Eve

Sweet little girl, you choose who is to die.

CHAPTER 11

“YOU’RE PROBABLY GOING TO be very angry with me, Eve.”

John’s voice. John Gallo’s dark eyes looking down at her.

She was lying on a couch. Red drapes at the window. Where were they? A motel…?

“It may help to know that I made sure that you wouldn’t have so much as a headache.”

Not a motel.

She was jarred wide-awake.

She sat bolt upright on the couch. “What the hell!”

“It’s fine,” John said quietly. “It may not have been the diplomatic way to go about it, but you’re so surrounded by people who would have gotten in my way that I decided this was the safest way to handle it.”

She had a sudden memory of the numbing sensation as she’d handled the pen. “A knockout sedative in that pen? No, it wasn’t diplomatic. How the hell could it be?” She looked around the huge room. A study. Walk-in stone fireplace, book-lined walls, four floor-to-ceiling windows. “And where the hell am I?”

“My place in Utah. It seemed to be the safest place for a get-together?”

“Utah? You knocked me out and bundled me off to Utah? You are crazy.”

“I told you.” He smiled. “And you’re not scared. How refreshing.”

“You want someone to be afraid of you? It won’t be me. Go screw yourself.”

“I don’t particularly want it. It just happens. So I use it.” He leaned back in his chair. “Now be quiet so that I can look at you. When I was masquerading as your friendly FedEx deliveryman, I was trying hard to make sure that you wouldn’t look at me. Which meant I couldn’t really look at you.”

She glared at him. “You had plenty of time to look at me while you were bringing me here. How many hundreds of miles?”

“But you were unconscious all the way here on the plane, and there was no spirit to be seen. What I remembered most about you wasn’t on the surface. I want to see if it’s still there. Just give me a moment.”

She drew a deep breath and tried to rein in the anger. She needed a moment of recovery, too. Shock and anger had blurred everything in their wake. She had reacted as she would have done if he had been the John Gallo she had known at sixteen. He was not that boy. He was a man and one of whom she had to be wary. But she’d be damned if she would be afraid of him.

Though perhaps there was a reason why he inspired fear, she thought as she studied him. There was a chilling quietness, watchfulness, about him that she didn’t recognize as a quality in the boy she had known. His stunning good looks had survived the years, same olive skin, dark piercing eyes, slight indentation in his chin. Faint lines at the corners of his eyes told of time in the sun, a thin strand of white streaked the dark hair above his temple. His lips were the same except for a curve that was faintly reckless. Yes, he looked older, harder; the edge that she remembered had become dagger sharp. He weighed less, still muscular, but spare, whip-lean.

Her gaze shifted up to meet his eyes. “As you can see, I’m not the same person. Comparisons are impossible. We start new, John.”

“On the contrary, everything I saw in you is still there… and more.” He tilted his head. “You had wonderful potential, and I didn’t even recognize it. I was so dizzy about what was between us that I was blind to anything else.”

“Potential? Don’t be patronizing to me, John.”

He smiled. “I wouldn’t think of it. You were always able to intimidate me.”

“Bullshit. Why?”

“Because you always knew what you wanted and could stay the course. I had problems in that direction.” He stood up and went over to the desk and picked up a silver carafe. “Coffee? I thought you’d probably need a shot of caffeine after you came back to me.”

“How do I know that there’s not another knockout drop in it?”

He smiled. “Because I have no reason. I had to get you here with a minimum of trouble from outsiders. So I put a trace of the fluid on the pen. Now there are no outsiders, and I’m willing to put up with any trouble I get from you.” His smile faded. “God knows, I deserve it.” He poured coffee into two cups. “You still take it black?”

“Yes.” How had he remembered that little detail?

“I do, too, these days. A strong dose of caffeine and a glass or two of wine are the only jolts I allow myself.”

“I don’t care about your taste in coffee. Why have you brought me here, John?”

“I thought I’d made that clear.”

“Resolution? Nothing needs to be resolved between us but the question of whether you killed my daughter.”

“Perhaps not for you.” He gave her a cup. “But you’re saner than I am. I need more structure.” He sat back down. “Structure is important when you’re tottering on the brink.”

“Brink of what?”

“Fill in the blank.” He lifted the other cup to his lips. “I’ve fallen into any number of abysses in my life. Some of them were hard to climb out of.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“No, you’ve had your own falls.” He leaned back wearily in the chair. “Who would have guessed, Eve? We tried so hard to avoid being trapped, yet it happened to both of us. Terrible traps.”

“Mine wasn’t terrible,” she said curtly. “Bonnie is-was the highlight of my life and always will be.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t feel trapped when you found you were pregnant?”

“No, I felt stupid and angry with myself, but I always knew that I could find a solution. Afterward, there was no question of traps or anything else that wasn’t founded in love.” She gazed directly in his eyes. “Bonnie was all love. She bridged gaps. She made me try to understand myself and everyone around me. Do you realize what a wonderful gift that can be?”

“And you’ve never regretted having her even after all the pain you’ve experienced?”

“Regret? She lived. She lit up my world.”

He looked down into the coffee in his cup. “And then she was taken away from you.”

“Was it you, John?”

He lifted his gaze. “No.”

She was believing him, she realized incredulously. No, she mustn’t trust him. “Then you know who did it?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t tell me that.” Her voice was shaking. “You have to know something. You have to tell me.”

“I’ll think about it.” He sat up straight in the chair. “Though it would probably be better if I just sent you back to your police detective. Did you tell him about me?”

“Of course.”

He gave her a shrewd glance. “Not everything.”

“Details? No, he wouldn’t be interested.”

“I bet he would.”

“How did you know about Joe?”

“I know everything about you, Eve.” He finished his coffee. “One of Nate Queen’s principal duties was to compile and update dossiers on you. I know about your lover, your work, and your adopted daughter, Jane MacGuire.” He smiled. “She’s a very good artist. You’ll recognize one of her paintings on the wall as you go down the hall.”

She tried to hide her shock. She had naturally assumed Jane was not involved at all with John Gallo. “Why would you want to go to a gallery to buy her painting?”