Of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (7 page)

She turned around slowly, so slowly, delaying the inevitable for as long as possible. She wondered what he would do as soon as she laid eyes on him. Would he shoot her? That was fine. She’d survive. But he was a vindictive bastard. What if he decided to shoot Gabriel? She nearly vomited at the thought.

She held her breath as she looked upon her attacker with dread. She gasped. It was …
Jericho
. Her sobs exploded again and grew in volume.

“Oh, thank God,” she said between breaths. “I thought you were — ” She cut herself off just in time. There was no need to let everything out. Even she recognized that in the midst of her oxygen-flooded thoughts.

She dimly realized that Jericho looked green around the gills where he was slumped against the wall across the room. Gabriel tugged on her arm from the cocoon of her body, and she turned her eyes on him. She read the question in their warm depths. “
El no es tu padre, mijo
,” she whispered to him.

His expression fell, and he looked at Jericho again. “You’re not my dad?” he asked in soft, accented English.

Jericho shook his head, an expression of horror painting his features thunder-cloud gray. “No,” he blurted. He looked at Dahlia. “What’s — ”

Going on?
she finished for him mentally. Well, in at least this one thing, she was well and truly caught. “Meet Gabriel,” she stated. Then she added defiantly: “My son.”

“I’m eight!” he piped in cheerfully.

Jericho made a sound as though someone had punched him in the gut, and then he slipped to the floor.

Dahlia frowned just as Gabriel turned to her again. “
¿Esta enfermo?
” he asked.

Huh, there was a thought. Could the Impulse be affecting him? He certainly looked sick. “I don’t know, baby,” she told him. “Go see
abuelita, sí
?” She kissed his forehead and watched as he scampered out of the room, taking her heart with him. Panic flared that he was leaving her sight, but she calmed herself with the thought that she was here now. She wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.

Once her son was gone, Dahlia watched Jericho as he gulped air. If she didn’t know any better, she would guess that the giant man was close to tears. It affected her in ways she didn’t want to admit. The discomfort from the Impulse, which had been kept at bay by the adrenaline of her getaway, made a brief reappearance, and she found herself making her way to his side and sitting on the floor beside him.

He cast a fearful look at her from the corner of his eyes. “Your secret was an eight-year-old son. They never would have guessed.”

“My
secret?
” she hissed, going from compassionate to pissed in the space of a heartbeat. “They sent you to find out my
secret
?” Dahlia closed her eyes for a second as waves of rage coursed through her. Of course, Jericho had only come with her to find out something to use against her. Didn’t all men betray women this way?

She opened her eyes to find Jericho listing to the side, his eyes rolling back in his head. He threw out a hand to catch himself, and his fingers brushed against hers. She sucked in a breath at the contact just as the Knowledge whispered
good
to her. In that same moment, Jericho jerked his hand back, an obvious reaction to his own read-out from their touch. His wide eyes met hers in a panic.

She raised her brows. His reaction to her evil nature was beginning to bug her. He needed to get over it.

“I can’t do this,” he groaned, covering his face with both hands. Dahlia forced herself to contain her temper as his shoulders trembled. She needed to find out what the hell his orders were so she knew how to protect Gabriel.

Just as she opened her mouth to grill him, Jericho straightened and pinned her with a look so full of anguish that all thought fled. “It’s done. My mission is done. I found out what they wanted me to. I can’t stay here a minute longer, not around that — ” He shook his head miserably.

Gabriel. He was talking about Gabriel. Why was her son affecting this man so greatly?
Of course.
Gabriel was the same age as Jericho’s child would be if his mate hadn’t died in pregnancy.

Before she could ponder that further, determination crossed his eyes. “My orders were to find out your secret and then take you back. We’re leaving. Now,” he said as he rose to his feet.

Dahlia saw spots as Jericho reached into one of his cargo pockets and withdrew handcuffs. He unceremoniously reached down and hauled her to her feet, turning her to face the wall and wrestling her arms behind her back. Her shock dissipated and she started moving, fighting with all of her strength to get free. “No,” she whispered, panic mounting. He was so strong. He was going to take her away — away from her son — and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. “No, you have to stop,” she begged shamelessly, feeling tears rise up in her throat again. He didn’t stop, and she felt the cold iron of the cuffs slap around her right wrist. “I have another!” she screamed desperately. “I have another secret!”

Finally something made a dent. She felt Jericho still behind her. Heard her billowing breaths echo through the room. They bordered on hysterical sobs. His heat left her back as he stepped away, and she turned around, pausing for a moment to wipe her wet cheek on her shoulder before facing him. His face was an emotionless mask; his light blue eyes were dark and lifeless, the pinch around them the only indication that he felt anything.

“You have another secret,” he repeated without inflection.

Dahlia took a great, gulping breath and forced herself to portray a calm that was nothing close to how she felt. “Yes. I do. I’m willing to negotiate with information if you delay taking me back.” She needed time — she didn’t know how much — to prevent the worst thing that could ever happen to her. Jericho couldn’t take her back, not yet, and if that meant she had to incriminate herself further, so be it.

Jericho stepped back even farther, obviously trying to distance himself from her. Was her emotion affecting him? She could only hope. “Start talking,” he ground out.

Dahlia shook her head.

Jericho’s expression turned even blacker. “Then we leave now,” he said.

“No,” she said quickly. “I only meant I won’t tell you right now. Not before I have your word you won’t take me back.”

Jericho’s nostrils flared. “I’m taking you back. That’s non-negotiable.”

The panic nearly overtook her again. “Please,” she said breathlessly. “I just need time. I will tell you everything you want to know — I promise — only, give me some time.”

She watched as a muscle ticked in Jericho’s jaw, and she allowed the smallest patch of hope that he was softening. “Please,” she repeated.

He sighed, and she knew she had him. “A day,” he grumbled. “I can give you a day.”

Dahlia shook her head. “I need more. Five.”

Jericho laughed without humor. “No fucking way.” He examined her with a critical eye. “Three. I’ll meet you in the middle. But this had better be the best damn secret intel I’ve ever heard, you understand me, woman?”

Dahlia held her breath. Three days. Would it be enough? It didn’t matter. She knew she had pushed him as far as she dared. Jericho was on the edge. Asking again could get her hauled straight back to D.C., and that she just couldn’t risk. She nodded.

Jericho acknowledged her nod with a grimace. “So spill.”

“Not yet,” she whispered.

Jericho growled and took a step forward.

“It’s not something I can tell,” she said quickly, holding up both hands. “It’s something I have to show. And I will. Tomorrow morning. Just,” Dahlia swallowed, “give me tonight with my son.” Dahlia didn’t trust him to keep his word. As soon as he knew the secret, there was nothing stopping him from taking her. She needed to delay as long as possible.

“I’m a man of my word,” Jericho said sharply, guessing her doubt. “I said you’ll have three days, so you’ll have three days.” He took another dangerous step forward. “But if you’ve lied to me — if there is no secret — I’m taking you back tomorrow if I have to pull you by your hair.”

Dahlia stumbled from the room, one thought thumping through her brain: she had to see Gabriel. Had to hold him. She knew Jericho followed on her heels as she walked down the hall and into Gabriel’s bedroom. She felt more than saw him stop at the door warily.

Esperanza was singing a lullaby to Dahlia’s son in soft, dulcet tones. She spotted Dahlia, and then obviously Jericho behind her, because her wise eyes snapped with questions. In Spanish, Dahlia quickly explained that Jericho was a friend — she nearly choked on that lie — and would be staying with them tonight. Esperanza nodded and rose from the bed with a few creaks and a groan and motioned for Dahlia to take her place.

Dahlia lay down beside her son and gathered him into her arms, burying her nose in his still baby-soft hair. She rocked him back and forth slowly, and just when she was sure he had dropped off to sleep, he whispered, “Will you stay this time, Mommy?”

Her heart stuttered and she looked up to see Jericho still standing in the doorway. He stared at her and Gabriel for a few seconds, then turned and walked away.

Dahlia took a deep breath and returned her attention to her son and the hope in his eyes. More than anything in the world, she wanted to answer “yes.” But she knew she couldn’t make that promise. Yet.

Instead of answering, she shushed him gently and continued rocking him until his eyes drifted closed, and he fell asleep.

Jericho woke up to the sound of a child’s laughter. As soon as he shook the strangle hold of sleep, his heart got sick. He remembered where he was and what had happened last night.

Dahlia had a son. A son the same age as Jericho’s would have been if both his mate and his baby had survived.

He saw again the image of Dahlia forming a protective barrier between himself and her small boy, and his heart kicked. Last night, she had been … unexpected. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she might have one or two redeeming qualities. And then when he’d touched her by accident —

The Impulse roiled through him, leaving flares of pain in its wake. It had jumped into the back seat of his subconscious when the adrenaline from yesterday’s chase overshadowed it. No more, though. All of a sudden, Jericho needed to touch Dahlia again. More than he needed his next breath.

He shook his head and rolled to his knees. He didn’t have time for this. His cell phone fell out of his pocket with his sudden movements, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Shit
. He’d forgotten to call in to headquarters every six hours like he’d promised. Just what in the hell was wrong with him? This woman was turning him inside out. He couldn’t remember anything he was supposed to be doing. He picked up the phone and dialed Eli’s office from memory.

Eli picked up before the first ring finished. “Jericho! Is that you?” Eli asked in a panic.

Jericho closed his eyes against the overwhelming feeling that he was an ass. “Yeah, it’s me, Eli. Sorry I didn’t call in sooner.”

Eli let out all of his air, resulting in a loud noise over the phone. “Abilene’s gonna skin you alive, man. What did you think you were doing? Did you catch up to Dahlia?”

Jericho opened his mouth to answer affirmatively and let Eli know Jericho had at least one of Dahlia’s secrets and the promise of another, but nothing came out. He frowned. This was the part where he needed to tell Eli that Dahlia had a son — information that would ensure she was easy to handle and manipulate in the future. It was as easy as saying the words.

The silence on the phone grew uncomfortable. After several heartbeats, Jericho heard himself saying, “She’s secured, but I don’t have any intel to share yet.”

What the hell?
He’d just
lied
. To his friend. And why did he get the feeling that the Voice was pleased with his protection of Dahlia?

There was a pregnant pause on Eli’s end of the conversation. Jericho fidgeted, sure any second he would be found out. “Jericho,” Eli said slowly. “I want to warn you that the Impulse is very strong. I know you already know this, but when you experienced it the first time, with Emily — ” His friend cursed on the other end of the phone. “Dahlia’s not Emily, Jericho. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Jericho gritted his teeth. “I know exactly who Dahlia is, don’t worry about that.” Even as he said it, his brain flashed back and forth between the first time he’d touched her, finding out she was evil, and last night. “I also know what my mission is.”
Did he?
“You know the type of person
I
am. I’ll follow orders.”

“All right, all right,” Eli said in a tone of voice that made Jericho feel even sicker. “I didn’t mean to insult your honor. We all know that if you say you’re going to do something, you’ll do it.”

Jericho eyes slid closed. Yep, that was the reputation he’d cultivated for himself. He was proud of it. So why was he lying to his friend and delaying his mission?

“You’ll call in more frequently?” Eli asked hesitantly.

Jericho made an affirmative noise.

“Okay, then. Just … be careful out there, okay?”

Jericho hung up before Eli could say anything else. His curse ricocheted around the empty room. “What
am
I doing?” he asked himself out loud. He should be dragging Dahlia back to the facility by her hair right this second. She was a dangerous criminal, the fruit had confirmed that. Last night, when he’d brushed her hand,
had
to have been a fluke.

A life-changing aroma drifted through the door, interrupting his self-recriminations. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t taken time out to eat since the train yesterday. He stuck his head out into the hallway and looked left and right before following his nose.

When he arrived at the kitchen, Dahlia’s son, he thought he remembered her saying his name was Gabriel, was sitting at the breakfast table watching the older woman cook at the stove. The family resemblance between the two was startling, which, Jericho reasoned, had to make the woman Gabriel’s grandmother.