Page 2 of Skin Game
“Yes, that’s me. Gabriel Karne. What can I do for you?” He ran a hand through his rumpled hair in an attempt to make it look like he cared about bedhead. Wait, did he care? No, he didn’t. Gabe dropped his hand.
The woman was likely in her twenties, Gabe estimated as he took in her appearance. The first half of them. Her dark brown hair was cut short, into what Heidi would’ve called a pixie, and she had light brown eyes. And she’d known his name, so she wasn’t lost.
This stranger had discovered Gabe’s new-to-him home address. He’d only put the change into the post office a couple of weeks ago, but it wasn’t a state secret, was it? Nevertheless, if something wasn’t rotten, it was approaching its pull-date. His Spidey sense was pinging hard.
“Um.” She jabbed a pale hand toward him. “Good morning.”
Gabriel considered not shaking it.
It never hurts to be polite, Chance. At least until you find out what they want.
Reluctantly, he took it and found her palm sweaty. Shewasnervous. Another reason to shake a hand was that you could learn a lot about a person from their grip—or their sweaty palms.
“You don’t know me. My name is, uh, Juliet. Juliet Carter.” She jammed both of her hands back inside the pockets of her light blue Columbia parka. That was some purebred Pacific Northwest outerwear. “It’s cold out here. Do you mind if I come in for a moment? I won’t take up much of your time. I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
Gabriel looked over her shoulder out into the damp world of Smitty’s RV Park. He was going out on a limb and assuming thecrappy dark blue Ford Focus parked next to the Honda was hers. Across the road, Bill Floyd was rolling his trash and recycling containers out. Spring mist lingered in a few of the lowest spots, only inches above the ground, like a floating blanket.
Someone’s dog barked.
He returned his attention to the young woman. She was watching him warily, her pupils huge, and one booted foot kept shifting back and forth.
Gabe figured he might as well learn what it was.
Turning around, he led the way inside. “Welcome to my abode, such as it is. Make yourself comfortable, just not too comfortable.” Gabe pulled the door shut, making sure the latch caught.
The visitor didn’t sit; instead, she stood awkwardly in the center of the living room. A shoulder bag Gabe hadn’t seen before was now tugged around to the front of her body.
“Coffee?” Whatever she was here for, Gabe needed a strong cup of coffee regardless.
“Um, no. Thanks for offering though.” She was looking around now, taking in the smallish room. There wasn’t a lot, and he made a note to take a little road trip to the Thrift Shop in Cooper Springs for something to hang on the walls, maybe stop at the pub, talk to the chatty owner.
Moving over to the counter that split the living room off from the kitchen, Gabe pressed the power switch on his espresso machine, pleased as always when the little red power light lit up.
“Why don’t you tell me who you are and why you’re here while I make a drink for myself?”
He pretended to be focused on the machine and coffee beans while watching the young woman out of the corner of his eye. If she was trying to play it cool, it wasn’t working. She was twitchy, squeezing and releasing the top of her purse thing. If her name was really Juliet, then his was Sylvester.
A grifter by any other name is still a grifter, Chance. You’ve got yourself a baby scammer.
Juliet dropped her gaze and looked down at her bag. She’d come to a decision. She fiddled with a clasp, unzipping it, keeping her dark head bent while she rummaged for something inside the deep pocket.
“You don’t have a gun or anything in there? Because that would not make my day.”
“What? No.” She looked back up at him, brandishing a sheaf of papers she held in her hand. “I have this to show you. It’s paperwork.”
“I’m not a big fan of paperwork.” Gabe set his special demitasse cup underneath the magic caffeine spout. Soon, he’d have caffeine coursing through his bloodstream. He had the feeling he was going to need it this morning.
Paperwork and letters were closely related in his mind. The word paperwork made Gabe feel slightly dizzy. There was no doubt in his mind that this was a pitch of some kind. When she finished, he’d gently usher the young woman out the door and erase her from his memory. Then he’d get ready for the rest of his day.
“You’re my father,” Juliet announced, the sheaf of papers rustling as her hand shook.
Staring back at her, Gabe blinked several times, his espresso forgotten as he repeated the girl’s words inside his head.
“I’m sorry, what did you say? Maybe you could repeat that?” He was proud of himself for not laughing. This was not the sales pitch he’d imagined.
“You’re my father,” she said, more firmly this time. She stepped closer, making it easier to wave the papers under his nose. “I’ve been researching using a genetic family tree site, and you came up as a hundred percent match.”
Was a one hundred percent match even possible? Gabe was no DNA expert, but he thought one hundred percent was overstatingthings. Even he knew that a one hundred percent match would be an actual clone. Gabe sucked oxygen in through his nose and deep into his lungs, a habit he’d picked up from Casey.