Gabriel - Jessie Cooke Page 0,36

difference between men and women when it came to business.

“If the president of this club wanted you to know where he was, I imagine he’d tell you, miss.” Then obviously dismissing her, he looked back at Gabe. “Once again, you need anything? Need some of the girls to look after you or...?”

“He’s got me to look after him,” Patrice said, standing up and sending a rush of anxiety to Gabe’s chest. He had a feeling Patrice was going to have a hard time fitting in with the Jokers, and he hated that, because he really hoped to have a future with her...and his club. Before Le Singe could snap back Gabe struggled to his feet and said:

“I’m good. I just wanted to check in and let you know I’ll be staying with Patrice this week. My phone took a shit out in the swamp, but I’ve got the burner that Blackheart sent to the hospital for me for now if you need me.”

Le Singe stood up too. “Okay, but let us know if you need anything.” He looked at Patrice then and said, “Ma’am.” Patrice looked like she wanted to tell him what to do with his “Ma’am,” but instead she forced a smile and said:

“I’ll take good care of him. You have a nice day.” The walk back to the car was less than pleasant and Gabe could tell by the way she threw the crutches in the back that the ride back to her place was going to be even less so. Knowing when to keep his mouth shut, he sat silently until they pulled up in the driveway of her house almost forty-five minutes later and she said, “I’m going to Maine. This is about me and my mother. I deserve to be a part of it.” Suddenly the pain in his leg was throbbing in his head. Leave it to him to find a stubborn woman. Her confidence was part of her hotness to him, but he was going to go through hell getting the rest of the club to agree with that.

14

Patrice’s little place was beautiful. She had it filled with comfy-looking furniture, plants, and artwork that Gabe suspected hadn’t been cheap. But he barely got a glimpse of any of it before she tore into her bedroom and started throwing things into a bag. He almost felt sorry for the jeans and blouses that were ripped from their neat positions on the hangars in the closets and tossed ruthlessly onto the bed. He stood in the doorway and watched her for several minutes before finally saying, “I’d like to go with you.”

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, almost as if only just remembering he was there. “No,” she said, picking up a blouse she’d shoved into the bag and suddenly folding it gently. “You’re not in any shape for a two-day trip in the car.”

“Okay, then let’s fly. Blackheart is spending the night in New York tonight so he won’t be there until tomorrow. We can take a six-hour flight and probably beat him there.” She stopped her folding and looked back up at him. Her pretty blue eyes held a suspicious glint...eerily like the one his president got in his when he thought someone was taking him for a ride.

“He’s not going to be happy about me showing up. You’re willing to risk pissing him off at you for helping me?”

Gabe shrugged. He didn’t like the idea of Blackheart being pissed at him, but Patrice was going, no matter what he said or did and he couldn’t stand the idea of her going alone. She might not need him, especially in his current state, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing she was alone in Maine, chasing a potential “bad guy” who would push her mother off a balcony...and encountering the president of the Jokers, who was going to be madly pissed as soon as he saw her there. “He’ll get over it. I’m going. Even if you don’t let me go with you, I’ll fly out and find you. Le Singe will tell me where Blackheart went if I ask when you’re not around.”

“And why is that?” she asked, folding her arms. He’d renewed her anger, like throwing water on a pissed-off cat. “Because you people live in the dark ages and still think women are ‘too delicate’ to think for themselves?”

“I’m sorry, I know it seems that way. It’s just that the club is real traditional