“Keep wondering.” Gallo turned away and moved toward the trees. “I’m not defending myself to you, Quinn. I’ll see you all back at the house.”
“Get in the car, Gallo,” Catherine said. “I’ve been through that brush. It’s hell on bare feet.”
But Gallo had already disappeared into the palmetto shrubs.
“Okay.” Catherine turned to Joe. “You’re saying that Gallo didn’t want Jacobs’s killer caught. Why? Are you still thinking that Gallo had something to do with Bonnie’s death? That maybe he didn’t kill Jacobs himself but he had an accomplice do it?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit until I find out why Gallo didn’t throw that knife when he had a better chance of taking out his target.” He turned away and started up the slope. “And I don’t regard any argument you can give me as credible.”
She stared at him. “Why the hell not?”
He looked back over his shoulder. “You’re being emotional. You’re not thinking as clearly as you usually do.”
“He made the throw. He saved my life. I was with him in that house, and I know he didn’t set Jacobs up to be butchered.”
Joe didn’t answer as he got into the driver’s seat.
Eve could sense the frustration Catherine was feeling. She was feeling a similar frustration, mixed with uneasiness. Yes, Joe’s suspicion could be based on his history of distrust of Gallo. But Joe was smart and cool and seldom let anything interfere with his logic. “Come on.” She took Catherine’s arm and nudged her toward the slope. “Get in the car. I don’t want you getting angry and stomping off into the brush like Gallo. After looking at the soles of your feet while we were sitting on the bank, I’m surprised you can walk.”
“I’m all right.” Catherine started up the slope. “But I won’t let Joe make me pissed off enough to hike back.” She added through set teeth, “I’m not credible? I’m too emotional? Screw him.”
“He used the wrong words,” Eve said.
“You bet he did.”
“But you wouldn’t be this upset if you didn’t think that there was some truth in what he said.”
Catherine’s gaze flew to her face. “Do you believe Gallo was going to let me die?”
“No.” She smiled. “But I’m emotional, too. I don’t think nearly as logically as Joe. As we’ve already discussed, sometimes gray seems white to me.” Her smile faded. “And there may be a good deal of gray in this scenario. Gallo may not be pitch-black, but he could be bordering on charcoal.”
Catherine shook her head. “He saved my life. He wouldn’t have let me be murdered.” She got into the backseat of the car. “And that’s not an emotional judgment.”
“No,” Eve said as she climbed into the passenger seat. “It’s more like faith.”
* * *
“HOW ARE YOUR FEET?” Gallo stood in the doorway of the kitchen, his gaze on Catherine, who was sitting in a chair by the stove, her bare feet soaking in a pan of warm water. “I’m glad you’re taking care of them. Salt water?”
“Yes.” She met his gaze across the room. “I always take care of myself.”
His lips twisted. “Quinn wouldn’t agree with you.”
“Joe thinks I’m ‘emotional.’” She looked at his feet, encased in boots. “You tore your feet up, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You deserve it. You were stupid. I had no choice. But you could have just kept quiet and let yourself be driven back to the house.” She sloshed her feet in the water. “Did you bandage your feet before you put on those boots?”
“Yes, I take care of myself, too.” He came toward her. “Where are Quinn and Eve?”
“They’re calling Jane MacGuire. Eve promised to keep in touch with her.”
“And Eve always keeps her promises.” He took the towel draped over the chair next to Catherine’s. “Did you call Venable again?”
“No, but he called me and said he’s on his way here. He asked a favor of New Orleans Police Department, and the forensic team should be here anytime to check out that truck.”
“He’s moving fast.” He fell to his knees, took her left foot out of the water, and enveloped it in the towel. “It’s not that urgent, is it? Not to the CIA.”
“No. And Venable has no real reason to come down here. He knows I can take care of it. Which means that he has another reason to move in.”
“You’re obviously valuable to him.” He was gently patting her foot dry. “He wants to make sure nothing happens to you.”
His hands were warm through the terry of the towel, and his position at her feet and the action itself were unbearably intimate. She felt a rush of heat go through her.
Not now. The searing sensuality was unexpected, and she felt the tensing that was now familiar. Pull away from him.
She didn’t move. She watched him slowly move the terry over her foot. Each stroke was causing her to tense, the blood to rush beneath the skin at his touch. “Venable isn’t that protective. He wants something.”
“What?” He placed her foot on the floor and lifted her other foot from the water. He began to dry the top, then cradled it in the towel. “You have beautiful feet.”
“No feet are beautiful. Some of them are just not ugly.”
“You’re wrong.” His hands tightened around her foot, his eyes focused on the towel. “I never dreamed I had a foot fetish. I keep thinking where I’d like to put—” He drew a deep breath. “That’s not where I meant this to go.” He began to dry her foot again. “I’m constantly becoming distracted when I’m around you.”
“Where did you mean it to go?” she asked unevenly. “I’m curious to know, Gallo.”
“I wanted to tell—” He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. “I never wanted him to kill you, Catherine. No matter what Quinn says, I’d never do that. You trusted me when no one else did, when I didn’t even have faith in myself. I was planning on taking him out earlier. I thought I’d have time. But then everything went to hell.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t expecting him—” He broke off and threw the towel aside. “Shit.” He jumped to his feet. “I never meant it to be that close, Catherine. But I had to target his hand. I tried, but I couldn’t do anything—” He was striding to the door. “But I wouldn’t have let him hurt you. I couldn’t stand that either.” He looked at her over his shoulder, and she was shocked at the torment she saw on his face. “That damn Quinn was right about almost everything else, but he was wrong about that. Believe me, Catherine.”
Before she could answer, he was gone.
She collapsed back in the chair and drew a shaky breath. She felt vulnerable and hot and bewildered. Those moments with Gallo had been explosive, and she had not come out well. She had responded, not been aggressive. She had not been in control. She should have asked him questions instead of trying to puzzle him out and being swayed by what he was clearly feeling.
What she was feeling.
Dammit, she’d have to go after him and make him—
She heard the sound of a car starting outside.
“No!” She jumped to her feet and ran out of the kitchen, down the hall, and threw open the front door.
Gallo was already driving the car out of the driveway and toward the road.
“Gallo!”
He didn’t answer, and, the next moment, the car disappeared around the curve of the road.
“Catherine?” Eve was behind her. “What’s wrong?”
Catherine threw her arm out toward the road. “That’s what’s wrong. He’s gone. He took off.”
“Gallo?” Joe said as he came out of the living room.
“Who else? Did he say good-bye? Did he explain more than muttering a lot of disjointed garbage? No.” She went back to the kitchen, tossed the water from the pan out the door, and sat down. She glared at Eve and Joe, who had followed her from the front door. “But he’s not going to get away with it. I’m going to go after him.” She opened the first-aid kit she’d set out in readiness to bandage the cuts on her feet. “But first we’re going to find out everything we can put together about the man who killed Jacobs. Dammit, Jacobs was scared because he knew who killed Bonnie. I know it. If we’d had just a little more time, we’d have made him tell us everything. It had to be that man we lost in the bayou. We’re close, Eve.”