THE UNLIKELY BODYGUARD Page 14

  Gabe hid a smile, then focused on the terrain. The canyon was rough and hilly, but he knew the horses would head to water. He had already scanned the area with binoculars and now they had to climb the ridge above the canyon.

  Calli followed, bouncing along, and it was a good two hours of vicious riding before she realized that rising up with the jolt of the horse would ease the pain in her rear. She was praying feverishly that they would find the horses, soon, when Gabe called to her, rather loudly.

  "You okay?"

  "Sure, sure," she said absently. "Praying."

  He eased back till he was beside her, yet his gaze raked the land. "Always the good girl, huh?"

  She scoffed. "I haven't been under the supervision of nuns since I was seventeen. A lot has happened."

  "Such as?"

  "Beyond this morning?"

  He chuckled.

  "You don't want to hear it."

  "Wouldn't ask, Cal."

  She eyed him. His expression revealed nothing, but she could read the curiosity in his gaze. It was as if he didn't want to admit he wanted to know. But if she told him, would he simply compare her to him and find himself lacking?

  "When I was about two my mother set me on the steps of the orphanage with a paper sack of clothes, a note pinned to my jacket and told me to stay put." She tore her gaze from his and stared at the reins in her hands. "And I did, all night, in the cold until the sisters opened the gates."

  "You didn't cry out? Call to someone?"

  Her gaze flew to his. "Why? The only one I wanted was my mother and she drove away with her stereo blaring."

  Gabe's heart clenched in his chest as he imagined the abandoned little girl. The woman beside him was so far removed from the picture she painted.

  "I was fostered off several times and always sent back."

  His brow lifted a fraction.

  "Not many people want a rebellious two-year-old, let alone a ten-year-old or twelve or … well, you get the picture."

  "You stayed there."

  "I had nowhere else to go, except to the streets, and I wasn't brave enough for that." She pulled a ball cap from her back pocket, unfolding it. "I always wondered what kind of person would invite a child into their home and then when they got a little troublesome, send them back like an underdone steak."

  He could hear the pain in her voice, even though she tried to hide it. It was something he excelled at. "Some just don't care enough."

  She nodded, agreeing, and even though the sisters welcomed her back, insisting they missed her, Calli could never escape the feeling that there had been something wrong with her that her own mother and those prospective parents all saw. Sometimes, that awful feeling surfaced, but Calli faced long ago that there was no use dwelling on it. She liked herself and that was all that mattered.

  "It's a fault they have to live with, not me. I forgave them anyway," she said, and as she shoved her hair back and put on the cap, Gabe stared at her, hard, as if he couldn't believe her.

  Then Gabe read the writing on her cap and busted out with laughter.

  "What?" she said annoyed as she adjusted the cap. Mercy, her behind hurt.

  He pointed to the cap, toning his laugh down to a snicker. "'Betty Crocker Bake-Off,' Cal? Figures."

  She leaned over and gave him a shove. "Don't knock it, Gabriel. The cash I won put me through my first year at the Culinary Institute."

  That sobered him. Cooking was more lucrative than he thought and he didn't want to know how much money this woman made making everyone's taste buds dance.

  "So," she said, folding her arms, her look patient. "What about you?"

  "I'm hungry."

  Her lips pulled into a tight line and she slung the sack at him. He caught it, rummaging. A minute later, he bit into a sandwich and when she pestered him again, he said it wasn't polite to talk with his mouth full and kept eating. Avoidance, she decided, was Gabriel Griffin's finest talent. And it was really starting to tick her off.

  Fine. She knew when to catch him.

  She took a sandwich when he offered it and ate, her hips rolling with the gate of the horse and Gabe let his gaze drop to her thighs spread wide over the mount. He wanted to be between them. Damn, couldn't he look at her without thinking about making love to her?

  Making love, the words whispered through his brain. He could honestly say he'd never done that with a woman. Sex, yes. But love? He wasn't capable of loving someone, so the matter was insignificant. He cast another look at her and she reached across to brush crumbs from his shirt. Her every gesture was giving and caring and he soaked it up like a sponge, sitting still when she rubbed her thumb over the corner of his mouth to remove a smudge of mustard. God, he was going to miss her when she was gone.

  A heaviness swelled in his chest, bruising against his heart, and Gabe had to look away and remember to breathe. His fingers flexed on the reins. Damn.

  He handed her the sack, then kicked the horse into a brisk cantor and headed up the ridge, glancing back to see if she was still there. She was, bouncing on the saddle like one of those balls suspended by a rubber band from a paddle. He reined in, waiting for her to catch up, and smothered a grin. She was cursing and gripping the pommel for dear life.

  His ears pricked to sound and Gabe twisted in the saddle, leather creaking. His gaze sharpened on the terrain, then he angled the horse farther up the rise. A stream gurgled back down through the canyon walls and his pulse picked up speed as he crested the top. He sighed with relief. Mother and colt were side by side, drinking. He loosened a pair of ropes as he slipped from the saddle, then motioned to Calli to stay back. He eased closer.

  He swung the rope over his head, quick, soundless.

  Calli was stunned as he crept carefully closer, then snapped his wrist and sent the rope around the mare's neck. She inhaled as the colt bolted, racing erratically, so pitifully confused, but Gabe ran and caught her gently around the throat with the second rope. Amazing. He checked their legs, running his broad hands over their stockings, and his shoulders fell with relief. She wished he would care about her that much. Heck, she wished he would take her in his arms and make wild love to her right here in the dirt. But he wouldn't. She didn't know how she knew that for certain, but she did. He gives and never takes, she thought. And if she'd press the issue he'd claim himself too harsh, too jaded, for someone like her. She hated being a good girl and wished she had the nerve to be really bad and tempt him into her bed.

  Calli swung from the saddle and promptly landed in the dirt. She moaned, tears bursting in her eyes. She quickly rethought that making-love-in-the-dirt thing and rubbed her abused behind.

  Gabe looked up and forced back a smile. Drawing the horse from the stream, he tied the leads to his saddle and came around to Calli. His hands on his hips, he gazed down at the woman in the dirt.

  "Never ridden, have you?"

  "How could you tell?" she snapped. She hadn't looked at him and his forehead wrinkled as he bent to help her up. "I'm fine!" She batted away his hand and struggled to her feet. Her legs were the consistency of pudding with lumps and she grit her teeth as she straightened to her full, all-imposing five foot four.

  "Why didn't you say something? I wouldn't have ridden so hard or so long without a break."

  She cast him a glance from beneath the brim of her cap. "Didn't want you to think I was a wimp."

  "I never thought that." His lips quirked with a rascally grin that said otherwise.

  "Right. I know what you think. Betty Crocker, Goody Two-shoes, a novitiate to the convent San Tanco, take your pick!"

  Calli didn't know what was wrong with her that a hot bath wouldn't fix and she walked carefully to the water. She didn't sit, that would hurt too much, but she was, however, tempted to strip and go for a swim. She heard him come up behind her.

  "We have to go back before it gets too dark."

  He didn't lay a hand on her, not that she wouldn't let him. He excited her, just the thought of him so near, the sound of
his breathing. His scent. Calli wanted things she couldn't have from him. For him to take her in his arms, tell her he loved her and surrender to this insatiable fire between them. But that wasn't going to happen. Just like everything else, no matter how long she stayed here with him, how many times they were intimate, he wasn't going to open up to her because he thought she was too tenderhearted to hear the gory details. She didn't need to hear them. It was just that those details were keeping him from her when she wanted him close. Face facts, she thought. Gabriel Griffin wasn't the tie-down-and-love-forever kind of man and she had known that going in. It didn't make her feel any better about wishing for more, though.

  Calli looked at the water, aching to take off her clothes and tease him until he couldn't do anything but make love to her. Yet in her present mood, that would be for all the wrong reasons. She wanted something from him and not just his hand up her skirt.

  She turned away and climbed back into the saddle, gritting back a moan.

  He gazed up at her. She looked ready to bolt or throw something at him. "What's going on?"

  "You tell me, Gabriel. I could lay out my past in a neat little block for you, but other than a little risky business in a restaurant, what have you really offered that I didn't have to pull from you like teeth?"

  Defensive anger lit his features, making him look volatile. "What the hell brought this on?"

  "My sore pride, I suppose." She stared out over the scenery. He recognized the look in her eyes. Pain, distance.

  Couldn't she just take it like it was, he thought. "What do you want from me?"

  "Nothing, except some honesty, for God's sake!"

  That bit into him like the slice of a blade. He wasn't being honest. He was flat-out lying to her. And it angered him that he'd let this incurable need for her in his life, even for just a little while, drag her heart through the mud. "What would satisfy you, Calli? Huh?" he said like a taunt, anger building. "How about that I was so unwanted my parents dumped me in a trash can at Yankee Stadium!"

  Calli couldn't look more stunned.

  "Happy?" he snarled, then strode back to the stream, cupping his hands and taking a drink.

  Dismounting, she moved beside him, crouching. It was an open door and she nudged it wider. "Go on, Gabriel."

  He ran his wet hands through his hair. God, he didn't want to do this. "The janitor found me, took me home, raised me till I was about five or six." His brows drew down with the memory, his gaze on the brook. "I came home from my first day of school and found him dead."

  Calli inhaled, thinking of a small boy finding a dead body and losing his innocence in one brutal blow. "My Lord, Gabe." Her eyes burned. "How?"

  He chucked a rock into the stream. "Shot." He slid her a glance and noticed her glossy eyes. "Cleaning the stadium wasn't his only profession."

  Her eyes widened. "Drugs?"

  "Took me a while to figure that one out, but, yeah."

  "Didn't the police take you to welfare?"

  His next words came on a short, caustic laugh. "Didn't even know I existed. I hid out."

  "Why did you do that?"

  He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hell, I don't know! Scared I guess."

  "Then what?"

  He straightened and so did she. "Then nothing, Cal. I was alone."

  "You mean you were on the streets at six?" she whispered.

  "Wasn't that hard," he rasped bitterly. "Street folk take care of their own."

  He stared off to the side and she stepped closer, her body brushing his as she forced him to look at her. A muscle ticked in his jaw. His pale gaze blistered over her face.

  He waited for her pity and it didn't come.

  "And you're ashamed of this?" Her voice rose in pitch. "My Lord—" she brushed his dark hair from his forehead "—you're lucky to be alive."

  "Yeah, real lucky." Hostile, wounded.

  She blinked, dropping her hands. Then she drew back her fist and socked him in the arm.

  "Ow," he said, deadpan.

  "You are so damn … blind."

  That irritating eyebrow rose.

  "You can't even see what's in front of you." She poked his chest, shoving him back with every word. "A home, land, food, a place to work. A place to belong." She was in his face, her body pushing against his, her eyes glinting like blue fire and all Gabe could think was, Magnificent. "You, Mr. Griffin—" she fisted his shirtfront "—need a lesson in simple gratitude." She clipped the back of his knee with her heel and he went down with a grunt. She loomed over him, her heel pressing into his solar plexus as she ticked off on her fingers all he should remember.

  "Never take anything or anyone for granted, Gabriel. Be thankful for what you have, because it could easily vanish. Forgive the world and live your life in the here and now, not the then." She leaned down into his stunned face and even as he gasped for the breath he couldn't get, she patted his cheek. "And believe a woman when she says she can take care of herself."

  She removed her foot, stepping back, and he coughed once, then rose to tower over her. She met his blistering gaze, daring him to unleash his temper on her.

  When she looked to explode all over him, he put up his hands in surrender. "I am sufficiently grateful to breathe again, Cal, honest. Trust me."

  "I do." He smiled, tender and light, and she tipped her head to the side, unsure. "Focus on the things you can change, Gabe, and let go of the things you can't."

  He wasn't going to tell her that was next to impossible since he was lying, it was something he could change, if he wanted to break a client confidentiality. And he had so little honor left, he couldn't. "That your personal philosophy?"

  She shook her head. "Sister Mary Margaret's, after I burned her habit."

  He chuckled, then took a step away. But she grabbed his arm and after a moment, he looked at her.

  Her voice was infinitely compassionate and low as she said, "They were worthless for abandoning you, Gabriel. You're innocent, like I was. Forgive them, thirty years is a long time to hate someone. Especially when they don't know it."

  Suddenly, Gabe gathered her into his arms and she laid her head on his chest. "How did you get so wise?" he whispered, shaping her back with his broad hands.

  She moved her shoulders. "Born a woman, I guess."

  A ghost of a smile toyed at his lips as he pressed them to the top of her head. He gazed out over the horizon. A dark, greedy hunger ignited and burned in his chest.

  Her words played over and over in his mind in a confusing circle, yet one thought came back to him, pounding his bruised heart and making him ache for Calli in a way he'd never thought possible.

  Will she forgive me so easily?

  Gabe closed his eyes and for the first time in years, allowed himself to hope for the impossible.

  * * *

  Ten

  « ^ »

  Calli eyed him as they walked down the well-lit street past shops. He knew who'd let the horses loose and he was here to find them. Why she was along, she didn't know, but as soon as they'd locked up the horses and changed clothes, he'd called Bull from her car phone to come safeguard the ranch. Then he'd herded her into the truck, driving without talking. Three times tonight, he'd left her standing off to the side while he spoke to some less-than-reputable-looking people, then came back to her and continued walking.

  She knew he wouldn't tell her whom he suspected. Or why.

  Suddenly he tensed and she followed the direction of his gaze. She didn't see anyone.

  "Go inside." He nodded to the drugstore.

  "Gabe?" She looked up at him, worried.

  He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and murmured, "I'll be back. Trust me." He stuffed the truck keys into her hand, then left her, an uneasy feeling brushing up her spine. She watched him vanish around the side of a building, then she obeyed and stepped into the drugstore.

  Gabriel pressed his back against the wall, knee bent, foot braced on the brick. His eyes narrowed dangerously and a passerby hastened his p
ace, crossing the street to avoid him. Gabe scarcely noticed, his gaze on the man conversing with a couple of well-known hoods outside a restaurant just a few feet away. Though they looked like anyone else, a little touristy even, the gray limo was hard to miss. If he wanted discretion, Gabe thought cynically, he should have hired him. He waited until the precise moment that Murdock noticed him. Murdock's eyes widened. He shoved a flunky back and scrambled to get into his limo. Gabe pushed away from the wall and raced toward him.

  He didn't say a word as he reached for him, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him nearly off his feet to meet his face. His pals, likely fresh out on parole, split like scattering mice. Gabriel grinned, a slow baring of white teeth.

  Murdock swallowed.

  "Come near my place and you're a dead man."

  Murdock rustled a little courage and snickered, yanking his arm free. "You have no idea what you've got, do you?"

  Gabe arched a single brow.

  "Excalibur is the best of the best. One creation is a gold mine."

  Though Murdock's eyes brightened with excitement, Gabe remained silent, his features impassive.

  "Don't look so pious. I know about you, Angel," Murdock said with a disgusted snicker. "Your past record proves you're not an all-American do-gooder. That private investigator license is just a handy inside track when the right job comes along, huh?"

  Gabe's fists clenched. He knew Murdock was leading up to something. "Spill it."

  "She's in your house, right? Get her winter line for me, and I'll make it worth your time." Gabe's gaze sharpened. "From the looks of your ranch, you could use the cash. And she's hot-looking. Soften her up." Murdock grinned, a slimy twist of his lips, then unwisely gave Gabe a shove. "Just screw her a few times, if you haven't already."

  "You're a pig, Murdock."

  Murdock shrugged, unaffected. "A rich one. You could be, too."

  "Forget it."

  The chauffeur came out of the restaurant, then dashed toward them and Gabe instantly sensed Murdock's sudden gust of bravery. Murdock swung. Gabe blocked it, then did something he'd swore he wouldn't. He drove his fist into Murdock's face, bone shifting under the force. The man's eyes rolled, blood seeped from his nose. His back hit the car. Gabe shook his hand, then faced the chauffeur. The man froze, throwing his hands up as Murdock grappled for balance and failed, sliding down the side of the limo to the ground.