“I must speak with Francesca about my patient,” Brice announced and then was annoyed with himself for sounding like a loud, defiant child. Abrasive. Harsh even. He made an effort to lower his voice. “Privately if you don’t mind, Gabriel.”
“Of course not.”
Brice winced at the purity and goodness in that voice, at such odds with his own. It was as gentle as a summer’s breeze, as soft as velvet.
Brice took possession of Francesca’s elbow and all but pulled her out of the room. Francesca tried not to notice the difference in the way the two men touched her, but it was impossible. “What is it, Brice? You’re upset.” She spoke calmly even as she removed herself from his grip.
“Of course I’m upset. I just lost a man who had absolutely nothing wrong with him. Except a crushed hand. It was pulverized. The bones were crushed like matchsticks.” It was an accusation and once more Brice realized he had raised his voice.
She lifted one perfect eyebrow. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Skyler’s father died of a crushed hand? How strange. I didn’t know that was possible.”
“You know damned well it’s not,” he snapped. “He strangled. His throat swelled, was completely closed, just like that, for no apparent reason.”
“Are they going to do an autopsy?”
He raked a hand through his hair. She drove him crazy. She just didn’t get it. “Of course they’re going to do an autopsy. That isn’t the point.” He clenched his jaw. In his head he swore he heard Gabriel’s taunting laughter, low and amused. “It’s that man.”
“What man?” Francesca’s black eyes were wide and beautiful, entirely too innocent. Of course she wouldn’t know, she would never suspect anyone of wrongdoing.
Exasperated, Brice took a step toward her, wanting very much to shake her. At once he felt an oppressive malevolence gathering in the hall, thickening the air, the exact same feeling that had been in the room before Gabriel entered. Nervously Brice glanced at the door. He cleared his throat, jerked his head toward Skyler’s room. “Him.”
“Gabriel? Are you implying Gabriel had something to do with Thompson’s death?” Francesca sounded somewhere between outraged and amused. “You can’t be serious, Brice.”
“He crushed his hand, Francesca. Your Gabriel did that. Crushed his fist with one hand. I watched him do it and he wasn’t even straining. I never even saw him come into the room. He was just there. There’s something not quite right about him. His eyes. They aren’t human. He’s not human.”
Francesca stared at him wide-eyed. “Not human? As in what? A phantom? A ghost that flies through the air? A gorilla? What? Maybe he lifts weights. Maybe he’s strong because he lifts weights and his adrenaline was pumping. What are you saying?”
“I don’t know, Francesca.” Brice raked a hand through his hair again. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, but his eyes were not human. Not when he was confronting Thompson. He’s different.”
“I know Gabriel. I do. He’s perfectly normal,” Francesca insisted softly.
“Maybe you knew him. People change, Francesca. Something happened to him. Of course he’s no phantom, and he can’t fly, but he’s dangerous.”
“Gabriel is one of the most gentle men I know.” She started past him back to the room.
Brice caught her arm in a bruising grip, a surge of anger making his grip much harder than necessary. Instantly something pinched a nerve in his own arm, causing it to go completely numb. He cried out, was given no choice but to release her as his arm dropped uselessly to his side. “What the hell? Francesca, my arm! Where are you going?”
“I’m too tired to deal with this right now. You’re jealous, Brice. I don’t blame you for what you’re feeling, but I’m exhausted and I don’t want to discuss Gabriel any more, especially if you’re going to say such awful things about him. You don’t know the first thing about him.” She jerked open the door and nearly ran into Gabriel’s arms.
He bent over her, his body posture protective. “What is it, sweetheart, what has upset you?” His arms circled her slender body and pulled her into the shelter of his large frame. He had heard every word Brice had said to her, every accusation and each innuendo that remained unsaid. Over her head his eyes met the doctor’s. In the depths burned a fiery flame of sheer menace.