She was both drawn to and repelled by him at the same time. His intensity nearly stole her breath away. Something about him made her pulse pound a little harder, her heart race a little faster. She recognized it as some sort of strange attraction, but he was certainly the last man she’d want any kind of relationship with.
He was here to do a job, and when the job was done, he would be gone. He’d just told her that he wasn’t the marrying type, and marriage was definitely on her wish list. She’d thought that was where she was headed with Gary Holzman when she’d lived in Chicago, but that dream had exploded and she’d wound up here with nothing but a beat-up car spewing fumes, a suitcase full of clothes and Cory.
She’d just about reached the part of the walkway that was closest to the pond’s edge when the sound of rustling in the brush behind her stopped the bullfrog’s song.
She had no chance to turn, no time to process that danger was coming before she was shoved from behind with enough force that she flew forward and was weightless for an instant—airborne—and then she plunged into the pond.
Headfirst she went down...down, with no idea how to get up.
Chapter Three
Although it was relatively early, after the short night before, Gabriel had told both Jackson and Andrew to head to bed and get a good night’s sleep, as he intended to do himself. He was certain the next day would be a long one, and he wanted them all to start out rested.
He stripped down to a pair of boxers and then opened the window, despite the air-conditioning that kept the room cool and pleasant. Since the age of seven, Gabriel had always kept his bedroom window open, never knowing when he might need to make a hasty escape from a raging drunken father.
Certainly more than once throughout his childhood, he’d used the window to flee the wrath of George Blankenship. Like Marlena’s, Gabriel’s mother had abandoned him and his father when Gabriel had been seven. She’d left him in the hands of a brutal man who’d either beaten him half to death for unclear reasons or ignored him until Gabriel was old enough to exit and never look back.
He’d lived on the streets, worked a hundred different jobs, and waffled between a life of crime and a life of investigating crimes. He’d finally managed to make his way through college with a criminal justice degree and a minor in psychology, and that’s when the FBI had brought him in as a profiler.
He loved his job and he was good at it, but this particular case already had him frustrated by the lack of leads. The bank records had shown no red flags either in the personal or business finances. The email accounts showed no threats or unusual activity. So far he and his team hadn’t spoken to anybody who didn’t admire or like the family.
Granted, they were still in the beginning stages of the investigation, but he knew that, in many disappearances, within the first couple of hours, the taken were killed.
What he didn’t know yet was who had been the intended target. Was it Sam, and his wife and stepdaughter were merely collateral damage? Was there something in Daniella’s past that might have brought this on?
He turned off the light in his room and got beneath the lavender top sheet, his mind whirling a million miles an hour. There had to have been more than one person involved; otherwise how was it possible for a single individual to neutralize three people and get them out of their home? And Marlena had heard nothing, which meant either she was lying or whoever had come in and taken the three people had done so relatively silently. How was that possible with a seven-year-old little girl in the mix?
The sound of a splash came from outside the window—a loud splash. Must be a fish the size of a minitorpedo, he thought. A thrashing noise followed, and then a faint cry.
Definitely a female cry. Marlena had told him she was going out to get some fresh air. Who had made that splash? Had it been a fish, or her?
Gabriel bolted up from the bed and flew out of his room. He stumbled down the stairs two at a time, his heart surging with adrenaline as he remembered she couldn’t swim.
As he flew through the lower level of the house and into the kitchen, he noted that Marlena’s door to her rooms was open, as was the back door.
He burst out into the hot night air and again heard a splashing and a frantic cry from the pond. By the time he reached a vantage point where he could see the water, the moon glittered down on the smooth surface.
He frowned. Had he only imagined the cries? Had he fallen asleep in bed and not realized it, dreaming that Marlena, who couldn’t swim, was somewhere in the pond?
As he stared at the water, it bubbled and rippled and then Marlena’s pale face broke the surface. Panic etched her features as she managed a single cry before sinking beneath the surface once again.
He raced to a place where he could dive from the short wooden dock into the pond. He hit the water, grateful that it was as warm as a bath, and swam quickly to the place where he had seen Marlena go down.
Diving underwater and opening his eyes, he realized the murky water made it impossible for him to see anything. So he used his hands and legs to search for her, hoping he wasn’t already too late.
How long had she been in the water? He surfaced, drew a deep breath and then went under a second time, his heart pounding frantically.
He swam all around the area where he’d last seen her, his arms outstretched before him. Where was she? Had she already succumbed to the water?
Sharp relief soared through him as he managed to snag an arm. The relief was short-lived as she grabbed hold and frantically wrapped around him like a leech, sinking them both deeper into the water.
Her arms clung around his neck, and in her panic he knew that, if he didn’t break her hold on him in some way, they would both drown.
He fought with her, fought for both of their lives and finally managed to wrangle her around the neck and pull her up. They broke the surface of the water, gasping for air, and she immediately tried to crawl onto him to escape a watery grave.
“Marlena.” He spewed her name along with a mouthful of water. “You need to calm down. I’ve got you. Just relax and let me get us to shore.”
Still she clung to him, attempting to climb his body with hers as her eyes glowed the iridescent green of a wild animal in the moonlight.
“Marlena!” He managed to dog paddle and grab her by the shoulders, thankful that he was a strong swimmer and a much bigger man.
“Relax, I’ve got you.” He spoke the words slowly and breathed a sigh of relief as he managed to roll her over onto her back. With his arm under her chin, he kept her face well above the water and moved her toward the shore.
Once there, they collapsed side by side on their backs in the dewy grass, drawing in deep gasps of air. By the time he caught his breath, he realized she was crying and shivering, obviously chilled despite the warmth of the night air that surrounded them.
He got to his feet and pulled her up. “Come on. Let’s get you inside and dry.”
She continued to weep and shiver as he slung an arm around her shoulder and led her inside. He walked her through the back door to her private quarters and into her bathroom. Spying a stack of towels neatly folded in an open cabinet, he grabbed one for himself and then turned to where she stood as if shell-shocked.
“Marlena, get out of those wet clothes, and then we’ll talk,” he said. He grabbed a second towel and forced it into her hands and tried not to notice that the wet blouse clung to her like a second skin, emphasizing her breasts and taut nipples.
He turned and left the bathroom, grateful that his boxers were navy and not white. He dried off, wrapped the towel around his waist and sat on the edge of the sofa, waiting for her to emerge from the bathroom.
He