have proved useful to them. That's where Toby came in. His job was to watch her and intervene when necessary.
That day had come thanks to his son Gabe and Gabe's uncle, Derek Spark.
Toby watched Gabe out of the corner of his eye. He worried about the relationship between his son and Jacqueline. They never seemed to have too much to say.
Then again, what do you say to the woman whose husband you killed?
Gabe was just lucky Jacqueline had opted to let the matter go, saying he was obviously under the influence of his controlling uncle. She could have demanded justice, could have even turned Gabe over to the Brotherhood herself, but Jacqueline had done none of those things.
She'd shown mercy.
It was that part of her humanity that would keep her grounded. Or at least, Toby hoped so. If only she would open up, talk to him about her thoughts. But while their days were filled with gentle teasing and jokes and their nights steamy and sultry, the subject of her powers was a touchy subject.
And as for the Brotherhood--Toby couldn't begin to imagine what their plans were now. His few contacts in the council were keeping quiet, but he knew enough about the ways of the Brotherhood to figure they would try to get retribution for Derek's death.
That meant trouble was coming for Gabe.
Maybe even death.
Toby couldn't allow that. The memory of his doomed Gabriella was enough to make him vow to protect his son.
"Hey, bartender!"
Toby winced at the call. He hated to be summoned like that. All of his regulars knew better. He turned to look at Jacob Hill, the drunk who'd just choked on a peanut and tried to hit on Jacqueline.
"Remember me?" Jacob waved a twenty dollar bill in the air. "I'm still waiting for another beer."
Toby grabbed a cold bottle from the ice tub and sat it in front of the man.
"Mr. Hill, you should have a care with how you shovel those peanuts into your mouth," Toby advised. "I don't like people dying in my bar because of stupidity."
"I really don't like the idea of dying in a bar for any reason." Jacob's eyes were bloodshot from the five beers he'd consumed prior to the one Toby had just given him. "Especially this one."
"You got a problem with my bar?"
"No, no." Jacob tapped his beer on the counter causing white foam to rise up and spill over the lip of the bottle. "It's just I know a little something about death and the work place. When people die there, it tends to give you a bad rep. Trust me. I know all about that."
"Did you own a business where someone died?"
"Yep. You've probably heard of me. I made all the local papers." Jacob sipped his beer, glanced around to make sure no one could over hear their conversation, and then leaned in close. "I'm actually Jacob Fortensky."
Toby narrowed his eyes, trying to remember why the name rang a bell.
"Yeah. I know what you're thinking. I'm the guy who got those two hookers killed in his own law office, right? The cops are trying to say I did it." Jacob wiped at his nose. "But I didn't kill nobody. I was framed."
Now the details came flooding back. There'd been a lot of talk in the bar about the case when it first happened a month ago. Everybody felt Jacob Fortensky was a creep lawyer who'd gone too far and finally got caught.
"So let me get this straight. Somebody set it up so that you would be found passed out with your head on a dead prostitute's breast with your fingerprints all over a bloody knife? I think I read that there was cocaine in your system and that one of the women was severely beaten." Toby frowned. "How are you even out on bail?"
"I'm a lawyer. I know all the rules and I'm innocent. And that's not true about the knife. There was one at the scene but my finger prints weren't on it."
"Uh-huh. You must have the taken the time to wipe it clean."
"See that's the problem with people in this small, fucking town. Everybody thinks they know everything about everybody else." Jacob tapped his beer again. "Women love me. I'm a dynamo in the
That day had come thanks to his son Gabe and Gabe's uncle, Derek Spark.
Toby watched Gabe out of the corner of his eye. He worried about the relationship between his son and Jacqueline. They never seemed to have too much to say.
Then again, what do you say to the woman whose husband you killed?
Gabe was just lucky Jacqueline had opted to let the matter go, saying he was obviously under the influence of his controlling uncle. She could have demanded justice, could have even turned Gabe over to the Brotherhood herself, but Jacqueline had done none of those things.
She'd shown mercy.
It was that part of her humanity that would keep her grounded. Or at least, Toby hoped so. If only she would open up, talk to him about her thoughts. But while their days were filled with gentle teasing and jokes and their nights steamy and sultry, the subject of her powers was a touchy subject.
And as for the Brotherhood--Toby couldn't begin to imagine what their plans were now. His few contacts in the council were keeping quiet, but he knew enough about the ways of the Brotherhood to figure they would try to get retribution for Derek's death.
That meant trouble was coming for Gabe.
Maybe even death.
Toby couldn't allow that. The memory of his doomed Gabriella was enough to make him vow to protect his son.
"Hey, bartender!"
Toby winced at the call. He hated to be summoned like that. All of his regulars knew better. He turned to look at Jacob Hill, the drunk who'd just choked on a peanut and tried to hit on Jacqueline.
"Remember me?" Jacob waved a twenty dollar bill in the air. "I'm still waiting for another beer."
Toby grabbed a cold bottle from the ice tub and sat it in front of the man.
"Mr. Hill, you should have a care with how you shovel those peanuts into your mouth," Toby advised. "I don't like people dying in my bar because of stupidity."
"I really don't like the idea of dying in a bar for any reason." Jacob's eyes were bloodshot from the five beers he'd consumed prior to the one Toby had just given him. "Especially this one."
"You got a problem with my bar?"
"No, no." Jacob tapped his beer on the counter causing white foam to rise up and spill over the lip of the bottle. "It's just I know a little something about death and the work place. When people die there, it tends to give you a bad rep. Trust me. I know all about that."
"Did you own a business where someone died?"
"Yep. You've probably heard of me. I made all the local papers." Jacob sipped his beer, glanced around to make sure no one could over hear their conversation, and then leaned in close. "I'm actually Jacob Fortensky."
Toby narrowed his eyes, trying to remember why the name rang a bell.
"Yeah. I know what you're thinking. I'm the guy who got those two hookers killed in his own law office, right? The cops are trying to say I did it." Jacob wiped at his nose. "But I didn't kill nobody. I was framed."
Now the details came flooding back. There'd been a lot of talk in the bar about the case when it first happened a month ago. Everybody felt Jacob Fortensky was a creep lawyer who'd gone too far and finally got caught.
"So let me get this straight. Somebody set it up so that you would be found passed out with your head on a dead prostitute's breast with your fingerprints all over a bloody knife? I think I read that there was cocaine in your system and that one of the women was severely beaten." Toby frowned. "How are you even out on bail?"
"I'm a lawyer. I know all the rules and I'm innocent. And that's not true about the knife. There was one at the scene but my finger prints weren't on it."
"Uh-huh. You must have the taken the time to wipe it clean."
"See that's the problem with people in this small, fucking town. Everybody thinks they know everything about everybody else." Jacob tapped his beer again. "Women love me. I'm a dynamo in the
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