she didn't know how to break through. Struggling for control, she sucked in deep breaths as she stumbled to the kitchen to make breakfast.
He's threatened, scared, and he's put up his defense shield. Give him time and space.
When he exited the bathroom ten minutes later, she'd herded her emotions into line. She turned down the heat under the scrambled eggs. "Breakfast will be ready in five," she called.
He strode into the kitchen wearing clean jeans and a black T-shirt, his hair still damp, feet bare. The sight of his bruised, torn feet nearly unraveled her, and she swallowed hard. "There's toast and juice, too." Again, it took every iota of self-discipline she owned, but her voice emerged level.
They ate in strained silence. He wolfed his food, but every bite stuck in her throat. They'd just finished when his phone chirped. He snatched it up and sprinted to his room.
Acid roiled in her stomach. To keep busy, she stacked the dishes in the dishwasher.
Five minutes crawled by before he returned. Stocking-footed, he carried his sneakers in one hand, a gun and a deadly looking notched knife in the other. He dropped the weapons on the sofa, sat, and shoved his feet into the shoes. The rough movements had to hurt, but he didn't seem to notice. "Time to go to work."
"Leo," she croaked. "Where are you meeting him?"
He didn't even look up. "That's on a need-to-know basis."
Ah, the warrior was charging into battle and the first order of business was to stash the lovesick woman safely out of the way. If she wasn't so worried, she'd smack him upside the head. "What if you need help?"
Gabe stood, shoved the gun in his waistband, then sheathed the knife at his ankle. He shrugged on his black leather jacket. "If you don't hear from me in two hours, call the number I gave you before. Say the package was damaged in transit. The routing invoice is fifty-one, twelve dash thirty-three. They'll know I'm in trouble and my location." He stalked to the front door.
"Wait."
He paused with his hand on the knob.
"Be—" She couldn't help it, her voice broke. "Be careful."
He stared at her, expressionless. Gabe, but not Gabe. With none of the warmth, none of the laughter. None of the vitality. None of the qualities that made her so desperately love the man who silently yanked open the door and walked away.
The growl of his motorcycle ripped the morning apart. The rumble grew softer, then faded. Fighting stupid, useless tears, she stared at the bloodstained carpet. Gabe's blood. I should clean that before the stain sets. As she trudged to the kitchen for cleaning supplies, Gabe's cell phone rang. She pivoted and sprinted down the hall to Gabe's room to snatch up the phone. "Hello?"
"Tessa?"
At first she didn't recognize the frantic whisper. "Peter? Is that you? What's wrong?"
"Stop your cousin," Peter's panicked words tumbled into her ear. "Don't let him meet Leo this morning."
Icy fear clawed up her spine. She dropped the receiver and tore to the front door, but Gabe had already disappeared. Breathless, she raced back to the phone. "He already left."
"Oh, no! I'm in a phone booth near the Blue Moon. I just met with Leo. I forgot my jacket, and when I went back, I overheard Leo and Vic talking. The meeting is a trap. They're going to kill Val."
The room spun, and she nearly heaved up her breakfast. She thrust out a shaky hand to lean on the wall. "Did they say where?"
"A fishing trawler docked beside the Coast Seafood warehouse on the waterfront. The Lady Liberty. It's Leo's base of operations. I heard him say something about 'the boat,' so I'm sure that's it. I'm calling 9-1-1."
"Absolutely no police! They're involved! I'll go warn him."
"Tessa, no, don't! It's too dangerous!"
The phone went dead in her hand. She stuffed it in her purse, grabbed the Corvette keys off the dresser, and ran to the car. She sped through the dark, deserted Sunday morning streets without stopping for traffic lights. Her gaze darted from street to street, hoping desperately Peter had listened to her warning not to call the police. All the way to the waterfront, she searched in vain for a lone man on a motorcycle.
Tessa made a left turn onto First Avenue
and cut the lights. Slowing to a crawl, she spied the Coast Seafood warehouse ahead. She parked behind a ramshackle sign boasting Live Nude Girls. Her purse clutched to her chest, she scurried toward the abandoned