Cursed by Love (23 page)

For a little while on Friday night he’d
let himself hope the two of them might have a future. He let himself believe
that if she had enough faith in fate for both of them, her lucky penny might
contain enough magic for both of them.

But of course, it didn’t have any magic
at all.

By the time he’d got back to the office
that night, all hell had broken loose. Much worse than if Uncle Harold had
taken the petty cash again. This time he’d cleaned the place out… computers,
furniture, and all. He’d taken everything that wasn’t nailed down, taking their
chances of success with him.

Gabe had wasted Saturday wading through
all the loopholes the sleazebag insurance company said excluded them from
responsibility. Their main stance had been that they wouldn’t pay off until the
police report had been filed. And dammit, Granddad didn’t want Gabe going to
the police.

Gabe insisted on filing the stupid
report, even though it wouldn’t do them much good. Howard was the most likely
thief, and they would never press charges against him.

Now, it was up to Gabe to raise the
money to replace the office equipment. His credit was already stretched to the
max, and the bank wouldn’t increase his loan. And even if they could replace
their equipment, recreating their body of work would be a gigantic nightmare.

They still had a couple of laptops that
hadn’t been at the office and most stuff had been backed up, but not all of it.
Their best bet would be to locate the fence where Harold had taken the stuff.
Granddad was working on that, but Gabe didn’t hold out much hope.

He didn’t hold out much hope about
anything.

He’d been prepared to beg Molly to sell
the Sleeping Lotus this morning after they’d had breakfast with her dad, to use
their attraction for one another as leverage, or play on her sympathy if he had
to. And then right there during breakfast, she’d shown him the way.

Molly couldn’t sell the Sleeping Lotus.

It wasn’t hers to sell. It belonged to her
mother.

So simple.

And her mother seemed much more open to
the idea of selling the Sleeping Lotus than Molly did. He’d been barking up the
wrong tree all along. He’d go visit Mrs. Webber. She’d been as skeptical as he
had about the whole idea of a ‘curse’. It sure wouldn’t hurt to ask her to
consider the sale.

Except for the fact that Molly would
probably never speak to him again for going behind her back.

That would hurt them both, but he’d deal
with it later. Compared with keeping a roof over Granddad, Sierra, and Chloe’s
heads, he didn’t have much choice.

He pulled into the flower-lined Webber
driveway and put on his most confident face. He rang the bell and waited.

“Hello, Gabe, this is a surprise.” Mrs.
Webber smiled and held open the door “Molly’s not here.”

“I know,” he said, “I have a proposition
for you. Can we talk?”

Although she quirked an eyebrow at his
choice of words, she welcomed him inside. “Of course, Gabe, come into the
kitchen. I’ll get you something to drink.”

He’d prefer it if he could shake the
feeling of being the next best thing to a con man.

If he didn’t feel like his father.

The one feeling he’d hoped to avoid his
whole life.

Gabe’s disgust with himself went bone
deep. He’d gone to Molly’s mom for help and failed. She’d refused to sell the
Sleeping Lotus without Molly’s approval. He admired the hell out of Mrs.
Webber’s loyalty, but it left him right where he’d started. Except with less
hope, and, probably, without his company.

Sure, he’d been working on alternatives.
Plans that included starting over, selling his few remaining assets, downsizing
the operation from the size of a shoestring to a fishing wire.

Escaping to a tropical island
sounded  better and better.

Had he really thought Mrs. Webber would
agree to squeeze Molly out of the equation?

Probably not, but still. He’d been
disappointed when she refused. Nice lady, Ellen Webber, even though the
separation from her husband appeared to be wearing her down. He could see where
Molly got her looks and her personality. Of course, Molly’s dad was great, too.

Clearly, she’d gotten off to a good
start in life just by having those two as parents. That fact alone put her way
out of his league. If he’d been thinking about bridging the gaps that loomed
between them, he’d have a lot of ground to make up. Probably just as well the
possibility was now off the table.

Time to move onto one of his few
remaining options.

Gabe rode his Harley into the parking
garage attached to Max Williams’ high-rise condo. Max’s Porsche, Jeep, and Fat
Boy sat lined up in a gleaming row.

He pulled out his phone and called Max.
“You must be home, unless you’re out somewhere in a limo.”

“I gave the driver the day off.” Max
told him. “Come on up,”

In the lobby, the doorman waved him
through. The elevator with glass panels whisked him up the side of the
building. It gave visitors a panoramic river view of the Ohio and northern
banks of Kentucky.

When the doors slid open on the top floor,
he stepped into the infamous penthouse that had been the scene of many wild
times. Gabe did a double-take. The décor had acquired a feminine touch.

“Throw pillows?” he asked Max, kicked
back in a recliner, watching a Reds game. His shoes were off and there was a
beer close at hand.

Max shrugged. “Annabel likes ‘
em
.”

Gabe had to smile. Whatever Max’s
fiancée wanted these days, she got. Which was completely unlike the
commitment-phobic player who used to go through women faster than a Harley
zoomed through a tunnel. He could razz Max about being whipped, but he
wouldn’t. Annabel was the best thing that had ever happened to Max, and most of
their friends agreed. And considering his recent career success, that was
saying a lot. “Annabel here?”

“She’s out shopping with Carly, but she
said to tell you to stay for dinner.”

“Can’t.”

The game went to commercial and Max
shifted his gaze to Gabe. “How was the date the other night?”

Gabe shifted a throw pillow and took a
seat on the mile-long leather couch. “Weird.”

“Weird good or bad?”

Gabe mulled that question over. “Good,
then bad, then good, then ended on a really bad note when somebody broke into
her place.”

“No shit? I bet that put a damper on the
evening. What are you going to do now to win her over? Need to borrow the
Porsche again?”

“No, although the Porsche worked its
usual magic, it can’t fix the kind of problems we’ve got now. I’m still trying
to figure things out with her, but she’s resisting.”

“How come? She finds you repulsive?”

“There’s that.” Max was one of the few
people who knew how dire Gabe’s situation had become. “And then there’s the
part about no money and no prospects. And no time to get involved.”

“Speaking of which, are you sure you
want to sell your bike, man?”

He was sure he didn’t want to. But… “No
choice.”

“Dude. I could loan you some money. Tide
you over for a while.”

Gabe knew he would, too. Max was the
newest investigative reporter for a network news show and the contract came
with some big bucks. And he had always been generous with his friends. “You
want to invest in the company?”

“No, but I’d invest in you, if you
needed me to.”

Gabe scratched his head, touched and
tempted by the offer. “We’ll see. I’ll keep it in mind.

“What’s Harold up to these days? He
causing you problems?” Max took a swig from his longneck. “I heard some rumors
down in the newsroom when I dropped by yesterday.”

 “What kind of rumors?”

“They sounded kind of crazy, but I
haven’t been around much lately, so I don’t know everything that’s going on.
One of the guys said he’d heard Harold’s name connected with some police
investigation about Chinese art. Or loan sharks. Does that make any sense?”

Gabe’s heart sank. “Too much sense, damn
it. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll check into it.”

Max’s phone rang and he put it to his
ear. “
Yo
. Mitch. We’ll come down.” He set the
television remote to record the game. “Guy interested in your bike is here.
Let’s go talk to him while he looks it over.”

Gabe received words like a bullet to the
gut. “Who is it?”

“Mitch Grayson.” Max headed toward the
elevator and Gabe followed. “New to town. Great guy. Fireman. He’s been riding
with the Good Riders for a few months. But you haven’t been out with us for a
while, so you might not know him.”

Gabe wondered if his friend meant his
words to be an accusation. Probably. Max usually meant what he said. At one
time, Gabe had been one of the most active members of their motorcycle club
that raised money for local charities. But not lately. “I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I know. Life kind of blew up in your
face.” Max clapped his hand on Gabe’s shoulder in a sign of solidarity. “But if
you think selling your bike is the answer, then you forgot one of the Hog
mottos.”

Hah. There were hundreds of Hog mottos.
No telling which one Max was referring to. “Every day’s a good day for a ride?”

“A long ride is the answer to a question
you will soon forget.” The elevator doors slid open on the ground floor. “
Nothin
’ blows away the cobwebs better.”

Gabe nodded his agreement. “I still ride
to wipe everything away after a hard day. It’s just impossible to find a
Saturday to do a run with the club.”

“If you sell, you won’t be able to do
either one.”

“True.” As they entered the garage, Gabe
spotted a big, broad-shouldered guy hunkered down beside
his
V-Rod,
looking it over. He felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. “Desperate times,” he
said, reminding himself and Max that he was about out of options.

The big guy stood up as they approached.
Gabe noted he was a
really
big guy with bulging muscles. Gabe used to
work out to keep fit back when he had the time and the money to belong to a
fitness club, but he’d never bulked up like that. Max was a workout freak, but
Gabe guessed the newcomer could bench press Max with one hand tied behind his
back. Max made the introductions, and Gabe vaguely remembered meeting Mitch at
a ride last fall.

The fireman’s grasp just about brought
Gabe to his knees. “Sweet ride.”

Gabe felt the stirrings of pride.
“Thanks.”

“Why do you want to sell? She giving you
any problems?”

“She’s perfect, but my life doesn’t lend
itself to long rides right now. I ride her around town a lot, but it’s not the
same thing.”

“Letting her sit is no good.”

Gabe knew that. “Why are you looking to
buy? You need a second bike or selling the one you have?”

Mitch rocked back on his heels and
slipped his hands in his back pockets. “It’s for my brother. He’s just getting
into motorcycles. This one may be too much for him to handle, but I’ll tell him
about it and let him decide.”

“Thanks,” Gabe said with mixed emotions.
“Price is negotiable. Let me know if he wants to come look at it.”

“He lives in Philadelphia, but he’ll
arrange a trip over next weekend for a test ride if you haven’t sold it by
then.”

“Sounds good.”

“Want to come up for a beer?” Max asked
them. “Shoot some pool or watch the game?”

“I’ve got time,” Mitch said, glancing at
his watch.

“I better get going.” Gabe remembered
the days when he could hang with Max from early afternoon until the wee hours
of the morning, doing nothing but having fun, hitting the clubs, and looking
for trouble. “Something I need to check out.”

“Right,” Max said. “Keep me posted,
dude.” Gabe received a sharp slap on the back. “Remember my offer.”

“I will. Thanks, Max. For everything.”

Max and Mitch back-pedaled toward the
lobby. Max offered a parting shot. “Lighten up, Gabe.
Things’ll
get better.”

Gabe could only hope.

Grimly, with no idea of what he’d find
there, he steered the Harley toward Uncle Harold’s place.

Wet, cold, and miserable, Molly pulled
her hoodie over her head and squished down the hill to the car. A chilly
stinging rain slaked its way down her body, soaking clothes all the way to her
skin. The morning clouds had broken open with a sudden downpour midway through
the concert, sending everyone scrambling. Molly and her friends scattered in
different directions, scurrying for cover.

She’d given her umbrella to a young
couple trying to keep dry while pushing a stroller, carrying a toddler and leading
an active puppy on a leash. They needed the protection worse than she did.

Pushing strands of soggy hair out of her
face, she sat her lime green canvas tote on the hood of the car while digging
for the SUV’s keys in her jeans pockets. Although she broke a fingernail in the
search, she came up empty.

Hoping she hadn’t dropped them in the
park, she stuffed her hands in the front pouch pockets of her zippered
sweatshirt. Just as she closed her cold fingers around them, a dark figure
dressed all in black emerged out of the sheets of rain. He barged into Molly,
knocking her over, then he snatched her bag and jogged on.

“Hey!” Molly yelled, scrambling up, only
to be flattened into a puddle by an overly-friendly black Labrador. “Hey, stop!
Stop him. He’s got my bag!”

As the Lab jumped on her, its leash
tangled around her ankles, preventing Molly from taking off in pursuit. The
runner with her tote gained distance. He dodged between parked cars and around
the other people trying to leave the concert. A couple of alert pedestrians
attempted to grab the thief, but they were shoved aside. As she struggled to
her feet, Molly watched the black-clad figure and her tote disappear down the
hillside.

“Heel, Demon,” a voice ordered, bringing
the Lab under control too late to do Molly much good.

With tongue lolling, the animal obeyed
the command of a sizable older man with graying hair. The man shielded two
young teenage girls beneath a golf umbrella. Passing the handle to one of them,
he reached out to grab the dog’s leash and offered his other hand to Molly.

“Sorry Demon made your situation worse.
I’m not as fast as I used to be. I let him loose to chase down your assailant,
but his training isn’t one-hundred-percent complete yet. He still can’t tell
the good guys from the bad guys. You okay, young lady?”

Molly swiped her stinging palms down her
wet jeans and shook his outstretched hand. “Fine, thanks.” Her hands trembled,
with anger and fear. “Just shaken, I think. I can’t believe anyone would take
my bag.”

“He’s long gone, too,” the man said.
“That’s why I accompany my granddaughter and her friends to these concerts in
the park. No place is safe these days.”

“I guess not.” Molly’s shoulders
slumped, feeling more dispirited than she had before.

“If your wallet was in that bag, you’ll
need to cancel any credit or bank cards immediately, and I recommend calling
the police.” His voice rang with authority.