Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 138522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“Good luck with that,” I’d teased as I’d walked to his door but considering the clench of my sex, and the slick heat on my thighs, his victory was fairly certain.
I am his, I think as we sit in the back of a Walker Security driven vehicle, on our way to meet Reese and Cat, his hand on my knee, just under my skirt. His thumb stroking back and forth, driving me wild. I’m aroused while riding to a destination where I’ll be prepping for a police interview. How is that possible? How is any of this possible? I mean, I’m being questioned regarding a murder. My ex-husband’s murder.
I catch Gabe’s hand, halting the assault of his fingers on my body. “Nothing from Reid?”
“Not since he went to meet with Jean Claude.”
“Hours ago, Gabe. I’m worried. Has his wife heard from him? Can you text her?”
“I’m not telling her that he met with Jean Claude.”
“Because she’ll worry. I’m worried. Aren’t you? Kenneth is dead. What if—”
The SUV halts abruptly and the door on my side abruptly swings open and suddenly we are no longer alone in the backseat.
Chapter eighty
Gabe
Gabe
I grab Abbie and pull her to me only to bring the familiar man, with long dark hair tied haphazardly at his nape into view. “Holy fuck, Blake. Warn us, would you? You know the shit we have going on right now. That doesn’t make for easy riding.” I ease Abbie back into her seat and the vehicle starts to move again.
Blake leans forward to look at me over the top of Abbie’s lap his brown eyes intense, seeking. “Fuck, man, my Uber had a flat two blocks back.” And his love of the word “fuck” unapologetic. “I have something new on the sale of the shelter I didn’t want to relay by phone.”
“Abbie,” I say, “this is Blake Walker of Walker Security. One of the founding brothers.”
“I’d say nice to meet you,” Abbie breathes out, “but I’m still trying to get my heart to stop racing. Obviously, I’m much more on edge than I realized.”
“Sorry about that, Abbie,” Blake murmurs. “I’ll be better next time.”
“Please tell me there won’t be a next time,” she replies.
His gaze is already back to me, the apology over. The reason he’s here his focus. “Jean Claude’s company is quietly making offers on properties around the shelter. They’re all signing a confidentiality agreement. He’s planning a retail complex complete with a movie theater.”
“And they need the shelter property to make it happen,” Abbie assumes.
“Literally,” Blake states. “I got a glimpse of the blueprints. Without the shelter, they can’t make this work.”
“And Kenneth promised him that he could get the shelter and get it cheap,” she replies bitterly.
“That we can only assume,” Blake replies.
“I need to just give them the shelter,” she says. “I need this over. Done.”
“It’s not that simple with murder in the mix, baby,” I say. “That’s why Reid is with Jean Claude. He’ll negotiate. He’ll make sure we’re all protected. He and Jean Claude speak the same language.”
“That’s a little scary,” Abbie murmurs, and those words cut right through me. I’m not so different from my brother. A fact that perhaps kept Reid and I at arms length a chunk of our lives. We see ourselves when we see each other.
My hand falls away from Abbie’s leg. “Where does my father fit into this?”
“We’ll talk,” Blake says. “Once we’re inside your apartment.”
The SUV halts and I glance out of the window. “We’re supposed to be at my sister’s place.”
“They’re run over with press, thanks to Reese’s trial,” Blake says. “We moved you here.”
He eyes the driver. “Are we clear?”
“Clear,” the driver says. “No press.”
Blake opens the door and gets out, running from the truth he has to tell. No. Running from Abbie before she hears the truth he has to tell. Abbie should follow him out but she doesn’t move. The minute he’s out of sight, Abbie turns to me, her gaze searching my face, for some awareness of where this is headed. No place good, that’s for damn sure. She just landed my brother in the same bucket with Jean Claude, and now my father is about to be exposed as the dirt I’ve warned her he is and always will be.
“Gabe,” she whispers.
“Let’s go inside.”
She hesitates, worry etched in her brow, and then reluctantly scoots across the seat to exit the vehicle. Her legs start to swing outward, and I swear it’s like she’s leaving to never return. I catch her wrist and pull her back, cupping her head. “Abbie.” That’s all I say. What the hell else can I say? My mouth crashes down on hers, hungry with demand, demand she see only the good parts of me. Demand that she stay, that she doesn’t leave. Fuck. I tear my mouth from hers, our lips a breath apart with my realization. All I’m doing is demanding, forcing her to submit and that’s what her ex did to her.