Rebel Billionaire (Lords of Gotham #4) - Deborah Garland Page 0,33

of a sketchy looking alleyway and took the long way around.

Gray planted his foot behind him to start the chase back up.

“Move it,” a familiar-sounding voice came up behind him.

A burst of lime rushed past him. Wild red hair flying in the wind. A cute round behind jiggling in black fabric. Long long legs testing the slit of an already short dress.

Sabine!

Running barefoot.

Red shiny pumps tucked under one arm.

But damn, the woman was fast. Gray picked up his speed, worrying she’d catch the guy. And didn’t know who to be more worried about. A professional purse snatcher or a six-foot woman with high heels she could use as a weapon.

Only I would want to marry a girl like that.

“Sabine, wait up. I got this,” he yelled.

The guy turned around, shocked to realize two people were chasing him. Attempting to cross the street at the same time caused him to slam right into a pole.

Down he went. But scrambled to get back up. Until...

Damn.

Sabine tackled the guy.

Tackle might not have been the right word. Hogtied seemed more like it.

“Someone get a cop down here, now!” she yelled.

“Sabine, let me grab him,” Gray said, even though he’d seen enough police procedure shows to recognize the professional and sturdy-looking hold Sabine had the guy in.

Professional. She did this for a living. Chased people down and caught them. She looked damn impressive. But he had soaked in four years of southern gentleman chivalry at UT Austin.

He caught up to her and planted his foot on the guy’s back. “I got this,” he said, gently pushing her off all while keeping hold of her sleeve.

A look past between them, his heart pounding. Her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving. He didn’t have to run off after the guy. He owed her nothing. That’s not how he operated, though.

“Thank ye,” she said, catching her breath, her hair in wild waves around her face.

Those lips, the gloss in his back pocket. He wanted to take it out, paint her mouth the hot pink color in the tube, and then kiss the daylights out of her again.

Beeeooop

The chirp of a squad car drew his attention away as a black and white cruiser rolled up on the sidewalk. One of Vegas’ finest sprung from the passenger door.

“Caleb. Seriously? Again?” The cop took out a set of handcuffs.

Gray had worried there’d be confusion over who wronged who. His purse snatcher was a repeat offender.

“He’s still got my purse,” Sabine said, holding on to Gray.

“Give it up, Caleb.”

“It’s mine.”

Shaking his head, the cop reached under the loser and dragged out Sabine’s saddle brown hobo bag.

“You’re into pink tassels now?”

“Don’t judge, you pig.”

“Oooo. Original.” The cop who’d been driving helped his partner get Caleb to his feet.

The officer who’d originally held the guy down walked up to them, Sabine still tucked against him.

“This yours, ma’am?”

She nodded and the cop looked at her bare feet. Without shoes, there was more of a difference in their height. He liked that she was tall, but the alpha in him wanted to protect what was his.

Whoa. Sabine wasn’t his.

Was she?

“Name?” the cop asked.

“Sabine Quinlan.”

Gray reached into his pocket and took out the pen. “She’s a PI from L.A.” Hoping that would give her cred.

The cop nodded and without rifling through her bag to find her wallet and go through a whole song and dance about Sabine vs. Siobhan, he handed it to her. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she answered.

“Do you want to file a report?” the cop asked her.

Gray cinched his eyebrows together. “With all due respect, what is a report going to do if you know this guy’s name? Do you actually lock anyone up?”

Sabine pinched his side as if to say, dun’t argue with the heat.

“Do you want to file a report?” the cop asked her again.

“And sit in a sweltering precinct for the next few hours?” She cleared her throat and asked Gray, “Do ye?”

“Definitely not.” Gray snagged her hand. “We can have a lot of fun in Vegas without money.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sabine

Sabine woke to the outline of a person hovering over her in bed. Her instincts were to sock him, kick those long legs, then Grayson’s scent of lavender and oranges hit her senses.

They’d walked the strip until sundown the night before. Grayson talked about his brothers. His hotel. How much he loved New York. Once Grayson reached Manhattan, she was sure he’d stay there. He had every reason to be there. A loving and supportive family waited for him. A baby niece he was

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