Free Fatal Wild Child by Tracy Cooper-Posey Page A

duty?"
    He hesitated before he answered. "Yes." His voice was low.
    Her breath came faster. She stepped back from him. "Since when?"
    "Since three twenty-three a.m. last night," he said softly.
    Last night...when he must have retrieved her camera and her laptop.
    "What else did you find in my car, Seth?"
    "We should discuss this inside."
    "What else did you find in my car?"
    "An explosive device designed to take out your brakes."
    Someone had tried to kill her. Seth had come back because someone was trying to kill her.

Chapter Seven
     
    Gabrielle reached for the verandah rail, weak and a little dizzy with the speed of bewildering thoughts and questions slamming into her brain. "Oh my lord..." she gasped.
    Seth was holding her up, picking her up. "Up you come," he murmured.
    "Why me?" she whispered.
    "They're not going to get you," he said. "Not while I'm here."
    "But what did I do? What made them want to kill me?" she asked Seth in an undertone, clutching at his shoulder as he hurried along the path. It was snowing much harder now. Flakes clung to his black hair.
    "We'll figure that out," he assured her. "Try to hold it together, Gabrielle. You're in shock. I'm going to fix that in a minute. Breathe deeply."
    She could feel the tremors rippling through her and her teeth chattering. She clung to Seth and rested her head against his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat as he walked. Her body shook as she tried to encompass the awful sensation that someone in the world wanted her dead.
    The worst part of it was that she had no idea why.
    She heard the squeak of a hinge and the slap of a door, then indoor warmth and light fanned her face. The familiar sounds of controlled hysteria surrounded her. She recognized them as the noises of a commercial kitchen and lifted her head a little. They were in a streamlined, narrow kitchen, surrounded by sous chefs and aides, all looking harried and surprised by Seth's arrival and his burden.
    One chef lifted his hand. "Seth!" And he broke into a stream of French.
    Seth answered in excellent French, but Gabrielle was too overwhelmed to even begin to translate. The chef grabbed Seth's arm and hurried them through the kitchen and out through an internal door, into a passageway that led, in turn, to a small office. The chef tipped a finger to his brow. "Take your time, Captain," he said, in a heavy French accent. "The manager, 'e will not be in tonight."
    " Merci , Bastien," Seth said, and shouldered his way into the office. He lowered Gabrielle into the big executive chair, just as a kitchen helper appeared in the doorway, holding out a soda can.
    "Thanks," Seth said and dropped a two dollar coin into the boy's hand. He shut the office door and locked it, then popped the lid. "Drink this, as quickly as you can," he told Gabrielle.
    "It's loaded with sugar," she objected, wrapping her arms around her as chills seemed to sweep through her.
    "Exactly. The sugar will offset the shock. It'll help. And in a few minutes, when you feel more human, we'll go and eat a huge meal. That will make you feel even more human. Drink. I promise this will work."
    She recalled that Seth, of all people, probably knew more about getting the body through shock quickly than most other people. She took the can and drank, trying to drain the cold beverage quickly despite how cold she was feeling.
    Seth perched on the edge of the desk, watching her.
    By the time she had finished the can, she was feeling better. Marginally. The cold still seemed to grip her, though. She put the can on the desk with a grimace. "No wonder you insisted on telling me when we were inside."
    Seth crossed his arms. "I was more worried about bugs and sightlines, but yes, this, too."
    "You should insist on having your way, more, Seth. Then you wouldn't have to keep making me look so foolish."
    He smiled. "You're a stubborn lady."
    "Who's too used to having her own way." She sighed. "I need to start listening to you properly. I mean really listening.