Free Gabriel by Naima Simone Page B

exhaustion
     had claimed him, and his arms had become leaden weights around her body. But the wife
     and son he cherished were still dead, and he was still alone and hurting, yearning
     for a life forever lost to him.
    Anger simmered in Leah’s belly, and she shifted in the driver’s seat, uncomfortable
     with the resentment she couldn’t ignore or squelch. She was a bitch—a selfish bitch.
     But she couldn’t deny the bitterness bubbling within her like a seething cauldron.
    Last night had not been the first time she’d discovered Gabriel drowning in his sorrow
     and pain. But at least six months had elapsed since the previous episode. And never— never —had he allowed her to remain in the same room with him, much less hold him.
    Jesus . Her throat convulsed, and the damn useless tears stung her eyes again. He’d clutched
     her to him as if she were a flimsy raft on storm-tossed waves…the only thing keeping
     him from going under.
    Stupidly, she’d believed Gabriel had started to come out on the other side. But seeing
     him on his bedroom floor, his face twisted in grief and pain, she realized her assumption
     had been wrong.
    Had it been the murder of Chay’s stepfather that had set him back so far? Another
     senseless, terrible death that reminded him of his own loss?
    Why didn’t he fight? She slapped her palm against the steering wheel before curling
     her fingers around it. The ridges bit into the soft flesh but she tightened her grip,
     welcoming the slight sting. Why didn’t he fight for his life? For the people who loved
     him?
    For… her ?
    Humiliation coiled in her breast. Once more, she was the little five-year-old girl
     desperate to understand her mother’s death and her father’s abrupt abandonment. Desperate
     to be loved, to feel accepted, to feel worthy.
    “Shit,” she grumbled, swiping at her eyes where, in spite of her grim determination,
     moisture had gathered. She pulled into the Beacon Hill parking deck and cut off the
     engine. With a soggy, humorless chuckle, she leaned her forehead against the wheel.
     “Freud would have an effin’ field day with me.”
    Abandonment issues. Destined to love someone unattainable. Hell, she belonged on a
     therapist’s couch. Because if last night had revealed anything to her, it’d been the
     futility of this hopeless love for a man who would never see her as a woman. Though
     Gabriel’s wife was gone forever, he remained as married today as he’d been two years
     ago.
    Maybe it was true a person couldn’t help who they loved, but it was madness to butt
     her head against a wall for fifteen long years, never seeing a single crack in the
     defenses, and yet still continue hoping for entrance. Someday.
    Maybe it was time for the madness to end.

Chapter Seven
    So, her Deep Throat client was right.
    A couple of hours later, Leah reclined in her office chair. She stared at the computer
     monitor and sighed, feeling resigned by what she’d discovered. Or rather, by what
     she hadn’t discovered.
    Over the past twenty years, the social security number assigned to Richard Gregory
     Pierce had not been used to purchase property. No new credit queries had been processed
     on the number. No charges had been made to the credit cards he’d possessed at the
     time of his disappearance. W-2s or 1099s hadn’t been issued, nor had tax returns been
     filed with the IRS for Richard G. Pierce for two decades.
    According to this information, not only had he vanished from Boston, but off the face
     of the earth.
    She closed her eyes. Richard was most likely dead, just as her secret client had claimed.
    The evidence had been there all along. She hadn’t wanted to accept it. Richard had
     had everything going for him—wealth, social and business connections, his health,
     a great, loving family, and a committed relationship. There hadn’t been a reason for
     him to walk away. Death appeared to be the only sensible conclusion to the mystery
     of his