Chapter 2 - The Name From Her Mother's Grave
Emily did not speak for several seconds.
The clinic had become strangely silent.
The bodies had been removed.
The broken door had been barricaded.
Blood had been wiped from the floor.
But the name remained.
Evelyn.
Her mother.
Dead for eleven years.
Or so Emily had believed.
Gabriel stood across from her.
"Emily."
She looked at him.
He saw the fear.
"What did that man mean?"
"I don't know."
It was the truth.
At least, part of it.
Her mother had died when Emily was nineteen.
A cerebral hemorrhage, according to the doctors.
A private funeral.
A closed casket.
A grave.
There had been no reason to doubt it.
Until tonight.
Mercer entered with a file.
"We identified the shooter."
Gabriel took it.
"Name."
"Victor Dane."
Emily's breath caught.
She knew that name.
She had seen it once.
In one of her mother's old notebooks.
A notation beneath it.
Never trust.
Gabriel noticed her reaction.
"You know him."
"No."
He waited.
Emily sighed.
"I've heard the name."
"Where?"
"My mother's papers."
Mercer and Gabriel exchanged a look.
"What papers?" Gabriel asked.
"Nothing important."
"Emily."
She looked at him.
His voice remained calm.
"Stop protecting a past that is trying to kill you."
She looked away.
He stepped closer.
"I am not asking because I want control."
"Then why?"
"Because the people who came tonight were willing to kill six men to reach you."
She swallowed.
"I don't know what they want."
"Then we'll find out."
He reached for her hand.
She pulled away.
He stopped.
That mattered.
He didn't grab her.
Didn't force her.
He simply said:
"Come with me."
This time, she didn't refuse.
The drive to Gabriel's residence was quiet.
The city slid past in rain-streaked glass.
Emily sat in the back seat.
Gabriel sat beside her.
Their shoulders almost touched.
Neither spoke.
Finally, Emily asked:
"Why were you at the clinic?"
"Someone told me you were there."
"Who?"
"Mercer."
"How did he know?"
"Because I told him to keep track of you."
She stared at him.
"You've been watching me?"
"Since the night you saved my life."
Her expression changed.
That night.
Six months earlier.
Gabriel had arrived at the clinic with a gunshot wound.
Emily had stitched his shoulder.
He had nearly lost consciousness.
She had refused to let him die.
He had remembered her ever since.
"You could have thanked me without stalking me."
"I considered it."
"And?"
"I decided stalking was safer."
Despite herself, she laughed.
It was brief.
But Gabriel heard it.
Something softened in his eyes.
When they arrived at the penthouse, Emily expected guards.
Instead, Gabriel took her directly upstairs.
The apartment was enormous.
Dark wood.
Glass walls.
Muted lighting.
No photographs.
No signs of warmth.
Except one.
A framed photograph of Gabriel's mother.
Emily stopped.
"She looks kind."
Gabriel looked at the photograph.
"She was."
"What happened to her?"
"She died when I was twenty."
"How?"
"Someone poisoned her."
Emily looked at him.
He rarely spoke about family.
She understood why now.
"Was that what made you become..." She hesitated.
"What?"
"The man you are."
His jaw tightened.
"Partly."
They entered his office.
He opened a drawer.
Inside were files.
Photographs.
Financial records.
Emily recognized one name.
Dane.
Victor Dane.
She picked up the photograph.
"This is him."
Gabriel watched her.
"Where have you seen him?"
"In my mother's papers."
"Which means?"
"My mother knew him."
"Apparently."
Emily closed her eyes.
Then something came back.
A memory.
She was fourteen.
Her mother was crying.
A man had stood in the doorway.
Silver cuff links.
A scar across his eyebrow.
He had said:
"If you tell her, they will take the girl."
Emily opened her eyes.
"I remember him."
Gabriel stepped closer.
"What did he say?"
She repeated the sentence.
He went still.
"Take the girl."
"What?"
"That phrase has appeared in our files."
"What does it mean?"
"It refers to you."
Her stomach dropped.
"What?"
"Your mother was hiding you."
"From whom?"
"People who believed you had something they needed."
"I was a child."
"Exactly."
Gabriel showed her another file.
Inside was a photograph.
Emily at fifteen.
Standing beside her mother.
Behind them was a black sedan.
A man was visible inside.
Her mother's hand covered Emily's shoulder.
"Who took this?"
"We don't know."
Emily stared.
Then she saw something.
The jacket.
Her mother's jacket.
A distinctive silver button.
She remembered it.
"The night she disappeared."
Gabriel looked up.
"Your mother disappeared?"
"Yes."
"Not died?"
"I thought she died."
"Emily."
She swallowed.
"Her funeral was strange."
"How?"
"The coffin was closed."
"Because of the condition of the body?"
"I was told that."
"Was a death certificate issued?"
"Yes."
"Autopsy?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Gabriel stared.
"That means your mother may not have died."
Emily's world tilted.
She sat down.
Gabriel crouched before her.
"Look at me."
She did.
"I know you're afraid."
"I don't know what's real anymore."
"Then we'll separate the truth from the lies."
She looked into his eyes.
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because someone is hunting you."
"That's not an answer."
His expression softened.
"I know."
"Then answer."
He sighed.
"Because six months ago, when you saved my life, I thought you were simply kind."
"And now?"
"Now I think you're the most dangerous person I've ever met."
She almost smiled.
"That's romantic."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
He took her hand.
This time she let him.
"There is something about you, Emily."
"What?"
"People are willing to kill to keep you from remembering."
A knock interrupted them.
Mercer entered.
"Gabriel."
"What?"
"The man we captured woke up."
"Take me to him."
Mercer hesitated.
"He asked for Emily."
Her face went pale.
"Why?"
Mercer looked at her.
"He says he was told to kill you."
"By whom?"
"The woman who employed him."
"Who?"
May you like
Mercer answered:
"Evelyn."
