On Thin Ice (20 page)

“I’ve got to hand it to you,” he said, tapping his finger on one particularly lurid clipping. “You’re better than I ever imagined.” His voice was deep, jeering. “Picture my surprise when I realized I’d been suckered by a master. No, better make that mistress. You must have really gotten off on that part of it.”

Her stomach heaved, bile rising in her throat. “No! Devlin, that’s not the way it was.” She clutched his arm, sinking her fingers into it, imploring him to listen. “I love you. I wanted to tell you, but I—I couldn’t.”

Disgust etched in harsh lines on his face, Devlin shook his head. “You played me like that piano of yours. You even warned me, told me you were good.” He bit out the words. “I can’t argue with that. You’re damned good, sweetheart. After all, you took me in, and God only knows with Celine as a prior, I knew better.” He glanced at her hand on his arm, then his coldly furious gaze lifted to her face. “Did it sweeten the victory when I told you I’d fallen in love with you?”

She had known what his reaction would be, but that didn’t make his anger and loathing any easier to bear. Sickened, she realized that her actions the night before had made things worse, if possible. Dropping her hand away, she said, “Oh, God, if I’d told you last night—”

“Yeah.” His derisive laughter grated as he leaned across the desk, close enough to touch her, though he didn’t. His voice dropped, took on an even more dangerous edge. “Last night was a great touch. I’ve been seduced by the best. Too bad there’s always a morning after. The confession loses its effectiveness when the patsy knows he’s been screwed. Doesn’t it,
Gabriela?”

“Don’t call me that.” She passed a shaky hand over her brow. If he would only listen, just for a moment. He would still hate her, but . . . “Let me explain. Please. You don’t understand. Devlin, I couldn’t tell you at first. I couldn’t risk anyone knowing my real identity. When I left, I cut all my ties with my father and that way of life. I hadn’t seen Franco in fourteen years. I was scared to death he’d expose me and then—”

“And then you wouldn’t be in the sweet seat here, would you?” he interrupted. “No law partnership, no career taking off into the stratosphere, no nothing.”

“At first, that was true, but it was never all of it. It wasn’t just my career. Do you know what would happen if anyone—if the Mafia knew I was alive? Vito still has enemies within the organization. They’d love to kill me to get to him.”

Devlin sat back and smiled at her, a mockery of the kind of smile he used to give her. “I don’t deny your logic. It all makes sense. Perfectly logical, perfectly reasonable, the kind of work you’d expect from one of the best and brightest legal minds practicing today.”

Oh God, he didn’t believe her, he’d never believe her. He couldn’t even hear her, he was so furious. She jumped up and strode around his desk, wanting to jerk him up from that chair and shake him until he listened to her. Instead she gripped the arms of his chair and glared at him, her face inches from his. “Do you really believe that you mean nothing to me? That I planned all this in order to get the partnership? That I slept with you to—to further my plans?”

He rose, forcing her away until she was backed up against the wall. His expression was as unreadable as a granite boulder and just as immobile. He traced a hand down her cheek to her shoulder, then palmed her breast, crudely. She swore and knocked his hand away, but not before she knew he’d felt her involuntary reaction to his touch and seen the flush rising in her face.

“I think you slept with me because you knew as well as I did that the sex would be great.” He smiled thinly. “You weren’t faking all those moans of pleasure, were you, sweetheart? But it sure as hell didn’t hurt to have me under your thumb, did it? As for the rest of it—”

He broke off and gazed at her, his eyes looking like chips of ice, and his voice when he spoke was colder than a glacier. “I think you orchestrated the whole thing, every single minute, to play out just like you wanted it to. You wrote the score, you played the music. It was a virtuoso performance,
Gabriela.”

Only pride, what tiny portion she had left, kept her head high. “You’re wrong, Devlin. Someday I hope you realize that.”

He shook his head and gave a humorless laugh. “No, I’m not wrong. You figured to have me so bedazzled by your—how did Sabatino put it? Oh, yes, your
charms,
that I wouldn’t have the time or energy left to go for the glory. And baby, it worked. All you had to do was bat those gorgeous eyes at me and say pretty please and I handed you the case, not to mention a damn good shot at the partnership, on a platter.”

She gaped at him. He thought she’d asked to present the dismissal to further her career. Thought she’d used him, duped him—and the damnable thing was, she could see how it might look that way to him. At a loss for words, she only shook her head.

“I may be a slow learner, but I do learn,” he said. “Eventually.” He glanced at his watch, then strode to the door, opened it, and motioned for her to go through. “It’s time to meet Sid. Come on, Counselor. I’ll walk with you to his office.”

In silence, Gabrielle followed him down the hall, wondering how she could still function when her heart was no longer beating.

Damn, she’s good, Devlin thought bitterly, glancing at Gabrielle as they waited for Sid. The too-bright eyes, trembling lips, the pain that quivered in her voice—he could still almost buy the act. And the utter hell of it, the insult to all the injuries, was that even knowing what he did, he was still in love with her.

“Ah, glad you two are here,” Sid said, breezing in. “I’ve just got a minute. Damned secretary scheduled a conflicting appointment.” He fussed for a moment, pouring a cup of coffee, then took his place behind his desk.

Elbows on the desktop, fingers steepled, he spoke. “First, let me congratulate both of you on the Sabatino case. That went very well. Very well indeed.”

Neither Devlin nor Gabrielle spoke. In fact, Devlin wondered if Gabrielle had even heard, so vacant was her expression.

Sid cleared his throat and continued. “As you both may know from the rumor mill, I’ve been contemplating early retirement. In this case, the rumors are true. I’ve been considering my successor, and I’ve come to a decision.” Rising, he held out a hand to Gabrielle. “Gabrielle, I think you’ll make a fine chief attorney of criminal defense litigation. Congratulations.”

It wanted only this, Devlin thought, for the perfect ending. Gabrielle stared at Sid, looking totally stunned. My God, what an artist, he thought, even able to admire her in an odd, detached way. She’d won everything—just as she’d intended to all along.

Sid cleared his throat. “Gabrielle?”

“You want me to—?” She broke off, the epitome of confusion and surprise, and finally shook Sid’s hand.

Devlin felt like putting his fist through something, but he was damned if he’d let her see him lose control. He’d lost before, been shafted before, but never quite so thoroughly. It was poetically, ironically perfect. What else had he expected when he took on the Queen of Sharks?

“Why don’t we meet around three and discuss some details, Gabrielle?” Sid said. “I’ve got to run now.” At the door, he paused. “By the way, I heard on the radio this morning that Franco Sabatino was murdered last night. Gunned down in front of a Deep Ellum bar about two A.M. Didn’t have long to enjoy his freedom, did he?”

The door closed behind Sid, and silence hung in the room.

Gabrielle stared at the door, seemingly in shock. Devlin began to clap. “Wrapped up all neat and tidy,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re amazing.”

Her brow furrowed as she looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

Devlin lifted an eyebrow. “Must be nice having a daddy who can off anybody who gives you problems.”

“You think I—you think my father did this?” she asked incredulously.

“Come on,
Gabriela,
give me some credit. I know it wasn’t you, since you happened to be seducing me about that time last night. But you ordered the hit.”

Anger overrode the shock in her expression. She jumped to her feet and glared at him. “Do you really believe I ordered a hit on a man? On
anyone,
even Franco Sabatino?”

Devlin shrugged and rose. “Maybe not in so many words. Are you going to tell me you didn’t call your father?”

“I—” Her gaze faltered, dropped. She turned her back on him and strode away a few steps. Still with her back to him, she spoke. “Vito didn’t do it. He swore he wouldn’t kill him.”

“So you admit you talked to Donati.” His hands fisted in his pockets. A part of him had wanted her to deny it, and would have believed her if she had. God, what a sap he was.

Whirling around, she shouted, “Yes, I talked to him! I had to! Franco was about to—” Abruptly, she broke off. “I asked Vito to muzzle Franco, but he gave me his word he wouldn’t kill him.”

“The word of a Mafia don,” Devlin said scornfully.

“My father’s word,” she said, her head held high and her green eyes colder than a winter’s dawn. “You know nothing about him, and obviously, nothing about me either. Vito kept his word to me for fourteen years. I won’t start doubting him now. He didn’t order that hit.”

His mouth curved into a satiric smile. “Mighty convenient of Sabatino to go get himself shot, wasn’t it?”

“Do you think Franco didn’t have other enemies? He’s bound to have had scores of them.”

“Why did they pick now to kill him, then? Why not last week or last year? Or a month from now?”

“I don’t know.” She took an agitated turn and faced him again. “This is—this probably is my fault, in part. All Vito had to do was put the word out that Franco was no longer in his favor. It would be enough to get him killed.”

“You are so damned good, it’s unbelievable. Congratulations, Counselor. How does it feel to have it all? Promotion, probable partnership, money, the glory. And no Sabatino to threaten it.”

She said nothing, simply looked at him blankly. Unable to bear more, Devlin strode to the door. “Of course, you’ll have to find another lover,” he added, turning to make one last jab, “but I don’t imagine it will take long to break in a new one. Not for a woman of your—” He paused and added with an ironical lift of his eyebrow, “talents.”

Her gaze met his. He’d never seen a bleaker expression in anyone’s eyes. “If that’s what you believe,” she said, “what you honestly believe, then there’s nothing more I can say to you.”

“Not unless it’s
Arrivederci,
sucker,” Devlin said, and walked out.