Better off Dead A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer - By Eva Sloan Page 0,3

of his walkie-talkie. “The girl has been found, and there’s an unidentified teenaged male...will detain both until told otherwise.”

The other agent, with silver hair at his temples, told Jeff, “Son, put some clothes on.” And Jeff leapt at the chance to get out of the skirt. Thankfully he pulled his jeans on under the mini skirt before pulling the skirt off. Hopping around, he tried to stuff himself into his jeans.

Her head began to spin, her breathing quickened…she was starting to hyperventilate. Get a hold of yourself…

Jeff was buckling his fly when Lucy’s mother gave out a blood curdling scream, and they both turned to the bedroom door.

Her mother’s screams turned to sobs of crying, and suddenly her father appeared in the hall by her doorway, his arms handcuffed behind his back, and another FBI agent pulled him to a halt in front of her door. His usually perfectly pressed clothes were rumpled, the shoulder of his silk dress shirt was torn, and buttons had popped off. A thin line of blood ran down his chin from his mouth.

She stared with bewildered eyes at her father, not able to comprehend why the FBI was taking him away in handcuffs. He looked in through her door, his face angry one moment and then horror-stricken the next. He looked on the verge of tears—but then he caught sight of Jeff, still standing there, still shirtless, with his jeans still open.

Her father’s gaze turned steely, and red hot anger jerked back into his eyes. All he said was “Lucy...” The anger and disappointment in his voice was staggering.

It said: You’re not my good little girl. Not you! Not anymore...

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak; she couldn’t even breathe. She just stood there, staring at the angry stranger that had replaced her father. A moment later another FBI agent joined the one with her father, and together they pushed him down the hallway in front of them.

Her panicked scream made Jeff and the two FBI agents flinch. She ran toward her bedroom door, but one of the agents grabbed her around the waist and kept her anchored to the spot as she cried out, “No, Daddy...no!”

She didn’t know how many times she blubbered and bawled this, or how long the agent held her. She finally got control enough of herself to say, “Please...I have to see him. I have to explain.” I have to tell him nothing happened. Please, please, please!

“Miss,” The other agent said and lowered his firearm. “He’s already gone.”

Gone? The word echoed in her head as her human restraint slowly let her go, and then sat her down on her bed like a rag doll.

He’s gone...he’s just gone...Daddy’s gone...

She pulled her knees up to her chest and pushed her face into them. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat like this. When she was younger she’d sit like this when she was upset or unsure of herself. But she hadn’t let those thought touch her in so long. Those feelings were so foreign, and so suddenly painful, that she shuddered when she finally took a breath. The hot rivulets of her tears cascaded effortlessly down her face, yet she refused to utter a single sound.

She did not register it when the agents sent Jeff away, or when they searched through her room, checked the air conditioning vents, and pawed through her private bathroom. She also hadn’t realized when they’d left her sitting on her bed in her room. She sat there with her tear-wet cheek pressed against her knee, alone.

~*~

Across town, high above the city in a building still being built, Delia waited for him. Standing at the edge of the scaffolding she peered out into the night. Nothing separated her from the winds that whipped through her long blonde hair. She did not turn as he approached, yet he was certain she knew he was there.

Gabriel strode toward her, breathing heavily from the climb—the service elevator incapacitated when the construction crew vacated for the night. He ignored the sinking feeling that threatened to plummet him to his death, and moved up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him.

“Why always so high, Delia?” he said breathily. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He could tell she was smiling. “Testing you, maybe…or maybe I’m testing your love.”

He gave a little bark of laughter. “How much more must you test that? By now you should know how much I want you.” He turned her around and gazed into