance.
She almost turned around when it occurred to her he might not be alone. She thought of Gage’s women friends and his sexual virility. How long would he go without a woman? Unease slid through her. She’d look like a fool if he was with another woman.
Maybe he isn’t Even home, she told herself, the notion giving her a moment’s relief. She pushed the buzzer and waited.
“Who is it?” Gage snapped. Definitely not in a good mood.
“It’s Abby. I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute. That is . . . if . . . if you aren’t busy.” Oh, God, did she sound pathetic? That was not part of her plan.
Gage hit the release, and the door unlocked. Abby walked into the leafy treed entry and climbed the iron stairs. Gage pulled open the door before she reached it.
For a second, he didn’t move. His beautiful blue eyes slid over her from top to bottom. She recognized the heat before he quickly shuttered his expression.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Sure. Sorry. Come on in.” He stepped back out of the way, and she walked past him into the living room. Through the doorway, she could see into the kitchen, which looked as bad as Edge had said.
And Gage . . . He was wearing a rumpled gray T-shirt that stretched over his powerful chest. A pair of faded jeans hugged his muscled thighs. He hadn’t shaved in days, which only made him look sexier.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be home,” she said. I wasn’t sure you’d be alone, she meant.
“Thanks to you and King, I can afford to take a little time off. You want something to drink? A soda or a glass of wine?”
“I’m not staying. I just . . . I had something I wanted to say, and I was hoping you’d give it some thought.”
“I think I’ll have that drink,” he drawled.
She would rather have just said her piece and left. But she followed him over to the built-in bar. At least the living room still looked neat and clean.
Gage poured himself a scotch. Abby sat down on the sofa, and Gage carried his drink over and sat down in the chair across from her. The distance between them seemed to stretch even farther than that. She wished she hadn’t come.
“Your brother stopped by to see me.” Not what she’d meant to say at all. “He thought I should come over and talk to you.”
“That’s a surprise.” He took a drink of scotch. “Edge usually minds his own business.”
Abby took a deep breath, wishing she had accepted the glass of wine. Wishing she’d already drunk it. “He said . . . he said you loved me and that since I loved you, I should tell you all the reasons we should be together.”
Gage’s lips edged up at the corners, but his eyes looked sad. “You don’t think I know all the reasons we should be together?”
Her pulse quickened. “I don’t know. I didn’t think so, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“To start with, you’re beautiful, but that’s obvious. When I look at you in that dress, it’s all I can do to keep my hands off you. You’re smart, and you’re caring. You’re tough when you need to be, and you never complain.”
She felt the heat creeping into her cheeks. “Well, I did complain a few times, but—”
He grinned. “You’re also stubborn, and you refuse to follow orders, even when they’re for your own good.”
“I know, but—”
“That’s two more things I love about you.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” He took a sip of his drink, and the smile slid from his face. “It doesn’t make any difference. If we were together, sooner or later something bad would happen. It almost happened in Mexico. When it did, it would be my fault, and I couldn’t handle it.”
He set the drink down and rose to his feet. “You need to go, Abby. You need to leave right now. If you don’t, we’ll end up in bed, and things will just get worse for both of us.”
Her legs trembled as she rose from the sofa. “It’s because of Cassandra, isn’t it? It’s always been because of her. Because you feel responsible for her death.”
“I was responsible.”
“It was an accident, Gage. She could have been driving down the freeway when a front tire blew and she was killed. Even if you’d sold her the tire, it wouldn’t have been your fault. Bad things happen to people every day. The bridge was faulty. Cassandra fell and died. It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”
“It wasn’t an accident! Cassandra died because of me! She didn’t just fall into that gorge, Abby—Cassie killed herself!”
Silence fell. Abby’s knees felt weak. She dropped like a stone back down on the sofa.
Gage ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t talk about it. I’ve never told anyone, but I guess you deserve to know the truth.”
Abby said nothing. She just prayed he would finish the story, get it all out in the open at last.
“That day on the bridge . . . Cassie was halfway across when her feet slipped off the rope and she fell partway through.” He pushed out a long, shaky breath. “She was scared, terrified. I told her to just hang on. I was coming to get her.” He swallowed. “I was almost there, just a few feet away. I could have pulled her back up. I could have saved her. All she had to do was hang on.”
Abby’s eyes filled. She had never seen such anguish on anyone’s face before. His eyes glistened. The bravest, strongest man she had ever known was on the verge of tears.
“I was almost there,” he repeated, his voice thick and rusty. “She was looking up at me, looking right at me. I knew what she was going to do before she did it. I saw it in her eyes. ‘I love you, Gage,’ she said. And then she just let go.”
Emotion clogged Abby’s throat. Dear God. Rising once more from the sofa, she went to Gage, slid her arms around his neck, and just held on. A shudder went through his big body and he buried his face in her hair.
Abby didn’t let go. What a terrible thing to do to someone, she thought.
Finally, Gage took hold of her shoulders and eased her away. “I don’t want you to love me, Abby. I just can’t deal with it.”
Pity washed through her. She didn’t want to make him suffer any more than he was already. But she had come this far. She might as well finish it.
“What happened that day on the bridge . . . Cassandra didn’t love you, Gage. She hated you.” He flinched. “That’s right. Cassie hated you because you didn’t love her in return. Because she couldn’t be happy living the life you lived, and you couldn’t be happy living any other way.”
Gage just stared.
“She knew what killing herself would do to you. Don’t you see? She did it to punish you. If she’d loved you, she never would have hurt you that way. It was a selfish, terrible thing to do.”
Abby rested her palm against his cheek. “I would never hurt you like that, Gage. I love you too much to ever do anything that would cause you so much pain.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Think about it, honey. Set yourself free.”
The lump in her throat was so painful she could barely swallow. Turning, she walked out of the living room.
Gage didn’t follow.
Abby hadn’t thought he would.
She cried all the way back to her apartment. By the time she got there, her eyes were gritty but dry. She had given Gage everything she had to give. She would always love him, but in some strange way, she finally felt free of him.
Tomorrow night, she would talk to Clay Reynolds. With his help, maybe she could set a new course, find something in life to interest her besides the adventures she wanted to share with Gage.
Abby told herself that as she lay in bed that night.
But deep in her heart, she wished she had stayed, wished she’d had one more night with Gage.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
ABBY PUT ON A PAIR OF BEIGE SLACKS AND A LOOSE-FITTING GATHERED print top in pale shades of blue. She didn’t want to wear anything sexy. She wanted this to be a professional business meeting.
The supper she was making—baked chicken, baby yellow potatoes, and carrots, along with a crisp green salad—was healthy and not particularly impressive.
She wasn’t trying to impress Clay as a woman. She wanted their conversation to revolve around the opportunities his influence with the museum might provide.
The doorbell rang. Abby wiped her hands on a dish towel, straightened the apron tied around her waist, went to the door and pulled it open.
Clay smiled as he walked in, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. He presented her with a bouquet of pretty pink roses. Not the best start to a business meeting, but the flowers were lovely.
“Thank you, Clay, that’s very thoughtful. I’ll put them in water.” She walked back into the kitchen, and Clay followed. He looked handsome tonight, in a navy blue sport coat and a pair of gray slacks, his shiny blond hair freshly trimmed.
Abby walked behind the kitchen counter. It was a simple galley-style design, with a sink on one side, a breakfast bar on the other. The dining table in the living room had been set with blue place mats and her everyday white dishes.
Abby found a vase beneath the sink and bent down to pick it up. When she rose, she felt Clay right behind her. She turned and managed to smile. “I need a little room if I’m going to arrange these flowers.”
Clay took the bouquet from her hand and set it in the sink. “You can do that later.” He lowered his head and began kissing the side of her neck. Abby squeezed out from beneath his arm and walked a few feet away.
“Clay, I invited you here to talk about doing something with the museum, finding some kind of work that might interest me.” He caught up with her, turned her back into his arms.
“We’ll get around to that. First things first.” Clay caught her jaw and tried to kiss her, but Abby pulled away. She set her palms on his chest to keep him at arm’s length.
“I really appreciate your friendship, Clay, but that’s all I feel for you. Friendship. I’m not interested in anything more than that.”
Clay’s warm smile faded. “You want that job, don’t you? There’s always a price to pay for favors, Abby.”
Surprise jolted through her. She started shaking her head. “I don’t want the job that badly.”
His expression changed from pleasant to grim. “I can’t believe after all this time you’ve just been leading me on.”
“I wasn’t leading you on. I didn’t realize you believed there was something going on between us. Friendship’s all I’ve ever felt for you, Clay. That’s all I want.”
Clay moved closer. “I don’t care what you want anymore. It’s time to face reality.” He smiled thinly. “I had high hopes for us, Abby. After you came back from Mexico, I thought we could finally make things work.”
Abby kept moving backward. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve hardly even dated.”
Clay stalked after her. “Your grandfather hoped for more. We talked about you whenever he was in the city.” Clay’s smile returned, but it looked forced. “He hoped we’d get together.”
“I don’t . . . don’t have those kinds of feelings for you, Clay. I think I’ve made that clear.”
Her back came up against the wall and Clay pressed himself against her. She could feel his arousal, and her stomach churned.
“I want you, Abby,” he said. “I want your mind as well as your body. Let me give you pleasure. You’ll see how good we can be.”
Clay caught her wrists, dragged her over to the sofa, and pushed her down, used his body to pin her beneath him. Abby struggled, but Clay was sixty pounds heavier, and he was in prime physical condition. His grip on her wrists was like steel as he dragged her hands over her head. Trapping her with his weight, he cupped her breast and squeezed, bent his head, and tried to kiss her.
“Let me go!” When she turned her head away, he pressed his mouth against the side of her neck.
“Give us a chance, Abby. Let me show you how good it could be.”
Abby struggled to get up. “Clay, if you don’t stop right now, I’m going to scream.”
One hand covered her mouth while the other slid down her body, into the front of her slacks. Abby sank her teeth into Clay’s palm and bit down hard. Clay was the one who screamed.
“You bitch!” Blood trailed across his palm and dripped through his fingers. “I’ve had enough of your games!” Clay backhanded her so hard her ears rang. He ripped open the front of her blouse and Abby cried out. Her head was spinning, Clay’s heavy weight pressing the air out of her lungs, making her even more light-headed.
A pounding started on the door. “Abby! Are you all right?”
“Gage . . . !” She tried to throw Clay off, but he slapped her again, knocking her head into the arm of the sofa.
“You said the two of you were over!” Clay shouted. “I should have had them finish you off in Mexico City!”
“What?”
The door crashed open, and Gage roared into the room. He took one look at her blouse and the red mark on her cheek and went after Clay like the lion he was.
Gage jerked Clay off Abby and sent him crashing into the wall. He grabbed the front of Clay’s shirt, hauled him up, and punched him in the face, sending him flying backward again.
“Get away from me!” Clay shouted as Gage strode over, hauled him to his feet, and hit him again.
Abby shot up from the sofa. “Gage, stop! You’ll kill him!”
Gage ignored her. “You hit her, you son of a bitch.” A fierce blow knocked Clay against the end table, sending the lamp crashing to the floor. When Gage drew back for another blow, Abby grabbed his bicep and held on as hard as she could.
“That’s enough, honey. Please stop, please!”
He looked at her over his shoulder, took a deep breath, and slowly released it. When he finally let go, Clay slid down the wall and didn’t get up.
Gage turned to Abby, his blue eyes scorching. “What the hell is he doing here? You said last night that you—”
“I do love you. It’s not what you think.” Abby took a shaky breath. “We were supposed to talk about a job offer at the museum. I thought I’d be able to keep things more professional if I cooked dinner for him here instead of going over to his place.”
Gage must have realized the implications of her decision, that if she’d gone to Clay’s house, Gage wouldn’t have shown up at the door and Clay could have raped her.
The anger in his face changed to concern, and he pulled her into his arms. “Jesus, baby.”
Abby clung to him. It felt so good to be back in his arms. How could she have ever believed she could be free of him? She loved him more than ever.
Gage let her go, and both of them looked down at Clay. Blood dripped from his nose and ran from the corner of his mouth. One of his eyes was turning black and was swollen nearly shut.
Abby ignored him. “Clay said something about Mexico City. I think he may have hired the men who tried to kidnap me in the hotel.”
“What?” Gage’s fury returned. He walked over and hauled Clay up, dragged him across the room, and shoved him down on the sofa. “Did you hire those men who went after Abby in Mexico City?”
When Clay didn’t answer, Gage drew back his fist. “It would be my pleasure to beat the living fuck out of you. Did you hire those two men?”
Clay nodded glumly.
“You told Abby that King mentioned Mexico. How did you know we were in Mexico City?”
“I figured you’d have to start by dealing with the government. You’d have to talk to people in the Anthropological Institute. I’ve worked with them for years. They knew you were staying at the Gran Hotel.”
Gage flicked an assessing glance at Abby, then looked back at Clay. “What about the three guys in Denver who tried to abduct her?”
Clay wiped blood off his mouth. “I just wanted the map.”
“You sonofabitch. You’re going to jail—you know that, right?”
“You’ve got the gold. Isn’t that enough?”
“Beating you senseless wouldn’t be enough. Call the cops, Abby.”
She walked over to Clay. “What you tried to do to me tonight . . . I don’t understand what you thought you could accomplish.”
His bloody lip curled. “You’re worth at least twenty million bucks, sweetheart. I figured there was a chance you’d see things my way once I had you in bed.”
Gage hauled him up and hit him again.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
TWO POLICE OFFICERS SHOWED UP AT THE DOOR. THEY TOOK ONE look at Abby’s battered face, clamped a pair of handcuffs around Clay Reynolds’s wrists, and hauled him away.
Since there was no proof he was behind the kidnapping attempt in Denver or the attack at the hotel in Mexico City, Gage figured the guy would cut some kind of a deal to lessen the assault charges and get off with a minimum sentence.
If he was smart, he wouldn’t show his face in Denver again. As long as he stayed away from Abby, Gage didn’t care.
Abby closed the door behind the officer who had remained to take their statements, walked over, and dropped down on the sofa. Gage sat down beside her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and just hold her, make sure she was okay. He wanted to kiss her, make love to her, but he no longer had that right.
“You okay?” he finally asked.
Big golden eyes gazed up at him, seemed to look straight into his heart. “I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t shown up when you did.” She frowned as if a thought had just occurred. “Why did you show up? Why’d you come over?”
