Deceptions: A Cainsville Novel by Kelley Armstrong Read Free Book Online Page B

don’t want you waiting up half the night only to hear that I won’t make it. I would like to see you for breakfast, though. Not for sex. Well, I won’t argue if we squeeze it in, but mostly just to hang out. I’ve missed you.”
    I leaned against him. “Same here. Breakfast tomorrow.”
    —
    Ricky had recovered his mood by the time we reached the car. Yes, it was a car. Apparently, leaving their Harleys in airport parking would have violated club rules.
    CJ joked that it was a big backseat. Ricky good-naturedly flipped him the finger, and we settled in. The plan was to drop me off at Gabriel’s condo. I called him at the start of the drive, but he was on the line, the phone going to voice mail, so I left a message.
    At the building, Ricky insisted on taking me up, and I didn’t argue. If Gabriel had a problem with Ricky coming as far as the front door, he should have replied to my message.
    Gabriel had to buzz me in, and he did so without comment, but when he opened the door and I saw his expression, I said, “You didn’t get my message, did you?”
    He looked befuddled, as if we’d woken him from a nap. He took out his phone.
    “Oh,” he said.
    “Right. So, things came up. Ricky has to go, and I’m here.”
    “This is the official handoff,” Ricky said. “I relinquish her to your custody. I’ll pick her up at seven for breakfast.” His smile faded as he studied Gabriel. “Unless tonight’s a problem . . .”
    Gabriel snapped out of it. “No, of course not.”
    “Then I should run,” Ricky said. “The guys are double-parked downstairs.” He glanced up at Gabriel. “We need to talk.”
    Gabriel frowned.
    “About that thing? The one we were discussing?”
    “Oh, yes. Of course.”
    “Tomorrow, then?”
    Gabriel nodded.
    Ricky took off to the still-waiting elevator.
    “I don’t want to impose,” I said to Gabriel. “How about I catch a cab to my parents’ place? They have a top-notch security system, and I have my gun.”
    It seemed to take time for him to process my words, and when he did, he blinked.
    “No, of course not.” He realized he was blocking the doorway and backed inside.
    There were papers spread across the living room table, along with his laptop and what looked like an untouched cup of coffee.
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know this is inconvenient. Why don’t I just go into . . .”
    I looked around the apartment. Living room. Bathroom. Bedroom. Kitchen and dining room. Closet. That was it. I was sure it was a million-dollar condo, but you were paying for the address and the view, not the square footage. Given how he’d cut me off from venturing into the kitchen this morning, my options for giving him space were limited.
    “I could use a bath,” I said. “A long one. You keep doing whatever you were doing.”
    He swept the pages off the table and tucked them into a file. “It was just work. It wasn’t going very well.”
    “If it’s anything I can help with . . .” I began.
    He shook his head. “It’s not.”
    “Okay, well, let me go take that bath. I know you were expecting an evening of peace and quiet—”
    “I’m quite happy to abandon it, given how poorly it was progressing.” He closed his laptop with a decisive click, dumped his coffee in the kitchen sink, and when he came back, he was more himself, his movements smoother, words more precise. “If you want a bath, you’re quite welcome to one, but given that your evening with Ricky was lost, I’m guessing you haven’t had dinner yet.”
    “No, but—”
    “Nor have I. There’s a place nearby. We’ll walk.”

DOWNWARD SPIRAL
    G abriel was six when he learned that other people dreamed at night. He was in first grade, and the teacher had asked them to draw a picture of something from their dreams. While the other children settled in, crayons in hand, bent over their construction paper, he asked the teacher for an explanation. As she gave one, he could tell that she expected him to nod