went weak, as he backed her up against the kitchen counter.
A minute felt like an hour, the world a fast-forward blur. The smoke detector was still screeching when he pulled away. Her chest ached and lips tingled, her eyes watering from the lingering smoke. She gaped at him, stunned, as he blinked rapidly. Time stopped as the world hit pause.
She saw it coming before it happened.
His hold on her face loosened, his hands slipping from her skin. In a blink, his legs gave out and he hit the tile floor.
BAM
Out cold.
Gabriella snatched her phone off of the counter before dropping to her knees beside him, rolling him over onto his back. She grabbed his wrist, feeling his racing pulse. "Dante? Can you hear me?"
No answer.
"Idiot," she said, letting go of him to scan her phone, about to dial 911. "I swear there's something seriously wrong with you."
A hand reached up, covering her phone. "That's the second time you've called me that."
Her eyes darted to him, relief rushing through her. He was awake again, so at least he hadn't gone into shock. "If you don't want me to call you that, stop acting like one."
"Not my fault," he said, trying to sit up, but she forced him back down, sternly pointing him in the face, warning him to stay put. He obliged as he draped his arm across his sweaty forehead, drawing his knees up. "If anyone's to blame, it's you."
"Me? How do you figure?"
"You're the medical professional," he said. "You should know better than to seduce someone in my condition."
"Seduce? Ha! I did no such thing!"
"Then what do you call the way you were kissing me?"
"Kissing you? You kissed me!"
"You kissed me back."
"I, uh…" She scoffed. "Whatever."
"There's no excuse for that," he said, his lips curving into a smile as he raised his hand, tapping her on the nose with his pointer finger. "You siphoned the air from my lungs and the blood right out of my brain. You ought to be ashamed."
"I am," she said. "We're both idiots."
"Ah, don't be so hard on yourself." He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "I think it was worth the headache."
"You've got a headache?"
"I'm assuming I just hit my head pretty hard."
"You did, which is yet another reason I think you should go to the hospital."
"The hospital can't help me," he said, his hand shifting from her cheek to run his fingertips across her lips. "I trust you to give me CPR if I stop breathing."
He sat up then, ignoring her this time when she tried to stop him, and managed to get to his feet. Gabriella watched as he staggered out of the kitchen, following to see him flop down on the couch again. He laid across it, running his hands down his face.
"Is there seriously no one I can call for you?" she asked. "Other than 911?"
"Please don't call 911."
"How about a cousin? Someone?"
"Are you forgetting nobody visited me in the hospital? Actually, that's a lie. Someone did come. Gavin Amaro. He was nice enough to stop by and tell me my sister was dead and that my father had been the one to kill her."
Those words shocked Gabriella. "He told you that?"
Dante closed his eyes. "So no, there's still no one you can call for me. I've got nobody left. Just give me a few minutes to pull myself together and I'll leave."
"You don't have to," she said, stepping over to him. "But there's something I should tell you."
Anxiety ravaged her as she awaited a response from him, but one never came. She placed her hand on his forehead, feeling his warm skin, before running her fingers through his hair. He stirred a bit but his eyes remained closed, a soft snore escaping his parted lips.
Asleep.
She didn't want to leave him alone in his condition, but she was too exhausted to be of much use. Fishing a blanket out of a hallway closet, she draped it over him and turned off the lights before heading for her bedroom, leaving the door open.
Sleep proved to be evasive, as she tossed and turned, straining her ears for noise from the living room. Eventually, she drifted off, waking around sunrise. She strolled out of her bedroom to check on Dante, her footsteps stalling a few feet from the couch.
The living room was empty, the blanket folded on the table.
No Dante.
Chapter Ten
It was a warm afternoon in the New Jersey suburb outside of Elizabeth, a soft breeze blowing, rustling the