One could say Gabe didn’t sound thrilled. Nor did he sound convinced I was right and that Delilah had sent those emails in warning. Instead, he sounded like he was humoring me but there was nothing I could say that would change his mind. Hopefully, what Delilah had sent Garrett wouldn’t nail the woman’s coffin closed. I didn’t think she wanted to be a guest of the Z Corps interrogation room while she was on their bad side.
“Hey, do you have an interrogation room on-site?”
Gabe’s lips twitched and he continued to fight a smile when he said, “We do all torture off-site if that’s what you’re asking.”
Say what?
“I wasn’t, but you’re kidding, right?”
“Yeah, honey, I’m kidding. And no, we don’t have a dedicated interrogation room at the office.”
“But you have one?”
He was quiet for a beat then answered, “Yes. We have two separate locations we could use if we needed to question a suspect. And before you ask, Z has two other safehouses in the area and one on the Eastern Shore. Now, you ready to go upstairs and see why Garrett called us into the office?”
I was so ready. I really wanted to see what this video was that Garrett wouldn’t tell us about over the phone.
“Ready.”
Instead of getting out of the car Gabe hooked me around the back of my neck and pulled me halfway over the center console, meeting me halfway so we were close, our mouths a hair’s breadth away. But he didn’t kiss me. His fingertips pressed into my skin and his raspy breath mingled with mine. Then he put more pressure on the back of my neck and dropped his forehead to mine.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” he murmured.
“Pardon?”
“You’re a dangerous woman, Evette London. I know I should run from you but damn if I can get myself to move.”
It was a weird thing when you feel frozen in place—like you can’t breathe, yet your heart pounds so hard it feels like you’re vibrating. Like you’re going to simultaneously hyperventilate and suffocate.
“Gabe,” I wheezed.
That was all I managed to get out. He didn’t move away—not that I wanted him to. No, I wanted to stay right where I was for a good long while. I wanted to stay connected to him—our foreheads touching, his fingers digging into the back of my neck, the smell of him enveloping me. But I wanted to touch him, too, so I lifted my hand and cupped his face. In the dim light, with our faces close, I still managed to see him close his eyes.
“You scare the fuck out of me.”
“Right back atcha,” I returned.
“No, honey. You scare the fuck out of me.”
I sensed there was a degree of variation from his original statement though the words were the same, but I wasn’t understanding. I didn’t need to ask; he made short work of cluing me in.
“Don’t know why, can’t explain it, but when I walked into the reception area and saw you standing there I felt it. A feeling of rightness hit me. A rush of adrenaline. Years of agony fell away and I could breathe again and that was from just a look. By the time we were upstairs the feeling had intensified tenfold. I wanted to protect you and not just because it’s my job but because the thought of something happening to you was physically painful. You make me question my sanity. You make me want to grab ahold of you and never let anyone take you from me. You scare the absolute fuck out of me because never in my life, not one single time, with any woman, have I ever wanted the responsibility that comes with a relationship. But you? You make me crave it. I want you to need me. I want you to look to me for protection. But I want to give you me.”
Holy smokes.
Gabe felt it, too.
He felt it.
Holy shit.
Gabe’s hand slid from the back of my neck and tangled in my hair. My scalp tingled, my lungs burned, my heart pounded.
“I need to run from you,” he whispered.
“Please don’t.”
“Evette—”
“Please don’t. Not now. Please give us a little while longer.”
“Honey—”
“You already told me this is a dead-end road. I know there’s no future. I swear I’m not having fanciful thoughts of white picket fences. I just want the here and now. Please give me that.”
Gabe exhaled a ragged breath. And since his forehead was still pressed