Betrayals (Cainsville Book 4) (7 page)

“Our prospects aren’t as encouraging as I’d like,” he said, “but proving innocence is difficult when innocence is not the case for all parties.” He chose his words with care, given the semi-public nature of the setting. “I will not ask you to change your mind about turning against her. We’ve been through that often enough.”

I shifted in my seat.

Todd’s gaze met mine. “I can’t, Liv. I’m sorry. She’s still the woman who went to prison so our child could walk.”

“Then she should have taken the fall and left me my father.”

“I wouldn’t have allowed that.”

“Bullshit. The DNA was hers.”

Gabriel cleared his throat, reminding me to watch my words.

I looked at Todd. “I want you out.”

“I will get out, eventually. You don’t need your daddy anymore, Liv. You’re doing fine. If the appeal doesn’t work, I will tell the truth. That’s our deal. But you agreed to let me try it my way.”

“I didn’t agree. You refused to do anything else.”

“It’s still a deal.” He gave me a quarter smile. As much as I seethed, arguing with Todd was like battering a foam wall. It seemed soft and yielding, but I couldn’t break through, no matter how hard I tried.

I stayed silent for the rest of the visit. I said my goodbyes as genuinely as I could, not wanting to storm off in anger, but the
minute the visiting room door closed, I strode ahead, leaving Gabriel to catch up.

He said nothing until we were in the car. Then it was, “You’re upset.”

“Let’s just go,” I said.

He sat there, one hand on the steering wheel, those damned shades covering his eyes. He was eager to be gone but clearly felt some unwelcome obligation to pursue this.

“It upsets you,” he said finally, and I almost snapped a reply, but managed instead to say, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He gave an abrupt nod, and what sounded like a sigh of relief. Anyone else would have prodded, made sure I wasn’t holding back. Gabriel couldn’t get that car in gear fast enough. He’d fulfilled his obligation by acknowledging that I was “upset”—not once but twice—and I’d let him off the hook. That was enough.

We didn’t talk for the rest of the ride.

L
unch
with Olivia had not gone well. Not as well as their lunches used to go. It was perfectly cordial. Like eating with Don or another long-term client. Not like having lunch with someone who’d been a friend, a good one. Simply working a case together wasn’t going to bring Olivia back to him.

He’d suggested they go visit Todd because he knew she loved seeing her father. Gabriel was proving he understood her, could provide what she wanted. Except it hadn’t been what she wanted at all. It only reminded her of Todd’s situation.

He had to go further. Had to take a risk. Had to do whatever it took to give her the one thing she wanted most right now.

Gabriel had betrayed Olivia’s trust three times since they’d met, which would not be nearly so grievous a track record if that first encounter hadn’t been a mere six months ago. And now, as they struggled to recover from the third misstep, he decided to attempt to fix it with … another betrayal. A measured risk in the hope of solving a problem he knew she desperately wanted solved.

First, though, he would do something he’d never done in his life: get advice.

Rose answered on the third ring.

“I need to speak to you,” he said, “about something that Olivia has forbidden me to do.”

Rose’s response came slowly, as if she was bracing herself. “All right …”

“I’ve decided to do it anyway.”

He could have sworn he heard the thump of Rose falling into a chair. Her breath hissed along the line. “Please tell me that’s a joke.”

“I never joke.”

“Tell me you’ve started trying. It’s a poor effort, but —”

“I don’t appreciate being mocked.”

“It isn’t mocking. It’s praying, by whatever gods one might pray to, that you are attempting a little levity, because the only other possible excuse would be that you’ve fallen down the stairs and hit your head.”

“I am in full possession of my senses.”

“Not if you’re considering betraying Liv again. I know patience is not your strong suit, and yes, it’s been a few months, but if you really are ready to give up, then may I suggest you just step back. Don’t vent your frustrations on her.”

“That’s not what I have in mind,” he said, his voice chilling. “At all.”

“You’ve used up your chances with Liv, Gabriel, and—”

“I wanted your opinion on what I am about to do. On whether my reasoning is sound.”

She went quiet. Then, “You want my support.”

“What?”

“You want me to tell you that whatever you have planned, it’s perfectly all right, and she’ll have no reason to be angry.”

Gabriel gripped the phone tighter, his words brittle now. “I was calling to ask your opinion, because you have, in the past,
suggested that, before I do something imprudent where Olivia is concerned.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I—”

“No,
I’m
sorry. This was a mistake. The decision is, of course, my own, as are the consequences, and I did not intend to shift blame. I apologize for bothering you.”

He hung up. Rose called back. He let voice mail answer. She called again. Then she texted. He shut off his phone, pulled on his jacket, and headed out.

Gabriel sat at the table, his hands folded on the top, gaze fixed on the door. It opened, and a guard prodded a woman in.

News reports claimed Olivia looked like her mother, but Gabriel saw a resemblance only in gestures and expressions. Olivia’s jaw would set, and he’d glimpse Pamela. Or her eyes would ignite with a spark of ruthlessness, and there, too, lay her mother. Flares only, rising and falling away. It was the same with her father. Those moments when she’d be carefree and childlike, that was Todd. Or when she’d dig in her heels, her expression warning him there was no sense pushing. Mostly, though, he saw only Olivia, her own person, untethered to either parent.

When Pamela spotted her visitor, she stopped short. He waited, his hands still folded, gaze on her, no challenge in it. Yet there
was
challenge there. He’d told the desk that Pamela had rehired him, and now all she had to do was deny the ruse and this meeting would be at an end.

She looked at him. Then she nodded for the guard to leave.

“Misrepresenting yourself, Gabriel?” she said as she sat. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I
am
surprised it took you so long to come.” She leaned back in her seat. “Go ahead. Tell me exactly how you feel about me.”

Pamela let the silence stretch until she shifted, unable to hold it. “Let me guess—it took so long because you were trying to figure out a way to make me pay, legally. To prove that I tried to have you framed for murder. Failing that, you’ve come to tell me that I’ll pay, one way or the other.”

He stayed exactly as he was, hands folded, gaze resting on her.

“Stop that,” she snapped.

“I’m waiting for you to finish speculating on the nature of this visit. You seem to be enjoying it, so I will indulge you, though I must warn that, as you know, our time is limited.”

“What do you want, Gabriel?”

“The question is what
you
want.”

“What
do
I want?”

“Me.”

A harsh laugh. “Your head on a pike, I suppose? No, sorry to disappoint. I want you out of my daughter’s life, but it appears I can only wait until she comes to her senses and sees you for the manipulative son of a bitch you are.”

“You want freedom,” he said. “What do you need for that, Pamela?”

Her jaw set in a way he knew well.

“What do you need, Pamela?” he repeated.

Her jaw clenched so hard he heard her teeth grind. She barely pried her mouth open enough to spit, “Bastard. You enjoy this, don’t you?”

“It’s not pleasure. It’s control.”

“You take pleasure in control.”

“No, I take comfort in it. It makes life easier. You need me. My counsel. My services. You need me to represent you—along with Todd—in your appeal. It’s your only chance of seeing the outside of this prison.”

“If your appeal frees Todd, it will free me.”

Gabriel eased back, hands falling to his lap. “Not necessarily. That’s what Todd wants, but if you think it’s what your daughter wants, you are sadly mistaken. If you cannot be tried for James Morgan’s death, she’ll happily see you stay in here. What she wants is Todd’s freedom. What I want to give her is Todd’s freedom.” He straightened, hands on the table again. “It’s not going as well as I’d hoped.”

“Are you actually admitting—?”

“You will wonder why I’m offering to represent you, and that is the answer. The last time I saw you, you said that if I took your case again, you might be able to recall more useful answers to our questions. I presume that still holds true?”

“It does.”

“Then it seems …” He met her gaze. “That you win this round.”

I
oan had asked us to meet him at an address in the Loop. I figured it was a high-rent residence there—Gabriel’s own condo was nearby. But when I told Ricky the address, he said, “That’s office space.” He was right—it led to a skyscraper a few blocks from James’s corporate offices. The route would have taken us right past, but Ricky detoured, saving me from those memories.

“I’m sure I wrote the address down right,” I said as we looked up at the building.

“I’m sure you did, too. I’m wondering if we’re being sent on a wild goose chase.”

The building was dead quiet on a Saturday afternoon. Inside, we told the guard who we were there to see, and he sent us up to the twenty-third floor.

As we stepped from the elevator, we saw a corporate sign.

“Gwylio Consulting,” Ricky read. “Welsh, I take it?”

“It means ‘to watch, to look out for.’ And the correct pronunciation is
guh-wi-luh-ee-oh.
”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Actually, it is. Once you know the pronunciation of the letters and the diphthongs, you can say any word, because—unlike English—there’s only one way of pronouncing them.”

“I’ll take your word for it. The question is what Gwylio Consulting actually does. That sign’s not giving me any clues. Nor is this.” He waved at the reception area beyond the glass doors, which looked like any upscale corporate office.

“Security,” said a voice.

We turned to see a man approaching. Early sixties. Physically fit and handsome enough that he still turned heads. Ioan emanated money and charm and good breeding, from his stance to his smile to his suit. Not exactly the kind of guy you’d picture riding a flaming black steed and dragging souls to the afterlife.

“What kind of security?” I asked.

Ioan’s smile grew. “Whatever you need.”

“Right now, I need answers.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place, as I’ve been telling you for a while, Olivia.” He led us to the door he’d come through. “It’s good to see you, Ricky,” Ioan said as he ushered us through.

Ricky nodded, and I could see Ioan’s gaze following him, disappointed by his apparent lack of interest. Ricky
was
interested in his Cŵn Annwn heritage, but to betray that would give them the advantage.

As we walked down a row of offices, I looked through the glass walls. Nice offices, all of them. Executive sized, executive furnished. Tidy, but not unduly so.

“It looks real,” I said.

“Hmm?” Ioan glanced over his shoulder at me.

“The offices. You’ve done a good job of making them look like they’re actually being used.”

“Probably because they are. It’s a legitimate business. How else do we afford to live, if we do not work?”

With the exception of Patrick, the Tylwyth Teg didn’t work. When I’d thought they were human, I’d presumed they lived off retirement savings and social security.

“They have nest eggs of a sort,” Ioan said.

I shot him a glare. “You aren’t supposed to do that.”

“I’m not trying. But sometimes, if your thoughts are articulated clearly enough, I hear them anyway.”

“How do we block that?” Ricky asked.

Ioan paused at a door and arched his brows.

“Yeah,” Ricky said. “It’s like the rabbit asking the wolf how to avoid being eaten. Except in this case, it’s in the wolf’s best interest to keep the rabbit happy.”

“Is that how you think of yourself? Rabbits to our wolves?”

Ricky considered. “More like foxes to your wolves. Which means we’re still in danger of being chomped.”

“But you also have the hope of outwitting the larger predator.”

“Outwit. Outrun. Whatever works to keep us one step ahead of you.”

Ricky walked past as Ioan held open the door to an office. This one was huge, spacious, and well-appointed, with a sitting area outside the office proper. We took seats on a leather sofa.

“So the mind reading,” Ricky said. “From what you suggested, we can prevent it by not forming clear thoughts. What’s your range?”

Ioan only smiled at him indulgently.

“Short,” I said. “I’ve only seen him do it when I’m right beside him.”

“All right, then,” Ricky said. “Short range. Difficult to maintain. Works best on clear thoughts. Got it.” He looked at Ioan. “Thanks for your help.”

Ioan’s composure rippled, a trace of consternation showing through. After a moment he said, “The tusks.”

Ricky took his out. We both had one—the tip of a boar’s tusk, carved with writing too old to be deciphered. There were symbols,
too. Mine had a sun and moon intertwined. Matilda’s symbol—Cŵn Annwn and fae mingled. Ricky’s had just the moon.

“Hold it,” Ioan said.

Ricky clutched his tusk.

“There,” Ioan said. “You’re blocked. Now, back to the subject of employment. The Cainsville Tylwyth Teg do live primarily on their investments—investments from illegitimate capital gains. You’re familiar with the Walsh family. You know how most of them make a living. Let’s just say they come by their skills naturally. The fae have never met a human they couldn’t fleece, and their sense of superiority makes them feel perfectly justified in doing so. The Cŵn Annwn prefer to earn a living as honestly as possible.”