Gabriel didn’t hesitate. “Come on.” He dragged Samantha
toward the window, scooping up her nightgown and his neatly folded slacks as he
went by the chair. Samantha had the impression that if the clothing hadn’t been
convenient, he wouldn’t even have bothered to stop for a second and find some.
As it was, she found herself being hauled, still naked, out onto the balcony,
which stretched the full length of the house. All of the bedrooms opened onto
it.
“It’s freezing!” she gasped, stunned by the impact of the
windblown rain as Gabriel shut the window behind them.
“I’ve been saying that since I got here,” he gritted. “This
way.”
It was ludicrous, Samantha thought hysterically, running naked
along a balcony at one o’clock in the morning in the driving rain of a winter
night. Gabriel’s hand was clamped around her wrist, however, and the sight of
his rain-slick nakedness wasn’t ludicrous at all. He looked like some savagely
male animal intent on getting his woman to safety.
But it wasn’t her safety she was concerned about. Gabriel, wait!
We’ve got to help Eric.”
“Quiet, Samantha. Do as you’re told. The way I see it, this
whole mess is your fault, anyway.”
“My fault!”
He came to a jarring halt then in front of the last window
on the balcony. He shoved at the stubborn frame of the old glass, applying a
steady, irresistible force that quickly broke the old lock inside.
Samantha stared in amazement. “You’re awfully strong,” she
whispered.
“You’ve got awfully weak locks. Now get inside.” He pushed
her through the window, not coming in behind her.
“Gabriel, what are you going to do?” A new fear assailed her
as she realized he was staying out on the balcony. “That man will realize I’m
not in the bedroom. In a few seconds he’ll be out there on that balcony looking
for us!”
He saw the panic in her eyes and heard the frightened lilt
to her voice and reacted. Very carefully he reached through the window and gave
her a violent shake, his fingertips biting into her shoulders.
“Stay in this room until I come to get you. Don’t make a
sound. Not a damn sound, do you hear me? And if you ever think of leaving the
room to go help Eric, I will beat the living daylights out of you when this is
all over.” Samantha nodded, momentarily speechless as he shoved her nightgown
at her along with his slacks.
Then he grabbed for his pants again as a thought occurred to
him. Quickly he yanked the belt free of its loops. Without pausing to give
Samantha a chance to recover from the blunt, brutal command in his voice, Gabriel
whirled and started back along the balcony, belt in hand. The slacks stayed
with Samantha.
“S-s-
shi
… “ He gave up and
gritted “Damn it to hell” from between clenched teeth as he realized what that
look in Samantha’s eyes had contained when he’d turned from her. It had been
outright fear he’d seen for a few seconds in those huge tortoiseshell eyes.
Fear for him? he wondered.
There was no time to contemplate that question. The man on
the staircase would be reaching the top of the stairs now, trying the first
closed door. He’d push it open and discover the empty, rumpled bed. It wouldn’t
take any genius to figure out that the only route out of the bedroom was the
window.
“Jesus! Talk about freezing your ass off?” Gabriel grunted
pithily to himself as the chilling rain whipped his bare body. Thoughts of
sunny California flashed through his brain even as he slammed to a silent stop beside
the window of Samantha’s bedroom and plastered himself flat against the wall of
the house.
What the hell was he doing here turning his ass into a popsicle
in the middle of the night because of some crazy woman and her screwy half
brother? He was a businessman, for God’s sake! Not Nick Carter or James Bond.
He pulled the end of the belt through the buckle, creating a
large loop of leather. Crazy broad. When this was all over, he was really going
to lay down the law. He was willing to tolerate a few surprises out of her, but
this was carrying things to extremes.
The window of Samantha’s bedroom crashed open and the nose
of an automatic pushed through. Well, hell, Gabriel thought fleetingly. It was
now or never. He whipped the loop of his belt around the blue-black steel shaft
of the gun and yanked for all he was worth.
Gabriel was astonished at how easily the gunman seemed to
follow his weapon through the window under the fierce pull of the leather
cinch. The turkey didn’t even have enough sense to drop the automatic until it
was too late. The weapon went flying as Gabriel dropped the belt and grabbed
for the other man’s arm.
With both hands clamped around the attacker’s forearm,
Gabriel hauled him through the window and out onto the balcony. The man opened
his mouth to yell, but it was too late. Gabriel already had a fist descending
toward the assailant’s jaw. He held back nothing, wanting only to silence the
guy and keep him silent. With his full strength behind the blow and goaded by
the realization of just how much danger Samantha was in, Gabriel’s fist lashed
out at the target.
The gunman crumpled to the balcony, unconscious.
For an instant Gabriel simply stood staring down at his
victim. He’d never hit a man before.
Just one surprise after another, he thought savagely as he
turned on his heel and raced back along the balcony to the room where he had
left Samantha.
His feeling of savagery increased as he spotted Samantha
leaning out of the window, anxiously watching him return. “I told you to stay
inside!” He leaped over the sill, pushing her back in ahead of him.
Samantha, who had just learned the meaning of having one’s
heart in one’s throat, threw herself into his arms. The nightgown she was now
wearing swirled around her ankles and tangled with his hair-roughened legs. “Gabriel!
Are you all right? My God, you scared me half to death!”
He stared at her for a split second and then quickly put her
from him and reached for his slacks. “Other than the fact that I’m going to
have frostbite in a few very inconvenient places, I’m fine. Damn it, Samantha, you’ve
really gone too far this time, do you know that?” He closed the fastening of
the slacks.
She assayed a shaky smile. “I’ll help you warm up the frostbitten
parts,” she volunteered, realizing that this was a side of her angel she hadn’t
seen before. It fit with the rest of him. Implacable, stubborn when crossed, reassuringly
strong. She’d seen the way he’d dropped the gunman with a single blow. And the
catch on the window hadn’t been all that weak, either. Solid, strong, dependable.
Her angel Gabriel. Tonight he was the answer to a prayer.
“Turning on the cute, sexy act isn’t going to save your ass,
lady. When this is all over I’m going to—” He broke off abruptly, his head
coming up with a snap as the second man’s voice howled up the staircase.
“Come on, Tony. We haven’t got time for fun and games. You
can screw the broad later. Get her down here!”
Samantha shivered in sudden horror at her intended fate. “What
are they going to do to Eric?” she breathed.
“I have a feeling you’re in a better position to answer that
question than Dam. Come on, we haven’t got much time. That other joker is going
to come looking for his friend. I don’t suppose you have a gun around the house?”
“Of course not!”
“Too bad,” he sighed morosely. “I lost my chance at that
other guy’s gun when it went flying off the balcony. Something tells me I won’t
get away with that balcony scene twice.”
“Where are we going?” Samantha whispered anxiously as he
clamped a hand around her wrist once more.
“The kitchen.”
“The kitchen!”
“Kitchens are loaded with useful things,” he growled. “The
trick is getting down there without being seen.”
Samantha hesitated, not knowing why the goal was the kitchen
but willing to trust him now. “These old Victorian homes have all sorts of
interconnecting rooms. This room connects with what used to be the nursery, and
from there we can get to the old sewing room. There’s a set of stairs from
there down to the back porch.”
“And that opens off the kitchen,” he concluded with a short,
frowning nod. “Okay, let’s get going.”
“There’s something else which might be useful on the back
porch,” Samantha whispered, thinking. “The fuse box.”
“Be careful, Samantha, you’re starting to s-s-show evidence
of a small bit of brain. Fuse box, hmmm?”
“There’s no need to be insulting! I’ve tolerated quite a lot
from you already this evening.” Her fingers went to the still-stinging side of
her cheek in annoyed memory.
“Do you always go around battering your business partners?”
“No. I made an exception in your case because you need a
little business sense knocked into you. Now s-s-shut up and try not to make a
sound.”
He led her through the nursery and into the old sewing room
which Samantha had converted to a plant-filled atrium. Her mother never had
.thought sewing a good hobby for a modern woman, but she’d had no objection to
gardening. Samantha had inherited Vera’s green thumb.
The back stairs creaked, Samantha remembered at the last
minute and put out a hand to halt Gabriel. “They squeak,” she mouthed in the
shadowy light.
He nodded and started down them very carefully. She followed
just as cautiously, marveling at how such a solidly built man could move so
well. She wasn’t going to get an apology for that shaking, she realized. It had
really been a very controlled blow, not one delivered out of rage, although he
had been angry at the time. She hadn’t had a chance to explain that she wasn’t
going to succumb to hysteria. Samantha supposed he’d had a right to assume the
worst. When this was all over, she’d explain to him very carefully that Vera
Maitland hadn’t raised a daughter prone to hysteria.
The blow Gabriel had delivered to the intruder an altogether
different story. Samantha chewed her lip, reflecting on the unrestrained force
which had gone into it. Did Gabriel even realize his own strength? He was not
the sort of man who’d gone around testing it or himself in a physical sense.
She doubted that he’d ever been active in sports or that he took much interest
in spas and gyms. But as that venerable
torturer Miss Carson had noted. Gabriel didn’t look like he needed any spa
treatments.
Perhaps he swam a lot in the ocean in front of his home?
Good Lord! Where was her mind wandering to? Eric was in
terrible danger, and she and Gabriel were hardly in the clear.
“Goddamn it! Tony! Get her down here. We
ain’t
got all night!” The other intruder’s voice called harshly, an edge on it that
made Samantha realize the man was beginning to recognize that something was
wrong. Then there was sudden, absolute silence. What had they done to Eric to
keep him so quiet during all this?
On the dark enclosed back porch Samantha fumbled momentarily
and then indicated the fuse box. Unhesitatingly Gabriel went to work on it,
slamming the switch master. An instant later the entire house was plunged into darkness.
“Tony! What the hell–?” Almost immediately the intruder
realized the stupidity of giving away his position in the dark by yelling for
his hapless companion. Once more, silence descended.
“Now for the kitchen,” Gabriel muttered half under his
breath. He dragged Samantha, who by now could barely feel her numbed feet, into
the warmth of the shadowy kitchen. Her eyes were adjusted enough to the
darkness to make it possible to discern familiar shapes.
In fact, she could just barely make out Gabriel’s arm reaching
for the heavy old cast-iron frying pan which hung on the wall. Her eyes
widened, but she resisted the urge to demand an explanation. Then he gripped
her arm, giving her a slight, urgent shake, and brought his face very close to
hers.
“Stay here.” The words were not quite a sound, but she
understood.
Samantha nodded mutely. She damn well wasn’t going to stay
behind in the kitchen while Gabriel and Eric were in such danger. But there was
no point alarming Gabriel further with that news. He clearly had enough on his
mind at the moment.
Then he was gone, his dense, dark form gliding down the hall
on incredibly quiet bare feet. The silence in the house was eerie, almost
unnatural. Even the small noises of the night outside seemed to have ceased. At
least, thought Samantha, Gabriel had the advantage of knowing the layout of the
downstairs portion of the house a great deal more intimately than the other man
did.
Where was the other? Had he followed his friend Tony
upstairs? Another dismaying thought flitted through Samantha’s mind. She and
Gabriel had only heard two different voices, but what if there was a third
stranger in the house? Still no sound from Eric. What on earth was Gabriel
going to do with that skillet?
As stealthily as possible, Samantha pulled open the cutlery
drawer and removed a small paring knife. She had no real idea of what she could
accomplish with it, but there was some reassurance in having it in her hand.
Then, hardly daring to breathe, she padded silently down the hall in Gabriel’s
wake.
She hadn’t gone far before she realized that she had no
notion of where the others were. The intruder might be hiding behind the closet
door ahead. Or he might have dropped in back of the old couch in the living room,
waiting for some shape to materialize out of the darkness. Where was Gabriel?
On instinct Samantha paused in the hallway, violently aware
of the adrenaline pounding through her. The primitive fight-or-flight reaction
of the human being under stress, she consoled herself. It wasn’t true that anyone
else could actually hear her heart beating or be aware of the fine trembling in
her hands.
She peered into the living room. In the deep shadows she
could make out the familiar bulk of the couch, the overstuffed chair by the
hearth, and even the leering shape of the tall palm near the window. There were
no human shapes. Samantha stayed where she was, sunk in the shadows of the
hall.