Chapter Thirty - four

Agent Mission Log Entry:

There are times in my line of work when all you can do is ...guess.







On the street, Gabby had stalked up and down the alley and gone around behind both the buildings to see that it was a dead end. The alley led into a fenced in area that was to be a small park to be shared by both apartment buildings once it was completed.

“Now what?” Richie asked of no one in particular, looking around as if he expected an answer to fall from the sky.

Standing in the middle of the alley, with a door way into each building on either side of her, Gabby scoffed and shook her head. “Eeny meenie,” she grinned at Richie’s stunned expression.

The clank of a can skittering across the pavement echoed through the alley, making Gabby spin toward the noise, raising her arm to aim her gun. The noise made Richie quickly jump back against the wall of the building undergoing remodeling, and a small gray cat ran across the end of the alley.

Richie stepped away from the wall, trying to look as if he hadn’t just been scared by something small enough to sleep in one of his Stetsons. “What’s your gut telling you?” he sounded far more serious than the grin on his face said he was.

“In there,” she answered, pointing at the construction site. There’s no one around to notice what Nate’s up to, and no one to hear if Jon was calling for help. It’s where I’d take him.”

Richie tried the door and found it unlocked. A small hand on his arm stopped him from throwing it open and charging into the building. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into waiting down here?” she had to ask just one more time.

“Not on your life, sweetheart,” he answered with a cocky grin.

“Then at least let me go first,” she cautioned, taking the lead and quietly opening the door.

Bending slightly at the waist, Richie waved a hand toward the door. “By all means - ladies first.”

Gabby smiled at his mischievous grin and the game show hostess imitation. There were times when this man’s humorous moments rivaled even Broadway’s. He was the perfect combination for Jon’s sometimes all too serious demeanor.

Gun ready, Gabby stepped into the building. For a brief moment, she stood just inside the door where the sunshine poured in, lighting the small area around the entrance, letting her eyes adjust to the darker interior of the building. With a finger across her lips, she cautioned Richie to be quiet.

The small area they stepped into could barely be called an entryway. Directly in front of them was another door that presumably opened into the first floor of the building; to their right was a set of stairs leading upwards to the other floors. On the left was a freight elevator.

Now Richie walked over to the elevator. “Are we taking this?” he whispered.

Gabby shook her head negatively. “Too much noise.”

Gabriella knew Nate; he would’ve set up on the uppermost floor, with some sort of booby trap alarm to warn him of any intruders, and he most certainly had another exit besides these stairs.

Hardly making any sound at all, Richie followed Gabby up the stairs. Her left hand wrapped around the butt of her gun, the index finger resting lightly on the trigger; her right hand cupped under her left as she moved stealthily up the stairs inspired confidence in him. She obviously knew what she was doing.


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

On the fifth floor of the building, Nate glared at Jon. “An idiot?” he snarled, “I’m not the one tied to a chair.”

“No,” Jon shook his head. “You’re the one that basically told a specially trained government agent, ‘hey, it was me - come shoot me.” He flashed Nate a cocky grin.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nate demanded.

Jon shrugged one shoulder. “Why should I tell you a damned thing?” Then before the other man could say anything he went on, “What the fuck, I’ve got time to kill. You fucked up telling her that I wasn’t President anymore.”

“How’s that?” the other man demanded belligerently.

“Think about it,” Jon began, again shrugging that one shoulder. “If I wasn’t still gonna be President - she wouldn’t still be here.”

“But...”

Jon interrupted him. “Don’t think about it too much, Asshole. It’ll only make your head hurt.”

Nate growled in frustration as he stomped across the room toward Jon. “Fuck,” he snarled.

Before Jon could worry if he’d pushed the man too far, Nate stepped behind the chair and quickly cut Jon free. Then he shoved Jon’s shoulder hard enough that he sent the singer sprawling in the floor.

When Jon scrambled quickly to his feet, Nate’s gun was in his face. “We’re getting outta here.” He motioned with his gun. “Stand up.”

“Fuck you,” Jon growled.

With lightening speed, Nate chambered a round, the click-click echoed around the room. “I said - Stand up.”

Nose to nose with a pistol and very unhappy, Jon stood up. The glare he gave Nate while doing so should have made the man drop dead.

“Turn around,” Nate ordered tersely.

Putting his hands up, Jon turned slowly toward the door. “Where are we going?”

“That’s need to know,” Nate answered with a chuckle, then shoved Jon’s shoulder again. “Get moving.”

At the door, Nate ordered Jon to open it slowly and step aside. Then with his gun trained on Jon, Nate gave a quick look around before ordering Jon to lead the way.

Trying to stall, Jon moved slowly, stepping through the door into a small area that would be an entryway for this future penthouse apartment. He stopped halfway across the small space, and turned to face the freight elevator that was to the right of the door they’d just came through.

A soft click and the slight whoosh caused by the change in air pressure was the only indication that the door on the left had opened. Jon barely had time to register the sound before he found himself pulled backward against Nate’s chest; the other man’s arm was tight around his throat and his pistol was pressed against Jon’s temple.

Gabby stepped through the door looking like some sort of avenging angel, her eyes narrowed and grim, her hair falling around her shoulders and her gun leveled on him and Nate. “Let him go,” she ordered, her voice hard.

Jon felt rather than saw Nate shake his head, and Gabby didn’t even blink. “No. He’s my ticket out of here.”

“Let him go,” Gabby tried again, “and I’ll give you the bracelet.”

“Oh, you’re gonna give me the bracelet anyway,” Nate told her with a cocky grin.

Jon admired Gabby’s calm facade, but he could see the glimmer of fear in her eyes. He just hoped Asshole couldn’t see it.

With green eyes flashing behind the barrel of her pistol, she flashed the prick the most arrogant grin Jon had ever seen, even in his own mirror. “Am I?”

Nate motioned with his own pistol. “Yeah,” his voice was shaky with indignation. “Or, pretty boy won’t stay so pretty.”

A negligent shrug, and she tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “He’s really not all that pretty now.”

An indignant snort from Jon made Nate roll his eyes. “Gabby, you’re not fooling anyone. I know you, and this...he’s not just a mission any more. Now, give me the damn bracelet, and we’ll all live happily ever after.”

Gabby had noticed that Nate kept inching backward toward the freight elevator, dragging Jon as he went. “Don’t try and bullshit a bullshitter, Nate,” she growled.

“Is that your quaint Texas way of saying you don’t believe me?” he questioned with a grin.

“There. That’s why we didn’t work out,” she told him with an arrogant smirk. “That condescension in your voice didn’t get you anywhere when we were sleeping together, Nate. It’s damn sure not making you any points now.”

Jon spoke up. “I have an idea...” Nate’s arm tightened around his throat cutting off his air and his voice. Obviously, Asshole wasn’t interested in hearing his opinion.

Gabby’s gaze, nor her gun, never wavered. “I’m not gonna let you get on that elevator, Nate.”

“What’re you gonna do to stop me?” he demanded arrogantly, taking another step toward the elevator.

Jon saw it in the depth of her emerald eyes, but his screamed ‘no’ rang with the shot of her pistol. The bullet hit him high in the thigh, cutting across the outside of his leg to bury deep in Nate’s hip. The asshole yelped in pain, bending slightly to grab his hip in agony. Jon dove to the floor without the other man’s arm to impede his progress, and Gabby got off another shot, hitting Nate right between the eyes and effectively ending his howls of pain.

Richie had been hiding in the stairwell. His yelled curse of ‘son of a bitch’ had been drowned out by the reports of Gabby’s gun. Now, he ran forward to check on Jon.

The singer lay in the floor clutching at his left thigh. “You shot me!” he yelled at Gabby accusingly.

“Pffft,” she scoffed, walking forward, “just barely.” She was all business, kicking Nate’s gun away from his lifeless hand, and checking his pulse - as if anyone would’ve survived that shot.

“You shot me!” Jon bellowed again.

“Oh shut up, ya pussy,” Richie chuckled. “It’s just a flesh wound.”