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Chapter 10

Rachel slowly walked to her car oblivious to everything around her.  She unlocked the driver-side door and climbed in, her thoughts a chaotic mess.  She sat there blindly; stunned as all the information that Detective Stanford had told her regarding Gabriel began to process itself through her brain.

Over and over, the scene played out in her head…

“Do you know what this file is, Mrs. Stone?” he asked indicating the thick file that lay open on the table.  She shook her head, her eyes following the movement of his hands as he shifted through some papers.  “This file is on The Hawk.  Everything that we can link to him – information that we have collected over the past 15 years – is in this file.”

Her eyes widened in shock.  It was a very thick file.  A very thick file.  “Do you know how many hits we can connect to him, Mrs. Stone?”

“No,” she whispered as a sick feeling suddenly came over her.

“Fifty-three,” he answered, his voice suddenly cold and unfeeling.  “And that is only what we can verify.  There is no telling how many others we don’t know about.”

Tears flooded her eyes as her hand flew to her mouth.

Another scene rose up in her mind.  The night they had first made love, it wasn’t all that long ago, just a few days.  She had awoken from a bad dream – a strange dream – to find Gabriel with a gun.  Gone was the warm, sexy man who had done incredible things to her body the night before.  He was replaced by a cold, unfeeling monster who had been prepared to end her life.

“Do you know how much you are worth to your husband dead?”

“The bastard hired me to make him richer and to make you very dead.”

“You’re… you're a hitman?”

“Yes.”

Over and over, the words began to tumble around in her head.

“Do you know how many hits we can connect to him, Mrs. Stone?”

“Do you know how much you are worth to your husband dead?”

“You’re a hitman?”

“Fifty-three, and that is only what we can verify.  There is no telling how many others we don’t know about.”

“You’re… you're a hitman?”

“Yes.”

“Fifty-three.”

“You’re… you're a hitman?”

“And that is only what we can verify.  There is no telling how many others we don’t know about.”

“Do you know how much you are worth to your husband dead?”

“Stop it,” she suddenly cried out, her fists pressing against her eyes.  “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

The voices in her head remained silent and a sob escaped her throat.  Leaning forward, Rachel folded her arms over the steering wheel and buried her face.  Hard, body-racking sobs shook her small frame as the realization hit.  She was in love with a cold-blooded murderer.  Her heart cried out in denial, but she couldn’t bury the knowledge anymore.

What was she going to do?

Taking a deep breath, Rachel lifted her head and wiped at the tears staining her cheeks.  She needed some time alone to think.  Glancing at her watch, she noted it was nearly 3 in the afternoon.  If she didn’t check in with Gabriel soon, he would begin to worry, but she just couldn’t face him right now.  If she called him, he would know she was upset.

Sliding the key into the ignition, she started up the vehicle she had rented earlier that morning and slowly backed out of the parking space.  She would go to Buck and Kim’s for a little bit and think.  Not even Gabriel knew about her arrangement with Buck and Kim.  She could hide out there for a while and sort out her chaotic thoughts and make some decisions.

~*~

It was a little after four o’clock when Gabriel entered his small apartment.  He’d spent the day looking for Martin Stone and had finally located him across town in a cheap little motel.  He’d driven by there several times to stake out the place, learning it’s ins and outs and looking for any weaknesses.  He'd promised Rachel that he would let the police handle it, and for the moment, he was content to do so.  But Gabriel was a man who had survived by covering all his bases.  For always having a back-up plan, because inevitably, something would go wrong.  Life was not like the movies where everything just fell into place.  That was a rarity in Gabriel’s world.  He realized early in life to never expect things to play out as intended, but learned quickly to roll with it and to never ever panic.

So, he would keep an eye on Stone for now and allow Rachel to do things her way, but at the first sign of failure on the police's part or at the first threat to Rachel, Martin Stone was a dead man.  He would snuff out the man’s life without hesitation.

It took Gabriel all of two seconds to realize that Rachel was not there.  He frowned as he slowly removed his gun from the small of his back and then quickly and quietly moved through the apartment, checking to make certain that she had not just lain down in the bedroom.  Once he was certain she was not there and that danger was not imminent, he returned his gun to its hiding place at the small of his back and glanced at his watch – she should've been back long ago – where was she?

Minutes later, he placed the phone back into its cradle.  She hadn’t answered her cell phone and now he was worried.  Were the police still questioning her?  Had she given herself away and they figured out she knew who he was?

Or worse still… had Stone gotten to her?  Stone could have easily hired a thug to grab her. 

A long string of Italian curses left his mouth as another thought occurred to him.  It was more than likely she was hiding from him.  More than likely, the police gave her an earful of who The Hawk was and what he had done in his fifteen years as a hired killer.  Would she turn him in?  He doubted it, but he wouldn’t put it past her to avoid him.  To run and hide while she tried to sort out what she had learned.

He couldn’t let that happen.  He couldn’t let her erect a wall between them.  Not that he blamed her, but he would not loose his one shot at happiness.  He was being selfish but he didn’t care.  Rachel had become his life – his world – and he would do whatever it took to keep her.

So… where would she go?

Gabriel paced the length of the small living room as he went over in his mind how Rachel would think.  Who would she trust?  He’d learned much about her during the few weeks he’d been following her.  She knew many people, but had very few close friends and even fewer people she would trust enough to run too.

He stopped in his tracks when it hit him.  Buck and Kim Raines.  Several times he had followed her to a house where she had picked up the newspaper, the mail and taken it inside.  She'd stay roughly a half-hour or so then leave.  He had made a few phone calls, discovered the house belonged to a couple named Raines and that they were currently out of the country on vacation.  Rachel was obviously house sitting for them.

And that is where she would go, he thought silently to himself.  It’s private, she doesn’t know I know about it and she can be alone to think.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered as he headed for the door and out to his truck.  “But I can’t let you go.”

~*~

To say that Buck and Kim Raines were wealthy was an understatement.  Buck was the CEO of a multi-million dollar pharmaceutical company.  He had offices in Norwich, but the main offices were in New York City.  Buck and Kim loved to travel and so anytime they had the chance, they were out of the country.  The house where they lived was a mansion, a huge colonial style home that was surrounded by a tall wall and guarded by a security gate.

Rachel loved them dearly.  Kim was her best friend – they’d grown up together, went to college together, both married wealthy, highly successful men.  The only difference was that Buck worshiped the ground Kim walked on, while Martin wanted Rachel dead.

Yes, Martin wanted her dead, which brought her thoughts back to Gabriel.

Gabriel Monteleone.

Hitman, hired assassin.  Widely known and feared as The Hawk.  Responsible for fifty-three deaths over a fifteen-year period and quite possibly many more.

One part of her recoiled at the thought.  He was a murderer – a cold-blooded killer – and yet, another part of her rejected the very idea.  Gabriel may be many things – and possibly with the type of job he did, he had to be cold-blooded - but she refused to believe he was heartless.  He was not uncaring or unfeeling.  She had seen a different side of him.

Rachel rubbed her arms, suddenly cold.  She needed something to warm her, perhaps some hot tea would help, it would certainly settle her nerves.  She nearly jumped when she heard her cell phone ring.  Instinctively, she already knew who it was, but she still wasn't ready to talk to him.

Picking up the phone from inside her purse, she looked at the number displayed courtesy of Caller ID.  It was the phone at Gabriel’s apartment.  Her hands trembled as she forced herself to place the phone back into her purse and walk away.

Her mind numb, her hands shaking, Rachel put some water in the kettle and placed it on the stove.  She turned towards the pantry and quickly located Kim’s stash of tea bags.  It was a variety pack and after a moment's debate, she selected the chamomile.

Retrieving a mug from the cupboard, she slowly unwrapped the tea bag from its packaging and placed it in the mug.  Doing something mundane and ordinary seemed to help settle her nerves even more and she took a deep shaky breath.

She would get through this.  She was strong and intelligent.  She could deal with Martin and with Gabriel.  The tea kettle began to whistle and Rachel turned off the gas flame and picked up the kettle, tilting it so that the boiling hot water flowed into the mug.

Placing the kettle back on the stove, she bobbed the tea bag in the hot water, allowing the herbs to mix with the water.  Picking up the mug, she raised it to her lips and blew lightly before taking a tiny sip.

Immediate warmth flowed down her throat and through her body causing her eyes to close from the sensation.  Just that one tiny sip had an affect and she began to relax.  Deciding that it needed just a touch of creamer, Rachel turned to retrieve it from the refrigerator.

A small shriek escaped her throat, the mug slipping from her lifeless fingers at the sight of Gabriel standing a few feet away.  The mug hit the floor and shattered, hot tea spraying across her feet and legs.

“Gabriel…” it came out as a bare whisper, one hand fluttering up to her throat.

“Do not move,” he responded calmly.  Rachel had removed her shoes once in the house and she now stood there in the kitchen with only simple nylons protecting her feet.

Gabriel moved forward until he reached her side.  Without a word, he squatted down and began picking up the broken pieces of the shattered porcelain.

He was upset.  She could tell by the stiff way he held himself and the dark look in his eyes.  He had known, somehow, he had known she had run from him again.

“How did you find me?” she asked quietly, knowing it was pointless to make excuses.

He didn’t answer; he simply finished picking up the larger pieces of the mug and throwing them in the trash.  Then he surprised her by swinging her up in his arms and carrying her to the living room where he gently sat her on the couch with a firm, “Stay there,” and then returned to the kitchen.

She could hear him moving around cleaning up the rest of the mess.  Guilt consumed her and she started to rise up and go help him, but then thought better of it.  He was already upset with her for running away from him.  He hadn’t said anything yet, but then again, he didn’t need to.  Gabriel had one of the most expressive faces and when his guard wasn’t up, she could nearly read him like a book.

The whistle of the tea kettle startled her out of her thoughts and tears suddenly burned her eyes as she realized that he was making her another cup of tea.  How could a cold-blooded killer be so thoughtful?  By the look on his face, he certainly knew that she had discovered something that had scared her while at the police station.  It was also apparent to her that he decided it was unwise to let her have this time away from him.

Gabriel entered the living room, carefully carrying the hot mug of tea.  He handed it to her then sat down on the couch next to her, careful to leave some space between them so as not to crowd or intimidate her. 

“Thank you,” she said when he was settled.

He watched her sip her tea nervously for a long moment.  Finally, he answered the question she had asked him earlier in the kitchen.  “I followed you here a couple of times while I was trying to study your routine.  When you weren't at the apartment when I got back, I began to worry that something had gone wrong with the police.  I tried calling your cell phone and got no answer.”  He watched her squirm a moment before continuing.  “After thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that what probably happened is that they revealed some things about me that scared you and you ran.”

He saw her cheeks flush and knew he’d guessed right.  “I remembered this place – you coming here several times – and figured if you were going to hide out, it would probably be here.  It’s safe, secure and you didn’t think I or Stone would know about it.”

His voice sounded flat, without emotion and she knew he was distancing himself from her.  She drew in a deep breath, raised her chin and looked him square in the eye.  “You're right.  Detective Stanford did reveal some things about you that scared me.  The fact that you are responsible for the deaths of at least fifty-three men, possibly more was not something I expected to hear.”

She took another sip of hot tea to sooth her suddenly dry throat.  “But I swear to you, Gabriel,” her eyes pleading with him to understand, “I was not running away.  I just needed some time to process all this.  I was scared and confused and I knew I couldn’t face you right then knowing what I knew, so I came here.”

She was starting to babble, but for the life of her she couldn’t stop.  “I would've come back.  I can’t promise that I would've stayed, but I would've come back to at least tell you and I wouldn’t have said anything to the police.”

Gabriel leaned forward and took the cup of tea from her hand before she spilled it all over herself and placed it on the coffee table.  He took her hands in his and raised them to his lips.  “You're frightened of me now.  I can see it in your eyes.”  He raised one hand and brushed the tips of his fingers across her temple then followed a path down over her cheek.  “Do you not know by now, cara mia that I would never hurt you?  Even if you had turned me in to the police, I would never harm you.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears, spilling over onto her cheeks.  A small sob escaped her throat as she leaned into his touch.  “I'm so afraid, Gabriel.  My heart's at war with who you were and who you are now – the man I love.  But what frightens me most is that you are still capable of being the man you were.”

Gabriel nodded, his hand dropping away from her face.  “You are right,” he answered simply, honestly.  “I am very capable of killing again.  I cannot just turn off fifteen years of conditioning, but the difference now, piccola is if I am forced to kill again, it will be in self defense, or in defense of the ones I love.”

“So, in other words, you would not hesitate to kill Martin to protect me or Abigail.”

His dark eyes met hers, hiding nothing.

“Not for a microsecond,” he answered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Hitman – Chapter 11