Visions (Cainsville #2)(65)

Usually, he just glances at the menu, and I can never tell if that’s decisiveness or a complete lack of interest in the options. Today, he considered. And he ate as if he actually tasted the food.

What was it like to find out that your mother hadn’t abandoned you after all? That she’d been dead for half your life? As Rose said, this didn’t change anything about the kind of parent Seanna Walsh had been. Gabriel had probably spent his childhood waiting for the day when she would leave for good. When it came, he carried on. At fifteen. Not only surviving, but putting himself through law school. That’s an act of will I cannot even begin to fathom.

After walking out of the worst neighborhoods of Chicago and into a life with six-figure sports cars and four-figure suits, did he ever worry that Seanna would find out what he’d made of himself and show up on his doorstep with her hand out?

I’m sure he had. I’m sure, too, that he’d feared what would happen if he refused. That she’d go to the papers, tell them about his past, what he came from. The rumors were already there, and he did nothing to stop them. A defense attorney from the wrong side of town, with a juvenile record, and questionable sources of income? It only meant that he understood some of his clients in a way no Ivy League suit ever could. What Gabriel would fear was a different sort of public reaction to his past. Not condemnation or scorn. Pity.

Now she was gone. Forever. Was he relieved? Yes, I think he was.

As we walked to the parking lot after lunch, Gabriel glanced behind us twice.

“Is someone there?” I asked.

“Perhaps . . .” A slow scan of the busy road. “A reporter most likely.” He handed me the car keys. “If we’re approached, keep going. I’ll deal with it.”

When we reached the lot, Gabriel turned sharply, and I saw James striding our way.

“I’d like to speak to Olivia,” James said as he approached.

“I’m sure you would,” Gabriel said, sliding between us. “However, that is normally accomplished by a phone call, not waylaying her in a parking lot.”

“I was dining downtown and spotted her—”

Gabriel motioned to James’s hand. “You’re still holding your keys, and you’re short of breath.”

James dropped his keys into his pocket and stepped sideways to address me. “An associate saw you in the restaurant and called me. He was concerned about your choice of dining companion.”

“And you came running to her rescue?” Gabriel said. “How noble.”

“No, I came to speak to her, because I seem to be having some difficulty accomplishing that.” Another sidestep, Gabriel having eased over to block him again. “If you won’t return my calls, I have no way of communicating with you, Liv. I don’t know where you work. I don’t know your new address.”

“Perhaps, given your penchant for waylaying her, you can understand why she wouldn’t be eager to share that information.”

James glowered at Gabriel. He had to look up to do it, and I could tell he didn’t like that.

“This is a private conversation,” James said. “Could you leave, please, Mr. Walsh?”

“Absolutely not.”

James pulled out his wallet. “How much?” he asked.

“How much what?”

“How much will it cost to make you walk away? I know there’s a price.”

James’s lips curved, pleased with his jab. Gabriel only tilted his head.

“How much do you have?” he asked.

James pulled out a wad of bills. “Will five hundred do it?”

“I believe so.”

Gabriel pocketed the money and walked away. I smiled and shook my head.

“You’re okay with that?” James said as Gabriel left. “Your lawyer just took money to leave you alone with me.”

“You offered it,” I said. “It’s not as if he turned me over to a potential mugger. Now, what—?”

Gabriel returned and stepped between me and James again.

“Second thoughts?” James said. “I’ll take my money back.”

“Certainly not. I did as you asked. I walked away.”

I had to laugh.

James scowled at me. “You find this amusing?”

“Yes, I do. However, at the risk of losing further amusement, I’m going to end this group hug. James, please don’t track me down.”

“It’s over,” Gabriel said. “Leave her alone. That is the message she’s trying to convey. If you need it in writing, I can arrange that. In the form of a restraining order.”

“Excuse me?” James said.

“He’s not serious,” I said.

“Yes, actually, I am,” Gabriel said. “At present, the situation does not qualify, but I am serving notice, Mr. Morgan. If you waylay Olivia again, there will be consequences.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, it’s a warning.”

“All right,” I said. “Let’s not blow this out of proportion.”

“I don’t think I am.” Gabriel lifted his shades. “Am I, Mr. Morgan?”

Before James could answer, Gabriel laid his hand on my shoulder, steering me toward the car.

“You’re going to allow him to do that?” James said. “Speak for you? Threaten me? Shuttle you off?” He strode toward us. “I’m not letting you walk away with this thug—”