Kiss of Midnight

CHAPTER Nine

Holding the warm cup in both hands, Gabrielle sipped her weak oolong tea while Jamie polished off the last of her lo mein. He would wheedle her fortune cookie away from her as well—he always did—but she didn’t mind. It was nice simply to be out with her friends, life getting back to some sense of normalcy after everything that had happened last weekend.

“I have something for you,” Jamie said, breaking into Gabrielle’s thoughts. He fished around in a cream-colored leather bag that sat between them on the bench and pulled out a white envelope. “Proceeds from the private showing.”

Gabrielle tore open the seal and pulled out the gallery check. It was more than she expected. A few grand more. “Wow.”

“Surprise,” Jamie singsonged, grinning broadly. “I highballed the price. Figured what the hell, you know. And they pounced on it without any haggling whatsoever. Think I should have asked for more?”

“No,” Gabrielle said. “No, this is, um… wow. Thanks.”

“Nothing to it.” He pointed to her fortune cookie. “You gonna eat that?”

She slid it across the table to him. “So, who’s the buyer?”

“Ah, that remains a big mystery,” he said, crushing the cookie inside its plastic wrapper. “They paid in cash, so obviously they were serious about the ‘anonymous’ part of the sale. And they sent a cab over to pick me up with the collection.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Megan asked. She stared at the two of them, frowning in confusion. “I swear, I am the last to know everything.”

“Our talented little artiste here has a secret admirer,” Jamie supplied with ample drama. He pulled out the fortune, read it, and rolled his eyes as he discarded the slip of paper onto his empty plate. “What happened to the days when these things actually meant something? Anyway, a few nights ago, I was summoned to present Gabby’s entire collection of photographs to an anonymous buyer downtown. They purchased them all—every last one.”

Megan’s eyes widened in Gabrielle’s direction. “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you, sweetie!”

“Whoever it was that bought them has a serious cloak-and-dagger fetish.”

Gabrielle glanced at her friend as she slipped the check into her purse. “What do you mean?”

Jamie finished munching a shard of broken fortune cookie, then brushed the crumbs off his fingers. “Well, once I arrive at the address they gave me—one of those corporate suite places, with multiple tenants—I’m met in the lobby by some kind of bodyguard. He doesn’t say anything to me, just mumbles something into a wireless mouthpiece, then leads me into an elevator that takes us up to the top floor of the building.”

Megan’s brows rose. “The penthouse?”

“Yeah. But here’s the thing. The place is empty. All the lights are on in the suite, but there are no people inside. No furniture, no equipment, nothing. Just walls of windows, looking out over the city.”

“That’s bizarre. Don’t you think so, Gabby?”

She nodded, a creeping sense of unease spreading over her as Jamie continued.

“So, the bodyguard tells me to take the first photograph out of the portfolio and walk it over to the north bank of windows. It’s dark outside, and I’ve got my back to him now, but he tells me that I am to hold each photo up in front of me until he instructs me to put it aside and get another.”

Megan laughed. “With your back to him? Why would he want you to do that?”

“Because the buyer was watching from another location,” Gabrielle answered softly. “Somewhere in view of the penthouse windows.”

Jamie nodded. “Apparently so. I couldn’t hear anything, but I’m sure the bodyguard—or whatever he was—was taking directions through his earpiece. To tell you the truth, I was getting a little nervous about the whole thing, but it was cool. In the end, no harm done. All they wanted were your photographs. I only made it to the fourth one before they asked me for a price on all of them. So, like I said, I pitched high and they took it.”

“Weird,” Megan remarked. “Hey, Gab, maybe you’ve caught the interest of a devastatingly handsome, but reclusive, billionaire. This time next year, we could be dancing at your lavish wedding on Mykonos.”

“Ugh, please,” Jamie gasped. “Mykonos is so last year. All the pretty people are in Marbella, darling.”

Gabrielle shook off the odd niggle of wariness that was gnawing at her from Jamie’s strange account. Like he said, no harm done, and she had a fat check in her purse besides. Maybe she would treat Lucan to dinner, since the meal she’d made in celebration last night went to waste on her kitchen counter.

Not that she could summon the slightest bit of remorse for the loss of her manicotti.

Yeah, a romantic dinner out with Lucan sounded great. Hopefully, they’d have dessert in… breakfast, too.

Her mood instantly lightened, Gabrielle laughed along as her friends continued trading outlandish ideas about who the mysterious collector might actually be, and what it could mean to her future and by association, theirs as well. They were still at it after the table was cleared and the bill was paid, and the three of them exited the restaurant to the sunlit street outside.

“I have to dash,” Megan said, giving Gabrielle and Jamie each a quick hug. “See you guys soon?”

“Yes,” the two replied in unison, waving as Megan started up the sidewalk toward the office building where she worked.

Jamie raised his hand to hail a cab. “You heading right home, Gabby?”

“No, not yet.” She patted the camera case that hung from her shoulder. “I thought I’d walk over to the Common, maybe burn a little film for a while. You?”

“David’s due back from Atlanta in about an hour,” he said, smiling. “I’m playing hooky for the rest of the day. Maybe tomorrow, too.”

Gabrielle laughed. “Give him my best.”

“I will.” He leaned in and bussed her cheek. “It’s good to see you smiling again. I was really worried about you after last weekend. I’ve never seen you so shook up. You’re gonna be all right, right?”

“Yes. I’m fine, really.”

“And you have Detective Dark-and-Sexy looking after you now, so that’s not half bad.”

“No. That’s not bad at all,” she admitted, warmed again just thinking about him.

Jamie embraced her in a brotherly hug. “Well, honey, if there’s anything you need that he can’t give you—which I highly doubt—you just give me a call, you understand? I love you, sweetie.”

“Love you, too.” They separated as a taxi pulled up to the curb. “Have fun with David.” She lifted her hand to wave goodbye as Jamie climbed into the cab and the car eased back into the busy lunchtime traffic.

It took only a few minutes to walk the handful of blocks from Chinatown to the park at Boston Common. Strolling along the expansive grounds, Gabrielle snapped off a few photographs, then paused to observe a group of children playing blindman’s bluff in a grassy picnic area. She watched the girl in the center of the game, eyes covered with a blindfold, her blond pigtails bouncing as she spun first one way, then another, her hands outstretched as she tried to tag her dodging friends.

Gabrielle lifted her camera and lined up a shot of the darting, giggling kids. She zoomed in, following the fair-haired girl’s blindfolded face with her lens, hearing the peals of laughter that fell from the children’s lips and carried across the park. She didn’t take any pictures, just watched the carefree play from behind her camera and tried to remember a time when she might have felt so content and secure.

God, had she ever?

One of the adults supervising the kids from nearby summoned them to lunch, breaking up their raucous game. As the children dashed over to the picnic blanket to eat, Gabrielle swung her camera’s focus back across the Common. In the blur of movement through the lens, she glimpsed someone looking back at her from within the shade of a large tree.

She brought her camera away from her face and glanced to where a young man stood, partially concealed by the trunk of the old oak.

He was an unremarkable presence in the busy park, albeit a vaguely familiar one. Gabrielle noted his mop of ashy brown hair, his drab button-down shirt and standard-issue khaki pants. He was the type of person who’d blend in easily in a crowd, but she was certain she’d seen him somewhere recently.

Hadn’t he been at the police station last weekend when she’d given her statement?

Whoever he was, he must have realized she’d spotted him because he pulled back suddenly and ducked around the back of the tree to begin heading out of the park toward Charles Street. He dug a cell phone out of his pants pocket, then threw a glance over his shoulder at her as he strode at a fast clip toward the street.

The back of Gabrielle’s neck tingled with suspicion and a sinking feeling of alarm.

He had been watching her—but why?

What the hell was going on here? Something was definitely up, but she wasn’t about to stand around and guess at it any longer.

With her eyes trained on the guy in khakis, Gabrielle started after him, stuffing her camera back into its case and shrugging the straps of the small padded backpack up onto her shoulders as she walked. The kid was ahead of her about a block by the time she cleared the park’s wide lawn and stepped onto Charles.

“Hey!” she called after him, breaking into a jog.

Still on his phone, he pivoted his head to look at her. He said something urgent into the receiver, then flipped the cell closed and fisted it in his hand. Turning away from her, his quick pace became a full-on sprint.

“Stop!” Gabrielle shouted. She drew the curious attention of other people on the street, but the kid continued to ignore her. “I said stop, damn it! Who are you? Why are you spying on me?”

He tore up crowded Charles Street, vanishing into the sea of strolling pedestrians. Gabrielle followed, dodging tourists and office workers on lunch break, her eyes fixed on the bobbing bulk of the kid’s backpack. He turned down one street, then another, wending deeper into the city, away from the shops and businesses on Charles and back toward the tightly clustered area of Chinatown.

She didn’t know how far she’d tracked the kid, or even where exactly she’d ended up, but all of a sudden she realized she’d lost him.

She spun around near a busy corner, utterly alone, unfamiliar surroundings closing in on her. Shopkeepers stared at her from under shaded awnings and doors left open to welcome the summer air. Passersby threw her annoyed looks as she stood stockstill in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the flow of foot traffic.

It was then she felt a menacing presence behind her on the street.

Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder and saw a black sedan with dark-tinted windows slowly moving between the other cars. It moved gracefully, deliberately, like a shark cutting through a school of minnows in search of better prey.

Was it coming toward her?

Maybe the kid who’d been spying on her was inside. Maybe his appearance, and that of this ominous-looking car, had something to do with whomever had purchased her photographs from Jamie.

Or maybe it was something worse.

Something to do with the horrific attack she had witnessed last weekend. Her report to the police. Maybe it had been a gang slaying she stumbled upon after all. Maybe those vicious creatures—she couldn’t quite convince herself that they were men—had decided she was their next target.

Icy fear lanced through her as the vehicle veered into the near lane, which hugged the sidewalk where she still stood.

She started walking. Picked up her pace.

Behind her, the car’s accelerator roared.

Oh, God.

It was coming after her!

Gabrielle didn’t wait to hear the peal of rubber being laid behind her. She screamed, and took off in a blind run, her legs pumping as fast as they could.

There were too many people around. Too many obstacles in her direct path. She dodged the milling pedestrians, too rattled to offer apologies as some of them clucked their tongues and swore at her in reproach.

She didn’t care, certain this was life or death.

A quick look behind her would prove to be disastrous. The car was still roaring through the traffic, hot on her heels. Gabrielle put her head down and dug in harder, praying she could make it off the street before the vehicle plowed into her.

In her haste, her ankle twisted beneath her.

She stumbled, losing balance. The ground came up and she fell hard onto the rough concrete. Her bare knees and palms broke the worst of her tumble, both getting chewed up in the process. The searing burn of torn flesh brought tears to her eyes, but she ignored it. Gabrielle surged to her feet. She was hardly up off the ground before she felt the hard clamp of a stranger’s hand gripping her at the elbow.

She sucked in a sharp gasp, panic pouring through her.

“You okay, lady?” The grizzled face of a municipal worker swung into her line of vision. His wrinkled blue eyes flicked down at her abrasions. “Aw, jeez. Look at that, you’re bleedin’.”

“Let go of me!”

“Didn’t you see those pylons right there?” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at the orange cones she’d blown right past. “I got this section of sidewalk all torn up here.”

“Please, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

Caught in his helpful but hindering grasp, Gabrielle looked just in time to see the dark sedan pull up to the corner where she’d been standing only a moment ago. It rocked to an abrupt halt at the curb. The driver’s door opened and a broadly built, towering man stepped out.

“Oh, God. Let go!” Gabrielle yanked her arm away from the man who was trying to assist her, her gaze rooted on that monstrous black car and the danger that was crawling out of it. “You don’t understand, they’re after me!”

“Who is?” The muni worker’s voice was incredulous. He looked to where she was gaping and let out a laugh. “You mean that guy? Lady, that’s the friggin’ mayor of Boston.”

“Wha—”

It was true. Her eyes were wild as she watched the activity at the corner with new understanding. The black sedan wasn’t after her at all. It had pulled up to the curb and the driver now waited, holding open the back door. The mayor himself came out of a restaurant, flanked by suited bodyguards. They all climbed into the backseat of the vehicle.

Gabrielle closed her eyes. Her raw palms were burning. Her knees, too. Her pulse was still pounding, but all the blood seemed to have drained from her head.

She felt like a complete fool.

“I thought…” she murmured as the driver closed the door, got in the front, then eased the official’s car back into traffic.

The worker let go of her arm. He walked away from her, back to his sack lunch and coffee, shaking his head. “What’s a matter with you? You crazy or somethin’?”

Shit.

She wasn’t supposed to see him. His orders had been to observe the Maxwell woman. Note her activities. Determine her habits. Report everything back to his Master. Above all, he was to avoid detection.

The Minion spat another curse from where he was hiding, his spine flat against the inside of a nondescript door in a nondescript building, one of many such places nestled among the Chinatown markets and restaurants. Carefully, he drew open the door and peered around it to see if he could spot the woman somewhere outside.

There she was, right across the busy street from him.

And he was pleased to see that she was leaving the area. He could just make out her coppery hair as she wended through the traffic on the sidewalk, her head down, her pace agitated.

He waited there, watched her until she was well out of sight. Then he slipped back onto the street and headed in the opposite direction. He’d blown more than an hour on lunch break. He’d better get back to the police station before he was missed.