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Damnably inconvenient.
Gabriel glanced over at the fight.
"Just hold on," Olivia whispered. "I think I'm dead now. Lower me to the ground and keep your back to them..."
As he lowered her limp body, she kept her eyes open just enough to watch the fight.
"Okay," she whispered. "They're not paying any attention to us. So at the count of three...we run like hell and leave Patrick to his fate."
When Gabriel didn't respond, she sighed. "It was worth a shot. Fine. At the count of three, we rescue the damn bocan. I've got the pixie-chick. You get the guy. Now, as I count down, start retreating, keeping your back to them, attention on my dead body, horrified by what you've done..."
He complied, ignoring the fact that he was backing toward a fight when he struggled to even sit in a restaurant without putting his back to a wall. Olivia was watching out for him, and he trusted her. Unquestioningly.
She counted down, and when she reached one, he wheeled and sprang. He grabbed the male pixie by the shoulders, yanking him off Patrick. They went down fighting. Which was not how this encounter was supposed to go at all. The plan was to resolve it with trickery, not violence. But Patrick had ruined that, and as Gabriel heard his suit jacket tear, he made a mental note that it would definitely be going on the bocan's bill.
Gabriel subdued the male pixie. By then the female realized what was happening. She let out an inhuman sque
al and charged in to save her mate. A shot from Olivia's gun stopped her.
The pixie looked at the gun, and then at the hole in the wall above her head.
"That was the warning shot," Olivia said. "The next one will be about a foot lower. And, in case you're wondering, yes, the bullets are cold iron. Patrick? Could you take that guy? He's bleeding all over Gabriel's shirt."
The male pixie gnashed his teeth, but Gabriel kept him pinned, moving off him only once Patrick had him secured.
"Okay, pixies," Olivia said. "You have the right--no, actually, the obligation to remain silent. Anything you say will definitely be used against you..."
Gabriel watched as Olivia rose from her perch on a gravestone. "Okay, it's nearly dawn, and I think we can leave. Looks like pixie-chick's curse-removal worked. Christina's gone, hopefully gone to wherever she should be." She brushed off her jeans. "So, how do you feel?"
"Fine."
She peered at him. "Are you sure?"
He was. The pixie's magic had failed because Gabriel knew he was lost. He knew he had to find his way back. And he knew he couldn't do that in one hour...or in forty-eight. He might want to mend things with Olivia quickly, but this wasn't like his other betrayals. He'd hurt her too much for a speedy fix.
As they started walking, she yawned, and he said, "Rest tomorrow. Take Monday off, too."
She tensed. "No, I--"
"That isn't a hint not to come back to work."
"I know. I just..."
"The last time I told you that, it wasn't a threat. It was me being, as you'd say, pissy. And, yes, it was a warning. An inexcusable warning, which I regret, and for which I am apologizing." He glanced over at her. "I would never have fired you. I ought not to have said or done anything to suggest I might. I'm sorry, and it won't happen again."
They took a few steps in silence, and he could sense her clamping her jaw shut against a response.
"Let me rephrase that," he said. "I promise I will endeavor to ensure it does not happen again, and if it does, you can be assured I do not mean it, and that if I continue in that vein, I should understand that you will find employment elsewhere, which I wouldn't want. Is that better?"
She forced a smile. "It is. You don't do well with absolutes, Gabriel."
"I know." He steeled himself to continue. "But when I say I don't want to lose you, Olivia, I do mean that." He let the declaration hang there for exactly three seconds before he had to add, "Where else would I find an investigator to work with me?"
She laughed and shook her head.
"I know you said you feel fine," she said after a few steps, "but can I ask you a favor?"
"Anything."
