Indebted - Piper Stone Page 0,68

length of me while Gabriel sighed, knowing I’d heard the exchange. “You know how to pick them, my friend. She’s beautiful.”

“She is very much off limits. Just call me if you hear anything else,” Gabriel stated, giving me a heated look. I’d learned to read him pretty well in a short period of time. He was agitated.

Threats. While Gabriel had insisted that he was the only man who could protect me, he’d never mentioned a single thing about being threatened.

Maybe that’s why he’d kept me locked away.

Bobby was still alive, no doubt furious I’d been released. Would he hunt me down, finish what he’d started? I shook my head as a single vision popped into my mind, a different one regarding the night at the club than I’d had before.

There’d been so many people, all crowded around him as if he’d been a god. Sounds. I tried to pinpoint what my mind was hearing, but everything shifted into a giant blur all over again.

I expected to see Gabriel in his usual suit, or at least the expensive trousers that were his classical mode of attire. The sight of him in faded blue jeans as well as a polo that had obviously seen better days took my breath away.

In the few seconds that our gazes locked, I could read all the lurid and nasty thoughts about what he wanted to do to me.

Lick every inch of your body.

Fuck that tight ass of yours.

“I will. We’ll have lunch in a couple days, and you’ll have to let me throw you that bachelor party prior to the wedding.” The visitor’s laugh was full of boyish charm, but he never took his eyes off me, both stunning in their blackness.

Even his smile was off-putting, as if he’d enjoy a taste.

“The party’s not going to happen so don’t even think about it, Aiden,” Gabriel shot back.

“We’ll see.” Aiden winked before moving down the hallway. It was obvious they were friends. Another portion of information gleaned. I was beginning to piece together the true picture of the man, only the missing squares weren’t filling fast enough.

He waited until Aiden was out of sight before turning toward me, the look on his face primal, desperate from hunger.

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere, Mr. Masters?”

“Thanks, Kito. I’ll handle it. The drive will be short.”

Kito grinned, nodding. “Whatever you say.” He backed away, still on guard. Still watching.

“Come with me, sweet Alessandra. I just need to get something from the kitchen first.” Gabriel didn’t take my hand, but he trailed behind me this time and I could feel the intensity of our connection even more than usual.

The scent of him was spinetingling, so masculine and musky. I was almost drunk on his fragrance by the time we reached the kitchen, my mind still locked around the threats that had been mentioned. What kind of horrible game was being played?

Everything was in its place as usual, not a single towel out of place or a spoon in the sink.

The space unlived in.

Unloved.

No plants. No flowers.

No cards.

Yet there was a beautiful woven picnic basket in the middle of the counter, the handles closed by a sash. My mind went to all the beautiful places, a couple sharing in a romantic moment. I was thrown by the gesture, swallowing several times before I was able to speak.

“What is that for?” I asked, always fearful of the answer.

He moved around me, collecting the basket. “A picnic. What did you expect?”

“I’m never certain with you.” When he pressed his hand against my back, his fingers digging in ever so possessively, I took another deep breath.

Leaning over, he nipped my earlobe. “And you never will be. Come with me.”

There was no choice or conversation. I would be required to follow him wherever he chose to take me.

The car he selected out of his fleet was also unexpected, the older Mustang convertible gleaming in the sunlight; cherry red in color. He eased the basket onto the back seat before opening the passenger door. I could tell as he shielded his eyes from the sun that he was searching for any sign of intruders.

He lived in a secure world with guards and guns but remained off kilter. How many times had I heard his phone ring and while he’d checked for the identity of the caller, he’d refused to answer? How many times had he wrapped his hand around the phone, prepared to crush it into a thousand pieces?

I’d only asked once, the hard smack