was to him, and it was shaking with the force of her sobs, which echoed around the room. They were the most gut-wrenching sobs he’d ever heard, containing an entire world of sorrow, and they were so out-of-character that they drew Jericho up short.
A tiny hand appeared over Dahlia’s shoulder and curled into her hair. Dahlia continued to sob and mutter in Spanish as a shock of black hair peeked up over her other shoulder. Below the hair, two bright, brown eyes peered at Jericho in interest. Those eyes widened, and the little head rose higher revealing a crooked smile without two front teeth.
Jericho’s world tipped dangerously, and then the small boy spoke.
“ ¿Papá? ”
Jericho collapsed into the wall behind him.
• • •
Dahlia heard Gabriel whisper to the man who had been chasing her through the night, and she knew it was over. She’d failed at her one job in life.
She turned around slowly, so slowly, delaying the inevitable for as long as possible. She wondered what he would do as soon as she laid eyes on him. Would he shoot her? That was fine. She’d survive. But he was a vindictive bastard. What if he decided to shoot Gabriel? She nearly vomited at the thought.
She held her breath as she looked upon her attacker with dread. She gasped. It was … Jericho . Her sobs exploded again and grew in volume.
“Oh, thank God,” she said between breaths. “I thought you were — ” She cut herself off just in time. There was no need to let everything out. Even she recognized that in the midst of her oxygen-flooded thoughts.
She dimly realized that Jericho looked green around the gills where he was slumped against the wall across the room. Gabriel tugged on her arm from the cocoon of her body, and she turned her eyes on him. She read the question in their warm depths. “ El no es tu padre, mijo ,” she whispered to him.
His expression fell, and he looked at Jericho again. “You’re not my dad?” he asked in soft, accented English.
Jericho shook his head, an expression of horror painting his features thunder-cloud gray. “No,” he blurted. He looked at Dahlia. “What’s — ”
Going on? she finished for him mentally. Well, in at least this one thing, she was well and truly caught. “Meet Gabriel,” she stated. Then she added defiantly: “My son.”
“I’m eight!” he piped in cheerfully.
Jericho made a sound as though someone had punched him in the gut, and then he slipped to the floor.
Dahlia frowned just as Gabriel turned to her again. “ ¿Esta enfermo? ” he asked.
Huh, there was a thought. Could the Impulse be affecting him? He certainly looked sick. “I don’t know, baby,” she told him. “Go see abuelita, sí ?” She kissed his forehead and watched as he scampered out of the room, taking her heart with him. Panic flared that he was leaving her sight, but she calmed herself with the thought that she was here now. She wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.
Once her son was gone, Dahlia watched Jericho as he gulped air. If she didn’t know any better, she would guess that the giant man was close to tears. It affected her in ways she didn’t want to admit. The discomfort from the Impulse, which had been kept at bay by the adrenaline of her getaway, made a brief reappearance, and she found herself making her way to his side and sitting on the floor beside him.
He cast a fearful look at her from the corner of his eyes. “Your secret was an eight-year-old son. They never would have guessed.”
“My secret? ” she hissed, going from compassionate to pissed in the space of a heartbeat. “They sent you to find out my secret ?” Dahlia closed her eyes for a second as waves of rage coursed through her. Of course, Jericho had only come with her to find out something to use against her. Didn’t all men betray women this way?
She opened her eyes to find Jericho listing to the side, his eyes rolling back in his head. He threw out a hand to catch himself, and his fingers
A tiny hand appeared over Dahlia’s shoulder and curled into her hair. Dahlia continued to sob and mutter in Spanish as a shock of black hair peeked up over her other shoulder. Below the hair, two bright, brown eyes peered at Jericho in interest. Those eyes widened, and the little head rose higher revealing a crooked smile without two front teeth.
Jericho’s world tipped dangerously, and then the small boy spoke.
“ ¿Papá? ”
Jericho collapsed into the wall behind him.
• • •
Dahlia heard Gabriel whisper to the man who had been chasing her through the night, and she knew it was over. She’d failed at her one job in life.
She turned around slowly, so slowly, delaying the inevitable for as long as possible. She wondered what he would do as soon as she laid eyes on him. Would he shoot her? That was fine. She’d survive. But he was a vindictive bastard. What if he decided to shoot Gabriel? She nearly vomited at the thought.
She held her breath as she looked upon her attacker with dread. She gasped. It was … Jericho . Her sobs exploded again and grew in volume.
“Oh, thank God,” she said between breaths. “I thought you were — ” She cut herself off just in time. There was no need to let everything out. Even she recognized that in the midst of her oxygen-flooded thoughts.
She dimly realized that Jericho looked green around the gills where he was slumped against the wall across the room. Gabriel tugged on her arm from the cocoon of her body, and she turned her eyes on him. She read the question in their warm depths. “ El no es tu padre, mijo ,” she whispered to him.
His expression fell, and he looked at Jericho again. “You’re not my dad?” he asked in soft, accented English.
Jericho shook his head, an expression of horror painting his features thunder-cloud gray. “No,” he blurted. He looked at Dahlia. “What’s — ”
Going on? she finished for him mentally. Well, in at least this one thing, she was well and truly caught. “Meet Gabriel,” she stated. Then she added defiantly: “My son.”
“I’m eight!” he piped in cheerfully.
Jericho made a sound as though someone had punched him in the gut, and then he slipped to the floor.
Dahlia frowned just as Gabriel turned to her again. “ ¿Esta enfermo? ” he asked.
Huh, there was a thought. Could the Impulse be affecting him? He certainly looked sick. “I don’t know, baby,” she told him. “Go see abuelita, sí ?” She kissed his forehead and watched as he scampered out of the room, taking her heart with him. Panic flared that he was leaving her sight, but she calmed herself with the thought that she was here now. She wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.
Once her son was gone, Dahlia watched Jericho as he gulped air. If she didn’t know any better, she would guess that the giant man was close to tears. It affected her in ways she didn’t want to admit. The discomfort from the Impulse, which had been kept at bay by the adrenaline of her getaway, made a brief reappearance, and she found herself making her way to his side and sitting on the floor beside him.
He cast a fearful look at her from the corner of his eyes. “Your secret was an eight-year-old son. They never would have guessed.”
“My secret? ” she hissed, going from compassionate to pissed in the space of a heartbeat. “They sent you to find out my secret ?” Dahlia closed her eyes for a second as waves of rage coursed through her. Of course, Jericho had only come with her to find out something to use against her. Didn’t all men betray women this way?
She opened her eyes to find Jericho listing to the side, his eyes rolling back in his head. He threw out a hand to catch himself, and his fingers
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