Beautiful Beast
Dani Sinclair

With thanks to Natashya Wilson for the concept, helpful corrections, suggestions, edits and hand-holding as required.

A heartfelt thank-you to Judy Fitzwater and Robyn Pope for plotting assistance, crunch-time reading, terrific suggestions and friendship above and beyond the call.

And for Roger, husband extraordinaire, who listened a lot, offered suggestions, ignored frustration and let me work when other things beckoned. You’re the best!

Always, for Chip, Dan and Barb.

Love all you guys.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Gabriel Lowe —The solitary soldier has no memory of what happened the day he was forever scarred and branded a liar and a murderer.

Cassiopia Richards —She’s determined to clear her father’s name and see that his murderer is brought to justice.

Beacher Coyle —He may be a silver-tongued ladies’ man, but he’s the only person Gabe trusts.

Major Frank Carstairs —He’s always been Gabe’s chief suspect in the theft of a deadly toxin. Too bad he died the day it was stolen.

Andrea Fielding —Dr. Pheng’s lab assistant was Gabe’s fiancée—even though her brother was antimilitary.

Major Bruce Huntington —He didn’t like having Gabe under his command. Now he’s certain Gabe will get what he deserves.

Rochelle Leeman —The gallery owner is beautiful, determined and bold enough to go after what she wants, no matter the consequences. And Gabe has what she wants.

Arthur Longstreet —The chief of security for Sunset Labs was new to the job when the toxin disappeared from under his nose.

Dr. Trung Pheng —The chief research chemist was working to create an antidote to the toxin when his work was stolen.

Dr. Powell Richards —His murder started the hunt for the missing toxin. Did the thieves turn on one of their own?

Len Sliffman —The former FBI man is trying to keep an open mind.

Contents

Cast of Characters

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Coming Next Month

Prologue

Frederick, Maryland

Four years earlier

Unease rode Gabe, but second lieutenants in the U.S. Army didn’t question direct orders from a major, even one outside their direct chain of command. When Major Frank Carstairs gave an order, it was obeyed.

Besides, Gabe could hardly call his captain for verification. Everyone knew Captain Bruce Huntington didn’t like Second Lieutenant Gabriel Lowe, who had been recently assigned to his military intelligence unit. And the order had nothing to do with Gabe’s babysitting job. He was the newest person in the unit, and low man, so he got all the unwanted assignments.

The original orders had been to transport three vials of a deadly toxin from the military base in Frederick, Maryland, to Dr. Powell Richards at Sunburst Laboratory in Urbana, Maryland. Gabe was then to oversee security.

Everything had gone as planned. The doctor had accepted the toxin with no hitches yesterday, and today had been a normal day. The doctor had left early, and Gabe had made certain the toxin was secured and his men in place before leaving. He’d been on his way home when Major Carstairs had ordered him to pick up Dr. Richards and escort the scientist to the base immediately.

Clearly something was wrong but no one, especially not the major, was going to bother explaining to him what that something was.

While the doctor had appeared stressed and preoccupied when he left for the day, Gabe didn’t know him well enough to know if that was normal or not. Dr. Richards hadn’t mentioned a problem and none of Gabe’s men had reported anything since he left, so what was going on?

Parking the car on the narrow street, Gabe stared up at the Richards house as dusk laid claim to the neighborhood. There was no car in the driveway and no lights to indicate anyone was home.

Other houses sparkled with lights and life as dusk yielded quickly to the press of an early nightfall. A perfectly normal scene, yet Gabe felt something was off.

Uneasy, he stepped from his car trying to determine why his senses were crying an alert for no good reason. He felt oddly exposed. His hand itched for the comfort of his holstered service revolver.

He hesitated as headlights swept up the street. The garage door began to open. The approaching vehicle slowed to make the turn, giving Gabe a clear view of the driver. Dr. Richards appeared even more stressed and distracted than before. He didn’t so much as glance at Gabe standing there. Something was definitely wrong.

Gabe’s hand still hovered near his revolver as he followed the car toward the house. He moved more quickly when it pulled all the way into the garage.

Without warning, a giant fireball rocked the neighborhood. Gabe reeled back. Something sliced his face as the garage exploded.

He ignored the warmth running down his cheek and sprinted for the car. A figure struggled to climb out as flames engulfed everything. A billowing wave of heat brought Gabe’s hands up to cover his face.

The second, larger explosion sent Gabe sailing through the air. He landed with incredible force amid a hail of raining debris. His last coherent thought was that he should have listened to his instincts.

Chapter One

Frederick, Maryland

Present Day

A slender figure came around the far side of his house and sprinted across the front lawn to disappear in the hedge on the other side. Gabriel Lowe stopped walking. Not CID, FBI, Homeland Security or any of the other official types who watched his house from time to time. Their people would have approached his home in a much different fashion.

Female, based on the swing of nicely rounded hips in figure-hugging jeans. A long ponytail swished against a slender back covered by a fitted jacket. His intruder was obviously looking for a way inside. And in that instant, he knew who it had to be.

His fingers flexed and balled into fists. Jaw clenched, Gabe stepped off the sidewalk and slipped into the nearest shadow. He followed her silently, letting his anger build.

With a low-voiced, muttered imprecation, she battled her way behind the prickly juniper that squatted beneath his dining room window. Identity confirmed, Gabe faded back against the bole of the spreading oak tree a short distance from her.

Cassiopia Richards—the woman who had named him a murderer—gazed up at the window and sighed. She withdrew a ridiculously tiny pocketknife from her hip pocket and hesitated. The small blade was hard to see in the bit of moonlight that filtered between the high clouds, but her intention was clear.

Gabe was reluctant to accost her too soon. Would she actually go through with a criminal act?

She slit the screen and started to reach for the window itself. Abruptly, she stopped.

“Blast.”

The utterance was a wisp of discord in the chilly night air. She struggled with the juniper branch that had clamped onto the back of her coat. Apparently, she didn’t understand that an illegal activity like breaking and entering required silence and speed.

Not once did she bother to scan her surroundings. She wouldn’t have seen him if she had, but she was either extremely sure of herself or totally inept. Watching her struggle with the bush, he was betting on the latter.

FRAZZLED, CASSY JERKED her coat free, half hoping this window would be locked like the others she had already tried. Then she could go home and come up with a new plan. This one was stupid. If she were caught…

She would not think about that. She couldn’t afford to turn around and go home. If there was the slimmest chance Gabriel’s friend Beacher Coyle had actually succeeded where everyone else had failed, she needed to do something.

She’d been a fool to listen to him in the first place. He’d almost convinced her that they were victims, like her father. He’d persuaded her to listen and now the golden-tongued son of a serpent wasn’t answering his telephone. Gabriel had blown her off when she’d contacted him, and now Beacher was avoiding her calls. And if her suspicions were correct, Beacher had brought the results of his search to Gabriel.

They’d found the missing toxin and were going to sell it unless she stopped them. By the time she convinced someone in authority, it would be too late and she was not going to let them get away with it.

Not a sound disturbed the stillness of the night. Cassy had little fear of being observed, given the distance between the houses. The blasted neighborhood was dark enough to give her the creeps. Once more she adjusted the thin bits of plastic over her hands and reached up.

With a scraping, groaning racket all out of proportion to what she’d expected, the window yielded and slid to one side. Startled, she froze. Her heart thundered wildly in her chest. Her ponytail swung as she took a quick look around the yard and at the house next door.

GABE REMAINED MOTIONLESS as her eyes swept by him without faltering and continued on to the house next door. He could have told her she had nothing to worry about from that direction. The family inside would be glued to their television sets at this hour. Nothing less than an explosion would bring them to a door or window.

But what was Cassiopia Richards doing here in the first place? Perhaps he should have heard her out when she called the other day, but her patronizing tone had annoyed him. He’d never forgotten her tirade when he’d been trapped in that hospital bed. Gabe didn’t owe her a thing.

She stared at the opening as if trying to screw up her courage to climb inside. Then she cast another nervous glance around. He waited.

THIS WAS NO TIME for paranoia, Cassy admonished herself. There was no one lurking nearby watching her every move, even if the back of her neck was crawling in warning. Gabriel Lowe was at his gym at this hour. While the sound of the window opening had been loud, it hadn’t been loud enough to carry inside the house across the yard, and no one moved on the silent street. Not a single car had driven past since she got here.

Well, it wasn’t every day she attempted to break into someone’s home. Her nerves had a right to be jumpy. She was usually such a practical person.

Cassy gripped the windowsill and levered herself up. The jagged screen snagged on the elbow of her jacket. She yanked her arm back. The screen ripped free of the window and fell, tangling with the bush below. She froze in dismay and swore softly.

So much for hoping he wouldn’t notice the torn screen.

ENTERTAINED DESPITE his annoyance, Gabe waited to see what she’d do next. What she did was seek a better grip, even though the weird, loose-fitting clear plastic covering her hands made the task harder than it should have been.

What were those things? They weren’t the latex gloves that hugged the skin. These bits of clear plastic fit so loosely she seemed to be having trouble keeping them in place.

Cassiopia Richards had to be the most inept burglar ever. Her thrusting hand tangled in the sheer drape that covered the window. She tried to shove the material aside as she swung her leg up and over but the drape wasn’t having any of it. In her attempt to avoid being wrapped in the filmy cloth, her leg apparently collided with the back of a chair.

Gabe nearly smiled. His dining room was small, the furniture too large for the space. He’d kept his parents’ old stuff after he bought this place because the pieces served to fill the empty rooms. Since he was pretty much the only one who ever saw them, their relative size had never mattered, but her unexpected contact with the chair nearly reversed Cassiopia’s direction. Even from where he stood he could hear the chair clatter against the table.

CASSY STOPPED MOVING half-in and half-out of the window. She stopped breathing as well. She waited for Gabriel Lowe to appear out of the darkness and condemn her. Even though she was almost positive he wasn’t home, it seemed an inevitable thing to happen.

She cast another frantic glance around. The yard was pitch-black. She couldn’t see a thing. There was no going back now. She expelled the breath of air and forced her other leg over the sill.

The drape swirled around her once more. She wriggled, colliding with the chair again. Cassy wrenched the gauzy fabric to one side in a frantic swipe. Off balance, she tumbled forward. Only pure dumb luck and the mahogany dining room table kept her from crashing to the floor.

Great. He’d never notice that. This was not an auspicious start to a life of crime. If she believed in omens, she’d turn around, climb back through that window and go home to bed. She could always get a decent lawyer in the morning.

She should have tried the authorities first. Maybe someone would have listened.

The prickly sensation that she was being watched would not go away. Her hand went to a side pocket and came out with the minuscule pocket flash. The attached key ring jingled as she moved.

If someone had been home, they’d have called the police by now. She’d made enough noise to wake the dead. Good thing she wasn’t planning on a life of crime. Her nerves couldn’t take much more of this.

Get it over with. Call out. See if someone was there.

GABE FLATTENED HIMSELF against the side of the house near the open window. He jumped when she spoke.

“Hello?”

Her scratchy voice was barely a whisper of sound.

“Is anybody home?”

And what would she do if he answered?

“Didn’t think so, but I wanted to be sure.”

Gabe shook his head. The woman was squirrel fodder. He’d been right to not waste time talking with her when she called.

The beam of her small flashlight swung away from the window. Gabe moved to where he could just see her vague outline. Her body radiated tension as she peered around the room. The resonant sound of the grandfather clock chiming the hour sent a tiny shriek past her lips.

“Idiot!”

On that, they were in complete agreement.

Muttering a profanity, she repositioned the chair at the table.

“No way am I going back out that window. When I leave tonight, I’m going out a door like any civilized burglar.”

Thoroughly amused, Gabe watched as Cassiopia moved the small ray of light to search out a path to the kitchen. It would almost be a shame to ruin her evening by revealing his presence.

HER FRAZZLED NERVES were playing tricks on her. There was no one here. Gabriel Lowe was at the gym. Based on past observations she should have an hour and a half before he returned.

Cassy picked her way carefully through the maze of furniture. Fortunately for her, his tastes ran to the stark. While the heavy old pieces were oversized, he hadn’t filled his home with bric-a-brac and clutter. And that seemed a little strange, given that he was supposed to be a sculptor. She’d expected to find dozens of ugly pieces scattered about.

Cassy shook her head. Who cared? The only thing that mattered was finding his home office, doing a quick search for what Beacher had found and getting away before either of them returned. She’d watched Gabriel enough to know that he spent most of his time in his basement. He even entertained Beacher down there, unless they sat around in the dark upstairs when he came to visit. Obviously, the basement was the place to start and she’d better hurry.

Finding a door next to the refrigerator, she reached for the handle. A mop stem hurled out of the darkness and cracked against her shoulder. Cassy leaped back, another small shriek escaping. Dislodged, a plastic pail rocked against the dustpan with a surprising clatter. The broom tipped over. She barely caught the handle in time to keep it from crashing to the floor.

HE WAS GOING TO HAVE to fix that wall mount for the mop and broom soon, Gabe thought, lips twitching. He’d waited until she’d stepped fully into the kitchen before slipping in through the open window without disturbing the drape or the chair. He’d cautiously taken a position near the hall entrance to the kitchen to see what she’d do next.

“I’m going to have a major heart attack before I even find the basement,” she muttered so softly he had to strain to hear her. “Gabriel Lowe is going to come home and find my dead body on his kitchen floor wearing stupid baggie gloves. Why didn’t I stop and pick up some latex ones?”

Stupid baggie gloves?

She replaced the mop, the broom and the pail and closed the door. The beam bobbled as she sent the anemic shaft of light toward the dining room entrance. He melted back before she shone it in the hall’s direction, then moved to observe her when the light swung away again.

Taking a cautious step around the refrigerator, she continued moving until she reached the basement door. She opened it gingerly and aimed the faint beam of light down the steps. He saw her shudder.

“This is so not a good idea.”

Gabe agreed. What was she doing here? Didn’t she realize his house was searched on a regular basis? The professionals could probably tell her the number of cans and the brand names of the soup in his kitchen cupboard on any given day. This had to have something to do with Beacher.

Gabe’s humor dissolved as Cassiopia gripped the smooth wood banister and started down the stairs. He waited for her to reach the third step from the bottom. The board creaked loudly. Her gasp was swallowed by the darkness.

He took a step back from the opening. Sure enough, she sent that stupid little light back up before swinging it in front of her again. What she expected a beam of that size to reveal he wasn’t sure. He probably hadn’t even needed to move.

“Think of the squeak as an early warning system,” she muttered.

That was exactly how he’d always looked at it. The narrow stairs were the only way in or out of the basement. He wondered if she knew that.

Using the flat of one hand and the weakening beam of light, she followed the curve of the wall to her right.

“If that man has a single rodent scurrying around down here I will come back and haunt him for all eternity.”

He skimmed down the stairs noiselessly in her wake.

REALIZING SHE’D FOUND another room, Cassy swept her hand over the inside wall until she located the light switch. Waiting for her eyes to adjust to what seemed like sudden brilliance, she gaped in amazement and stepped inside.

The windowless space was filled with shelves and columned pedestals of varying heights. Each held a bronze sculpture or series of small sculptures. Animals, especially lions and big cats, seemed to be his specialty. He’d infused an almost living essence in each subject. They were exquisitely detailed.

Her hand reached out to stroke a deer poised in flight. She stopped before actually touching the lifelike bronze figurine and shook her head reverently. Slowly, she moved about the room in awe. Gabriel Lowe was an artist in the truest sense of the word. His talent was nothing short of amazing.

She paused to squat before a pair of identical, nearly life-sized bronzes. The crouching lions perched on elaborate, ebony wood bases on the tiled floor.

“Absolutely incredible.”

“Thank you.”

Cassy rose with a shriek and whirled.

Wreathed in the concealing darkness of the hall, deep-set eyes seemed to gleam with a predator’s assessment as they surveyed her from beyond the room’s pool of light. Panic sent her gaze questing for a nonexistent escape route.

Energy crackled as Gabriel Lowe took a sinuous step into the shaft of light.

Her gaze fastened on the twisted scar that ran from the corner of his left eye to the edge of his strong jaw. Horrible! It added gruesome detail to the sinister, fierce aura he projected.

He was broader and taller up close than she’d expected. Powerful shoulders tapered to a narrow waist. Lean hips and well-muscled thighs confirmed his fitness as he glided forward silently like some large, stalking cat.

Cassy forgot to breathe. The darkness seemed to thicken behind him, creating an impenetrable barrier. His fixed, implacable expression held her silent. Her heart drummed wildly against her rib cage.

There was nowhere to run even if she could have summoned the will to move. Like a cornered mouse, she knew she was trapped. The jig was up.

Gabriel Lowe was going to kill her, too.

Chapter Two

Gabe watched as Cassiopia’s shocked gaze traveled the length of his scar before absorbing the rest of him. Well, his features hadn’t been all that great even before the explosion. The bright red puckering of the scar had faded to white over time, but he knew its impact was still strong on unsuspecting people.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” she managed to gasp.

He arched his eyebrows pointedly and remained silent.

Cassiopia closed her eyes and groaned. “I knew I was going to get caught.” She opened her eyes and grimaced. “I guess I should be glad you aren’t a mad rapist.”

He waited, keeping his expression blank, still reluctantly amused by her forced attempt at humor.

“You aren’t, are you?”

“Which? Mad, or a rapist?”

“I know you aren’t a rapist.”

He raised his eyebrows. Color singed her cheeks but she pressed forward boldly.

“How mad are you?”

He came away from the door in a motion that brought him across the room in three long strides. Cassiopia took an inadvertent step back, stopping when her heel bumped the base of the nearest crouching lion.

“What makes you so sure I’m not a rapist?”

The silky tone of his words charged the air. Her lips parted without sound while her gaze fastened on his scar once more. She inhaled raggedly.

“Don’t be absurd.”

Her voice cracked, denying the false calm she was trying to project.

“Are you going to call the police?”

He let his expression darken, then crowded her deliberately, coming to a stop when he was inches from her face.

“Now why would I want to do that? The last thing a mad rapist wants is the police,” he told her with silken menace.

Cassy refused to look away. “That isn’t funny.”

“Neither is breaking and entering.”

She dropped her gaze. Gabe sensed it lingering on the scarred backs of his hands and made no effort to conceal the puckered skin. Let her look her fill. There were more scars than these, covered by his clothing.

A piece of burning siding had landed on him in the explosion nearly four years ago. He’d been unconscious, and only the fast action of a neighbor had kept him from burning to death. Any number of times he’d thought the man hadn’t done him any favors.

Gabe was close enough to smell a bewitchingly light scent that wasn’t some cloying perfume, but was utterly female. He tried to ignore that and focused on the play of color in her hair. Cassiopia Richards was…distracting.

Amazingly, there was neither pity nor horror in her expression when she lifted her eyes. “You left me no choice,” she told him with surprising fierceness. “You could have talked to me when I called you yesterday.”

“I did.”

Her lips thinned. “You told me to take a hike.”

“I’m certain I was more polite than that.”

“Stop playing games.”

That stirred his anger once more. “I’ve said all I have to say on the subject of what happened four years ago. I’m not interested in repeating myself.”

“Beacher claims you were an innocent victim, too.”

Beacher was a fool. His friend was convinced Cassiopia knew something that would help them discover what Powell Richards had done with the missing toxin so he refused to give up his pursuit of her.

As Beacher had pointed out, “That toxin’s somewhere and we’re going to find it and prove we had nothing to do with what happened.”

Gabe believed talking with Cassiopia was a waste of time. She’d been away at school when her father had taken the toxin from under Gabe’s nose and gotten himself killed. And she’d scored an indelible impression on him that day in the hospital. She was too young, too passionate and obviously too impulsive to be of any help to them.

She summoned up a glare as if he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. “I’m leaving.”

“You just got here.”

Not many people could hold his gaze when he was in a temper. Given his overall size and his scars, he’d perfected the art of intimidation, but only the quickening leap of the pulse in her neck told him she wasn’t as immune as she’d like him to believe.

Gabe stepped back. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Upstairs.”

The widening of those soft gray eyes brought a sudden vision of his bedroom and the two of them intertwined on twisted sheets. It had been a long time since he’d thought about sex and he banished the image instantly. But she seemed to be tuning in to his thoughts.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

This time anxiety threaded her voice.

“You’d rather remain here?”

“Yes. Go ahead and call the police. I’d welcome them.”

The bluster was gone. He’d finally succeeded in frightening her. It made him feel oddly ashamed.

“To the kitchen, Cassiopia,” he told her more gently. “To talk. I may be mad—God knows I’ve been called worse—but I’m no rapist.”

He stepped back even farther, giving her space. “Come or stay.”

Her chin lifted in defiance. “I’ll stay.”

“Fine. But you should know that the way you entered is the only way out.”

He crossed to the door and waited. She wasn’t beautiful in the strictest sense of the word, but he’d definitely call her attractive. That rich brown hair with its hints of gold framed an oval face with high, prominent cheekbones and a long, graceful neck. Under other circumstances…

Who was he kidding? Under other circumstances she’d either take one look at his face and run the other way or cringe in pity. She faced him because she had no choice.

CASSY SOUGHT ANOTHER OPTION and realized there wasn’t one. She was not going to cringe like a mouse even if this beast did have her well and truly trapped. She hated feeling afraid. She was in the wrong, but if he’d intended to kill her he’d have done it down here, not upstairs.

With a brief, accepting nod she squared her shoulders and marched over to him.

“Do not call me Cassiopia,” she told him, pointing a plastic encased finger at his chest.

“Do you prefer Ms. Richards, or Dr. Richards?”

If he knew she was a Ph.D., he also knew she was a chemical engineer. She brushed aside Gabriel’s question with a wave of her covered hand. “I go by Cassy.”

He scowled, staring at her hand. “What are those things?”

Heat suffused her cheeks. Hastily, she pulled off the silly plastic shapes, feeling foolish.

“They come with packages of inexpensive hair dye.”

“Brown isn’t your natural color?”

“Of course it is! The hair dye belonged to my roommate.”

“So you steal from others besides me.”

“Betsy must have forgotten about it. And I didn’t steal anything!”

He stilled so completely he could have been cast in bronze like the figurines around them. Shaken but refusing to give in to the alarm that charged every molecule of her body, Cassy forced herself to meet whatever retribution he demanded with her head high.

His stillness was so profound it was painful. Abruptly, he turned away.

“What are you going to do?” she demanded as another ripple of fear skated down her spine.

“Probably continue calling you Cassiopia. Cassy doesn’t suit you at all.”

He flicked off the light, plunging them into darkness.

“Hey!” Before panic could overwhelm her, light winked on at the end of the hall. There was nothing to do except follow, unless she wanted to stay in his basement all night.

The third step from the bottom made no sound for him, yet it squawked like a spitting cat the moment she set her foot on it. Was he even human?

Cassy shuddered. That horrible scar said he was all too human. He must have been an attractive man once. Actually, despite the scar, he wouldn’t be bad-looking now if he’d stop scowling all the time. If nothing else, his aura of self-assured power commanded attention.

Cassy wanted to be glad he’d suffered for what he’d done, but Beacher had half convinced her otherwise. What if he were innocent? Could a man who could create such incredible beauty also destroy with such utter ruthlessness?

She’d been so enraged that day at the hospital she’d barely noticed Gabriel as a person. She’d needed a focus for her grief and rage and she’d taken it out on him, ignoring the fact that he’d been swaddled in bandages and attached to wires, tubes and monitors. Wrapped in her own emotions, she’d snuck inside his hospital room without a thought for anything except confronting the man responsible for her father’s horrible death.

The memory of being pulled away while she ranted still shamed her. Even then his gaze had been dark and troubling. She’d had plenty of time to think about things since then. Letting go of her anger had been hard, but Beacher had pressed her to listen to him until he finally persuaded her to see that they might have been victims, too.

Gabriel hadn’t hurt her just now, and he hadn’t called the police. Of course he might be planning to call when they got upstairs, but either he and Beacher were guilty of murder and treason, or they’d been framed, as she was sure her father had been framed.

Had Beacher been playing both of them? Was he even now on his way out of the country with the deadly toxin?

Gabriel flipped on the kitchen light and shrugged out of his black cloth jacket, draping it neatly over the back of one of the two chairs at the tiny kitchen table. The black turtleneck hugged his shoulders and well-defined torso. He was lean and fit and scary in every way.

She’d made it a point to learn as much as she could about both men after Beacher began pestering her. Gabriel seldom left the small house he’d purchased after leaving the military on disability. He never socialized. Beacher was his only real friend as far as she could determine. The two had worked together at the army base, though their friendship dated back several years to when they were neighbors growing up. Gabriel had gone to a military academy. Beacher had gone to college and then joined a private security company. They both ended up working at the same military base and immediately resumed their friendship.

“Sit,” Gabriel ordered without turning around. He crossed to the sink and began washing his hands.

“Am I supposed to bark now and wag my tail?”

He slanted her a startled glance. Unexpected humor lightened his dark-eyed stare.

“Skip the bark.” And he turned back to the sink.

Outraged, Cassy wished she dared to toss something at him, but the room was immaculately clean. Even if she’d really wanted to, there wasn’t a single loose object on the white countertop or the tiny kitchen table. Pale yellow walls and white cabinets did what they could to lighten the space, but it was so small there was barely room to turn around. Cassy would have guessed the kitchen was never used until he dried his hands and began opening cupboards.

Like the rest of the house, the cupboards were neat and orderly and filled with the sort of stuff she saw in her married friends’ kitchens. The man even had a rack of spices. She thought of her own empty cupboards and shook her head. She never cooked if she could avoid it.

Gabriel set an electric kettle to boil. With fluid, economical motions that would have suited a laboratory, he removed two large brown mugs and a pair of small, matching plates. An odd-looking teapot in the shape of a dragon joined the rest on the pristine counter.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t spare her a glance. “Brewing tea.”

“Tea?”

She’d broken into his house and he was making her tea? What was going on here? Was he stalling for some reason?

“You don’t like tea?”

“Mostly I drink it iced.”

He made a face and pulled a small cheesecake from a well-stocked refrigerator. Slicing two perfect wedges, he transferred them to the plates without a wasted motion.

“Sit down, Cassiopia.”

She gritted her teeth. “I’d rather stand.”

His granite face bore no expression as he turned. Hooded eyes focused on her with an unblinking stare that was totally unnerving. Set against the harsh planes of his face, she decided they weren’t the tawny eyes of a lion but dark ebony wells of silent turbulence. Gabriel had seen too much of the unpleasant side of life. The impression of barely leashed power lent him a quiet menace that made her tremble. No one looked less like a sculptor.

Cassy knew sculpting had been part of his physical therapy after he was injured, but did he realize what a talent he had? She was pretty sure most people studied for years before they could create the sort of breathtaking beauty he’d captured in the pieces downstairs.

“Do you want to talk or not?” he asked in that deceptively soft voice.

Not. When he gazed at her like that she wanted to run far and fast. Too bad that wasn’t an option.

“Yes.”

He looked from her to the table without another word.

Cassy conceded defeat. She pulled out the chair that didn’t hold his jacket and sat down, glad for the warmth of her own lightweight jacket even though the house itself wasn’t cold.

Immediately, he turned back to the counter and measured tea leaves as if scientific precision was called for. Steam drifted from the spout of the dragon, shaped to be its mouth.

Great. Even his teapot breathed smoke. She might be better off if he simply called the police.

Opening a drawer, he withdrew two plain blue place mats and set them on the table. He added forks, spoons and cloth napkins without a word.

His black turtleneck and dark jeans were spotted by stains of what appeared to be mud. However, his hands, including his fingernails, were scrupulously clean. Cassy noticed that his fingers and palms weren’t burnt like the backs of his hands.

“LEMON?”

Cassiopia jumped. “What?”

“Would you like lemon with your tea?”

Gabe pronounced each word with deliberate care. She raised her chin.

“No, thank you. Just sugar.”

He withdrew a glass sugar bowl from another cupboard and set it on the table.

“Have you had time to come up with a plausible explanation yet?”

She inhaled sharply. Obviously, she hadn’t.

“You weren’t supposed to be home.”

“Oh?”

“You usually go to your gym at this hour.”

“Should I feel flattered that you’ve been spying on me?”

Gabe set a slice of cheesecake and a cup in front of her and settled in the opposite chair. Instantly, the small room seemed to shrink even further. This had been a bad idea. He did not want to find her attractive.

“Your bad luck,” he continued. “I took a walk tonight, instead.”

“Isn’t it just?”

Her blush told him she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“What did you expect to find in my basement?”

“Not those incredible sculptures.”

She was stalling.

“I didn’t realize you were so gifted.” The color in her cheeks deepened. She ducked her head and picked up her fork without looking at him.

“Gifted?”

That jerked her face up. “You’re extremely talented and you know it.”

He inclined his head in acceptance.

CASSY WATCHED HIM fork up a bite of cheesecake. He slid the morsel from his fork to his mouth and chewed with pleasure. She had never realized how sexy eating could be.

She quickly banished the inappropriate thought. There was nothing sexy about Gabriel Lowe. Okay, there was, but he was more dangerous than he was appealing and she’d do well to keep that in mind. Except, surely she didn’t have to be intimidated by a man who could create such sensitive works of art.

“Your sculptures look like something in a museum,” she told him honestly. “You shouldn’t be hiding them away in your basement.”

Too late, she clamped her lips shut. What was she doing, lecturing the man?

“I’m flattered.” He poured them both a cup of tea without expression.

Gabriel might not be crouching like the lifelike set of lions on his floor downstairs, but the resemblance was still uncanny. Like his metal counterparts, he, too, seemed to be waiting to pounce. Yet she couldn’t dismiss the idea that he was silently laughing at her.

“Why are you here, Cassiopia?”

She swallowed hastily. “I want what Beacher Coyle gave you.”

He stilled. Though the kitchen lights were on, an ominous darkness seemed to fill the room.

“Is that right?”

The mildness of his tone was a clear rattle of warning. She hoped her quaking was all on the inside.

“We’re engaged to be married.”

A mistake. She knew it the moment the blurted words were past her lips. She’d never been any good at lying. Why hadn’t she thought ahead, prepared something to tell him?

His glance went to where her left hand lay clenched at the edge of the table. “He never mentioned a fiancée.”

She wanted to look away but couldn’t. Her gaze riveted on that terrible scar. Gabriel and Beacher were close friends. Of course he knew she was lying, but she had no choice now but to keep going or admit the truth.

“We haven’t made a formal announcement yet.”

If only she’d had a few minutes to come up with something better than a phony engagement.

“He hasn’t bought you a ring yet, either.”

Her mouth went dry. “No.”

“Do you know the password?”

Cold, then heat, flooded her. Was he serious? He looked serious.

“You’re making that up!”

She was certain he’d made it up, but his expression never altered. Gabriel waited. Unnerved, she tried to think of something plausible to say and failed.

“Why would he tell you to sneak in through a window?”

“He didn’t. But I could hardly call you again and ask for an invitation, now could I?”

Dropping her fork to the plate with a clatter, she glared at him, defying him to contradict her. “You would have hung up on me again.”

Was that the faintest trace of a curve to his lips?

“Actually, I wouldn’t have answered your call at all,” he told her, unperturbed.

He reached for his tea cup and took a swallow. “Why didn’t Beacher come himself?”

Danger. This lion was waiting to pounce and tear her to shreds. She took a breath to steady her nerves.

“He couldn’t.”

“Why?”

Her heart raced. He was toying with her, she was almost certain of it. “I think he’s in some sort of trouble.”

“You think.”

She held his gaze. “Just give me what he gave you.”

“Let’s both go to see him.”

“No!”

“No?”

His misleadingly docile tone sent every nerve in her body clanging in alarm. She’d made a hash of everything.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair with an inscrutable expression, but she knew she’d lost. If Beacher had found the toxin and given it to him he wasn’t going to tell her.

He bared his teeth. It was not a humorous smile.

“Want to try again?”

“You don’t believe me!”

His mocking expression was confirmation.

Defeat lay like bitter ashes in her mouth. Everyone seemed to agree that her father had taken the toxin and all the research from the lab itself, even though he had no motive. The working theory was that he’d conspired with Gabriel, and possibly Beacher, to steal the toxin and sell it to the highest bidder.

The authorities further decided that Gabriel had double-crossed her father and set charges to kill him and destroy any evidence. They believed her father had come home unexpectedly and set off the explosions before Gabriel could get away. There was no other explanation as to why Gabriel had been at the house that day. As far as she knew, he’d never even offered one.

She wasn’t sure where Beacher fit into this scenario, but there were a lot of things no one was telling her. She only knew the consensus was that the three men had conspired to steal the missing toxin and all the research that accompanied it. She assumed the authorities believed Gabriel and Beacher were simply waiting for the furor to die down to sell what they’d stolen. But it never had. The investigation had stayed as active as if the theft had happened yesterday. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d been questioned.

“Beacher didn’t send you, did he?” Gabriel asked.

“Of course he did.” She tried to sound forceful. He might feel sure she was lying, but until he spoke to Beacher he couldn’t be positive.

He took another bite of cheesecake and leaned back. She would not squirm under that intense stare no matter how much she wanted to. Instead, she focused on a small scar on his neck that his turtleneck didn’t completely cover.

Was he scarred all over? Was that why his fiancée had broken their engagement while he was still in the hospital? Cassy had never spoken with Andrea Fielding, but she’d seen the beautiful lab assistant with Dr. Pheng. Dr. Pheng had sent the toxin to her father in the first place, which wasn’t surprising. They were the top men in their field, friends as well as rivals since they had been graduate students together.

Cassy knew Dr. Pheng and Andrea Fielding had come under tight scrutiny as well. Everyone remotely connected to the toxin had, but only her father and Gabriel had had the opportunity to steal it.

With a sigh, she set down her fork. “Are you going to have me arrested?”

“Arrested?” He seemed to savor the word. “I don’t think there’s any need to have you arrested over some minor damage.”

She ignored the heat in her cheeks once more. “I’ll send you a check for the drapes.”

“And the screen?” he asked blandly.

“Yes, blast it. The screen, too.”

“I think we can come up with a more suitable punishment to fit this crime, don’t you?”

Cassy moistened suddenly dry lips. She was completely alone in a house with a man everyone believed was a criminal and worse. And she’d let down her guard!

“I’d rather be arrested.”

“Do I make you nervous, Cassiopia?”

Did lambs sleep with lions? Of course he made her nervous. If her palms grew any damper she’d drip all over the table, but she’d never give him the satisfaction of admitting as much.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

His dark expression lightened. If he smiled at her now she’d toss her cheesecake at him.

“Good,” he said neutrally and took another sip of tea.

She released the breath she’d been holding. “I’m going to leave.”

“Without what you came for?”

“Are you going to give it to me?”

“No.”

So Beacher had given him something! Or was he toying with her again?

“This is a waste of time.”

“Not precisely. I rarely have visitors. Try the tea. It’s a special blend.”

He was definitely toying with her. “To think I was going to apologize. I can see it would have been a waste of breath.”

The eyebrows arched once more. “For breaking into my house?”

“No! For that day at the hospital.”

Humor vanished in an instant. His jaw hardened.

“Does that mean you no longer believe I murdered your father?”

Cassy wasn’t sure what she believed anymore. The authorities claimed Gabriel had had no opportunity to remove the toxin from the lab alone. Only her father could have done so, and that she would never accept.

Her father had been understandably devastated by the sudden death of his wife only two weeks earlier. So was she, but no amount of grief would have caused her father to compromise his job.

“Did you kill him?” He wouldn’t tell her the truth if he had, but she had to ask.

“No.”

She waited until it became obvious he wasn’t going to elaborate. “That’s all you’re going to say? Just ‘no’?”

“I said all I had to say four years ago,” he told her with deceptive mildness. “Finish your cheesecake.”

Cassy shoved her plate aside. “I am finished.”

His eyes narrowed. He set down his fork with careful deliberation. “Then it’s time for you to leave.”

“You’re going to throw me out?”

“If you won’t go under your own power.”

He’d do it, too. She’d successfully roused the beast. Every instinct told her to get up and go, but she couldn’t. She hadn’t accomplished anything.

“I want what Beacher gave you.”

“We don’t always get what we want, Cassiopia.”

For a millisecond, it was as if she had a clear window into his troubled soul. A lonely beast prowled there. Cassy couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

He stood in a fluid motion that caught her unprepared.

“When you see him, tell your fiancé I want to talk with him.”

She could have refused to move. She wanted to refuse, but her legs were already drawing her to her feet. The menace in the room was too thick to ignore.

“You’re a real bastard.”

“Is it my turn to call you a name now?”

He didn’t smile.

“Goodbye, Cassiopia. Don’t come here again.”

Seeing no choice, she walked down the hall toward the front door, aware of him at her back close enough to touch. Desperately, she tried to think of something else she could do or say to change the situation, but nothing came to mind.

He opened the door without a word and waited.

“If even one of those vials is opened a lot of innocent people will die. I wonder if even you could live with that.”

Rage flashed across his expression. Cassy stepped onto the stoop, words of apology forming on her lips, but he closed the door in her face.

A chill breeze brushed her skin. Cassy shivered. She couldn’t help thinking Gabriel Lowe was innocent after all.

Chapter Three

Anger would get him nowhere. Gabe snagged his coat, pulling it on as he left by the kitchen door. Swiftly, he moved around the side of the house only to find he needn’t have hurried. Cassiopia trudged down the sidewalk slowly, her posture showing her dejection.

Unless that, too, was part of her act.

He didn’t have time for this. His first commission was waiting on the worktable downstairs. If he wanted it completed on time, he had to finish shaping the clay tonight.

He knew little about Cassiopia Richards beyond the fact that she had a quick temper, made a laughable burglar and was a poor liar. If she and Beacher were engaged he’d eat all his works in progress.

How had she known Beacher had given him anything?

The minute his friend had showed up last night Gabe had known there was trouble, but Beacher had put him off. He’d handed Gabe a small package and asked him to hold it without questions until he returned.

“Don’t open it, okay? I’ll explain tomorrow when I come back.” His expression had been grim. “I don’thave time to explain right now. There’s someone I have to meet and I’m running late.”

He wouldn’t say who or what was in the package and, as of yet, he hadn’t returned with explanations. How had Cassiopia known?

Beacher knew Gabe’s house was searched on a regular basis. He wouldn’t have asked Gabe to hold something that would get them both tossed in prison. Not when, at the cost of his own reputation, Beacher had stood by Gabe when no one else would. There was no one Gabe trusted the way he trusted Beacher so he hadn’t pressed for answers. He regretted that now.

Something was wrong. Beacher should have shown by now. He’d give his friend until morning, then he was going to see what Beacher felt needed to be hidden from the irritating woman.

She stopped beside a small coupe and looked back at the house. Gabe stilled, willing her to see him as just another shadow once more.

Slapping the roof of her car in frustration, she climbed inside and started the engine. As she pulled away from the curb he made a mental note of the license plate and hurried to his backyard, bypassing his truck. The motorcycle started with its usual roar. He picked her up a few minutes later, traveling at a sedate rate of speed on the city streets.

Gabe hung well back. If she knew about his habit of going to the gym in the evening, she knew he rode a motorcycle. Following her was probably a waste of precious time. He’d take bets she was on her way home and not on her way to meet Beacher, but he had to be sure.

It was a bet he would have won.

When she turned into the parking lot of a row of modest town houses, he pulled over on the main road and waited. She took her time exiting the car. He used that time to survey the area.

Something moved furtively between two parked cars. Cassiopia had climbed out and was heading in that same direction, a large cloth handbag she hadn’t had earlier slung over one shoulder.

Instincts screaming, Gabe kicked the bike to life. He roared into the lot as the crouching figure leaped from between the cars and rushed her. Cassiopia went down. The pair struggled briefly before the hooded figure took off, disappearing around the corner of the building with her bag.

Gabe sent the bike onto the sidewalk in pursuit. Grass and dirt spun under his wheels as he tore after the fleeing figure, only to come to an abrupt halt at a privacy fence blocking his path.

Spotting a gate, he leaped off the bike. The gate was locked or jammed, but the attacker hadn’t had time to go anywhere else. Gabe scaled the wood fence. Abruptly, light flooded the small enclosure on the other side. A shape appeared in the sliding glass door holding a gun.

“Police officer! Hold it right there.”

Gabe swore under his breath. From his perch on top of the swaying section of fence he saw something moving in the enclosure next door.

“A woman out front was just accosted,” he told the cop. “I chased the suspect back here. He’s in the yard next door.”

“Get down. Slowly.”

This cop already had his suspect. Gabe was dressed in black and wearing a helmet. Until the cop knew for sure what was going on, he wasn’t going to listen to anything Gabe said. Jaw clenched, he dropped to the ground, careful to keep his hands in plain sight.

“Flat on the ground,” the man ordered. “Hands above your head.”

With a sigh, Gabe obeyed. His helmet made the position more uncomfortable than it would have been otherwise.

“Could you at least have someone make sure Cassiopia’s okay? I think she was only knocked to the ground, but I saw a knife when he took her purse.”

“You know Cassy?” he asked suspiciously.

Not nearly as well as he was going to know her.

“She was just attacked out front.”

He suffered through the pat-down and rose slowly when the officer told him to get up. By then they could both hear the approaching siren. The attacker had had plenty of time to disappear.

“Okay to remove my helmet?”

“No.”

This man was no rookie. A helmet could be thrown.

Minutes later Gabe was relieved to see Cassiopia standing out front with a pair of neighbors. She appeared shaken, but unhurt. A marked police cruiser, lights flashing, pulled up. The female officer exchanged greetings with the man at his back.

“You can take it off now,” the cop told him.

Gabe removed the helmet slowly and waited. They didn’t seem to notice Cassiopia’s shocked surprise at seeing him. The cop at his back spoke before she could say anything that would have landed him in handcuffs.

“Cassy, do you know this guy?”

Instead of denouncing him, she nodded.

“Gabriel Lowe. He went after the man who grabbed my purse.”

Gabe sensed the officer putting away his weapon.

“You can lower your hands now.”

Faces continued to appear in windows as a second cruiser joined the first. A small crowd gathered to listen while Cassiopia explained what had happened. Then it was Gabe’s turn. The cops eyed his scar and treated him with wary respect as he explained his assumption that the person had gone in through the nearest gate and jumped the fence into the next yard.

“I only saw you,” her neighbor stated.

A third unit pulled into the parking area.

“He’s probably long gone, but we’d better do a sweep,” the female officer suggested.

Eventually, Gabe was allowed to retrieve his bike from the side yard. As he walked it back to the parking lot Cassiopia strode over to him.

“You followed me home!”

“No need for thanks.”

“Thank you?” She bristled.

“You’re welcome. And you might want to lower your voice unless you want to explain to the cops how we know each other.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Gabe waited.

She fumed, but lowered her voice. “Why did you follow me?”

“To see where you were going. Do you know who attacked you?”

“Of course not! You heard me tell the police he was wearing a hooded sweatshirt with a scarf over his face.”

There was no use pointing out that the one didn’t negate the other.

“Is your roommate home?”

“I don’t have a roommate.” She blinked in sudden comprehension. “Oh. The hair dye. Betsy moved out last month. She got married.”

He scowled. He didn’t like thinking about Cassiopia alone and vulnerable inside that town house.

“You might want to stay somewhere else tonight.”

“Why? He already got my purse. The house is safe. My keys were in my hand so he didn’t get them. It all happened so fast I didn’t have time to go for his eyes with them.”

She would have done it, too.

“You believe it was a simple purse snatching?”

“Of cour—”

Her eyes turned to saucers. Her voice dropped even lower.

“No one knew I was going to your place tonight.”

“Not even Beacher?”

“You think that was Beacher?”

Though obviously shocked by the idea, her words were barely above a whisper.

“No.” Gabe shook his head decisively. “Too thin. Most likely a teenager or a woman.”

“A woman!”

Gabe shrugged. “Who else knew your plan tonight?”

“No one.”

Unfortunately, he believed her. “Then someone is watching you, too.”

A flash of fear.

“What do you mean? Why do you assume this wasn’t—?”

“Ms. Richards?”

CASSY SPUN TO FACE the approaching officer. In the woman’s hand was her large cloth purse. The cut strap dangled limply.

“You found it!”

“This is yours, then?”

“Yes!”

Thank God. Gabriel had been wrong after all. It had been nothing more than a simple purse snatching.

“It was on the ground behind one of the units out back. You want to check to see what’s missing?”

The bag was already open. She dug around inside a second before looking up.

“My wallet’s gone.” No surprise there.

“How much money did you have?”

“A twenty, two fives and seven ones.” She knew the exact amount down to the sixty-seven cents in change.

“Credit cards?”

Cassiopia rattled off the name of her cards while the officer wrote the information in a small notebook.

“Driver’s license?”

“No. Fortunately, I keep that in a separate folder with my health insurance card. They’re still here.”

The officer nodded. “You’d better notify your credit card companies right away.”

“Yes. Was there any sign of the person who took it?”

“No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

So was she. Had they caught the person, Cassy would have felt better. Gabriel’s suspicions had made her jittery. When the officer finally had all the information from her and left, Cassy turned back to Gabe.

“See? Just a purse snatching.”

His expression didn’t change. “Maybe.”

“You’re trying to scare me.”

“You aren’t stupid.”

“I’m not paranoid, either.”

His lips twisted wryly, but he gazed at her with a dark frown. “You can come back to my place if you want.”

The grudging offer widened her eyes. “Why?”

He remained silent.

“You don’t think it was a purse snatching. You think he’ll come back.” What if Gabriel were right? “But I don’t have anything.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

Shaken, she shook her head. “You’re in more danger than I am. You’re the one holding whatever Beacher gave you.”

GABE COULD SEE it was pointless to press her. He’d warned her. That was all he could do.

“I can’t go with you,” she insisted.

He replaced his helmet.

“I’m not afraid.”

His jaw tightened. “You should be.”

She stepped back on the curb as he kicked the bike to life. Cursing Beacher and everyone remotely connected to the missing toxin, Gabe turned for home.

Probably, she’d be fine. Tonight’s attack could have been exactly what it appeared to be, a kid out to rob whomever fate placed in front of him.

On the other hand, it could have been something else entirely. He hoped he was wrong. He also hoped a little of his paranoia would rub off on Cassiopia. It would be a shame for all that feminine fire to end up extinguished on a morgue slab somewhere.

He didn’t doubt for a moment that this was connected to what Beacher had given him to hold. His friend had some major explaining to do.

Halfway home he detoured to Beacher’s apartment. He’d only been there a handful of times, but he knew which unit was his friend’s. No lights showed and there was no familiar car in the parking lot.

Gabe used his cell phone and called Beacher’s number anyway. The answering machine picked up on the fourth ring. Next he tried Beacher’s cell phone and was immediately sent to voice mail. Gabe left pithy messages on both and text messaged his friend for good measure. There was nothing more he could do now except worry. He’d had years to perfect that ability.

As he neatened his kitchen several minutes later he debated getting the package and opening it without waiting. The size and shape were about right to hold a hard drive and a few other things, but if Beacher had found the missing toxin after all these years, surely he would have told Gabe. Either he trusted his friend or he didn’t.

Gabe went down to the basement and hesitated only a second before turning away from his display room to his workroom on the other side of the stairs. He trusted Beacher. He would wait.

The nearly completed piece he’d been commissioned to do sat on one of several worktables under a cloth. Working with his hands generally freed Gabe’s mind for thinking, but he had to force his thoughts to concentrate on the rose bush and not Beacher.

The bush was proving to be a real challenge. The pair of chipmunks beneath the bush were finished to his satisfaction. So was the general shape of the bush, but Gabe had never tackled individual leaves and roses this small before.

As his fingers stroked a small petal to life his thoughts returned to Cassiopia. Not a day had gone by that he and Beacher hadn’t tried to learn the truth of what had happened four years ago. Together and independently they had spoken to, or tried to speak with, everyone connected with the toxin. Beacher had always felt Cassiopia might know something useful, but it had been only recently that she’d agreed to talk with him.

Beacher was nothing if not persistent and knowing him, Gabe suspected his friend had begun to date her in an effort to get her to open up. She was an attractive woman and Beacher liked attractive women—but not enough to get himself engaged to one.

Cassiopia was definitely attractive. Slimmer now than he remembered, her features were more refined, but she hadn’t lost any of that temper even if she did have it under better control.

A tiny rose blossomed to full beauty beneath his stiff fingers. Pleased, he moistened his hands and worked another.

Even if they were dating, Cassiopia should have known better than to make such a ridiculous claim. Beacher engaged? Never happen. Not even to someone as interesting as her. Beacher’s little black book was filled with beautiful, interesting women. He had more listings than some telephone directories.

Gabe tackled a series of delicate leaves, marking each vein with careful precision.

How had she known Beacher had given him that package unless Beacher had told her? She’d made no secret of the fact that she’d been watching Gabe. Had she also been following Beacher?

Gabe was so used to being watched and followed he barely paid any attention anymore. Open surveillance was part of the government’s harassment tactics so Gabe ignored them. That was probably why he’d never noticed her.

His finger flew as he mulled that over.

Cassiopia had implied the package contained the missing vials of toxin. Did she really believe that?

Did he?

Only desperation would have sent her into his home tonight. Surely she knew he was still being monitored by all the forces Homeland Security, the FBI and the United States Army could bring to bear on him.

Was it possible?

He screwed up a leaf in a moment of frustration and had to start again.

He would not give in to paranoia. Beacher would explain everything when he showed up. And he would show up. Eventually. For now, Gabe needed to keep his mind on his work.

The bush was coming together better than he’d anticipated. Rochelle Leeman would be pleased. He only hoped his creation wouldn’t prove too intricate for Denny and the Bailin Brothers to mold and cast.

Gabe had been fortunate to stumble on Denny Foster when he’d gone looking for someone to teach him how to turn his sculptures into finished bronze pieces. The garrulous moldmaker had been a font of knowledge and connections.

Gabe still wasn’t sure how he’d let the old man talk him into showing his work to Rochelle. Even more puzzling was how the stunning gallery owner had managed to convince him his work would not only sell, but sell for big bucks.

The trill of the telephone startled Gabe from his working concentration. The clock on the wall told him it was already 1:40 a.m.

Beacher! Finally.

He wiped his hands while checking the caller ID. A cell phone number, but not Beacher’s. Gabe answered anyway.

“Lowe.”

“Go ahead and say I told you so,” Cassiopia began without preamble.

His stomach gave a lurch at the sound of her stressed voice. “You okay?”

“Yes. I’m outside your front door. Is your offer of a safe haven still open?”

“I’ll be right up.”

He disconnected and retrieved his gun from its hiding place under a nearby workbench before taking the stairs in twos. Not bothering with lights, he went to the window to check the street before going to the door. Cassiopia’s car wasn’t in sight and there were no unfamiliar vehicles parked along the street. Neither of those meant a thing, but only one figure was visible on his stoop. He opened the door cautiously, weapon ready.

Cassiopia stared from the gun to him.

“If you plan to shoot me, forget it. I’ll go to a motel. I probably should have done that anyhow.”

He yanked her inside. “You’re alone?”

“No, the marching band is down the street.”

“Where’s your car?”

“I parked on the next street over. I didn’t want anyone to see it in front of your house.”

He couldn’t decide if she was playing him. “Were you followed?”

“Of course not! I was watching for that.”

Given her earlier performance, she wouldn’t have the ability to spot a professional tail.

“Stay here.”

She gripped his arm. “Where are you going?”

He gave her a hard look. She dropped her hand and followed him down the dark hall to the kitchen.

“Wait,” he commanded, heading for the door.

“Sit. Stay. We’re really going to have to work on your people skills.”

Wanting to smile despite the situation, Gabe slipped out the back door. A thorough search of the neighborhood turned up two prowling cats, one brazen raccoon and a deer munching a neighbor’s azalea bush. Cassiopia’s car was exactly where she’d said it would be. There were no signs that anyone human lurked nearby.

Returning to the house, Gabe found her still standing in his kitchen muttering under her breath. Once again, she eyed the gun in his hand.

“You took long enough. I kept waiting for shots.”

If it hadn’t been for the slight tremor in the hand she used to pull back a thread of hair, he’d have thought her annoyed but calm. She wasn’t calm. He slid the weapon into his waistband.

“Relax and tell me what happened.”

“The two are mutually exclusive.”

“Try.”

She made a face, then sighed. “I couldn’t sleep. It was your fault. I kept thinking about what you said. You know, that maybe someone would come back? So I decided to go downstairs and get a glass of wine to help me sleep. Only, instead of going to the kitchen I walked to the window that looks down on my backyard.”

She shivered.

“Someone was standing there looking up at my bedroom.”

He hated that he’d been right.

“You didn’t call the police?”

“I started to. I had the phone in my hand, then I realized how much attention that would focus on me.”

And why would that worry her?

“I went back upstairs, grabbed a couple of things, slipped out the front door and came here.”

She shivered again despite a long dark coat that exposed a pair of slim white calves. Bare feet had been stuffed into a pair of slip-on deck shoes. He couldn’t help wondering exactly what she was wearing under that coat. Her hair was a loose, velvety mass that fell around her face and shoulders. In one hand she had a death grip on a plastic shopping bag. The item sticking out of the top appeared to be her broken purse.

He flipped on the kettle.

“I don’t want any tea. Thank you,” she added as an afterthought.

Gabe shrugged. “No wine.”

“That’s okay, I’m not thirsty.”

He didn’t want her here. Even though he’d made the initial offer, he hadn’t expected her to accept and now he was stuck. He could always turn her loose. But he knew he wouldn’t.

“I’ll show you the spare room.”

She didn’t move when he turned toward the stairs.

“Are you going to bed?”

Despite the darkness he saw her trepidation. It wasn’t an act. She was afraid.

“No.”

“I’m not sleepy, either.”

Inwardly, he cursed. “I have to work, Cassiopia.”

“That’s okay. I’ve never watched an artist work. I won’t get in your way.”

It wasn’t okay. She would be in the way. She’d be a distraction and he couldn’t afford to be distracted any more tonight.

He thought of several responses but dismissed them. She was scared. So was he.

Someone had three vials of a toxin so deadly it could wipe out a city full of people in a matter of hours. The knowledge had eaten at him for nearly four years. Knowing that the authorities were concentrating on the wrong suspects had made it that much worse. Few people knew that all the toxin and all the documentation relating to it were missing.

The removable hard drives and Dr. Pheng’s research notes had vanished from inside a locked vault on the base. Only a handful of people had access to that secured area and he and Beacher had been two of those people.

They had discussed this over beers in his workroom many nights. The way they had it figured, Gabe had been the designated patsy from the start. Most likely, he’d been intended to die in the explosion along with Dr. Richards. If Major Frank Carstairs hadn’t died of a heart attack that same night, maybe they could have proved their suspicions, but as things stood, they had no living suspects, no proof and no trail to follow.

“Did you call Beacher?” Gabe asked her.

Cassiopia hesitated before nodding. “He isn’t answering his phones.”

So she had called Beacher first—if she wasn’t lying. Gabe didn’t think she was lying. Her fear was real. He scowled. Reluctantly, he motioned her to follow him.

CASSY GAVE AN EXASPERATED sigh as she tailed Gabriel’s broad back down the stairs. She shouldn’t have come. It was obvious he didn’t want her here. She had plenty of friends she could have called. Why hadn’t she?

Because he’d offered. And none of her friends would know what to do if someone came after her again. She couldn’t place any of them at risk.

But she could have called the police.

She turned the thought aside as she carefully picked her way down the narrow staircase in his wake. “Forget to pay your electric bill?”

He reached the bottom without making a sound.

“Sometime you’re going to have to tell me how you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Step on that third step without making any noise.”

She suspected he smiled, although she couldn’t see his expression as he led her off to the left. She’d turned right before.

His workroom was cluttered and brightly lit. Her gaze instantly fastened on the clay taking shape on the largest table and she inhaled audibly. Even incomplete, the piece was magnificent.

“You have so much talent.”

Looking embarrassed, he indicated the ratty old couch and un-upholstered wood chair in the far corner of the room next to an ancient, badly scarred desk and a battered filing cabinet. Exactly what she had been looking for. But if the toxin was hidden in this room, he wouldn’t have led her here now.

“I have to finish this tonight.”

“Okay.” She ignored his impatience and stared around curiously at the crowded workspace. “Go ahead and work. You won’t even know I’m here.”

RIGHT. CASSIOPIA RICHARDS was the biggest distraction Gabe could imagine. How was he supposed to work with someone in the room? Whenever Beacher came over, Gabe always stopped, got a beer from the basement refrigerator and sat down to talk with him. He didn’t have that sort of time tonight.

“There’s beer,” he told her gruffly with a nod toward the refrigerator.

“Thanks, but what I’d really like is a bathroom.”

“Through there.” He indicated the door at her back. She turned, still clutching her bag, and disappeared inside. For a moment he wondered if he should have searched the bag. He dismissed that thought as true paranoia and replaced the gun under the table. He must be insane.

He was working when she finally emerged with the coat slung over one arm. Whatever she’d been wearing beneath it had been replaced by the jeans she’d had on earlier tonight and a sweatshirt. Her hair was now clipped behind her ears, flowing down her back to emphasize the graceful curve of her neck.

Right. He was going to have no trouble concentrating now.

Without a word, she crossed to the refrigerator, hesitated over the selection and came out with a bottle of imported beer. Carrying everything to the worn green sofa, she sat on a sagging cushion.

A ton of questions crowded his mind, but the clock discouraged him from starting the sort of conversation they needed to have. He’d be lucky to complete the piece tonight as it was.

True to her word, Cassiopia remained silent. At first it was disconcerting to have her watch, but amazingly, his fingers continued to work, quick and sure, while his thoughts tumbled chaotically. After a while he was lost in the rhythm of his work.

His muscles had started a serious burn of protest by the time the final rose took shape beneath the tool in his tired fingers. It unnerved him to realize Cassiopia had been right. As impossible as it seemed, he had been able to ignore her presence.

Looking up, he found her with her head pillowed on her coat, fast asleep. Strands of silky hair covered most of her face. The partially emptied bottle of beer was on the corner of the desk, in danger of falling at the slightest jar.

Gabe rolled his shoulders to stretch tensed muscles and washed his hands before crossing the room to rescue the beer. It was warm and flat. He was too tired to be drinking alcohol, but he finished it, watching her sleep, and tried to ignore the faint stirring of desire.

She wouldn’t appreciate his interest. Cassiopia had made her opinion of him clear. She had a lot in common with a rose. Soft and lovely to look at with plenty of thorns.

He couldn’t see her with Beacher. Beacher liked his women delicate, plentiful and quick to fade. The thorny ones tended to get tossed back fast. Even ones as appealing as her.

Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose and carried the empty bottle to the recycle bin. Eyeing the finished piece critically he decided it was good. It might even be one of the best things he’d done.

For a moment he debated removing the tiny bee he’d added at the last minute. Somehow, it seemed a little too symbolic sitting on a petal, staring at an unopened bud as if wishing for what it couldn’t have. But knowing he couldn’t remove it without disturbing the work, Gabe began cleaning up. Cassiopia never stirred, even when he ran the shower in the bathroom next door.

Dumping his dirty clothes in the washer, he wrapped a towel around his waist and called to her gently. No response. There was no way he could carry her up two flights of stairs tonight. He wasn’t sure he could carry himself to bed, as tired as he felt. It was going on five and he had to be at Denny’s with the bears that were currently cooling in his open kiln by eight.

In the laundry room he found a clean sheet and used it to cover her. A good host would go up and bring her down a blanket. He could live with being a lousy host.

He left a light on for her and headed upstairs. If she decided to search his basement when she woke, she wouldn’t be the first. Like the others, she’d be doomed to disappointment.

Chapter Four

Cassiopia was still asleep when Gabe went downstairs to take the cooled pair of bears from the kiln. He scrawled her a note on the back of one of his sketches and left it in plain sight on top of the desk. He hoped she’d have enough sense not to return to her town house.

There hadn’t been a word from Beacher and he worried all the way to Denny’s place in Hagerstown. The moldmaker was pleased with the bears, but he eyed Gabe with disfavor.

“You look like hell. You sick?”

“No.” Exhausted, but there was no point telling the man that the little sleep he’d gotten in the past two days barely qualified as a nap.

“How’s that custom piece for Rochelle coming along?”

“I finished sculpting it last night.”

“Geez, boy. No wonder you look like that. You don’t have to push yourself this hard.”

Gabe shrugged. “I have a deadline.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you artists are supposed to be eccentric? She’ll expect you to be late. She knows how hard you’ve been working to finish the show pieces.”

Gabe didn’t bother to respond. He’d agreed to Rochelle’s deadline, so he’d make the deadline.

“You are one hardheaded cuss, you know that? When are you picking up the ark sets from the Bailin Brothers?”

“Next stop.”

Denny nodded and eyed the pair of bears. “I still think you oughta consider doing some of these in cold cast. Resins sell well to the mass market.”

“They’d have to be painted.”

“Not necessarily, however, I know someone who could help you there. She’d work cheap.”

Gabe’s lips twisted ruefully. While the old man generally gave good advice and had taught him a great deal about his new career, Denny was a little too concerned with Gabe’s lack of social life for comfort. He kept urging Gabe to get out and make new friends. Gabe would take bets the female artist who would “work cheap” was single and attractive, like Rochelle.

“I’ll think about it,” he temporized.

“You do that, boy. Your work’s too fine to be collecting dust in some basement.”

The words were uncomfortably close to what Cassiopia had told him only yesterday.

He had plenty of time to worry about her and Beacher on the drive into Pennsylvania to pick up the bronzed ark pieces from Tony Bailin. Tony and his brother, Max, did first-class work when it came to casting and they’d done so once again. Gabe liked the two men and enjoyed their company, but today, he found it hard to concentrate on their friendly conversation.

He decided to stop for a late lunch on the way home and used the time to try and reach Beacher again. Still no answer. Worry had become outright concern. It wasn’t like Beacher not to return phone calls. Swinging by his friend’s parking lot confirmed that Beacher’s car still wasn’t there.

Exhaustion vied with worry that was compounded the minute Gabe walked inside his house. Cassiopia was gone. She’d written Thanks in rounded letters beneath his note and signed it with a C. The sheet he’d covered her with was folded neatly beneath the paper sitting on the desk.

He’d have been surprised to find her still here yet it worried him all the same. He checked his caller ID for the number of her cell phone. When the call switched to voice mail he hung up. She’d probably gone to work. As tired as he was, he needed to do the same. Rochelle’s people were due in less than an hour to start loading the showpieces and he hadn’t yet tagged the ones that were staying.

Gabe considered opening the package first, but if it did contain the missing toxin, he couldn’t take the risk. As soon as the packers left he’d try Beacher one more time and then he’d see what his friend had in there.

Rochelle’s men were friendly and efficient. They’d nearly finished crating and clearing the display room when Rochelle herself arrived and greeted him with her usual exuberant hug.

“I am not letting you have both crouching lions,” he warned without preamble.

Rochelle contrived to look hurt. “I didn’t come here for that, but I do wish you’d reconsider. Those lions are brilliant. They exemplify you and your work.”

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