Even Illie had trouble deep-reading her.
Right now, he wanted nothing more than to go home, have a drink and go to bed. But he couldn't. Not until he'd looked after the woman he couldn't stop thinking about.
He climbed the front steps and reached out to press the doorbell, but the door opened before he could. His sister stood before him, brown eyes concerned despite her welcoming smile.
"A visit from my little brother at this hour of the night.
Things must be bad." Her voice was soft as she rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.
Gabriel smiled and kissed her back. "I need help."
"I gathered that. Head on through to the kitchen. Alain's making coffee."
He made his way down the shadowed hall, his boots echoing loudly on the wooden floors. Alain, Jessie's brown- haired, large-limbed husband of six months, stood near the sink, pouring hot water into three mugs.
He glanced around as Gabriel entered, giving him a quick look over before his lips split into a wide grin. "Man, you look like shit."
Gabriel smiled and dragged out a chair. "That's pretty much an accurate description of what I feel like."
Alain placed a mug in front of him and sat on the opposite side of the table. The scent of coffee wafted up, teasing his nostrils.
"Things not going well?"
Though there was a sympathetic edge in Alain's voice, amusement crinkled the corners of his brown eyes. Gabriel had an odd feeling he wasn't actually referring to work problems. What had Jessie been telling him?
"Yeah, you could say that. Almost got blown up this afternoon."
"Tough days at the office are the pits."
"But you're not here for sympathy, are you?" Jessie said, as she sat down and leaned her shoulder against Alain's.
Loneliness swirled through him. If only briefly, he found himself wanting what most of his siblings had—someone to lean on. To come home to. He rubbed a hand across his eyes.
God, he definitely needed some sleep if he was thinking that.
Besides, his chance at such a life had slipped away with Andrea's death "No. I want you to help me guard Sam's back."
Jessie shared a look with her husband, concern evident.
Alain leaned forward, interlacing his long fingers. "Stephan's not going to like this."
"Stephan doesn't have to know."
Jessie smiled slightly. "You can't keep secrets from Stephan. None of us can. He has a nose for them."
Well, this was one secret he'd better keep his nose well away from or there would be hell to pay. "Look, Stephan's assigned her to the Wetherton case. He's hoping her presence will draw out Sethanon. I think it's more likely to draw out Hopeworth."
Alain's frown deepened. "Why would Hopeworth be interested in her?"
"Hopeworth's been playing in the genetic minefield for years, and Sam is more than likely one of their creations. Even if she's not, she's caught their interest."
Jessie picked up her coffee and regarded him steadily over the rim. "Why didn't you just keep her as a partner? You wouldn't have had this problem then."
"My partners have a bad habit of dying." He hesitated, and rubbed his eyes again. Andrea might have died by an assassin's bullet, but Mike's death had been his responsibility.
He'd fired the killing shot. "I prefer to work alone. You know that."
A small smile touched her lips. "What I know, brother dearest, is that you're using your fear as an excuse."