Cross the Line: A Gabriella Cross Paranormal Romance Book 2 (2 page)

Later that night, long after Gabby had opened her first bottle of wine and was preparing dinner, a knock came at her door.

She took a pistol from the small of her back and hurried to the living room window where she could spy the doorstep. Standing upon it was a solidly built man about five feet ten, with a head of short-cropped dark hair and a hard chin.

Again he knocked.

Gabby answered the door, giving him a quick once-over. She meant to scan the street, but just then he took off his glasses and she was trapped by his fierce blue eyes. They reminded her of Victor’s.

“Miss Cross?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Detective Frank Riggs. Chicago PD,” he said, flashing a well-worn badge. “May I come in?”

“What is this about?”

“Your sister’s case landed on my desk a few days ago. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Gabby reminded herself that the rest of the world had no idea that Gabby had already avenged her sister’s death, and she acted accordingly.

“Please, please come in. I was about to have dinner.”

That gave him pause. “I can come back,” he said with a raised hand.

“No, please! Come in,” said Gabby, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “Are you hungry? I was eating alone anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said, though he walked through the threshold all the same.

His scent flirted by her nose and she was hit by a brief impulse to smother her face in the crook of his neck.

“Oh, it’s no bother. I’ve been pestering the police long enough about my sister’s case. I’m glad to see they’re doing something about it.”

Gabby closed the door and invited him to follow. At the kitchen island she pulled out a chair for him. Riggs took off his suit jacket and laid it over the chair, giving Gabby a hint of what was underneath. Well-defined shoulders filled out a baby-blue shirt, one that complemented his eyes.

“Mmm,” he said and smelled the air. “Spaghetti?”

“Spaghetti and garlic bread,” said Gabby, finding it all too easy to hold his gaze. “Can I get you a drink?”

She moved to the cabinet and produced a wineglass, if for no other reason than to calm her nerves. She found herself quite comfortable around him, which in turn made her uncomfortable at the same time. Gabby thought that she must be crazy.

“No, no,” said Riggs. “I don’t drink on the clock. And on those rare occasions, I prefer bourbon.”

“I’ve got a Glenfarclas forty-year in the cellar,” said Gabby.

Riggs’s eyes widened, and he lost his steely demeanor for but a moment. “Forty-year?” he said, unbelieving. “I daresay that I do not justify the popping of such a top.”

“Of course you do. You are here in an attempt to bring justice to my sister’s killer. I insist.”

“Well then, if you insist,” he said with a grin that stole her heart.

Gabby went down to the cellar and found the old whiskey. She took a moment to steady herself there among the rows of wine and liquor bottles. There had to be a thousand in all. She had often marveled at the collection, wondering how long it would take someone to drink it all.

Riggs was as vanilla as they came. Gabby had figured that out upon shaking his hand. Still, he had cast a spell over her, one that she was surprised to feel.

Returning with the bottle, she found Riggs in the living room, looking at the many pictures on the wall. Some were of Maggy and Gabby at various ages, others included their father, and there was also one of the whole family, taken when Gabby was just a baby.

Noticing her, Riggs pointed to one of the pictures. He looked to have been laughing. “Is this you?”

Gabby got closer—close enough to catch another hint of his scent. “Oh that one,” she said, shaking her head with a laugh. The picture was one of her favorites. In it, she was two years old and Maggy was twenty. They were both dressed up for Halloween, Maggy as a sexy version of Little Bo Peep, and Gabby as one of her sheep. Maggy had even decked out a stroller with frilly lace and blue fabric, matching her scandalous costume. “Yeah, that’s me alright.”

“You both have your mother’s eyes,” said Riggs, still studying the pictures.

“Maggy more so I think,” said Gabby. “She was also blessed with my mother’s body.”

Riggs glanced over at her. The closeness was delicious. “And you weren’t?” he said with that edible grin.

Gabby offered him a coy smile and walked away to the island, knowing that he was still standing there, eyes glued to her ass.

“Would you like to do the honors?” she asked from the island.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He walked to the island and took a moment to read the front and back of the bottle as Gabby retrieved two short glasses from the cabinet and watched him study the bottle. There was a sternness to his scrutiny, and a keen awareness as well.

“Forty years old,” he said, shaking his head in admiration. “I don’t think I’ve ever drank something older than myself.”

Gabby had been wondering about his age. His admission of the bottle being older put him under forty, but Gabby guessed it was only by a few years. She had a thing for older men lately, and in the case of the late Victor, MUCH older men. Younger guys were not yet the men they would become, and Gabby had learned that sometimes they got worse with age, which was the case of her soon-to-be ex-husband, Derek.

“Maggy was a collector,” said Gabby. “There are about a thousand bottles in the cellar.”

Riggs perked at this. “I’d like to see that collection some time.”

Shit!
The last thing she wanted was for him to go snooping around down there, so close to the white room.

“Half the names I can’t even pronounce,” said Gabby with a nervous laugh. She nearly twirled a ringlet with her finger, but reminded herself not to act like a silly twit.

Riggs poured them each a small glass and then raised his own, smelling it. His eyes closed and a smile crept across his face, as though he were standing in the summer sunshine after a long dark winter.

Gabby watched him, unable to take her eyes off of him. The sensuality with which he went about simply drinking a glass of whiskey made her wonder how he treated a woman’s body.

He opened his eyes and raised his glass. “What should we cheer to?”

“Hmm,” said Gabby, snapping herself out of it. “Oh, um…to my sister, Maggy.”

“To Maggy,” said Riggs and clinked his glass to hers.

Gabby tossed back the whiskey as though she were out partying with her friends. Riggs, however, savored the drink slowly. She wasn’t a big fan of whiskey, but she had to admit it was about as smooth and syrupy as they came.

“Wow,” said Riggs as he put down the empty glass. “That was hands down the best I’ve ever had.”

“If you like it you can have it. I’m more of a wine person,” said Gabby.

His eyes widened with excitement, but then he shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

“Please, it’ll remain down in the cellar for another forty years if you don’t take it.”

“That bottle’s got to be worth hundreds, if not thousands of dollars. I cannot accept such a gift from someone I just met, and definitely not while on the job.”

“Have it your way. I’ll save it for your next visit,” said Gabby, surprised at her own words. “I mean, you know, because you’re investigating my sister’s murder.”

The timer on the stove dinged and Gabby jumped. They both laughed nervously. “That would be the garlic bread,” she said, getting up to take it out of the oven.

Riggs ate twice as much as Gabby, though he paused to scribble this or that tidbit of information down in his little black book. He seemed to be very interested in Michael Steele, and where Gabby had been for the six months after Maggy’s death. Gabby gave him the rehearsed story—that she had been so distraught after the murder that she went on a long road trip across the country, something that she and Maggy had always talked about doing but never got around to.

“Why are you on the case now, after so long?”

“Some new evidence has come to light,” said Riggs. “It’s kind of embarrassing. It seems that DNA evidence was missed the first time around.”

“You have a new lead?”

“Yes, Michael Steele is once again a suspect.”

“Michael?”

“You say his name as if you know him,” said Riggs, eyeing her.

“I…well…I’ve met him.”

“Yes,” said Riggs, flipping through his book. “You spoke to him at a restaurant called Empyrean. A waiter there says that he spilled an entire tray of champagne on you. What was that meeting about?”

Gabby was surprised by how thorough he had been and became a little nervous. “I wanted to speak to him. I thought that he might have something to do with Maggy’s death, considering that she was found outside his building.”

“So you went alone to speak with the man you suspected of killing your sister?”

“Yeah, I guess it was a bit impulsive.”

“It was downright dangerous.”

Gabby shrugged.

“Do you still think he had something to do with it?” Riggs asked.

“I don’t know. I did. But the police found nothing on him.”

Riggs’s phone chimed, and he apologized before checking it. “Sorry,” he said, getting up and wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Something has come up. We’ll have to finish this some other time.”

“When will I see you again?” said Gabby, getting up as well. “I mean…I can answer more questions.”

He offered her a deliciously handsome smile. “Like I said. I’ll be in touch.” He handed her a business card and showed himself to the door.

Gabby let out a pent-up breath and dialed Michael’s number as she hurried to the door to spy Riggs leaving.

He answered on the third ring. “Hello, Gabby.”

“We’ve got trouble,” she said.

“What kind of trouble?”

“Uh, five-ten, carries a badge. Goes by the name of Detective Riggs.”

“Riggs…” said Michael, as though trying to place the name.

“No chance he’s on the payroll, is there?”

“No,” said Michael. “But don’t worry about it. He’ll be taken care of.”

“What do you mean, taken care of?”

“Nothing like that,” said Michael with a laugh.

“He said there was new evidence. DNA evidence. He was very interested in you.”

“Did you check him out?”

“I didn’t feel anything. He was as vanilla as Vanilla Ice.”

“Right. Then I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“What if he comes around again? I kind of invited him to.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I was trying to keep up appearances.”

“Alright,” said Michael, and someone in the background said something. “Just a moment please,” he said to the other person. “I’ll talk to you later,” he told Gabby.

“Yeah, ok. Talk to you later.”

Gabby hung up the phone with a sigh, wishing they didn’t have such a weird relationship. There always seemed to be something unspoken between them. Michael had been such a big part of her mother’s and sister’s lives that she felt he should have more interest in her, but he always held her at a distance.

She glanced at the mess of dishes and decided against doing them. Instead she got ready for a night on the town. She and Quip were supposed to go to a new club in Chicago, and Gabby really needed a night out.

After rushing to get ready, Gabby looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. She wore a dress—a perfect little black dress—that Quip had given her. One that fit impeccably well, and accentuated not only her ample cleavage, but also her too-round-for-her-taste ass. Men and even women liked her ass, but Gabby didn’t like anything that took people’s eyes away from hers. More often than not, it was those she didn’t exactly want looking at her who did. But she had been busting her ass for months and had lost nearly thirty pounds while at the same time putting on some muscle. For once she looked good and she knew it. Might as well have some fun.

In the white room, Gabby chose a small pistol with a full clip of silver bullets, which worked on most creatures of the Otherworld. She stashed another clip in her garter belt, which she had added to her ensemble for this very purpose. Besides, she liked the way it seemed to give more length to her short legs.

She glanced at the drawer that held the vampire blood. After short consideration, she grabbed one, just in case, and stuffed it beneath the other garter belt.

Gabby left at a quarter to six, just when the sun was beginning to set. It was a week before Halloween, and her street was lined with decorations. Pumpkins carved by little hands sat on porch stairs, and the neighbors two doors down had even put out a scarecrow. Some people adorned their small yards with hideous, half-inflated Walmart monstrosities, while still others celebrated the season not at all. Many of them would spend Halloween with the porch and house lights off, acting as though no one was home while watching the local news in the living room.

Gabby thought they were pricks.

She had always loved decorating for the different seasons, and consequently, so had her sister. Maggy had a plethora of decorations in the attic. Gabby and Quip had, two weeks previously, decked out the house to rival the best in the neighborhood. He had even laid some enchantments on some of the hanging ghosts and the witch who was made to look like she’d slammed into the tree in the front yard. But the enchantments didn’t last long around Gabby. She was still trying to learn to control her nullifying power.

The cherry-red Nova waited for her in the driveway, and Gabby whistled a little tune as she got in and brought the engine to life with an obnoxious revving. She turned on the radio, happy to hear “Love Shack” by the B-52s playing. Gabby cranked it and pulled out of the driveway, eager to have a night of blackout fun with Quip in Chicago.

Gabby noticed the two SUVs following her out of town and onto the freeway—no doubt Michael’s men. Michael had had a tail on her ever since the fight with Victor in Steele Tower. He warned her that the vamps would be out gunning for her, but she hadn’t seen any trouble yet, and it had been months. The tails were getting old…fast.

“Let’s have a little fun,” said Gabby into the rearview mirror. She gunned it and swerved right suddenly, cutting off a minivan and shooting onto an off ramp at fifty miles an hour. The tires squealed as she rounded the corner, ignoring the speed limit of twenty and the sign of a truck tipping sideways. She drifted around the exit, burning her tires when she finally hit the straightaway and ripped down the road at eighty miles an hour.

Quip had been teaching her how to really drive a car like this, and Gabby had proven a fast learner.

When Gabby saw no one in the rearview, she was both exhilarated and disappointed. She had thought more highly of the weres’ abilities.

Another song she liked came on the radio, and Gabby zigged and zagged through traffic, which gained her many scowls from her fellow drivers as she passed. When she thought she had a good enough head start on the werewolf patrol, she slowed to just above the speed limit and settled in behind another car. It was Friday night, and the traffic going into the city was double that leaving. There were at least ten cars in front of her as far as she could see, and at least as many behind. Nevertheless, she put on the cruise control and danced in her seat.

Nothing was going to ruin this night for her.

Just as the song reached its apex, a car hit her in the ass end, sending her fishtailing all over the road. Gabby barely stayed on, sliding nearly sideways in the gravel beside the road and straightening out just in time to dodge a camper.

She glared at the rearview, and was horrified to see a big black Hummer lurching toward her. She braced for impact and cried out when the cars collided and she was spun around 360 degrees. Gabby hit the embankment and bottomed out, still the Nova sped on, shooting her over a hill to crash into a tree.

Her body was caught by the seatbelt, but her forehead hit the steering wheel. She came to suddenly and determined by the still-moving tree branches that she had only been knocked out for a few moments.

Instinct took over, and Gabby reached for the gun in her purse. She ignored the blood in her eyes and the piercing pain in her head and shoved the door open. The Hummer had stopped behind her, blocking her escape. She raised the gun and put three slugs in the driver side window, but just then someone landed behind her and grabbed her by the neck, slamming her head into the side of the car. Gabby whirled around and unleashed her nullifying power. Through bleary eyes she saw the vampire turn back into a human. Shocked, he looked up at her—and she put a bullet in his head. With a cry of rage, she unleashed her nullifying power in every direction. Two other vampires dropped from the sky, writhing and convulsing in agony. Gabby unloaded her gun into one of them before being hit in the shoulder by a bullet and spinning as she fell behind the car.

Her left arm was useless. Blood flowed freely from the wound. Gabby used her good arm to reload with a clip from her garter belt and lay down beside the back tire. She saw approaching feet and shot at the men’s ankles. One of the men fell to the ground in agony. Bullets riddled the car, and Gabby tried to curl up behind the wide wheel. A bullet hit her in the ankle, and she screamed in pain.

Trying to focus, she clutched the gun and listened. She was crying now. The pain was unbearable, but somehow she shoved it aside and sprang up on her good leg. She shot the first figure she saw twice in the chest and hobbled around to the other side, where a man with short-cropped hair was grimacing against the pain of his wounded leg. Through tears and streaming mascara she glared at him, trying to deduce whether or not he had a gun. Through the blur of tears, she saw him raise his hands, and she put two in his chest.

Gabby fell to the ground at the feet of the bleeding man. She knew that she didn’t have much time. The edges of her vision were creeping in, and her head swam. She noticed that her wounds no longer hurt, which startled her to action. She reached with her good arm to her other garter belt and withdrew the vial of vampire blood. Popping the cork with her teeth, she drank it down urgently and tossed it aside when she had taken it all.

A fire erupted in her gut that made her cry out. Her body convulsed and arched, and Gabby was helpless as she clawed at the ground beside the car. She thrashed and burned inside…and then it was over.

Gabby sat up and opened her eyes. She looked to her bleeding ankle, which had both an entry and exit wound. The bones were made anew, and the tendons, muscle, and skin regrew before her eyes. Her shoulder healed as well, and Gabby stood, looking at the carnage that she had wrought. Three dead vamps and two vanilla human thugs were sprawled out not twenty feet from the freeway…and no one had stopped.

Cars zipped by, the dark cabins giving nothing away about the uncaring drivers and passengers within.

Gabby surveyed the damage to her car and prayed to God that it would start. The metal front bumper was a little banged up, but it was an old car, made before everything turned plastic. She got in and gave a little silent prayer before turning the key. It chugged and groaned, sputtered and spat, and finally roared to life.

“That’s my girl,” said Gabby, patting the dash.

She hurriedly moved to the Hummer and found the keys still in the ignition. It started easily, and she moved it just enough to be able to pull her car out of the trees. She killed the engine and wiped down every spot that she had touched before getting out and inspecting the seat for her flaming red hair. She had seen enough episodes of
Forensic Files
to know that she had likely left behind all kinds of DNA evidence, but she had no time. Someone must have reported the strange happenings on the side of the freeway, and the police would be coming.

She jumped in the Nova and got back onto the freeway. The car had a slight wobble and a strange clanking noise issuing from the undercarriage, but aside from that, it drove like it always had.

Gabby checked her rearview and saw misery lights far in the distance—she had barely gotten away in time.