“Liv?”
I looked up and saw his panic, his confusion. If any part of me wasn’t already consumed with self-loathing, that look devoured it in a single chomp.
“I . . . need time,” I said. “So much has happened, and I’m still confused and . . .” I swallowed. “I know that’s what I said last week, but after that article on you and Eva, I was sure it was over. Absolutely sure. That’s not your fault. It’s not my fault. But I need . . .”
“Forty-eight hours before I ask you to recommit?” James tried for a smile.
“I—”
He closed his hand over the ring. “No, you’re right. I’m moving too fast. I’ll walk you back to your car, and when you’re ready—to talk, to have dinner, anything—just call.”
KING OF PENTACLES
Thursday morning, Rose watched the girl head off to work at the diner. She looked fine, perfectly groomed in that casual, understated way that made it seem as if she rolled out of bed with her hair brushed and makeup on. Poised, that was the best word to describe Olivia Taylor-Jones, the girl Rose preferred to call Eden, at least in the privacy of her own mind. Today, though, that poise was a facade, one she couldn’t quite pull off, her head bowed, gait lagging, as if she’d really rather go back to bed and huddle under the sheets.
Yesterday, Rose had been at the door, seeing a client off, when Eden returned home mere hours after leaving for her first day of work with Gabriel. Eden had gone into her apartment and pulled the blind on her bedroom window, though it was still morning. That’s when Rose knew the cards were right.
During her client reading, the damned King of Pentacles had kept coming up. That was Gabriel’s card—lord of self-discipline, power, and security. Except it had been reversed, which emphasized the negative aspects of those traits. Authoritative, manipulative, and controlling. When Eden came home early, Rose knew what the card meant. Gabriel had screwed up. Again.
It was almost noon on Thursday when he finally phoned, ostensibly to check in on her. It was tempting to tell him she was fine and then say, “Well, I have to go now.” See what he’d do. Teach him a lesson. Only she knew what he’d do—sign off and continue dwelling on the problem alone.
Rose had learned long ago that there was no “teaching” Gabriel anything. Part of that was stubbornness, but part of it was skittishness, too. Perhaps “skittish” wasn’t the right word. It implied nervousness, like a colt snatching food from your hand before dancing off. Gabriel was more like a stray cat. He always had been, even before Seanna left.
When Seanna became pregnant, she’d refused Rose’s help and ran from Cainsville. Rose didn’t find her until Gabriel was a toddler. She’d been allowed to take him on weekends, leaving Seanna to her men. Once, during that first year, Rose hadn’t taken him back to Chicago. When Seanna came around—two days later—Rose informed her that she was keeping the boy until her niece got her act together. Seanna snatched Gabriel, and it had been two years before Rose saw him again. Rose herself was quite capable of learning lessons, and she’d learned that one, restricting her efforts to what she could do for Gabriel on their weekends together.
As for socializing him, it had been too late. By the time they first met, Gabriel was already that stray cat, cautiously allowing only the most modest degree of attention, ready to run if he got even the slightest hint that he wasn’t wanted. That’s what having a mother like Seanna did to a child. There was no undoing it. All Rose could do was understand and work around his limitations.
“What happened with Olivia?” she asked finally.
A pause. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“No, but I’ve seen her, and it’s obvious she’s upset about something. It’s also obvious she didn’t work a full shift for you yesterday, which suggests the problem originated there.”
A long pause, requiring a prodding “Gabriel?” Then he told her what had happened, and as he did, she sank into the chair and sighed silently.
For such a brilliant man, he really did seem incapable of learning. He’d betrayed Eden’s trust once, and she’d soundly smacked him down for it. He’d worked his way back from that, winning her trust again . . . only to commit nearly the same offense, multiplied by ten.
“You know, if you really didn’t want to see her again, I’m sure a simple ‘get lost’ would have sufficed. Olivia doesn’t strike me as a young woman who lingers where she’s not wanted.”
“I was not trying to get rid of her.”
“Are you sure? Because you’re doing an excellent job of it, though your technique seems overcomplicated.”
“Working together on a dangerous case meant I’d naturally watch out for her. So there was no harm—”
“—in taking payment for it. Just as there was no harm in taking money from a reporter for setting up that interview a couple of weeks ago. As for the fact that she didn’t want the interview, clearly she wasn’t the best judge of that, and you were only acting in her best interests.”
A faint noise that was probably meant to be a snort but sounded more like a growl.
“Did you really think you’d get away with it, Gabriel?”
“I miscalculated the timetable.”
Rose closed her eyes and shook her head. She didn’t have any problem with him taking money from James Morgan. Walshes had been taking advantage of gullibility and stupidity ever since they conned their fellow cavemen out of their spears. Highwaymen, pirates, swindlers, and card sharks . . . their family history was both colorful and dark. Rose might have the second sight, but it wasn’t reliable enough to provide her with a steady income. For that, she needed a Walsh’s true powers—the ability to lie, con, and cheat anyone out of anything.
“I should have told her,” he said.
“Yes, you should have.”
Silence, long enough for Rose to wonder if he’d hung up. Then, “I was trying to give the money back.”
“What?”
“I called Morgan on Sunday to say that I was ending our agreement and returning his retainer. I wanted to wire it to him, but he wouldn’t provide banking information. That’s what I was waiting on, before I told Olivia.”
When it came to money, Gabriel had . . . issues. Deep-rooted issues. Yet he’d planned to give back income he’d already earned? Rose sat there, stunned, before finding her voice.
I looked up and saw his panic, his confusion. If any part of me wasn’t already consumed with self-loathing, that look devoured it in a single chomp.
“I . . . need time,” I said. “So much has happened, and I’m still confused and . . .” I swallowed. “I know that’s what I said last week, but after that article on you and Eva, I was sure it was over. Absolutely sure. That’s not your fault. It’s not my fault. But I need . . .”
“Forty-eight hours before I ask you to recommit?” James tried for a smile.
“I—”
He closed his hand over the ring. “No, you’re right. I’m moving too fast. I’ll walk you back to your car, and when you’re ready—to talk, to have dinner, anything—just call.”
KING OF PENTACLES
Thursday morning, Rose watched the girl head off to work at the diner. She looked fine, perfectly groomed in that casual, understated way that made it seem as if she rolled out of bed with her hair brushed and makeup on. Poised, that was the best word to describe Olivia Taylor-Jones, the girl Rose preferred to call Eden, at least in the privacy of her own mind. Today, though, that poise was a facade, one she couldn’t quite pull off, her head bowed, gait lagging, as if she’d really rather go back to bed and huddle under the sheets.
Yesterday, Rose had been at the door, seeing a client off, when Eden returned home mere hours after leaving for her first day of work with Gabriel. Eden had gone into her apartment and pulled the blind on her bedroom window, though it was still morning. That’s when Rose knew the cards were right.
During her client reading, the damned King of Pentacles had kept coming up. That was Gabriel’s card—lord of self-discipline, power, and security. Except it had been reversed, which emphasized the negative aspects of those traits. Authoritative, manipulative, and controlling. When Eden came home early, Rose knew what the card meant. Gabriel had screwed up. Again.
It was almost noon on Thursday when he finally phoned, ostensibly to check in on her. It was tempting to tell him she was fine and then say, “Well, I have to go now.” See what he’d do. Teach him a lesson. Only she knew what he’d do—sign off and continue dwelling on the problem alone.
Rose had learned long ago that there was no “teaching” Gabriel anything. Part of that was stubbornness, but part of it was skittishness, too. Perhaps “skittish” wasn’t the right word. It implied nervousness, like a colt snatching food from your hand before dancing off. Gabriel was more like a stray cat. He always had been, even before Seanna left.
When Seanna became pregnant, she’d refused Rose’s help and ran from Cainsville. Rose didn’t find her until Gabriel was a toddler. She’d been allowed to take him on weekends, leaving Seanna to her men. Once, during that first year, Rose hadn’t taken him back to Chicago. When Seanna came around—two days later—Rose informed her that she was keeping the boy until her niece got her act together. Seanna snatched Gabriel, and it had been two years before Rose saw him again. Rose herself was quite capable of learning lessons, and she’d learned that one, restricting her efforts to what she could do for Gabriel on their weekends together.
As for socializing him, it had been too late. By the time they first met, Gabriel was already that stray cat, cautiously allowing only the most modest degree of attention, ready to run if he got even the slightest hint that he wasn’t wanted. That’s what having a mother like Seanna did to a child. There was no undoing it. All Rose could do was understand and work around his limitations.
“What happened with Olivia?” she asked finally.
A pause. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“No, but I’ve seen her, and it’s obvious she’s upset about something. It’s also obvious she didn’t work a full shift for you yesterday, which suggests the problem originated there.”
A long pause, requiring a prodding “Gabriel?” Then he told her what had happened, and as he did, she sank into the chair and sighed silently.
For such a brilliant man, he really did seem incapable of learning. He’d betrayed Eden’s trust once, and she’d soundly smacked him down for it. He’d worked his way back from that, winning her trust again . . . only to commit nearly the same offense, multiplied by ten.
“You know, if you really didn’t want to see her again, I’m sure a simple ‘get lost’ would have sufficed. Olivia doesn’t strike me as a young woman who lingers where she’s not wanted.”
“I was not trying to get rid of her.”
“Are you sure? Because you’re doing an excellent job of it, though your technique seems overcomplicated.”
“Working together on a dangerous case meant I’d naturally watch out for her. So there was no harm—”
“—in taking payment for it. Just as there was no harm in taking money from a reporter for setting up that interview a couple of weeks ago. As for the fact that she didn’t want the interview, clearly she wasn’t the best judge of that, and you were only acting in her best interests.”
A faint noise that was probably meant to be a snort but sounded more like a growl.
“Did you really think you’d get away with it, Gabriel?”
“I miscalculated the timetable.”
Rose closed her eyes and shook her head. She didn’t have any problem with him taking money from James Morgan. Walshes had been taking advantage of gullibility and stupidity ever since they conned their fellow cavemen out of their spears. Highwaymen, pirates, swindlers, and card sharks . . . their family history was both colorful and dark. Rose might have the second sight, but it wasn’t reliable enough to provide her with a steady income. For that, she needed a Walsh’s true powers—the ability to lie, con, and cheat anyone out of anything.
“I should have told her,” he said.
“Yes, you should have.”
Silence, long enough for Rose to wonder if he’d hung up. Then, “I was trying to give the money back.”
“What?”
“I called Morgan on Sunday to say that I was ending our agreement and returning his retainer. I wanted to wire it to him, but he wouldn’t provide banking information. That’s what I was waiting on, before I told Olivia.”
When it came to money, Gabriel had . . . issues. Deep-rooted issues. Yet he’d planned to give back income he’d already earned? Rose sat there, stunned, before finding her voice.
