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“How what started?” I ask.
Look, Gabriel may not want the information, but something about this older man intrigues me. None of the other victims tonight saw Gabriel coming, but this guy got the one up on him. That’s talent. Plus, I want to know more about this organization they’re part of.
“My revelation,” Gambler says briefly to me. “I was a little older than you when I met my Maggie.”
The moment he says the name, I notice the abundance of pictures. There are framed pictures everywhere. I start with the ones on the mantle. Without thought I walk over to the framed photos. The first picture is a black and white photo of a young couple. The woman has long hair parted down the middle. She’s holding up the peace sign giving me hippie vibes. The guy beside her with a look of awe, is the younger version of the man sitting.
Moving to the next photo, Maggie is wearing a white lace dress with bell bottom sleeves. Around her head is a crown of daisies. Again, Gambler is staring at the woman with stars in his eyes.
Often, you hear people talk about being with their soul mate. Looking at these pictures of this couple tells me this is what being with a soul mate looks like. Along the walls, on side tables, and bookshelves are tons of framed pictures of this couple’s life.
There are pictures of them everywhere in the world. Pictures of her alone smiling seductively at the camera. Pictures of the two of them, always with him staring longingly at her. I also notice at least four pictures of her with a full belly, yet there are no photos of children.
“What happened to Maggie?” I ask turning to face Gambler.
However, it isn’t him that answers the question.
“Dead,” Gabriel replies bluntly.
Sadness fills Gambler’s eyes. A type of sadness I’ve seen only once in my life. It was the day my father stood at the door of my bedroom with a gun.
“Breast cancer,” Gambler says. “By the time we caught it, it was too late. It has been two months now since we buried her.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t even know these people, but looking at these pictures made me feel as if I watched the movie of their love life. It feels as if I was a part of it and I truly grasp his loss.
“Thank you,” Gambler says looking over at me.
“What does this have to do with me?”
Okay damn, Gabe. I mean I understand he’s a little emotionally detached. I’ve figured that out during our time together, but he could at least pretend.
Gambler chuckles, not seeming to take offense. “I was like you. A dutiful soldier for the Church. I believed I owed them everything. They took an orphaned boy with anger issues, stellar cognitive skills, and made him feel as if he belonged and that he was special.” Gambler pauses, his gaze seeming unfocused as if he is reliving something.
Gabriel shifts so slightly toward me that if I hadn’t been looking at him, I would have missed it. The movement seems to get Gambler’s attention. His grip on the gun tightens.
“That’s the thing I loved about the Church,” he continues as if he never paused. “The courage and the confidence they give to the youth in the program. But, like anything that has been around as long as the Church, it becomes tainted. I met my Maggie because she was on my menu.”
I gasp at that realization. The woman that he looks at with such adoration was supposed to die by his hands. I ignore the hopeful flutters in my belly. Despite that little bit of excitement that tried to sneak its way into my thoughts, Gambler’s story is not Gabriel’s.
Hell, I don’t even want it to be. Do I think Gabe is a great guy? Sure. A little off, but I’ve met worse. Do I want to travel the world with him and take pictures like the ones surrounding me here? Hell no.
“How did you get out of killing her?” Despite just having that rational conversation in my head, I still ask the question.
For the first time since that light came on, Gabriel takes his attention off Gambler. Those seafoam green eyes turn to me and narrow. I look away, ignoring the heat on the side of my face. It isn’t until Gambler starts speaking again that the burning goes away.
“She didn’t fit what they told me,” he says with a laugh to himself. “Her folder said that she was a death angel. Someone that preyed on the weak and innocent. It painted her as a stone-cold killer that inherited money from her dead victims.”
Gabriel doesn’t respond, only tilts his head to the side.
This doesn’t stop Gambler; he continues with his story. “I watched her from my scope that day, but something about her files just didn’t sit right with me. I started watching her and doing my own research. It was then I realized it was all a lie.
“Maggie was the daughter of a man named Jeremiah Smith. The Smiths could trace their ancestors all the way back to their passage on one of the first ships over to this country.
“Their wealth went back even further. I learned that he had put the hit out on his youngest daughter. She’d committed no crimes and had done no harm. The only reason she was going to die, is because her father had the power and the money to get the Church to do it.”
“That’s not how it works,” Gabriel says, his jaw tight and his hands are fisted at his side. “The Church vets everyone on our menus. We don’t do hire for kill.”
