Double Dealing (24 page)

The back parlor which housed the computers was down the hall
which branched off to the right. Was Eric still there? Tied up, perhaps, or
unconscious? Maybe she should make a dash for the parlor. It was the one room
in the house which still had a locking door.

Even as the thought occurred to her, Samantha realized the
impossibility of carrying through with the idea. It would leave Gabriel alone
out here in the darkness to face the intruder. There was no question of
abandoning him, regardless of whatever condition Eric was in at the moment.

There was a click and then a horrendous roar as a gunshot
shattered the stillness. Samantha started, the fear-induced adrenaline pumping
more madly than ever. Then she froze. The shot had come from the top of the stairs.
She had seen the brief flash out of the corner of her eye.

“Don’t move!” the intruder shouted, more than an edge in his
voice now. The man was coming unglued, Samantha decided. Perhaps that would
work to their advantage. “Don’t anybody move or I’ll kill you!”

When he got no reply, he waited a few more heart-stopping seconds.
Was he trying to decide whether or not he had an audience? Perhaps he was
convincing himself that whoever had decked good old Tony had now fled?

Then he started down the stairs. Samantha couldn’t yet see
him, but she heard the familiar creak in the third step from the top. Where was
Gabriel hiding? My God, the man was already halfway down the stairs. What was
she going to do when he made it to the bottom?

The assailant seemed to regain his confidence with every
step. Or perhaps he had simply succumbed to the urge to get out of what had
become a highly untenable situation for him. Whatever the reason, he was moving
very quickly by the time he reached the last step.

So quickly that he didn’t even notice the broad, male shape
which surged out of the pit of darkness beneath the staircase.

Frozen in the hall, Samantha saw what happened next as a
rapid play of dark forms against an even darker background. Gabriel hurled the
heavy iron pan at the man on the stairs, who screamed in panic and pain as the
skillet struck him.

Then Gabriel was lunging toward his staggering victim, who
had dropped the gun under the impact of the frying pan. A split second later
both men crashed to the floor at the foot of the stairs in a writhing, savage
tangle of flailing arms and legs. The tinkle of breaking glass told Samantha
that the small vase on a nearby end table hadn’t survived the jarring thud of
the men as they hit the floor.

She watched in horror as the two rolled over and over across
the old, worn Oriental carpet, each struggling for dominance. Gabriel was
recognizable in the darkness only because of the lighter shade of his bare upper
torso. The contours of his broad shoulders materialized on top as he
momentarily gained the advantage. Then, with a vicious grunt of pain and rage,
the other man managed to reverse the position.

Another vase was sent hurtling to the floor along with a
dainty tri-legged table and a stack of books which had been resting on it.
Samantha felt the violence in the air as if it had a life of its own. It was a
palpable aura surrounding the two battling men. Savage, primitive, and
overlayed
with a life-or-death desperation.

The ferocity of the battle struck deeply into Samantha’s awareness.
She had never seen men literally at each other’s throats. At that moment it was
difficult to remember that the civilized world existed, the primitive instincts
were so very close to the surface.

Suddenly, above the grim sounds of the battle on the floor,
another, much fainter noise pulled at Samantha’s attention. The third step from
the top had creaked again.

Helplessly Samantha stayed in the shadows as the other
gunman began to groggily descend the staircase. He had apparently recovered somewhat
from the blow Gabriel had dealt him earlier.

‘If you think,” Samantha muttered to herself, “that I’m
going to let this fight become two against one, you’re out of your head!” Her
fingers tightened on the small paring knife. Damned if she would let the other man
go to his friend’s aid.

The man called Tony reached the last step, one hand on his
jaw as he squinted into the darkness, trying to determine exactly what was
happening. At that moment Gabriel’s bare back became visible as he heaved
himself once more on top of his opponent. Apparently Tony, too, realized how to
tell one fighter from the other in the darkness, because he started forward at
once.

Samantha waited no longer. Without giving herself a chance
to think, she leaped out of the hall and onto
Tony’s
back, clinging there like a limpet as she brought the paring knife down against
his shoulder.

The small blade just managed to penetrate the jacket and
shirt Tony was wearing. Less than an inch of steel actually made it into the
shoulder muscle, but the surprise assault from the rear, together with the unexpected,
stabbing pain, produced a roar of anger and panic from Samantha’s victim.

He swung around, dislodging her so that she dropped to her
feet.
Tony’s
momentum carried his hand through a
violent arc which brought his fist crashing against the side of Samantha’s
face, the same cheek Gabriel had slapped earlier. The wild blow brought a cry
from Samantha as she staggered backward under the impact.

“Samantha!”

As if her shout had given him the impetus he needed to end
the battle on the floor, Gabriel freed one fist and brought it awkwardly but
with tremendous power against his opponent’s head. As the man went limp beneath
him, he leaped to his feet, charging blindly toward the man who was attacking Samantha.

But Tony had had enough. He backed away toward the open
front door, dancing quickly away from Gabriel.

“Tony, wait! Help me, you bastard!” The man on the floor
struggled to his knees and then shakily to his feet.

“How many of them are there?”

“I don’t know!” Tony had already reached the door. It was
obvious he was of two minds about assisting his partner, but when the other man
lurched toward him, he grabbed his arm and yanked him out the door.

Gabriel stood groggily, gasping for breath and feeling pain
seeping through every pore. He reached for Samantha, trying to see her face in
the darkness.

“Are you all right? Samantha! Are you okay?”

“Yes! Yes, Gabriel, I’m fine. Oh, my God, what about you?
That man was hurting you so!”

He stared down at her as her palms came up to cup his
ravaged face. Even in the shadowy light he could see the terrified concern in
her widened eyes. Her hands felt marvelously light and gentle on him, and for a
long, bewildering moment he wanted only to stand there and let her go on
touching him like this.

“Eric.” He got the name of her brother out huskily.

How could she have forgotten Eric? How could she be standing
here trying to soothe him when her precious half brother was in God-knew-what
condition in the back parlor?

“Yes, yes, I’ll get to him. But what about you, Gabriel? Are
you all right? You should lie down. There’s the possibility of shock, isn’t
there? Are you bleeding? Oh, damn! I can’t see a thing!” she wailed helplessly.

He caught her hands in his own and gently tugged them away
from his face. “I’m okay, honey. Go see about Eric. I’ll get the lights.”

She hesitated a moment longer, and then she whirled, heading
down the hall toward the back parlor.

Gabriel stood for a second watching her flying nightgown trail
out behind her like a gossamer ghost, and then he pulled himself together and
started toward the porch.

Even as he relocated the fuse box and got the lights functioning
again, he was still telling himself not to read too much into Samantha’s
actions.

Still, anyway you sliced it, the facts came out the same. In
the crunch, with both her brother and himself needing her attention, Samantha’s
first concern had been for him, Gabriel reflected. She had stayed to deal with
his hurts first before racing off to check on Eric.

The cut on his lip grew even more painful as Gabriel found
himself smiling with savage satisfaction.

The reason for Eric’s silence throughout the siege became evident
as soon as Samantha raced into the parlor. He lay bound and gagged on the
floor, his alarmed eyes asking frantic questions as she knelt by his side and began
untying him. The lights came back on just as she got the gag off.

“Christ, Sam! Are you all right? What happened out there? I’ve
been lying in here feeling like a stupid, helpless fool for getting you into
all this! Where’s Gabe?”

“Right here.” Gabriel’s laconic answer brought Samantha’s head
around sharply. He was leaning against the doorjamb, massaging the bruised and
battered side of his face. “And I couldn’t agree with you more, Thorndyke. You
are a stupid fool for getting yourself and Samantha into this mess.”

“It’s not his fault!” Samantha protested automatically, undoing
the last of Eric’s bonds. Instantly she regretted the defensive words. Gabriel’s
hazel gaze swung to her, pinning her coldly.

“If by that you mean not all of this is his fault, that you’re
as much to blame as your brother, I might be inclined to agree with you.”

“Gabriel, you don’t understand!” she cried, getting to her
feet as Eric shakily stood up beside her.

“I understand enough to know that both of you are playing
out of your league.” His eyes ran down the length of her body. “Go put some
clothes on, woman. I don’t feel like hashing this out while you’re running around
half-naked! Come on, Eric. I think we both need a shot of some of Samantha’s
brandy. I could probably use the rest of the bottle, now that I think of it.”

“Gabriel, let me help you clean up first,” Samantha said
quickly, her heart wrenching at the sight of the blood on his mouth and the
swollen redness under his eye.

“I said go get dressed!” he barked.

Her eyes narrowed as she realized just how thin his temper
was at this point. But she prudently said nothing, moving to slip past him and
head for the stairs.

“What the hell… ?”
He grabbed her arm as she moved past, yanking her to a quick, urgent halt. “Your
cheek!”

Her hand came up to her abused face as she remembered
Tony’s
blow, and her first impulse was to answer Gabriel
with some snide remark. A fitting reply for his foul temper.

But he looked so incredibly stricken as his eyes moved over
her swollen cheek she relented, tortoiseshell eyes softening. “Don’t be silly,
Gabriel. It probably looks a lot worse than it feels. That second man, the one
you decked on the balcony, hit me.

“Besides.” Samantha lifted her chin with a trace of arrogance
as she faced her now-frowning angel. “Weren’t you threatening to damage another
portion of my anatomy earlier, Gabriel?” she managed lightly. The relief which
crossed his face was mixed with a decided degree of sardonic warning.

But all he said was, “Go get dressed, Samantha. The three of
us have a lot to talk about.” She was halfway down the hall when he called out
softly behind her. “You’re right. I remember the conversation now. But if and
when I take to beating you, I won’t make a habit of giving you black eyes. Just
a black and blue ass.”

Samantha didn’t glance back over her shoulder, but as she
went around the corner she deliberately added an extra flounce to her stride,
aware that Gabriel’s gaze was focused on her retreating derriere. The nightgown
didn’t provide much concealment.

As soon as she was safely in her room at the top of the
stairs, she regretted the sassiness. This was hardly the occasion for it. Her
bruised face hurt, Gabriel looked in much worse shape, and Eric was already
feeling horribly guilty for the disaster he had brought down upon her house.
Gabriel, she suspected, was going to go out of his way to make Eric feel even
worse.

And the basic problem remained. True, thanks to Gabriel, the
two toughs had been sent packing into the night, but what was to prevent their
return? Eric had to get that phony financial data finished and turned in to the
mysterious contact the intruder had called Kirby. It was their only hope.

But first came the explanations to Gabriel. There was,
Samantha realized grimly, no way around them now. She’d seen the implacable
intent in him when he’d told her the three of them were going to have a talk.
Ah, well. In a way it was going to be something of a relief to talk to him
about the whole mess.

Fifteen minutes later, bundled in her very
untantalizing
yellow terry cloth bathrobe and seated beside
Eric on the overstuffed couch, Samantha changed her mind. It was not going to
be a relief at all to talk to Gabriel Sinclair about the problem. It was very
unpleasant, indeed.

“You’re a pair of fools.” Gabriel sat across from them on
the old chair near the hearth. The pile of computer printouts which represented
much of Eric’s work was stacked beside him on the table. Gabriel took another sip
of his brandy and leaned his head back against the cushion, lashes lowering
briefly over weary eyes. “A pair of fools.”

In spite of her own immediate reaction to being labeled a
fool, Samantha’s heart turned over at the sight of his battered face. Gabriel
had taken a lot of punishment. No man had ever come close to doing half as much
on her behalf before.

“Gabe, you don’t know the whole story,” Eric said dully. He,
too, was taking large swallows of brandy and looked more exhausted than ever.

Without opening his eyes, Gabriel replied, “I can see from
these printouts that you’re up to something with a lot of cost data that
applies to Thorndyke-type equipment. You’re faking up an entire spread-sheet.”

Eric hesitated and then asked bluntly, “How can you tell it’s
faked?”