Trust (5 page)

Everything he felt right now was melting into one very powerful emotion. Fear.

 

GAIA SHIFTED RESTLESSLY FROM foot to foot. Where was her uncle? Was she being stood up? Maybe this whole thing had been a practical joke. Maybe Oliver didn't want to see her after all. Maybe he'd been leading her on. It wouldn't be a huge surprise not if Oliver was anything like Gaia's father. Oliver
looked
a lot like his brother, Tom. So why shouldn't he be a son of a bitch as well? He could be halfway to Tokyo by now. Or some other exotic place. Paris. Milan. Sydney . . .

Anywhere but here.

She glanced down at her watch, shivering. Icy clouds of breath exploded from her mouth in quick puffs. He was now officially a full fifteen minutes late. She'd give him until eight-twenty, and then she'd split, go get a slice of pizza or something. She didn't think she'd like Compagno's that much, anyway. It was too small, too crowded. The intimate little tables were all practically mushed against one another. It would be impossible to have any privacy in there. In fact, all of Little Italy was a little too crowded, too claustrophobic. The streets were narrower than in other parts of the city. It was like an ant farm for humans: dozens of little passageways, crawling with life. There were too many cars, too much action, too many bright lights and shouting voices — even in the dead of winter.

Gaia rubbed her hands together. Screw this. She would give Oliver one more minute. Then she was out of here. Maybe she'd go find Sam and kick his ass. She needed to do something —
anything
— so long as it would numb the sickness that was eating away at her gut. Anyway, why shouldn't she kick Sam's ass? She certainly was justified. He was a bastard. No, that was too kind. He was an unbelievably skanky weasel. At first she'd wanted to believe that his little tryst was mostly Ella's fault. But why? Sam was clearly so weak and pathetic that he couldn't keep his pants zipped —

“Hey, sweet thing.”

Gaia's head jerked up. She hadn't even noticed, but some guy was standing next to her. Instantly she chastised herself for being so careless, so wrapped up in her own emotions. She'd been trained to detect a person's approach long before he or she was in striking distance. Not that she had anything to worry about in this guy's case. He was about fifty, just starting to gray at the temples — skinny and wimpy, dressed in a cheap blue suit.

She glared at him with a look of belligerent distrust.

Unfortunately, he didn't let that stop him.

“You look lonely, babe,” he said in a smooth, oily voice.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Gaia said frigidly. Her gaze grew harder, more threatening.

He didn't seem to notice, though. He laughed, showing lots of expensive teeth. “Oh, a smart mouth, huh?”

“It matches the rest of me,” she replied. She scanned the streets, deliberately avoiding his eyes. Couldn't this idiot take a hint?

He laughed again. “You're too much. Listen — let me buy you a drink.”

“I don't drink,” Gaia snapped. “I'm underage. And even if I did, it wouldn't be with a scum like you.” Maybe
that
would put the brakes on his libido. Forthright communication could scare off a lot of men. Particularly sleazebags.

“Oh, come on,” the man said cajolingly. “You don't mean that. Am I so scary? Look at me.” Again he flashed his teeth. They glinted in the pale light of the streetlamps.

Gaia leveled her gaze at him. “You're making a mistake,” she warned simply. “If I were you, I'd beat it.”

“Now you're talking to me, baby,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I like that.” He reached out and laid a hand on her coat sleeve.

Instinctively Gaia seized his hand and held it fast against her own arm.

His eyes widened. “Hey!”

With a flick of her wrist she twisted the man's arm — and he dropped to his knees. It was kind of funny, in away. She'd used this exact same move against that idiot rapist in the park about a month ago. Very fitting.

“Let go!” he exclaimed angrily. “What the —”

Gaia exerted just the slightest amount of pressure on his wrist. He winced. His body sagged. Tears formed in his eyes. He was in serious pain right now. He breathed heavily, filling the air around them with boozy, frozen white vapor. Gaia smiled.

“I thought you wanted me to come with you,” she said.

His face twisted with agony and rage. “Let me go, you bitch,” he hissed. He tried to wriggle free but only ended up cringing.

“Bitch?” Gaia blinked. “I thought you said I was a sweet thing.” Again she exerted pressure on his wrist. A little more and the bones would snap — just like that. She wouldn't mind hearing that satisfying crack, now that she thought about it.

The expression on the man's face was changing. He wasn't angry anymore. And Gaia knew why. Everything he felt right now was melting into one very powerful emotion.

Fear.

FROM BEHIND THE TINTED WINDOWS of his black Mercedes, Loki was able to drink in every element of this rapidly unfolding encounter. And he did so with glee.

Gaia was a wonder. Truly a wonder. She'd subdued this ape in a matter of seconds — and she'd done so with an effortless skill and grace. And with a very admirable lack of remorse. Yes, there was something new in the way she handled herself. Something he hadn't seen yet. Something unforgiving. It was a trait he intended to cultivate.

He was certain that he could mold her in his image. After all, she was his blood. Genetically she was only one step removed from being his daughter; as twins, he and Tom shared identical DNA. She
should
be his daughter.

And she would have been if it hadn't been for certain unfortunate and mitigating factors.

But now it looked like she intended to break this man's arm — which would be an unnecessary complication. People were already starting to stare. Loki hopped out of the car and slammed the door behind him, then ran across the street. A few passersby turned their heads. He wasn't surprised. He knew he cut a dashing figure. He'd bought a new suit for the occasion: a sleek, black, pin-striped Armani. His patent leather shoes clicked on the pavement.

“Gaia!” he called.

She glanced up at him, but she didn't let go of the man. Her eyes narrowed.

“Are you all right?” Loki asked breathlessly, skidding to a stop beside her, his rugged face creased with feigned concern. “What's going on here?”

The man's terrified gaze flashed between Loki and Gaia.

“Help me,” he croaked.

All of a sudden Gaia released him. The man crumpled to a heap on the ground. Gaia didn't even seem to notice. She simply stared back at her uncle — as if she didn't quite believe that he was actually here, standing in her presence. Loki fought back a smile. It was that same expression he'd seen on her face that day in the park . . . that look of surprise, and of longing, and of a profound need to make a connection.

Tonight would be their first real step in forging a relationship.

“Are you all right?” Loki repeated.

The man rolled across the sidewalk and scampered away from them, clutching his arm. Seconds later he staggered around a corner.

Gaia sighed, shaking her head. “I'm fine,” she said. She lowered her eyes.

“What happened?” Loki asked.

She shrugged. “Some idiot tried to start something,” she mumbled. A troubled smile crossed her face. “I should warn you, that kind of thing happens a lot to me.”

Loki chuckled, then reached out and gently patted her shoulder. He felt an almost electric tingle in his fingertips. This was truly a momentous occasion: the first time he'd ever touched his niece. Yes . . . tonight
was
an auspicious night.

She gazed up at him.

“Don't worry,” he murmured. “That kind of thing won't happen to you anymore.”

THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES PASSED IN an utter haze. Gaia was barely aware of being ushered into Campagno's, of being seated by the hostess. . . . All she could do was stare at her uncle as he sat across from her at a cozy table for two. The restaurant that had only moments ago seemed so cramped and uninviting had suddenly transformed: It was now
their
spot,
their
place — and the rest of the world simply ceased to exist. She wasn't even exhausted from the fight (not that it had been
much
of a fight, of course). But she was too wound up, too confused. Adrenaline continued to course through her body. She gazed across the white tablecloth at him as a waitress poured water into their glasses.

“I am so sorry I'm late,” Oliver said in a voice so like her father's, it made her shiver. There were some differences, though. His voice was more refined, a little more cultivated — as if he'd spent several years in a foreign country and picked up a hint of the local accent.

“I left the office in plenty of time but managed to get caught in traffic,” he continued apologetically. “I should have known it was a bad idea to drive to Little Italy on a Friday night. If I hadn't been late, you might have avoided meeting that unpleasant man.”

Gaia shrugged. “It's okay,” she said. Then something occurred to her: He was coming from his office on a Friday? “Um, what exactly do you do?”

“I'm just a cog in a machine, I'm afraid,” he answered with a self-deprecating laugh. He flashed a quick smile that reminded Gaia so much of her father, she almost felt dizzy. “I work in the research-and-development department for a . . . company.” He seemed to linger over the last word. “Downtown. This is just their New York branch — their headquarters are in Germany.”

“Oh,” Gaia said. She felt a strange flicker in the pit of her stomach. She knew that he wasn't telling her the whole truth. “Company” was obviously a term that he used because he didn't want people to know what he did. And besides, if he was just a cog in a machine, then why all the secrecy about coming to find her? Why the allusions to danger, the cell phone number, the mystery? Even as these questions raced through her mind, she couldn't help but feel a delicious excitement, a sense of anticipation. Whatever secrets her uncle might have, she was certain he would let her in on them.

And then she would be part of something. Something
real
. At which point she could forget all about Sam and Ella and the rest of her miserable life . . .

“I'm hungry,” Oliver announced. He grinned at her. “I hope you are, too.”

Gaia nodded. Just at that moment a waitress appeared and handed them each a menu.

“
Alora, i piatti della casa sono i cozze, i carciofi parmigiana, e osso bucco
,” the waitress announced in Italian.

“
Momento
,” Oliver answered, holding up one hand. “
Vogliamo una bottiglie di vino rosso, del aqua minerale, e qualcosa di pane, per favore. Anche i cozze per tutte le due . . .
”

Gaia understood perfectly; she was fluent in Italian — he was ordering them red wine, water, bread, and mussels — but for some reason, she found she couldn't listen. In fact, for a moment she thought she might cry. Here she was, actually eating a meal with a real relative . . . in a quaint, expensive restaurant. All at once the place seemed to come alive. She soaked up every detail. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled her ears. Her nostrils flooded with the savory odors of basil, tomato sauce, and frying calamari. Her mouth started watering. Yes, she
was
hungry. But more important, she was warm; she was comfortable; she was content. She hadn't been to a place like this in years. Not since she lived with her parents.

Her uncle was bringing her back, though. Not just back to a familiar sort of place, either — but back to life. Yes.
Life
. Gaia blinked back tears. At this moment she didn't think she'd ever been happier. It was as if she were sitting in a pool of sunshine.

All
I want is a little peace. That's not too much to ask, is it?

I mean, look at me right now. Seriously. I'm falling apart. The really scary thing is that it's only taken about four months for my mental state to completely collapse. At the beginning of the semester I was a pretty happy guy. Relatively normal. A sophomore at NYU. I had good grades; I had a hot girlfriend; I had a bunch of friends who liked me. Life was great.

Then I met a certain girl named Gaia Moore, and things started to unravel. Now I'm on the verge of failing out. All my friends are avoiding me — and when they aren't, it's usually because they're pissed off. Not that I blame them. I haven't been myself. I don't even know if I have a girlfriend anymore. No, instead I have some deranged stalker who happens to be Gaia Moore-s foster mother, who hounds me every freaking day and night.

I guess it's pretty obvious that Gaia Moore is the cause of all my problems.

So why do I still think that she's the only solution?