COUNTERPOINT
An original romantic serial

From Alina Adams the author of "When a Man Loves a Woman" (DELL 4/00), "Annie's Wild Ride" (AVON 8/98), "Inside Figure Skating" (METROBOOKS 11/00 & 9/99), "Thieves at Heart" (AVON 12/95) and "The Fictitious Marquis" (AVON 6/95)

Available weekly by e-mail from http://www.AlinaAdams.com

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Dedicated to Helping Children All Over the World

CHAPTER 49

      Nicole didn't see the blood, until she stepped in it.
      And, at first, she didn't even realize what it was.
      She'd come to Gabriel's clinic in the middle of the night because of a niggling, unceasing feeling that she couldn't just leave things the way they were between them. She couldn't live with knowing that Gabriel hated her. She had to make him see... she had to make him see.... Well, to be honest, Nicole wasn't certain what exactly she had to make him see. All she knew was that she had to make him see it.
      And so she'd come to the clinic to plead her case one more time. Only, for some strange reason, the clinic was dark.
      But, the front door was open.
      Hesitantly, her hand tightly clutching the railing, Nicole felt her way down the six concrete steps that led to the below-street-level clinic. When she stepped over the threshold, she felt the sole of her shoe skid on something wet. And sticky. She looked down instinctively, but could make out nothing in the dark except a spot of the floor that seemed somehow blacker than the rest of the room.
      Lowering her head, however, was enough for Nicole's nostrils to fill with the unmistakable smell of blood.
      She gagged, and, without thinking, stuck out her hand to flick on the light switch. The strobes above her head went on in thirds. First the two panels furthest away from her, then the middle ones, and then the ones in the front.
      Nicole blinked and raised one hand to shield her eyes from the blinding glare.
      But, not before she caught site of Gabriel lying face down on the white-tile floor, his back drenched in blood.
     
      Victoria held Robin's hand for the entire elevator ride up to Douglas Cooper's apartment. His fingers were as icy as if he'd strapped a rubberband around his wrist to cut off circulation.
      When Douglas opened the door, he slowly looked from Robin, to Victoria, and down to their two tightly clenched hands.
      "Oh," was all Douglas said.
      Robin said, "I didn't mean to tell Gabriel. I didn't do it on purpose."
      Douglas shrugged and moved aside, allowing Robin and Victoria to enter the penthouse. "I should have had the courage to tell him myself, first."
      "You mean you aren't mad at me?" The desperation in Robin's voice mixed with an obviously false, defensive bravado. Victoria's heart nearly broke in two for how badly he was hurting.
      "Would my being mad at you in any way help matters, son?"
      "That never bothered you before," Robin snapped.
      Victoria winced. And fought a strong urge to play referee and physically step between father and son, as if her presence might somehow stop them from ripping each other to shreds.
      Seemingly giving up on even attempting to have a civil conversation with Robin, Douglas turned to Victoria. He asked, "Have you heard from your -- from Gabriel?"
      "No."
      "Neither have I. Well, not since..."
      "He'll come around," Victoria said. "I mean, what choice does he have? The truth is the truth, right?"
      "Not in our house," Robin mumbled.
      Douglas raised an eyebrow.
      And Robin looked away.
     
      Gabriel wasn't dead.
      Nicole had no evidence on which to base her conviction, which was why the thought that flashed through her mind wasn't so much an opinion or an analysis as it was a moment of absolute denial.
      Gabriel couldn't be dead, and therefore he wasn't dead. As Nicole rushed toward the bleeding figure on the clinic floor, all she knew was that Gabriel couldn't be dead, therefore he wasn't. It was simple, really and it had to be the truth.
      Ignoring the instant mess it made of her clothes, Nicole knelt down on the floor beside Gabriel, the front of her skirt sopping up blood like a foam mop. She wanted to touch him, but she didn't know how. Her hands fluttered impotently above Gabriel's body like doves in their death-throes. She wanted to help him, really she did, but Nicole felt certain that anything she could come up with would only do Gabriel more harm than good.
      Her life had a tendency to go in that direction.
      She wanted to call for help. But the only person Nicole could have ever trusted to answer a distress a call of hers was lying in a pool of blood at her feet.
      "Nicole..."
      She might have thought she was imagining him calling her name, if, at the same time, Gabriel hadn't also shifted his head just enough for his cheek to now be pressed against the tile, and his eye to roll far back enough in his head, to be looking up at her.
      "Please... Help me.... Please...."
      "No." The denial shot out of Nicole's mouth in direct opposition to what she'd been thinking a moment earlier.
      "Please..."
      It took her a moment to understand why his request upset her so, but, once she understood it herself, Nicole tried haltingly to explain. "No... I -- I'm no good -- I'm no good at... at anything, Gabriel. Let me call someone. Let me call Victoria. She -- "
      "No." A shudder assaulted his body as if the knife that had slashed his back into near-bacon strips a half hour earlier were doing it again.
      Nicole winced in sympathy. But, still she couldn't bring herself to risk touching him.
      "They cut the phone," Gabriel managed to croak out, before another spasm made him gasp in pain and bite down on his lower lip to keep from screaming. "Please, I can't have the police... I -- I'll explain it later. Right now, Nicole, please, help me...."